As my father's sixtieth birthday approached, his children resolved to celebrate it in an unusual manner. Two older sisters were closeted with mother, and came forth from their retirement with an air of mystery, very aggravating to us younger ones. They kept their secret two days, then, needing our help, they unfolded the project to our astonished ears.

All, however, was to be kept from father, which was hard indeed, as he was the usual repository of all our joys and sorrows. When he was gone to lecture, wagons of evergreen came up to the back entrance, and disappeared in a twinkling behind the parlor doors; a large clothes-horse, which folded together in three parts, was also confiscated for the grand occasion. Sarah and I were sent to the houses of the professors with notes of invitation to tea on the nineteenth day of June, 1834, which invitations, I may say here, were accepted on the spot.

In the mean time, from the kitchen the sound of egg-beating, steps hurrying to and fro, the odor of roasted coffee, and, on opening the great Rumford oven, also, of delicious cakes, tarts, and biscuit, gave evidence that we were on the eve of some unusual

event. Father passed through the halls, trying to conceal a smile, without a word of inquiry. We thought at the time that his abstraction of mind was most providential. I think now that mother had given him a private hint as to his conduct.

Certainly, every part of our plan prospered in a most wonderful manner, and the afternoon of the expected 19th at last arrived. It was also my sister Sarah's birthday. Either then or earlier she greatly amused father by saying, "You and I, papa, are just as old as each other, 'cause our birthdays are together."

Fortunately for us, father had a lecture at four o'clock, so that we had a fine opportunity to prepare the study for the first reception of the guests. To the mysterious room on the other side of the wide hall no one, not initiated, was to be admitted until after tea.

A little past five, my father returned from his lecture, accompanied by Professor Stuart, Dr. Thomas H. Skinner, and his other colleagues. Every seat at the long table was occupied. Not a word was said of any further celebration of the birthday, to which allusion was frequently made during the repast. When thanks for social and other blessings had been returned, two of my sisters went to father and asked him to go to the parlor. Mother, then taking the arm of one of her sons, invited all the guests to follow.

When he parlor door was thrown open, a novel and interesting scene awaited us. A beautiful arbor of evergreen, trimmed with roses, was in full view, within which were two chairs, to which seats of honor our parents were immediately led. Mother had made some objection to being placed in so prominent a position, but we soon overruled it by the plea, -

"You know, mother, that father won't enjoy it at all if he has not you by his side."

The company being dispersed about the room, the children and grandchildren present formed a group by themselves. Presently, the children commenced singing the following words, composed for the occasion by my youngest brother, Daniel, then a student in the seminary:-

Reference is made in the preceding lines to my sister Sarah's birthday occuring annually at the same time as my father's; also to the decease of my brother Joseph, who died just as he was about

to enter on the work of the ministry, and to my nephew and niece, Leonard and Julia, infant children of my sister, Mary G. W. Smith.

When the singing had ceased, little Mary, then the youngest granddaughter, carried up to father a handsomely bound Bible, on the cover of which was printed in gilt letters these words: "Presented to the Rev. Leonard Woods, D.D., on his sixtieth bithday, by his affectionate children, June 19, 1834"; on the reverse: "His children rise up and call him blessed"; on the fly-leaf: "Our dear father is requested to accept, on his sixtieth birthday, this Holy Book, which has been the guide of his youth and the comfort of his middle age, with the fervent prayer of his affectionate children that it may be the light and staff of his declining years. Andover, June 19, 1834."

My father's lip quivered with emotion when he read these words. He leaned forward, and kissed the curly-headed child who stood before him, then passed the book to mother.

Children then pressed forward to give him his birthday kiss; after this an hour or two was passed by all present in the mutual exchange of kind sentiments and feelings.

A few minutes before nine o'clock the doxology was sung to the excellent tune of "Old Hundred," and the pleasant party was closed with prayer offered by one of the professors.