At that moment there resounded across the river Ammer and through the village of Ober-Ammergau a crash that was responded to by the echoes of the Bavarian mountains. The rocks tumbled back off the stage, and the heavens roared and the graves of the dead were wrecked, and it seemed as if the earth itself had foundered in its voyage through the sky. The great audience almost leaped to its feet at the sound of that tempest and earthquake.

Look! the ruffians are tossing dice for the ownership of the Master's coat. The darkness thickens. Night, blackening night. Hark! The wolves are howling for the corpse of the slain Lord. Then, with more pathos and tenderness than can be seen in Rubens' picture, "Descent from the Cross," in the cathedral at Antwerp, is the dead Christ lowered, and there rises the wailing of crushed motherhood, and with solemn tread the mutilated body is sepulchred. But soon the door of the mausoleum falls and forth comes the Christ and, standing on the shoulder of Mount Olivet, He is ready for ascension. Then the "Hallelujah Chorus" from the 700 voices before and behind the scenes closes the most wonderful tragedy ever enacted.

As we rose for departure we felt like saying with the blind preacher, whom William Wirt, the orator of Virginia, heard concluding his sermon to a backwoods congregation:

"Socrates died like a philosopher, but Jesus died like a God!"

I have been asked whether this play would ever be successfully introduced into America or England. I think there is some danger that it may be secularised and turned into a mercenary institution. Instead of the long ride by carriages over rough mountain roads for days and days, as formerly was necessary in order to reach Ober-Ammergau, there are now two trains a day which land tourists for the Passion Play, and among them may appear some American theatrical manager who, finding that John Zwink of Ober-Ammergau impersonates the spirit of grab and cheat and insincerity better than any one who treads the American stage, and only received for his wonderful histrionic ability what equals forty-five pounds sterling for ten years, may offer him five times as much compensation for one night. If avarice could clutch Judas with such a relentless grasp at the offer of thirty pieces of silver, what might be the proportionate temptation of a thousand pieces of gold!

The impression made upon Dr. Talmage by the Passion Play was stirring and reverent. He described it as one of the most tremendous and fearful experiences of his life.

"I have seen it once, but I would not see it again," he said, "I would not dare risk my nerves to such an awful, harrowing ordeal. Accustomed as I am to think almost constantly on all that the Bible means, the Passion Play was an unfolding, a new and thrilling interpretation, a revelation. I never before realised the capabilities of the Bible for dramatic representation."

We went from Ober-Ammergau to that modern Eden for the overwrought nerves of kings and commoners—Baden-baden, where we spent ten days. At the end of this time we returned to Paris to enjoy the Exposition at our leisure. Paris is always a place of brightness and pleasure. King Leopold of Belgium was among the distinguished guests of the French capital, whom we saw one day while driving in the Bois. We made visits to Versailles and the palace of Fontainebleau. The Doctor enjoyed these trips into the country, and always manged to make his arrangements so that he could go with us. From Paris we went to London for a farewell visit. Dr. Talmage had promised to preach in John Wesley's chapel in the City Road, known as "The Cathedral of Methodism."

On Sunday, September 30, 1900, the crowd was so great that had come to hear Dr. Talmage that a cordon of police was necessary to guard the big iron gates after the church was filled. The text of his sermon that day was significant. It may have been a conception of his own life work—its text. It was taken from a passage in the eleventh chapter of Daniel:—

"The people that do know their God shall be strong and do exploits."

It is difficult to conceive of the enthusiasm that Dr. Talmage aroused everywhere the immense crowds that gathered to see and hear him. During our stay in London this time, after a preaching service in a church in Piccadilly, the wheels of our carriage were seized and we were like a small island in a black sea of restless men and women. The driver couldn't move. The Doctor took it with great delight and stood up in the carriage, making an address. From where he was standing he could not see the police charging the crowd to scatter them. When he did, he realised that he was aiding in obstructing the best regulated thoroughfare in London. Stopping his address, he said, "We must recognise the authority of the law," and sat down. It was said that Dr. Talmage was the only man who had ever stopped the traffic in Piccadilly.

From London Dr. Talmage and I went together for a short visit to the Isle of Wight, and later to Swansea where he preached; we left the girls with Lady Lyle, at Sir John Lyle's house in London.

It had become customary whenever the Doctor made an address to ask me to sit on the platform, and in this way I became equal to looking a big audience in the face, but one day the Doctor over-estimated my talents. He came in with more than his usual whir, and said to me:

"Eleanor, I have been asked if you won't dedicate a new building at the Wood Green Wesleyan Church in North London. I said I thought you would, and accepted for you. Won't you please do this for me?"

There was no denying him, and I consented, provided he would help me with the address. He did, and on the appointed day when we drove out to the place I had the notes of my speech held tightly crumpled in my glove. There was the usual crowd that had turned out to hear Dr. Talmage who was to preach afterwards, and I was genuinely frightened. I remember as we climbed the steps to the speaker's platform, the Doctor whispered to me, "Courage, Eleanor, what other women have done you can do." I almost lost my equilibrium when I was presented with a silver trowel as a souvenir of the event. There was nothing about a silver trowel in my notes. However, the event passed off without any calamity but it was my first and last appearance in public.

As the time approached for us to return to America the Doctor looked forward to the day of sailing. It had all been a wonderful experience even to him who had for so many years been in the glare of public life. He had reached the highest mark of public favour as a man, and as a preacher was the most celebrated of his time. I wonder now, as I realise the strain of work he was under, that he gave me so little cause for anxiety considering his years. He was a marvel of health and strength. There may have been days when his genius burned more dimly than others, and often I would ask him if the zest of his work was as great if he was a bit tired, hoping that he would yield a little to the trend of the years, but he was as strong and buoyant in his energies as if each day were a new beginning. His enjoyment of life was inspiring, his hold upon the beauty of it never relaxed.

From London we went to Belfast, on a very stormy day. Dr. Talmage was advised to wait a while, but he had no fear of anything. That crossing of the Irish Channel was the worst sea trip I ever had. We arrived in Belfast battered and ill from the stormy passage, all but the Doctor, who went stoically ahead with his engagements with undiminished vigour. Going up in the elevator of the hotel one day, we met Mrs. Langtry. Dr. Talmage had crossed the ocean with her.

"Won't you come and see my play to-night?" she asked him.

"I am very sorry, Madame, but I am speaking myself to-night," said the Doctor courteously. He told me afterwards how fortunate he felt it to be that he was able to make a real excuse. Invitations to the theatre always embarrassed him.

From Belfast we went to Cork for a few days, making a trip to the Killarney lakes before sailing from Queenstown on October 18, 1900, on the "Oceanic."

"Isn't it good to be going back to America, back to that beautiful city of Washington," said the Doctor, the moment we got on board.

Whatever he was doing, whichever way he was going, he was always in pursuit of the joy of living. Although the greatest year of my life was drawing to a close, it all seemed then like an achievement rather than a farewell, like the beginning of a perfect happiness, the end of which was in remote perspective.



THE LAST MILESTONE

1900-1902

There was no warning of the divine purpose; there was no pause of weakness or illness in his life to foreshadow his approaching end. Until the last sunset hours of his useful days he always seemed to me a man of iron. He had stood in the midst of crowds a towering figure; but away from them his life had been a studied annihilation, an existence of hidden sacrifice to his great work. He used to say to me: "Eleanor, I have lived among crowds, and yet I have been much of the time quite alone." But alone or in company his mind was ever active, his great heart ever intent on his apostolate of sunshine and help towards his fellow-men. And the good things he said were not alone the utterances of his public career; they came bubbling forth as from a spring during the course of his daily life, in his home and among his friends, even with little children. Books have been written styled, "Conversations of Eminent Men"; and I have often thought had his ordinary conversations been reported, or, better, could the colossal crowds who admired him have been, as we, his privileged listeners, they would have been no less charmed with his brilliant talk than with the public displays of eloquence with which they were so captivated.

Immediately after his return from Europe in the autumn of 1900, Dr. Talmage took up his work with renewed vigour and enthusiasm. He stepped back into his study as if a new career of preaching awaited him. Never, indeed, had a Sunday passed, since our union, on which he had not given his divine message from the pulpit; never had he missed a full, arduous, wearisome day's work in his Master's vineyard. But I think Dr. Talmage now wrote and preached more industriously and vigorously than I had ever seen him before. His work had become so important an element in the character of American life, and in the estimate of the American people—I might add, in that of many foreign peoples, too—that his consciousness of it seemed to double and treble his powers; he was carried along on a great wave of enthusiasm; and in the joy of it all, we, with the thousands who bowed before his influence, looked naturally for a great many years of a life of such wide-spread usefulness. Over him had come a new magic of autumnal youth and strength that touched the inspirations of his mind and increased the optimism of his heart. No one could have suspected that the golden bowl was so soon to be broken; that the pitcher, still so full of the refreshing draughts of wisdom, was about to be crushed at the fountain. But so it was to be.

Invigorated by his delightful foreign trip, Dr. Talmage now resumed his labours with happy heart and effervescing zeal. He used to say: "I don't care how old a man gets to be, he never ought to be over eighteen years of age." And he seemed now to be a living realisation of his words. He had given up his regular pastorate at the First Presbyterian Church in Washington, that he might devote himself to broader responsibilities, which seemed to have fallen upon him because of his world-wide reputation. I cannot forbear quoting here—as it reveals so much the character of the man—a portion of his farewell letter, the mode he took of giving his parting salutation:

"The world is full of farewells, and one of the hardest words to utter is goodby. What glorious Sabbaths we have had together! What holy communions! What thronged assemblages! Forever and forever we will remember them.... And now in parting I thank you for your kindness to me and mine. I have been permitted, Sabbath by Sabbath, to confront, with the tremendous truths of the Gospel, as genial and lovely, and cultivated and noble people as I ever knew, and it is a sadness to part with them.... May the richest blessing of God abide with you! May your sons and daughters be the sons and daughters of the Lord Almighty! And may we all meet in the heavenly realms to recount the divine mercies which have accompanied us all the way, and to celebrate, world without end, the grace that enabled us to conquer! And now I give you a tender, a hearty, a loving, a Christian goodby.

"T. DEWITT TALMAGE."

Apart from his active literary and editorial work, he was now to devote himself to sermons and lectures which should have for audience the whole country. As a consequence, on re-entering his study after his long absence, he found accumulated on his desk an immense number of invitations to preach, applications from all parts of the land. He smiled, and expressed more than once his conviction that God's Providence had marked out his way for him, and here was direct proof of His divine call and His fatherly love.

At a monster meeting in New York this year Dr. Talmage revived national interest in his presence and his Gospel. Ten thousand people crowded to the Academy of Music to hear his words of encouragement and hope. It was the twentieth anniversary of the Bowery Mission, of which Dr. Talmage was one of the founders. "This century," he said in part, "is to witness a great revival of religion. Cities are to be redeemed. Official authority can do much, but nothing can take the place of the Gospel of God.... No man goes deliberately into sin; he gets aboard the great accommodation train of Temptation, assured that it will stop at the depot of Prudence, or anywhere else he desires, to let him off. The conductor cries: 'All aboard' and off he goes. The train goes faster and faster, and presently he wants to get off. 'Stop'! he calls to the conductor; but that official cries back: 'This is the fast express and does not stop until it reaches the Grand Central Station of Smashupton.'" The sinner can be raised up, he insists. "The Bible says God will forgive 490 times. At your first cry He will bend down from his throne to the depths of your degradation. Put your face to the sunrise."

Faith in God was his armour; his shield was hope; his amulet was charity. He harnessed the events of the world to his chariot of inspiration, and sped on his way as in earlier years. He had become a foremost preacher of the Gospel because he preached under the spell of evangelical impulse, under the control of that remarkable faith which comes with the transformation of all converted men or women. The stillness of the vast crowds that stood about the church doors when he addressed them briefly in the open air after services was a tribute to the spell he cast over them by the miracle of that converting grace. He was quite unconscious of the attention he attracted outside the pulpit, on the street, in the trains. His celebrity was not the consequence of his endeavours to obtain it, nor was it won, as some declared, by studied dramatic effects; it was the result of his moments of inspiration, combined with continual and almost superhuman mental labour—labour that was a fountain of perennial delight to him, but none the less labour.

If "Genius is infinite patience," as a French writer said, Dr. Talmage possessed it in an eminent degree. Every sermon he ever wrote was an output of his full energies, his whole heart and mind; and while dictating his sermons in his study, he preached them before an imaginary audience, so earnest was his desire to reach the hearts of his hearers and produce upon them a lasting influence. His sermons were born not of the crowd, but for the crowd, in deep religious fervour and conviction. His lectures, incisive and far-reaching as they were in their conceptions and in their moral and social effects, were not so impressive as his sermons, with their undertone of divine inspiration.

In accord with an invitation sent to us in Paris, from the Governor of Pennsylvania, we went to Harrisburg as the guests at the Executive Mansion, where a dinner and reception were given Dr. Talmage in honour of his return from abroad. During this dinner, the Rev. Dr. John Wesley Hill, then pastor of the church in Harrisburg in which Dr. Talmage preached, told us of a rare autograph letter of Lincoln, which he owned. It was his wish that Dr. Talmage should have it in his house, where he thought more people would see it. The next day, Dr. Hill sent this letter to us:—

"GENTLEMEN,—In response to your address, allow me to attest the accuracy of its historical statements; indorse the sentiments it expresses; and thank you, in the nation's name, for the sure promise it gives.

"Nobly sustained as the government has been by all the churches, I would utter nothing which might, in the least, appear invidious against any. Yet, without this, it may fairly be said that the Methodist Episcopal Church, not less devoted than the best, is, by its greater numbers, the most important of all. It, is no fault in others that the Methodist Church sends more soldiers to the field, more nurses to the hospitals, and more prayers to Heaven than any. God bless the Methodist Church—bless all the churches—and blessed be God, Who, in this our great trial, giveth us the churches.

"A. LINCOLN.

"May 18th, 1864."



A great welcome was given Dr. Talmage in Brooklyn, in November, 1900, when he preached in the Central Presbyterian Church there. It was the Doctor's second appearance in a Brooklyn church after the burning of the Tabernacle in 1894.

It was urged in the newspapers that he might return to his old home. The invitation was tempting, judging by the thousands who crowded that Sunday to hear him. In my scrapbook I read of this occasion:

"Women fainted, children were half-crushed, gowns were torn and strong men grew red in the face as they buffeted the crowds that had gathered to greet the Rev. T. DeWitt Talmage at the Central Presbyterian Church in Brooklyn."

In the autumn of 1900, an anniversary of East Hampton, N.Y., was held, and the Doctor entered energetically and happily into the celebration, preaching in the little village church which had echoed to his voice in the early days of his ministry. It was a far call backward over nearly five decades of his teeming life. And he, whose magic style, whether of word or pen, had enchanted millions over the broad world—how well he remembered the fears and misgivings that had accompanied those first efforts, with the warning of his late professors ringing in his ears: "You must change your style, otherwise no pulpit will ever be open to you."

Now he could look back over more than a quarter of a century during which his sermons had been published weekly; through syndicates they had been given to the world in 3,600 different papers, and reached, it was estimated, 30,000,000 people in the United States and other countries. They were translated into most European and even into Asiatic languages. His collected discourses were already printed in twenty volumes, while material remained for almost as many more. His style, too, in spite of his "original eccentricities," had attracted hundreds of thousands of readers to his books on miscellaneous subjects—all written with a moral purpose. Among a score of them I might mention: From Manger to Throne; The Pathway of Life; Crumbs Swept Up; Every-day Religion; The Marriage Ring; Woman: her Powers and Privileges.

Dr. Talmage edited several papers beginning with The Christian at Work; afterwards he took charge, successively, of the Advance, Frank Leslie's Sunday Magazine, and finally The Christian Herald, of which he continued to be chief editor till the end of his life. He spoke and wrote earnestly of the civilising and educational power of the press, and felt that in availing himself of it and thereby furnishing lessons of righteousness and good cheer to millions, he was multiplying beyond measure his short span of life and putting years into hours. He said: "My lecture tours seem but hand-shaking with the vast throngs whom I have been enabled to preach to through the press."

His editorials were often wrought out in the highest style of literary art. I am pleased to give the following estimate from an author who knew him well: "As an editorial writer, Dr. Talmage was versatile and prolific, and his weekly contributions on an immense variety of topics would fill many volumes. His writing was as entertaining and pungent as his preaching, and full of brilliant eccentricities—'Talmagisms,' as they were called. He coined new words and invented new phrases. If the topic was to his liking, the pen raced to keep time with the thought.... Still, with all this haste, nothing could exceed the scrupulous care he took with his finished manuscript. He once wired from Cincinnati to his publisher in New York instructions to change a comma in his current sermon to a semicolon. He had detected the error while reading proof on the train."

Dr. Talmage's personal mail was thought to be the largest of any man in the country, outside of some of the public officers. Thousands, men and women, appealed to him for advice in spiritual things, revealing to him intimate family affairs, laying their hearts bare before him as before a trusted physician of the soul. I have seen him moved to the depths of his nature by some of these white missives bearing news of conversion to faith in Christ wrought by his sermons; of families rent asunder united through his words of love and broadmindedness; of mothers whose broken hearts he had healed by leading back the prodigal son; of prisoners whose hope in life and trust in a loving Father had been awakened by a casual reading of some of his comforting paragraphs.

The life of Dr. Talmage was by no means the luxurious one of the man of wealth and ease it was sometimes represented to be. He could not endure that men should have this aspect of him. He was a plain man in his tastes and his habits; the impression that he was ambitious for wealth, I know, was a false one. I do not believe he ever knew the value of money. The possession of it gave him little gratification except for its use in helping to carry on the great work he had in hand; and, indeed, he never knew how little or how much he had. He never would own horses lest he should give people reason to accuse him of being arrogantly rich. We drove a great deal, but he always insisted on hiring his carriages. If he accepted remuneration for his brain and heart labour, Scripture tells us, "The labourer is worthy of his hire." He was foremost in helping in any time of public calamity, not only in our own country but more than once in foreign lands. And when volumes of his sermons were pirated over the country, and he was urged to take legal steps to stop the injustice, he said: "Let them alone; the sermons will go farther and do more good."

Dr. Talmage's opinions were sought eagerly, and upon all subjects of social, political, or international interest. He was a student of men, and kept ever in close touch with the progress of events. A voluminous and rapid reader, he was quick to grasp the aim and significance of what he read and apply it to his purpose. His library in Washington contained a large and valuable collection of classics, ancient and modern; and his East Hampton library was almost a duplicate of this. He never travelled very far without a trunkful of books. I remember, in the first year of our marriage, his interest in some books I had brought from my home that were new to him. Many of them he had not had time to read, so, in the evenings, I used to read them aloud to him. Tolstoi's works were his first choice; together we read a life of the great Russian, which the Doctor enjoyed immensely.

The Bible was ever held by Dr. Talmage in extreme reverence, which grew with his continual study and meditation of the sacred pages. He repudiated the "higher criticism" with a vehemence that caused him to be sharply assailed by modern critics—pronounced infidels or of infidel proclivities—who called him a "bibliolater." He asserted and reasserted his belief in its divine inspiration: "The Bible is right in its authenticity, right in its style, right in its doctrine, and right in its effects. There is less evidence that Shakespeare wrote 'Hamlet,' that Milton wrote 'Paradise Lost,' or that Tennyson wrote 'The Charge of the Light Brigade,' than that the Bible is God's Word, written under inspiration by evangelists and prophets. It has stood the bombardment of ages, but with the result of more and more proof of its being a book divinely written and protected." "Science and Revelation are the bass and soprano of the same tune," he said. He defied the attempts of the loud-mouthed orators to destroy belief in the Bible. "I compare such men as Ingersoll, in their attacks on the Bible, to a grasshopper upon a railway-line with the express coming thundering along."

His living portraits of Jesus, the Saviour of men, his studies of that divine life, of the words, the actions of the Son of God, especially of His sufferings and death, merging into the glory of His resurrection and ascension, are all well known to those who were of his wide audience. The sweetness, gentleness, and sympathy of the Saviour were favourite themes with him. In a sermon on tears, he says: "Jesus had enough trials to make him sympathetic with all sorrowful souls. The shortest verse in the Bible tells the story: 'Jesus wept.' The scar on the back of either hand, the scar in the arch of either foot, the row of scars along the line of the hair, will keep all Heaven thinking. Oh, that Great Weeper is the One to silence all earthly trouble, to wipe all the stains of earthly grief. Gentle! Why, His step is softer than the step of the dew. It will not be a tyrant bidding you hush your crying. It will be a Father who will take you on His left arm, His face beaming into yours, while with the soft tips of the fingers of the right hand He shall wipe away all tears from your eyes." And here is a word of appeal to those gone astray: "The great heart of Christ aches to have you come in; and Jesus this moment looks into your eyes and says: 'Other sheep I have that are not of this fold.'"

Dr. Talmage was at times acutely sensitive to the thrusts of sharp criticism dealt to him through envy or misunderstanding of his motives. A great writer has said somewhere: "Accusations make wounds and leave scars"; but even the scars were soon worn off his outraged feelings by the remembrance of his divine Master's gentleness and forgiveness. How often have I seen the mandate, "Love your enemies; do good to them that hate you," verified in Dr. Talmage. He could not bear detraction or uncharitableness. His heart was so broad and loving that he seemed to have room in it for the whole world; and his greeting of strangers on an Australian platform, amid the heathers of Scotland, or in the Golden Gate of California, was so free and cordial that each one might have thought himself a dear friend of the Doctor, and he would have been right in thinking so. Again, his sense of humour was so great that he could laugh and "poke fun" at his critics with such ease and good humour that their arrows passed harmlessly over his head. "Men have a right to their opinions," he would genially say. "There are twenty tall pippin trees in the orchard to one crab apple tree. There are a million clover blooms to one thistle in the meadow."

His will power was extraordinary; it was endowed with a persistence that overcame every obstacle of his life; there was an air of supreme confidence, of overwhelming vitality, about his every act. Nothing seemed to me more wonderful in him than this; and it entered into all his actions, from those that were important and far-reaching in their consequences to the workings of his daily life in the home. Though his way through these last milestones, during which I travelled with him, was chiefly through the triumphal archways he had raised for himself upon the foundations of his work, there were indications that their cornerstone was the will power of his nature.

Many incidents of the years before I knew him justify this opinion. One in particular illustrates the extraordinary perseverance of Dr. Talmage's character. When his son DeWitt was a boy, in a sudden mood of adventure one day, he enlisted in the United States Navy. Shortly afterwards he regretted having done so. Some one went to his father and told him that the boy was on board a warship at Hampton Roads, homesick and miserable. Dr. Talmage went directly to Washington, straight into the office of Mr. Thompson, the Secretary of the Navy. "I am Dr. Talmage," he said promptly; "my son has enlisted in the Navy and is on a ship near Norfolk. I want to go to him and bring him home. He is homesick. Will you write me an order for his release?" The Secretary replied that it had become an impression among rich men's sons that they could take an oath of service to the U.S. Government, and break it as soon as their fathers were ready, through the influence of wealth, to secure their release. He was opposed to such an idea, he said; and, therefore, though he was very sorry, he could not grant Dr. Talmage's request. The Doctor immediately took a chair in the office, and said firmly: "I shall not leave this office, Mr. Secretary, until you write out an order releasing my son."

The hour for luncheon came. The Secretary invited the Doctor to lunch with him. "I shall not leave this office, Mr. Secretary, until I get that order," was the Doctor's reply. The Secretary of the Navy left the office; after an absence of an hour and a half, he returned and found Dr. Talmage still sitting in the same place. The afternoon passed. Dinner time came round. "Dr. Talmage, will you not honour me by coming up to my house to dine, and staying with us over night?" asked the Secretary. "I shall not leave this office until you write out that order releasing my son, Mr. Secretary," was the calm, persistent reply. The Secretary departed. The building was empty, save for a watchman, to whom the Secretary said in passing, "There is a gentleman in my room. When he wishes to leave let him out of the building."

About nine o'clock at night the Secretary became anxious. Telephones were not common then, so he went down to the office to investigate; and sitting there in the place where he had been all day was Dr. Talmage. The order was written that night. This incident was told me by a friend of the Doctor's. There can be no doubt that Dr. Talmage was justified in this demand of paternal love and sympathy, since numbers of such concessions had been made by the Secretary and his predecessors. His daring and his pertinacity were overwhelming forces of his genius.

In the winter months of this year I enjoyed another lecturing tour with him through Canada and the West. The lecture bureau that arranged his tours must have counted on his herculean strength, for frequently he had to travel twenty-four hours at a stretch to keep his engagements. Occasionally he was paid in cash at the end of the lecture an amount fixed by the lecture bureau. I have seen him with perhaps $2,000 in bills and gold stuffed away carelessly in his pocket, as if money were merely some curious specimen of no special value. Sometimes he would receive his fee in a cheque, and, as happened once in a small Western town, he would have very little money with him. I remember an occasion of this kind, because it was amusing. The cheque had been given the Doctor as usual at the end of his lecture. It was about eleven at night, and we were compelled to take a midnight train out to reach his next place of engagement. At the hotel where we stayed they did not have money enough to cash the cheque. We walked up the street to the other hotel, but found there an equal lack of the circulating medium. It was a bitter cold night.

"Here we are out in the world without a roof over our heads, Eleanor," said the Doctor, merrily. "What a cold world it is to the unfortunate." Finally Dr. Talmage went to the ticket office of the railroad and explained the situation to the young man in charge. "I can't give you tickets, but I will buy them for you, and you can send me the money," the clerk said promptly. As we had an all-day ride before us and a drawing room to secure, the amount was not inconsiderable. I think it was on this trip that William Jennings Bryan got on the train and enlivened the journey for us. The stories he and the Doctor hammered out of the long hours of travel were entertaining. We exchanged invitations to the dining car so as not to stop the flow of conversation between Mr. Bryan and the Doctor. We would invite him to lunch, and Mr. Bryan would ask us to dinner, or vice versa, so that the social amenities were delightfully extended to keep us in mutual enjoyment of the trip. Dr. Talmage and myself agreed that Mr. Bryan's success on the platform was much enhanced by his wonderful voice. The Doctor said he had never heard so exquisite a speaking voice in a man as Mr. Bryan's. He always spoke in eloquent support of the masses, denouncing the trusts with vehemence.

Travelling was always a kind of luxury to me, when we were not obliged to stop over at some wretched hotel. The Pullman cars were palatial in comfort compared to the hotels we had to enter. But Dr. Talmage was always satisfied; no hotel, however poor, could alter the cheerfulness of his temperament.

In January, 1901, Queen Victoria died, and Dr. Talmage's eulogy went far and wide. I quote again from my scrap-book a part of his comment on this world event:

"While Queen Victoria has been the friend of all art, all literature, all science, all invention, all reform, her reign will be most remembered for all time, all eternity, as the reign of Christianity. Beginning with that scene at 5 o'clock in the morning in Kensington Palace, where she asked the Archbishop of Canterbury to pray for her, and they knelt down imploring Divine guidance until her last hour, not only in the sublime liturgy of her established Church, but on all occasions, she has directly or indirectly declared: 'I believe in God, the Father Almighty, Maker of Heaven and Earth, and in Jesus Christ, His only begotten Son.'

"The Queen's book, so much criticised at the time of its appearance, some saying that it was skilfully done, and some saying that the private affairs of a household ought not to have been exposed, was nevertheless a book of rare usefulness, from the fact that it showed that God was acknowledged in all her life, and that 'Rock of Ages' was not an unusual song at Windsor Castle.

"I believe that no throne since the throne of David and the throne of Hezekiah and the throne of Esther, has been in such constant touch with the throne of heaven as the throne of Victoria. Sixty-three years of womanhood enthroned!"

In March of 1901 Dr. Talmage inaugurated a series of Twentieth Century Revival Meetings in the Academy of Music, in New York. It was a great Gospel campaign in which thousands were powerfully impressed for life. The Doctor seemed to have made a new start in a defined evangelical plan of saving the world. Indeed, to save was his great watchword, to save sinners, but most of all to save men from becoming sinners. One of his famous themes—and thousands remember his burning words—was "The Three Greatest Things to Do—Save a Man, Save a Woman, Save a Child." There was a certain anxiety in my mind about Dr. Talmage in this sixty-eighth year of his life, and I used to tell him that he had reached the top of all religious obligations as he himself felt them, that there was nothing greater for him to do, and that he might now move with softer measure to the inspired impulses of his life. But he never delayed, he never tarried, he never waited. He marched eagerly ahead, as if the milestones of his life stretched many years beyond.

Our social life in Washington was subservient to Dr. Talmage's reign of preaching. We never accepted invitations without the privilege of qualifying our acceptance, making them subject to the Doctor's religious duties. The privilege was gracefully acknowledged by all our friends. We were away from Washington, too, a great deal. In the spring of this year, 1901, the Doctor made a lecturing tour through the South, that was full of oratorical triumphs for him, but no less marked by delightful social incidents. There was a series of dinners and receptions in his honour that I shall never forget, in those beautiful homes of Mississippi, Alabama, and Tennessee. Because of his Gospel pilgrimage of many years in these places, Dr. Talmage had grown to be a household god among them.

When winter had shed his garland of snow over nature, or when we were knee deep in summer's verdure and flowers, East Hampton was the Doctor's headquarters. From there we made our summer trips. It was after a short season at East Hampton in the summer of 1901, that the Doctor went to Ocean Grove, where he delivered a Fourth of July oration, the enormous auditorium being crowded to its utmost capacity. A few days later we went to Buffalo, where, in a large tent standing in the Exposition ground, Dr. Talmage lectured, his powerful voice triumphing over the fireworks that, from a place near by, went booming up through the heavens. After a series of Chautauqua lectures through Michigan and Wisconsin, the Doctor finished his course at Lake Port, Maryland, near picturesque Deer Park. These are merely casual recollections, too brief to serve otherwise than as evidence of Dr. Talmage's tremendous industry and energy.

In September, 1901, came the assassination of President McKinley. Dr. Talmage had an engagement to preach at Ocean Grove the day following the disaster. On our arrival at the West End Hotel, Long Branch, the Doctor went in to register while we remained in the carriage at the door. Suddenly he came out, and I could see that he was very much agitated. He had just received the news of the tragedy.

"I cannot preach to-morrow," he said. "This is too horrible. McKinley has been shot. What shall I do?" And he stood there utterly stunned; unable to think. "Well, we will stop at the hotel to-night, at any rate," I said, "let us go in."

Later the Doctor tried to explain to those in charge at Ocean Grove that he could not preach, but they prevailed upon him to deliver the sermon he had with him, which he did, prefacing it with appropriate remarks about the national disaster of the hour.

The following telegram was immediately sent to the Chief of the Nation, cut off so ruthlessly in his career of honour and usefulness:—

"Long Branch, September 6th.

"President McKinley, Buffalo, N.Y.

"The Nation is in prayer for your recovery. You will be nearer and dearer to the people than ever before after you have passed this crisis. Mrs. Talmage joins me in sympathy.

"T. DEWITT TALMAGE."

After the death of the President the Doctor preached his sermon "Our Dead President" for the first time in the little church at East Hampton, where it had been written in his study. In October the Doctor was called upon to preach at the obsequies of the Rev. Dr. Sunderland, for many years pastor of the First Presbyterian Church in Washington. What a long season of obsequies Dr. Talmage solemnised! And yet, with what supreme optimism he defied the unseen arrow in his own life that came to pierce him with such suddenness in April, 1902.

The Doctor had been a good traveller, and he was fond of travelling; but, toward the end of his life, there were moments when he felt its fatiguing influences. He never complained or appeared apprehensive, but I remember the first time he showed any weariness of spirit. I almost recall his words: "I have written so much about everything, that now it becomes difficult for me to write. I am tired." It frightened me to hear him say this, he was so wonderful in endurance and strength; and I could not shake off the effect that this first sign of his declining years made upon me. He was then sixty-nine years old, and the last of the twelve children, save his sister.

The last sermon he ever wrote was preached in February, 1902. The text of this was from Psalms xxxiii. 2: "Sing unto Him with the Psaltery, and an instrument of ten strings." This was David's harp of gratitude and praise. After some introductory paragraphs on the harp, its age, the varieties of this "most consecrated of all instruments," its "tenderness," its place in "the richest symbolism of the Holy Scriptures," he writes: "David's harp had ten strings, and, when his great soul was afire with the theme, his sympathetic voice, accompanied by exquisite vibrations of the chords, must have been overpowering.... The simple fact is that the most of us, if we praise the Lord at all, play upon one string or two strings, or three strings, when we ought to take a harp fully chorded, and with glad fingers sweep all the strings. Instead of being grateful for here and there a blessing we happen to think of, we ought to rehearse all our blessings, and obey the injunction of my text to sing unto Him with an instrument of ten strings." "Have you ever thanked God for delightsome food?" he asks; and for sight for "the eye, the window of our immortal nature, the gate through which all colours march, the picture gallery of the soul?" He enumerates other blessings—hearing, sleep, the gift of reason, the beauties of nature, friends. "I now come," he continues, "to the tenth and last. I mention it last that it may be more memorable—heavenly anticipation. By the grace of God we are going to move into a place so much better than this, that on arriving we will wonder that we were for so many years so loath to make the transfer. After we have seen Christ face to face, and rejoiced over our departed kindred, there are some mighty spirits we will want to meet soon after we pass through the gates." As his graphic pen depicts the scene—the meeting with David and the great ones of Scripture, "the heroes and heroines who gave their lives for the truth, the Gospel proclaimers, the great Christian poets, all the departed Christian men and women of whatever age or nation"—he seems to have already a foretaste of the wonderful vision so soon to open to his eyes. "Now," he concludes, "take down your harp of ten strings and sweep all the chords. Let us make less complaint and offer more thanks; render less dirge and more cantata. Take paper and pen and write in long columns your blessings.... Set your misfortunes to music, as David opened his dark sayings on a harp.... Blessing, and honour and glory and power be unto Him that sitteth upon the throne and unto the Lamb for ever. Amen!"

I recall that when Dr. Talmage first read this sermon to me in his study, he said: "That is the best I can do; I shall never write a better sermon." I have been told that when a man says he has reached the topmost effort of his abilities, it presages his end, and the march of events seemed to verify the axiom.

Dr. Talmage's last journey came about through the invitation of the Mexican minister in Washington. The latter met Dr. Talmage at dinner, and on hearing that he had never preached in Mexico he urged him to go there. When the Doctor's plans had all been made, some friends tried to dissuade him from going, secretly fearing, perhaps, the tax it would be on his strength. Yet there was no evidence at this time to support their fears, and the Doctor himself would have been the last to listen to any warning. He was very busy during the few days that preceded our departure from Washington in attending the meetings of the Committee of distinguished clergymen who were in session to revise the creed of the Presbyterian Church.

The day before we left for Mexico, the Doctor told me he desired to entertain these gentlemen, as had been his custom during all important gatherings of representative churchmen who visited Washington. He was in great spirits. His ideas of a social affair were definite and generous, as we discovered that day, much to our amusement.

"Eleanor," he said, "I feel as though I would like to have these gentlemen to luncheon at my house to-morrow. Can you arrange it? I could not possibly leave Washington without showing them some special courtesy. Now, I want a real meal, something to sit down to. None of your floating oysters, or little daubs of meat in pastry, but real food, whole turkeys, four or five of them—a substantial meal." The Doctor's respect for chicken patties, creamed oysters, and the usual buffet reception luncheon, was clearly not very great.

The luncheon was given at 1.30 on the day appointed; the distinguished guests all came, two by two, into our house. A few weeks later, they came again in a body, two by two, into the house of mourning.

Besides the visiting clergy, Dr. Talmage had also invited for this luncheon other representative men of Washington. It was the last social gathering which the Doctor ever attended in his own home, and perhaps for that reason becomes a significant event in my memory. After the rest had departed, Dr. Henry Van Dyke remained for an hour or two to talk with my husband in his study. Dr. Talmage so often referred to the great pleasure this long interview had given him, that I am sure it was one of the supreme enjoyments of his last spiritual milestone.

The night before we left Washington an incident occurred that directly concerns these pages. We had gone down into the basement of the house to look for some papers the Doctor kept there in the safe, and in taking them out he picked up the manuscript of his autobiography. As we went upstairs I said to the Doctor, "What a pity that you have not completed it entirely."

The Doctor replied, "All the obscure part of my life is written here, and a great part of the rest of it. When I return from Mexico I will finish it. If anything should happen, however, it can be completed from scrapbooks and other data."

We went into his study and the Doctor had just begun to read it to me when we were interrupted by a call from Senator Hanna. Dr. Talmage particularly admired Senator Hanna, and, as they were great friends, the autobiography was forgotten for the rest of the evening. Knowing that the Doctor was about to leave Washington the Senator had come to wish him goodby, and to urge him to visit his brother at Thomasville, Georgia, where we were to stop on our way to Mexico. I remember Senator Hanna said to the Doctor, "You will find the place very pretty; we own a good deal of property there, so much so that it could easily be called Hannaville." The next morning we started for the City of Mexico, going direct to Charleston, where the Doctor preached. He was entertained a good deal there, and we witnessed the opening of the Charleston Exposition.

From Charleston we went to Thomasville, Georgia, where we spent a week, during which time the Doctor preached and lectured twice at nearby places. It was here that we met the first accident of our journey. Just as we were steaming into Thomasville we ran into a train ahead, and there was some loss of life and great damage. Fortunately we were in the last Pullman car of the train. I have always believed that the shock of this accident was the beginning of the end for Dr. Talmage. He showed no fear, and he gave every assistance possible to others; but, in the tension of the moment, in his own self-restraint for the sake of others, I think that he overtaxed his strength more than he realised. I never wanted to see a train again, and begged the Doctor to let us remain in Thomasville the rest of our lives. The next morning, however, Dr. Talmage started out on a preaching engagement in the neighbourhood by train, but we remained behind. Our stay in Thomasville was made very enjoyable by the relatives of Senator Hanna, whose beautiful estates were a series of landscape pictures I shall always remember. Although the Doctor was obliged to be away on lecturing engagements three times during the week he enjoyed the drives about Thomasville with us while he was there. Our destination after leaving Thomasville was New Orleans, where Dr. Talmage was received as if he had been a national character. He was welcomed by a distinguished deputation with the utmost cordiality. The Christian Herald said of this occasion: "When he went on the following Sunday to the First Presbyterian Church he found a great multitude assembled, the large building densely packed within and a much vaster gathering out of doors unable to obtain admittance. Thousands went away disappointed. He spoke with even more than usual force and conviction." Never were we more royally entertained or feted than we were here. From New Orleans we went to San Antonio, where we stopped off for two or three days' sight-seeing. The Doctor was urged to preach and lecture while he was there; but he excused himself on the ground of a previous engagement, promising, however, to lecture in San Antonio on his return trip to Washington.

On our way from San Antonio to the City of Mexico our train ran into one of the sand-storms, for which the Mexican country is famous at certain times of the year; and we were at a standstill on a side track at a small station for twenty-four hours. The food was execrable, the wind and sand were choking, and the whole experience trying in the extreme. We were warned against thieves of the neighbourhood, and, during the night we were locked in the cars to ensure the safety of our belongings. In spite of these precautions a shawl which the Doctor valued, because it had been presented to him by the citizens of Melbourne, Australia, was stolen during the night through an open window. They were not bashful those thieves of the sandstorm. From a private car attached to the rear of our train they stole a refrigerator bodily off the platform.

The Doctor had long been suffering from his throat, and all these annoyances had the effect of increasing the painful symptoms to such a degree that when we finally got into the city of Mexico on Saturday, March 1st, it was necessary to call a physician. Dr. Talmage had brought with him a number of letters of introduction from Washington to people in the City of Mexico, but the Mexican minister had written ahead of us, and on the day we arrived people left their cards and extended invitations that promised to keep us socially busy every day of our week's visit.

The Doctor was ailing a little, I thought, but not seriously. He had a slight cold. Although he had planned to preach only in the Presbyterian Church a week from our arrival, the people of the other Protestant denominations urged him with such importunity that he agreed to preach for them on the first Sunday, the day after our arrival. This was an unexpected strain on Dr. Talmage after a very trying journey; but he never could refuse to preach, no matter how great his fatigue. On the following Tuesday a luncheon was given Dr. Talmage by General Porfirio Diaz, the President of the Mexican Republic, at his palace in Chapultepec. The Doctor enjoyed a long audience with the aged statesman, during which the mutual interests and prospects of the two countries were freely discussed, President Diaz manifesting himself, as always, a friend and admirer of our government and people. During the afternoon a cold wind had come up, and the drive home increased the Doctor's indisposition, so that he was obliged to confine himself to his room. Still he was up and about, and we felt no alarm whatever. On Thursday night, he complained of a pain at the base of his brain, and at about four in the morning I was awakened by him:—

"Eleanor," he said, "I seem to be very ill; I believe I am dying." The shock was very great, it was such a rare thing for him to be ill. We sent for the best American physician in the city of Mexico, Dr. Shields, who diagnosed the Doctor's case as grippe. He at once allayed my fears, assuring me that it would not be serious.

Dr. Talmage had promised to lecture on Friday, March 7th, and we had some trouble to prevent him from keeping this engagement. Dr. Shields insisted that Dr. Talmage should not leave his room, declaring that the exertion would be too much for him. Not until Dr. Shields had assured Dr. Talmage that the people could be notified by special handbills and the newspapers would he consent to break the engagement.

On Friday night Dr. Talmage grew worse; and finally he asked to be taken home, personally making arrangements with Dr. Shields to travel with us as far as the Mexican border, as my knowledge of Spanish was very limited. Eventually it became necessary for Dr. Shields to go all the way with us. In the great sorrow that the people of Mexico felt over the sudden illness of Dr. Talmage, their regret at his cancelled engagements was swallowed up, and there was one great wave of sympathy which touched us not a little.

The journey to Washington was a painful one. Dr. Talmage kept growing worse. All day long he lay on the couch before me in our drawing-room on the train, saying nothing—under the constant care of the physician. Telegrams and letters followed the patient all the way from Mexico to the Capital city. At every station silent, awe-stricken crowds were gathered to question of the state of the beloved sufferer. In New Orleans we had to stay over a day, so as to secure accommodation on the train to Washington. While there many messages of condolence were left at the hotel, a party of ladies calling especially to thank me for the "great care I was taking of their Dr. Talmage."

On our route to the national city, I remember the Doctor drew me down beside him to speak to me. He was then extremely weak and his voice was very low: "Eleanor, I believe this is death," he said.

The long journey, in which years seemed compressed into days, at last came to a close. The train pulled up in Washington, and our own physician, Dr. Magruder, met us at the station. Dr. Talmage was borne into his home in a chair, and upstairs into his bedroom, where already the angel of death had entered to welcome and guard him, though, alas! we knew it not, and still hoped against hope. Occasional rallies took place; but evidences of cerebral inflammation appeared, and the patient sank into a state of unconsciousness, which was only a prelude to death. Bulletins were given to the public daily by the attending physicians; and if aught could have assuaged the anguish of such moments it would have been the universal interest and sympathy shown from all parts of the world.

Readers will pardon me if I reproduce from The Christian Herald a record of the last scene. It is hard "to take down the folded shadows of our bereavement" and hold it even to the gaze of friends.

"After a painful illness, lasting several weeks, America's best-beloved preacher, the Reverend Thomas DeWitt Talmage, passed from earth to the life above, on April 12th, 1902. Ever since his return from Mexico, where he was prostrated by a sudden attack which rapidly assumed the form of cerebral congestion, he had lain in the sick chamber of his Washington home, surrounded by his family and cared for by the most skilful physicians. Each day brought its alternate hopes and fears. Much of the time was passed in unconsciousness; but there were intervals when, even amid his sufferings, he could speak to and recognise those around him. No murmur or complaint came from his lips; he bore his suffering bravely, sustained by a Higher Power. The message had come which sooner or later comes to all, and the aged servant of God was ready to go; he had been ready all his life.

"Occasional rallies took place, raising hopes which were quickly abandoned. From April 5th to April 12th these rallies occurred at frequent intervals, always followed by a condition of increased depression, more or less augmented fever and partial unconsciousness. On Saturday, April 12th, a great change became apparent. For many hours the patient had been unconscious. As the day wore on, it became evident that he could not live through another night. All of Dr. Talmage's family—his wife, his son, the Rev. Frank DeWitt Talmage, of Chicago; Mrs. Warren G. Smith and Mrs. Daniel Mangam, of Brooklyn; Mrs. Allen E. Donnan, of Richmond; and Mrs. Clarence Wycoff and Miss Talmage, were gathered in the chamber of death. Dr. G.L. Magruder, the principal physician, was also in attendance at the last. At 9.25 o'clock p.m., the soul took flight from the inanimate clay, and the spirit of the world's greatest preacher was released."

The Rev. T. Chalmers Easton, an old and valued friend of Dr. Talmage, was in frequent attendance upon him, and never ceased his ministrations until the eyes of the beloved one were closed in death. A brief excerpt from his address at the Memorial Service of the Rev. T. DeWitt Talmage held at the Eastern Presbyterian Church, Washington, may not be unacceptable to the reader:

"A truly great man or eloquent orator does not die—

'And is he dead whose glorious mind Lifts thine on high? To live in hearts we leave behind Is not to die.'

"What shall we say of the prince in Israel who has left us? Can we compress the ocean into a dewdrop? No more is it possible to condense into one brief hour what is due to the memory of our beloved and illustrious friend. His moral courage was only equalled by his giant frame and physical strength. He was made of the very stuff that martyrs are made of: one of the most remarkable individualities of our time. A man of no negative qualities, aggressive and positive.

"His whole soul was full of convictions of right and duty. A firm friend, a man of ready recognition, a human magnet in his focalising power. He was true in every deed, and never needed a veil to be drawn.... If, as his personal friend for more than twenty years, I should attempt to open up the treasures of his real greatness, where shall we find more of those sterling virtues that poets have sung, artists portrayed, and historians commended? He was truly a great man—a man of God!

"The last years of his life were full of happiness in the living companionship of her who so sadly mourns his departure. He frequently spoke to me of the great inspiration brought into these years by her ceaseless devotion to all his plans and work, making what was burdensome in his accumulating literary duties a pleasure.... The last fond look of recognition was given to his beloved wife, and the last word that fell from his lips, when far down in the valley, was the sweetest music to his ears—'Eleanor.'

"It was said once by an eminent writer that when Abraham Lincoln, the forest-born liberator, entered Heaven, he threw down at God's throne three million yokes as the trophies of his great act of emancipation; as great as that was, I think it was small, indeed, compared with the tens of thousands of souls Talmage redeemed from the yokes of sin and shame by the glorious Gospel preached with such fervour and power of the Holy Ghost. What a mighty army stood ready to greet him at the gates of the heavenly city as the warrior passed in to be crowned by his Sovereign and King!"

The funeral services were held at the Church of the Covenant, Washington, on April 15th. The ceremony began at 5 p.m., with the "Dead March from Saul," and lasted considerably over an hour. The coffin rested immediately in front of the pulpit, and over it was a massive bed of violets. On a silver plate was the inscription:

THOMAS DEWITT TALMAGE, JANUARY 7TH, 1832-APRIL 12TH, 1902

The floral offerings were numerous, including a wreath of white roses and lilies of the valley sent by President and Mrs. Roosevelt. The officiating clergymen were the Rev. Dr. T.S. Hamlin, pastor of the Church; the Rev. Dr. T. Chalmers Easton, of Washington; and the Rev. Drs. S.J. Nicols, and James Demarest, of Brooklyn. A male quartette sang: "Lead, Kindly Light," a favourite hymn of Dr. Talmage; "Beyond the Smiling and the Weeping"; and "It is well with my Soul." The addresses of the Reverend Doctors were eulogistic of the dead preacher, of whom they had been intimate friends for more than a quarter of a century. The body lay in state four hours, during which thousands passed in review around it.

At midnight the remains of Dr. Talmage were conveyed by private train to Brooklyn, where the burial took place in Greenwood Cemetery. The funeral cortege arrived about ten o'clock in the morning; hundreds were already in the cemetery, waiting to behold the last rites paid to one they revered and loved. The Episcopal burial service was read by the Rev. Dr. Howard Suydam, an old friend and classmate of Dr. Talmage, who made a brief address, and concluded the simple ceremonies by the recital of the Lord's Prayer.

Tributes were paid to the illustrious dead all over the civilised world, and in many languages; while thousands of letters of condolence and telegrams assured the family in those days of affliction that human hearts were throbbing with ours and fain would comfort us. One wrote feelingly:

"When Dr. Talmage described the Heavenly Jerusalem, he seemed to feel all the ecstatic fervour of a Bernard of Cluny, writing:

'For thee, O dear, dear Country! Mine eyes their vigils keep; For very love beholding Thy holy name, they weep.'"

And it seems to me that I cannot better close this altogether unworthy sketch of Dr. Talmage than by offering the reader as a parting remembrance, in its simple beauty, his "Celestial Dream":

"One night, lying on my lounge when very tired, my children all around me in full romp and hilarity and laughter, half awake and half asleep, I dreamed this dream: I was in a far country. It was not in Persia, although more than oriental luxuries crowned the cities. It was not the tropics, although more than tropical fruitfulness filled the gardens. It was not Italy, although more than Italian softness filled the air. And I wandered around looking for thorns and nettles, but I found that none of them grew there; and I saw the sun rise and watched to see it set, but it set not. And I saw people in holiday attire, and I said, 'When will they put off all this, and put on workman's garb, and again delve in the mine or swelter at the forge?' But they never put off the holiday attire.

"And I wandered in the suburbs of the city to find the place where the dead sleep, and I looked all along the line of the beautiful hills, the place where the dead might most blissfully sleep, and I saw towers and castles, but not a mausoleum or a monument or a white slab was to be seen. And I went into the chapel of the great town, and I said: 'Where do the poor worship, and where are the benches on which they sit?' And the answer was made me, 'We have no poor in this country.'

"And then I wandered out to find the hovels of the destitute, and I found mansions of amber and ivory and gold; but not a tear could I see, not a sigh could I hear; and I was bewildered, and I sat down under the branches of a great tree, and I said, 'Where am I, and whence comes all this scene?' And then out from among the leaves and up the flowery paths and across the bright streams, there came a beautiful group thronging all about me, and as I saw them come I thought I knew their step, and as they shouted I thought I knew their voices, but they were so gloriously arrayed in apparel such as I had never before witnessed, that I bowed as stranger to stranger. But when again they clapped their hands and shouted 'Welcome! Welcome!' the mystery all vanished, and I found that time had gone and eternity had come, and we were all together again in our new home in Heaven.

"And I looked around, and I said, 'Are we all here?' And the voices of many generations responded, 'All here!' And while tears of gladness were raining down our cheeks, and the branches of the Lebanon cedars were clapping their hands, and the towers of the great city were chiming their welcome, we all together began to leap and shout and sing, 'Home, home, home, home!'"



INDEX

Abbott, Emma, her bequest to the Brooklyn Tabernacle, 244; character, 244. Aberdeen, Lord and Lady, 299. Adams, Edwin, 71. Adams, John, his administration, 8. Adler, Dr., 118. Agnus, General Felix, 223. Alba, 368. Albany, intemperance, 45; bribery, 46; lobbyists driven out, 132. Alice, Princess, her death, 90. Allen, Barbara, case of, 82. "America," s.s., length of voyage, 135. Ames, Coates, 74. Amoy, 19. Anarchists, execution of, 198. Anglo-American Commission, members of the, 325. Annapolis, 326. Arkell, W.J., 224. Arthur, Chester A., elected President, 115; relinquishes office, 143; at Lexington, 188, 278; his death, 188. Astor, Mrs. William, 55; her death, 200; will, 200. Atlantic, passage across, reduction, 99. Austen, Colonel, 221, 241. Avery, Miss Mary, her marriage, 25 note.

Baden-baden, 388. Bakewell, 351. Ball club, a ministerial, 49. Banks, Rev. Dr. Louis Albert, 281. Barnes, Rev. Alfred, 48. Barnes, General Alfred C., 241. Barnes, Alfred S., 207. Bartholdi statue, 149, 150. Baskenridge, 4. Bayne, John, heroism of, 134. Beaconsfield, Lord, 104; amount given for his "Endymion," 107, 109. Beck, Senator, 276. Bedloe's Island, 149. Beecher, Rev. Henry Ward, his views on theology, 119; celebration of his fortieth year of pastoral service, 186; character of his discourses, 187. Belfast, 391. Belgium, King Leopold of, in Paris, 388. Belleville, Reformed Church at, 18. Bellows, Rev. Dr., 116. Benton, Thomas H., 104. Berg, Rev. Dr., 48. Bergh, Professor Henry, his defence of animals, 100; opposition to vivisection, 100; his death, 208. Berlin, 374. Bethune, George W., 186. Betting, practice of, in America, 147. Bible, Higher Criticism, 253. Bill, Buffalo, 261. Bird, Mrs., 244. Birds, the slaughter of, 184. Birmingham, 267. Birmingham, Alabama, cyclone at, 340. Blackburn, Governor, 275; his reception of Dr. Talmage, 276; speech, 278. Blackburn, Mrs., 278. Blaine, James G., candidate for the Presidency, 138; reports against, 138; his vigour and exhaustion, 139; reception at the White House, 144; cartoons of, 175. Boardman, Rev. Dr., 48. Bobolinks, number of, killed, 184. Bobrinsky, Count, 263, 283. Boer War, 347. Bond, Mr., 72. Bonnet & Co., failure of, 76. Bonynge, Mrs., 261. Boody, Hon. David A., 241, 281. Boston, conflagration of 1872, 231; Union Church of 49. Bound Brook, 9. Bowery Mission, anniversary, 395. Bowles, Samuel, 131. Brainerd, Dr., 38. Branch, F.H., 269. Brewer, Justice, 337. Brewers' Association, demand, 162. Bribery, practice of, 165-167. Briggs, Dr., 245. Brighton Beach, races at, 147. Broadhead, Rev. Dr., 91. Brooklyn, corrupt condition, 64, 69, 75; custom of carrying firearms, 75; standard of commerce, 75; Bill for a new city charter, 78; number crossing the ferries, 78; Lafayette Avenue railroad scheme, 79, 88; police force, 82; management of public taxes, 82; spread of communism, 83; reign of terror, 87; bridge, 99; cost, 120; opened, 122; improvement in local administration, 99; number of pastors, 120; pool rooms opened, 147; railway strike, 167; establishment of a labour exchange, 167; new jail, 175; pulpit builders, 186; committee of investigation, 193; ovation on the return of Dr. Talmage, 241. Brooklyn, the central Church of, 49, 50, 53; alterations, 57. Brooklyn Tabernacle, the first, 55; dedication, 3, 61, 62, 249; enlarged, 62; rededication, 62; amount of collections, 62, 63; burnt down, 65, 229, 231, 284-286; size of the new, 67, 252; law-suit, 94; prosperity, 162; appeal for funds to rebuild, 232; trustees, 233; subscribers, 234; consecration of the ground, 234; cost, 242; position, 242; rent of pews, 243; corner-stone laid, 245; contents, 245; opened, 249; financial difficulties, 268; celebration festival of the 25th anniversary of Dr. Talmage's pastorate, 280-283; letter from the Trustees, 287. Brooks, Erastus, 131. Brooks, Phillips, 261, 272. Brower, Commissioner George V., 241. Brown, Henry Eyre, 281. Brown, Dr. John, 60. Brown, Dr., amount of his salary, 247. Brown, Senator, of Georgia, 110. Bryan, William Jennings, 406; his wonderful voice, 406. Bryant, William Cullen, his death, 85; incident of, 85; "Thanatopsis," 86; his noble character, 86. Buchanan, James, President, his reply cablegram to Queen Victoria, 250. Buckley, Dr., 120. Buffalo, 408. Bunker Hill, 156. Burnside, Senator, 115. Burr, Aaron, his infamy, 8. Burrows, Senator, 337. Bush, Dr., his advice to students, 208. Bushnell, Giles F., 234. Butler, Ben F., nominated Governor of Massachusetts, 88; candidate for the Presidency, 121. Butter, Rev. T.G., 62. Byrnes, Inspector, at the Press Club, 223.

Cable service, a cheaper, 135. Cablegram, the first, 250. Campbell, Superintendent, 81. Canada, 326, 405. Canton, Ohio, 306. Carey, Senator, 256; at Cheyenne, 104. Carleton, Will, 317. Carlisle, Mr., 128. Carlyle, Thomas, his house, 97; portrait, 98; library, 98; death-bed, 110; his opinion of Americans, 184. Carnegie, Andrew, his gift of a library to Washington, 335. Carpenter, Samuel, 223. Carroll, Mr., 102. Carson, Rev. Dr. John F., 281. Carson, Joseph E., 234. Cartwright, Sir Richard, 325. Case, James S., 224. Catlin, General, 157. "Central-America," sinks, 134. Chambers, Rev. Dr., 3. Chapin, Mayor, 241. Charleston, 414; earthquake at, 178. Chase, Salmon P., his death, 188. Chatsworth, 353-355. Chattanooga, 339. Chelsea, 97. Cheyenne, 104; fashions in, 106. Chicago, 99; Calvary Church of, 49; spread of communism, 83; railway strike, 167; execution of anarchists, 198; conflagration of 1871, 231. Chili, war with Peru, 117. Chinese, legislative effort to exclude, 90; exclusion of, 173; dress, 173; immigration Bill, 304. Chloroform, first use of, 207, 356. Choate, Mr., 360. Cholera, experiments on, 162. Christian Herald, extract from, on the illness and death of Dr. Talmage, 419. Christiania, 365. Chrysanthemum, rage for the, 158. Church fairs, pastoral letter against, 72: Cincinnati, 276; differences in clock time, 189. "City of Paris," 235. "City of Rome," 133. Civil War, 38; result, 42, 74. Clarion, Mdme, 72. Clay, Henry, 104; his death, 188. Clement, Judge, 241. Cleveland, Grover, candidate, 117; elected Governor of New York, 121; candidate for the Presidency, 138; elected, 140; his mother's Bible, 144; reception of Mr. Blaine, 144; cartoons, 175; marriage, 176; his exercise of the right of veto, 180; tour, 198; message to Congress, 200; his intercourse with Dr. Talmage, 301-306; attack of rheumatism, 303; objections to the Chinese Immigration Bill, 304; attacks against, 306. Cleveland, Mrs., 297; her characteristics, 300, 301. Cleveland, Miss Rose, 300. Clinton, DeWitt, 102. Coates, A.E., 234. Cockerill, Col. John A., at the Press Club, 223. Colfax, Schuyler, 141. Collier, Judge, 363. Collier, Miss Rebekah, 346; her diary, 350. Collins, Mr. and Mrs. John, 261. Collyer, Dr. Robert, amount of his salary, 247. Colorado springs, 320. Colquitt, Senator, 256. Commons, House of, dynamite explosion, 142. Communism, theory of, 83. Coney Island, 147, 179. Conkling, Senator Roscoe, his opposition to the Silver Bill, 80; characteristics, 209; death, 209. Constantinople, earthquake, 191. Converse, Charles Cravat, 50. Coombs, Mr., 257. Cooper, Fenimore, 85. Cooper, Peter, 55, 57, 70. Copenhagen, 363 Corbit, Rev. William P., 33-35. Cork, 391. Coronado Beach, 320, 322. Corrigan, Archbishop, 191. Courtney, Judge, 241. Cox, Rev. Dr. Samuel H., 186. Cox, Mr., 128; appointed minister to Turkey, 146; his nicknames, 146. Cradle, the family, 2. Creeds, revision of the, 244. Crosby, Dr., his ecclesiastical trial, 101. Croy, Peter, 17. Crystal Palace, banquet given to Dr. Talmage at, 267. Cuba, victory in, 320. Culver, John Y., 241. Curry, Daniel, 196.

Dana, Richard Henry, his death, 93; literary works, 94. Daniel, Senator, 256. Darling, Charles S., 233, 269. Davenport, E.L., 71. Davis, Jefferson, 339. Davis, Sir Louis, 325. Deer Park, 409. Demarest, Rev. Dr. James, at the funeral of Dr. Talmage, 422. Democratic party, 46. Denmark, the national flower "Golden Rain," 363. Denmark, Crown Prince and Princess of, receive Dr. Talmage, 364. Denver, 99, 320; its age, 105; picture galleries, 106. Depau, Mr., his bequest to religion, 194. Depew, Chauncey M., 223. Derbyshire, 351. Dewey, Admiral, 348. DeWitt, Dr., 187. DeWitt, Gasherie, 31. Diaz, Gen. Porfirio, President of Mexico, 417; his interview with Dr. Talmage, 417. Dickens, Charles, result of insomnia, 62. Dickey, Dr., 374. Dilke, Sir Charles, 179. Divorce, views on, 237. Dix, John A., 102. Dix, Dr. Morgan, amount of his salary, 247. Dixon, Rev. A.C., 281. Dodge, William E., 55, 57. Donnan, Mrs. Allen E., 420. Doty, Ethan Allen, 224. "Dow Junior's Patent Sermons," 16. Dowling, Rev. Dr. John, 26. "Dream, The Celestial," sketch, 423. Due West, 338. Duncan, John, 31. Duncan, William, 31.

"Earth Girdled, The," publication of, 289. Earthquake at Charleston, 178; Constantinople, 191. East Hampton, 57, 274, 338, 408. Eastern, Rev. T. Chalmers, on the death of Dr. Talmage, 420; at his funeral, 422. Edinburgh, 60, 97, 356. Edison, Prof. Thomas, 89. Education, views on, 152. Ellis, Hon. E.J., 81. Erskine Theological College, Due West, 338. Evarts, Hon. William M., 283, 288. Ewer, Rev. Dr., 123.

Fairbanks, Vice-president, 337. Fairchild, Benjamin L., 234. Falls, Samuel B., 38. Far-Rockaway, First Presbyterian Church at, 229. Farwell, Senator, 261. Faulkner, Senator, 325. Ferguson, James B., 269. Ferron, Dr., his experiments with cholera, 162. Field, Cyrus W., lays the cable, 249. Field, Chief Justice, his death, 336. Finney, Dr., his revival meetings, 4. Fish, Rev. Dr., 29. Fish, Hamilton, Secretary to General Grant, 70. Fiske, Steven, 223. "Florida," disaster of, 133. Flower, Roswell P., 223. Folger, Mr., 117. Food, adulteration of, 131. Foster, John, 53. Fox, George L., 71. Fox, G.V., 266. Frankfort, Kentucky, 275. Franklin, Benjamin, 173. Frazer, Dr., 120. Free trade question, 128. Freeman, Mr., 94. Frelinghuysen, Dominie, 149. Frelinghuysen, Frederick, 149. Frelinghuysen, Frederick T., 115, 144; his death, 149. Frelinghuysen, Gen. John, 149. Frelinghuysen, Senator Theodore, 149. Fulton Ferry, new bridge at, 99. Funk, Dr., 157.

Gallagher, Dr., 120. Gallows, death by the, 198. Gambling Pool Bill, protest against, 194. Gambetta, 122. Garcelon, Governor, 102. Garfield, President, his election, 106; attempt on his life, 111, 112; views on Mormonism, 113; reforms, 113; result of his death, 113; sermons, 114; characteristics, 115. Garfield, Mrs., amount subscribed, 145. Gateville, 9. Gedney, Judge, 224. Geogheghan, the poet, 224. George, Henry, 223. Gettysburg, battle of, 38. Gilbert, Judge, 193. Gilmore, Pat, 224. Gladstone, Mrs., 240; her portrait, 240; illness, 357. Gladstone, Mrs. Herbert, 357. Gladstone, Rt. Hon. W.E., 104, 150; his policy of Home Rule for Ireland, 173, 239; reception of Dr. Talmage, 236; American stories, 237; view on divorce, 237; religion, 238; library, 240; congratulations, 284. Glasgow, 355. Goldsmith, Oliver, his struggles as an author, 108. Gordon, Senator, 256. Gorman, Senator, 331. Gough, John B., his gift of oratory, 164; dramatic power, 164. Gould, Jay, 172. Grace, Mr., Mayor of New York, 121. Grain, failure of, in Europe, 103; blockade in the United States, 103. Grant, General, President, 92, 279; his pension, 145; malady, 145, 148. Grant, Mayor, at the Press Club, 223. Greeley, Horace, 131, 175; his sufferings from insomnia, 62. Greenport, 50 note. Greenwood cemetery, 422. Greenwood, Judge, 199. Greer, Dr., amount of his salary, 247. Gregg, Rev. Dr., 281. Grevy, President, his resignation, 200. Grier, Dr., President of the Erskine Theological College, Due West, 338. Grinnell, Moses H., 57. Guiteau, assassinates President Garfield, 113.

Haddon Hall, 351-353; romance of, 352. Hagerstown, 221. Hall, Rev. Dr., 154. Hall, Dr. John, amount of his salary, 247. Hall, Rev. Dr. Newman, 97; at the Mansion House, 260. Hall, Robert, 53. Halstead, Murat, 283. Hamilton, Rev. J. Benson, 241. Hamilton Club, 224. Hamlin, Rev. Dr. T.S., at the funeral of Dr. Talmage, 422. Hampton, Governor Wade, 81. Hancock, John, 173. Handy, Moses P., 223. Hanna, Rev. Dr., his death, 254. Hanna, Senator, 414. Hardman, Dr., 21, his method of examining Dr. Talmage, 22. Harlan, Justice, 337. Harper, E.B., 224. Harrisburg, 396; intemperance, 45; bribery, 46. Harrison, President Benjamin, 257. Harrison, Rev. Leon, 241. Harrison, William Henry, 114, 257. Hatch, A.S., President of the New York Exchange, 135. Hatch, Rufus, 224. Hawarden, 236, 357. Hawthorne, Nathaniel, 107. Hayes, President, 70; character of his message, 74. Hazlitt, William, his struggles as an author, 108. Helsingfors, 368. Henderson, Mr., 321. Hendricks, Thomas A., Vice-president, 158; his character, 159; invulnerability to attacks, 159; religious views, 160. Hendrix, Joseph C., 124, 241, 283. Hermann, 223. Herschel, Lord, 325; his illness and death, 326. Hewitt, Abram S., elected Mayor of New York, 188. Hicks-Lord case, 76. High Bridge, 275, 276. Hill, Rev. Dr. John Wesley, 396. Hill, Rowland, 97. Hill, Senator, 105. Hilton, Judge Henry, 116, 223. Holy Land, 235. Holyrood Palace, 59. Home Missionary meeting, in Carnegie Hall, 305. Howard, Joseph, 224. Howell, Mayor, his report on the condition of Brooklyn, 81. Hudson, 37. Hugo, Victor, 107. Hull, Isaac, 125. Huntington, Dr., amount of his salary, 247. Hutchinson, Dr. Joseph, 196. Hydrophobia, inoculations against, 162.

India, famine in, 298. Indiana, elections, 124. Ingersoll, Colonel Robert, 70. Inness, Fred, 221. Insomnia, sufferings from, 62. Iowa, prohibition in, 193. Ireland, Home Rule for, 173, 239. Irish Channel, crossing the, 391. Irving, Washington, 85; "Knickerbocker," 94; appointed Minister to Spain, 146. Isle of Wight, 389.

Jackson, Gen. Andrew, 156. Jaehne, Mr., his incarceration, 175. Jamaica, Long Island, synodical trial at, 101. James, General, his reforms in the Post Office, 113. Jamestown, 339. Jefferson, Joseph, 332. Jefferson, Thomas, inaugurated, 174. Jews, persecution of, in Russia, 118; settle in America, 119. Johnson, Andrew, President, charges against, 157. Johnson, Dr. Samuel, 53; his epitaph, 210. Johnstown, result of the flood at, 228.

"Kaiser Wilhelm der Grosse," 346. Kansas, 193; its age, 105; prohibition in, 193. Katrine, Loch, 356. Kean, Edmund, 71. Keeley, Dr. Leslie, 254. Keller, John W., 224. Kennedy, Dr., 187. Killarney lakes, 391. King, Gen. Horatio C., 224, 241. Kingsley, Mr., 207. Kinsella, Thomas, 100, 130. Kintore, Earl of, 298, 356. Klondike, arrival of gold-diggers from, 321. Knox, E.M., 234. Knox, John, his grave, 355. Knox, J. Amory, 224, 234. Krebs, Dr., 187.

Lafayette Avenue, railroad scheme, defeat of, 79. Lake Port, Maryland, 409. Lamb, Col. Albert P., 224. Lamb, Charles, on the adulteration of food, 131. Lambert, Dr., case of, 75. Lang, Anton, takes part in the Passion Play, 380. Langtry, Mrs., 391. Lansing, Rev. Dr. I.J., 283. Laurence, Amos, 55. Laurier, Sir Wilfred, 325. Lawrence, E.H., 233. Lawrence, F.W., 286. Leadville, its age, 105; number of telephones, 105; vigilance committee, 106. Leamington, 358. Lectures, fees for, 40. Lee, General, his invasion of Pennsylvania, 38. Leeds, collection at, 97. Lennox, James, 55, 194. Leslie, Frank, the pioneer of pictorial journalism, 102. Lexington, 188, 275, 276. Liberty, statue of, 148-150. Lies, system of, 197. Lincoln, Abraham, 37; violation of his sepulchre, 161; his letter, 397. Lincoln, Robert, Secretary of War, 113. Lind, Jenny, 14. Lindsay, Rev. E.P., 338. Liverpool, 357; addresses given at, 97. Locke, Commissioner of Appeals, 107. Lodge, Henry Cabot, 224. Lomond, Loch, 355. London, Lord Mayor of, his banquet at the Mansion House, 260. Long Island, 229. Los Angeles, 322. Louisiana, State of, 80. Low, Seth, Mayor of Brooklyn, 121, 133. Lowell, James Russell, 145. Lowndes, Governor, 326. Lyle, Lady, 389.

Macaulay, Lord, 188. Mackenzie, Dr., his death, 254. Mackey, Mrs., 261. Mackinaw Island, 339. Madison, 273. Magruder, Dr. G.L., 418, 420. Maine, outbreak in, 102. Malone, Rev. Father Sylvester, 281. Manchester, Cavendish Chapel, 348. Manderson, Senator, 256; his Bill for the arbitration of strikes, 172. Mangam, Mrs. Daniel, 420. Manning, Daniel, his death, 200. Marietta, Ohio, 317. Marriages, number of elopements, 137. Martin, Mrs. Bradley, 261. Martin, Pauline E., 234. Mathews, Charles, his death, 85; story of, 85. Matthews, T.E., 286. McAdam, Judge David, 224. McCauley, Jerry, 136. McCormick, Cyrus, 194. McDonald, Senator, 261. McElroy, Dr., 187. McGlynn, Father, 191. McKean, John, 125. McKinley, President, his congratulations, 284; election, 306; friendship with Dr. Talmage, 330; assassination, 409. McLean, Alexander, 233. McLean, Andrew, 241. McLeod, Rev. Donald, installed pastor of the First Presbyterian Church in Washington, 341. Mead, W.D., 269. Memphis, 339. Mendes, Rabbi F. De Sol, 281. Merigens, George T., 38. Mershon, Rev. S.L., 57, 274. Mexico, 416. Michigan, 339, 409. Middlebrook, New Jersey, 1. Minado, 320. Ministers, amount of salaries, in the United States, 63. Minneapolis, 99. Mitchell, Dr., 120. Mitford, 108. Modjeska, Mdme., 332. Moliere, the comedian, 72. Monona Lake, 273. Monroe Doctrine, 304. Montauk Point, purchase of, 99. Montreal, 326. Moore, Charles A., 224. Moore, DeWitt, 39, 43. Morey, forgeries, 106. Morrisey, John, 69. Moscow, 374. Mott, Lucretia, the quakeress, 106. Munich, 375. Murphy, Mr., 207.

Nagle, Dr., 224. Nansen, the explorer, 365. Napier, Lord, his story of a wounded soldier, 239. Nashville, 339. Neilson, Judge Joseph, 133, 193, 204. New, Mrs., 261. New Brunswick Theological Seminary, 15. New Orleans, 340, 415, 418; victory, 8. New York, corrupt condition, 64; 69; spread of Communism, 83; Historical Society, gift to the library, 109; Passion Play, attempt to present, 121; pool rooms opened, 147; conflagration of 1835, 231; revival meetings, 407. New York University, 14. "New York," 258. Newark, 19. Newspaper reporter, day with a, 211-220. Newspapers, reduction in the price, 123. Newstead Abbey, 349. Newton, Lady, 361. Newton, Sir Alfred, Lord Mayor, 361. Nichols, Governor, 81. Nicols, Rev. Dr. S.J., at the funeral of Dr. Talmage, 422. Nightingale, Florence, note from, 359; receives Dr. Talmage, 360. North Cape, view from, of the Midnight Sun, 365, 366. North River, first steamer, 8. Northern Pacific Railroad Co., 126. Nottingham, 260; Albert Hall, 348. Nutting, A.J., 234.

Oakley, Rev. Mr., 51. Ober-Ammergau Passion Play, 375; impressions of, 375-388; actors, 378. Ocean Grove, 408. "Oceanic," 391. Ochiltree, Colonel Tom, 261; at the Press Club, 223. Ogden, 104 Ohio, elections, 124; River, 276. Olcott, George M., 224. Omaha, 99,104; picture galleries, 106. Osborne, Truman, 16. "Our Dead President," sermon on, 410.

Packer, Asa D., 194. Paine, Tom, 71. Palmer, A.M., 261. Panics, view on, 290-293. Paris, 60, 236; Exposition of 1900, 362, 388. Parker; Rev. Dr. Joseph, 259; his description of Dr. Talmage's sermon, 259; congratulations, 284. Parkhurst, Dr., 258; amount of his salary, 247. Parnell, C.S., in New York, 102; triumph on his return to England, 163. Passaic River, 29. Pasteur, Dr., his inoculations against hydrophobia, 162. Patten, Dr., 120. Paxton, Dr., amount of his salary, 247. Payne, Mr., his song "Home, Sweet Home," 108. Peabody, George, his will, 73. Peace Jubilee, a national, 43. Peck, General, defence of, 362. Penn, William, 156. Pennsylvania, invasion, 38; election, 124. Peru, war with Chili, 117. Peterhof, Palace of, 370. Peters, Barnard, 281. Phelps, Mr., 145. Philadelphia, Second Reformed Church of, 37. Phillips, Wendell, 127. Pierce, Dr., 369. Pierce, Mrs., 370. Pierce. President, opens the World's Fair, 195. Pierce, Senator, his Bill for a new city charter for Brooklyn, 78. Piermont, 25. Pilgrim Fathers, in New England, 156. Pius IX., Pope, 77. Policies, International, lecture on, 322. Polk, Mrs., her pension, 145. Pollock, Robert, ex-Governor, 22; report of his speech, 41. "Pomerania," s.s., loss of, 89. Pomeroy, Rev. C.S., 51. Pond, Major, 96. Poor, problem of the, 143. Potomac, the, 38. Pratt, Judge C.R., 133, 224. Prayer, the influence of, 148. Prentice, Mr., 207. Press Club, dinners at, 223. Pressly, Rev. David P., 338. Preston, William C., 104. Pretoria, capture of, 361. Prime, Rev. Dr., 71. Princeton, 301.

Queenstown, 391.

Railway strike, 166. Rainsford, Dr., amount of his salary, 247. Randall, Mr., 128. Raymond, Henry J., 131. Reed, Joseph, 166. Reed, Speaker, 337. "Rehypothication," crime of, 76. Reid, Dr., 120. Republican party, 46. Reynolds, Judge, 193. Rhode Island, 115. Richards, Rev. Dr., 27. Ridgeway, James W., 124. Riley, his "Universal Philosophy," 107. River and Harbour Bill, 143. Robinson, Lincoln, 102. Robinson, William E., 241, 253. Roche, Rev. Spencer F., 281. Rockport, new cable landed at, 135. Rockwell, Rev. J.E., 50. Roebling, Mr., 207. Roosevelt, Theodore, 224, 422. Roosevelt, Mrs., 422. Rosa, Parepa, 43. Roswell, Mr., 205. Ruskin, John, 261; his literary works, 262. Russia, 263; defeats Turkey, 77; persecution of the Jews, 118; famine, 264. Russia, Alexander III.; Czar of, receives Dr. Talmage, 263-266; gift to him, 280. Russia, Nicholas II., Czar of, receives Dr. Talmage, 371. Russia, Czarina of, receives Mrs. Talmage, 371; her appearance, 371. Russia, Dowager Empress of, receives Dr. Talmage, 372. Russia, Nicholas, Grand Duke, 264.

Sacramento, 104; picture galleries, 106. Sage, Russell, his loan to Brooklyn Tabernacle, 268. Sailors, character of, 133. St. Louis railway strike, 167. Salt Lake City, 104, 320. Salvation Army, meetings in Brooklyn, 222. San Antonio, 415. San Francisco, 322; the first Presbyterian Church of, 49; its age, 105; picture galleries, 106; amount paid by Chinese, 174. Sand, George, character of her writings, 64. Sanderson, driver of the stage coach, 11. Sand-storm, a Mexican, 415. Sanitary Protective League, organisation of, 143. Santa Barbara, 322. Saratoga, 319. Scenery Chapel, 97. Schenck, Dr. Noah Hunt, 141. Schieren, Major, 281. Schiller, the famous comedian, 72. "Schiller," the, sinks, 134. Schley, Admiral, 332, 336. Schroeder, Frederick A., 99, 224. Schuylkill River, 25 note. Scott, Rev. James W., 22; his kindness to Dr. Talmage, 22-24; death, 24. Scudder, Dr., 120. Seattle, 321. Seavey, George L., 135; his gift to the library of the Historical Society, New York, 109. Seward, William H., 102; his death, 188. Shafter, General, 336. Shaftesbury, Lord, his funeral, 155; last public act, 155; President of various societies, 156. Shannon, Patrick, 69. Sharon Springs, 57. Sharpsburg, 221. Sheepshead Bay, races at, 147. Sheffield, 357. Shelbyville, 160. Sheridan, Mr. and Mrs., 108. Sherman, James, 97. Sherman, John, 256, 284. Sherman, Gen. William T., 242. Shields, Dr., 417; attends Dr. Talmage, 417; accompanies him home, 418. Siberia, 263. Silver Bill, passed, 80. Simpson, Bishop, 136. Simpson, Sir Herbert, 356. Simpson, Sir James Y., his use of chloroform, 207, 356. Skillman, Dr., 11. Slater, Mr., 194. Slocum, General, 133. Smith, Charles Emory, 223. Smith, Rev. J. Hyatt, 189; his life of self-sacrifice, 190. Smith, Mrs. Warren G., 420. Somerville, 3, 9. Soudan war, 146. Soulard, A.L., 268. Southampton, 347. South Carolina, 81. Spain, war with the United States, 320; investigation into, 336. Speer, Dr. Samuel Thayer, 186. Spencer, Dr., 54. Spencer, Rev. W. Ichabod, 186. Spring, Dr. Gardiner, 54, 187. Spurgeon, Rev. Charles H., 253; his death, 254. Stafford, Marshal, 241. Stanley, Dean, 116. Staten Island, 161. Stead, Mr., his crusade against crime, 153. Steele, Dr., 120. Steele, Commissioner of stamps, 107. Stephens, Alexander H., 80. Stevens, Mrs. Paran, 261. Stevens, W., 30. Stewart, Samuel B., 116. Stillman, Benjamin A., 224. Stockholm, Immanuel Church, 367. Stone, Rev. Dr., 187. Stone, Governor, 337, 346. Storrs, Rev. R.S., pastor of the Church of Pilgrims, 186. Stranahan, J.S.T., 120, 133, 224. Stratford-on-Avon, 358; the "Red Horse Hotel," 97. Strikes, 167; Bill for the arbitration of, 172. Stuart, Francis H., 234. Stuart, George H., 38. Sullivan-Ryan prize fight, 117. Summerfield, Dr. John, 187. Sunderland, Rev. Dr. Byron W., 294, 410. Suydam, Rev. Dr. Howard, at the burial of Dr. Talmage, 422. Swansea, 267, 389. Sweden, 367. Swenson, Mr., 364. Syracuse, 35.