One lesson which my father taught his children was to be punctual in the performance of every duty. This he enforced by his own example. In these days of making and breaking appointments, I am frequently reminded of my father's promptness in meeting his engagements. Whether it was the summons to dinner, or the chapel bell calling him to his lecture-room, or to service on the Sabbath, he was invariably in his seat on time.

It was the custom in our house to have family prayers before breakfast. There was a first bell designed to awaken us, and we knew our father wished us all promptly to answer the second bell, and be in our seats when he commenced reading. He always on these occasions sat in a particular chair in one part of the room, and from this seat his eye could note the tardiness of any of us.

Occasionally, slumber rested too heavily on my eyelids, and the first bell was disregarded. When this was the case, oh how I dreaded to meet my father's sorrowful eye, fixed upon me as he paused for one moment in his reading! It always seemed to me to say, "Harriette, don't you love me? Don't you know I wish you to be punctual?"

I used to step very softly on such occasions, and after opening the door with the utmost care, slip into the first seat I could find.

During the thirty-eight years of my father's connection with the seminary, I have often been told that in two or three instances only he was behind time in meeting his class, and then it was in consequence of a providential detention. When the bell had stopped tolling, the students were sure to see him sitting in his arm-chair, ready to commence the duties of the hour. He was equally prompt in fulfilling all his appointments. If he had a meeting of the Prudential Committee of the American Board, or an engagement with any of the various benevolent societies with which he was connected, nothing short of a providential detention prevented his being on hand, and at exactly the right moment.

A clergyman, who is a member of the American Doctrinal Tract and Book Society, has given me the following incident:-

"It was during the early history of this society that an annual meeting was called at No. 9 Cornhill, up-stairs. Dr. Ide, of Medway, the vice-president, Sewell Harding, secretary, Dr. McClure, and other members had assembled. At this time a sharp controversy was going on in New England in regard to the origin of moral evil, and the Doctrinal Tract Society, and, of course, their president, were involved in the discussion.

"After some conversation among those present on the subject in question, a gentleman remarked, -

" ' It may be that on account of the excitement having reached its height, Dr. Woods will absent himself.'

" ' On that very account he will not fail us, ' eagerly remarked Dr. McClure.

"Dr. Ide took out his watch, saying, ' It wants two minutes to the hour. We may depend that Dr. Woods will be here.' While he was speaking, the tall form of the president was seen advancing to his chair. His entrance, much to his surprise, was greeted with a shout of laughter."

I have already said that it was my father's habit, during the spring and fall vacations, to accompany his family on a journey. As long as his aged mother lived, he went at least once a year to Princeton, at the foot of the Wachusett Mountains, to visit her, taking with him my mother and some of the children. On such occasions he made definite plans weeks beforehand, and wrote his mother, his sisters, and other relatives at exactly what hour he should expect to be at their houses. They well knew that the weather had nothing to do with his plans. The only alternatives were the words in his letter, "God willing." If he had written, "At one o'clock I shall be with you to take dinner," they were sure that, rain or sunshine, cold or heat, would not prevent him.

"I used to reach Princeton, " he said, "generally about four o'clock in the afternoon, and at that hour, on winding my way

slowly up the long hill, I have seen my aged mother standing at the door, her eyes shaded from the sun by her hand, waiting to welcome me. If the weather was unfavorable, and any member of the family ventured to hint that I might be delayed, her answer was always the same, spoken in her calm, decided tone, 'Leonard wrote me that he should be here.'