A college professor, at an alumni gathering, in conversation with one of his former students who had been obliged to work his way through college, said to him, "I always had a feeling that you took life too seriously,—that you had too little diversion."
The thought expressed in that remark suggests one of the dominant impressions of Mr. Putney that comes to me after these many years. Teaching was to him a serious matter, and the student's part, in his judgment, both in preparation and in classroom, demanded likewise faithful and not superficial performance.
The basis of this characteristic in his life-work was his Christian faith. It naturally made his objective the development of Christian character, over and above the impartation and reception of information.
I have always felt a deep sense of personal gratitude for a service rendered during a special period of study at the Academy. Members of my class who took the classical course will recall that Greek was not included among my studies. Nearly four years after graduation from the Academy, having decided to enter college as a classical student, Ireturned to St. Johnsbury for ten weeks of intensive study of Greek alone. Mr. Putney not only made my membership in the class in "Middle" Greek possible, and practically free from embarrassment at being a late comer, but gave me many regular hours of private instruction in Homeric Greek, enabling me during the last weeks of the time to join the senior class in the study of the latter form of the language.
This I believe to be illustrative of his devotion and self-denying service to any who are ready to respond to the forth-putting of time, strength and knowledge on his part.
His home was open, if needed, to receive students or others who were sick and in need of attention impossible to be given in the Academy dormitory or other rooming building. Some cases of illness were of many weeks duration, but this mattered not. The tender ministrations of Mrs. Putney were not lessened until all necessity was passed.
Mr. Putney's influence was not due to his public utterances, for he did not seek platform prominence. But his constant adherence to high ideals of faithfulness, conscientiousness, and efficiency outside and in the classroom, and his personal helpfulness to many an individual student are among the legacies which many of us have been privileged to share from his long and abundantly fruitful life.
George L. Leonard, '83.
"Are you willing to write an appreciation of what his influence in those early days meant to you?"
So the letter read, telling me of the Charles E. Putney memorial. And shall I be frank enough to add that for a moment the question rather floored me? For while youth is very susceptible to influences, of many sorts, youth is not much more conscious of them than the beanstalk of the pole. Yet almost immediately it came back to me that a few days before that letter arrived, a group of men were chatting in a Washington club—among other things, about the value and results of formal education. And, agreeing that few people ever pick up at school or college anything which in later life they can put their finger on, that for many people the so-called higher education is a pure waste of time, I added, "The only man who ever taught me anything was a Greek teacher I had at a preparatory school in Vermont."
That Greek teacher was Mr. Putney. Perhaps Greek is no longer taught at the Academy. I don't know. It is not the fashion nowadays. But I am somewhat concerned that it has ceased to be the fashion. And the foundation of the feeling I have about it was laid, in great part, at St. Johnsbury. On that, at any rate, I can put my finger. It may not have been Mr. Putney who first sowed in the mind of one of his pupils the consciousness thathistory is a very long drawn out affair; that it did not begin in A. D. 1776, or in A. D. 1492, or even in A. D. 1. For before that pupil trod the banks of the Passumpsic he happened to have visited the shores of the Ægean. To him, consequently, the Anabasis and Homer were more real than otherwise they might have seemed—though Mr. Putney had the gift of making those old stories real.
But of one thing I am quite sure. Mr. Putney gave me my first sense of language as a living and growing organism, come from far beginnings; and he first made me see in the English language, in particular, a stream of many confluents. This is the chief reason why it seems to me a disaster that the classics are passing out of fashion. For with them all true understanding of our rich and noble tongue seems fated to pass out of fashion. To be too much bound to the past is of course an unhappy thing. Each generation must live by and largely for itself. Yet does it not profit a man to be aware that knowledge is an ancient and gradual accumulation, to gain an outlook upon the cycles of history and upon the human experiments that have succeeded or failed, to be able to trace the sources of this or that element in science, in law, in art? And how shall he really know the language he speaks without some acquaintance with the languages which have chiefly enriched it—not only French and German, but Latin and Greek as well?
This Mr. Putney had the art of making his pupils feel. I remember how he used to pick words to pieces and squeeze out for us the inner essence oftheir meaning. One example in particular has always stuck in my memory: pernicious. And I can still hear Mr. Putney's voice translating it for us: "Most completely full of that which produces death." That word has had an interest for me ever since—akin to the respect which Henry James later instilled into me for the adjective poignant, which he declared should be used only once or twice in a lifetime. What is more, I have never lost the habit Mr. Putney enticed us to form, of picking words to pieces for ourselves. There is no better way of extracting shades of meaning. But that way is closed to those who have no Greek.
Mr. Putney was, in short, my first humanist—though that word didn't come to me till another day, when I began to read about the Renaissance. But he was more than a humanist. He was humane. He was human. That underlay the fact that, with the affectionate disrespect of youth, he was known among ourselves as "Put." Disrespect, however, was never what we felt toward the principal of the Academy. Indeed, the first time I ever saw him, when I was a new boy of sixteen, he impressed me as being a rather awesome person. As long as I knew him his dignity and his firmness never failed to impress me. Yet about that dignity there was nothing aloof. That firmness was not hardness; it had no cutting edge. He meant what he said. That was all. No idle or disobedient boy flattered himself that "Put" was to be trifled with. Every boy felt, however, that "Put" was just. Firm as he was, he had too a great gentleness. And Ithink he had the kindest and most patient eyes I ever looked into. They were very shrewd. They could look through a boy as if he were made of glass. But they were also very wise, and they knew how to overlook a great deal of folly and thoughtlessness. Moreover there was in the bottom of them a twinkle—of a most individual kind. It was no broad Irish twinkle, nor yet an ironic Latin twinkle. You saw it sometimes when you had made a particularly egregious translation; but it didn't dishearten you.
I have never forgotten that quiet, that comprehending, that rare twinkle. After all, what happier light could a man cast on the cloudy ways of youth—or shed upon his own character?
H. G. Dwight, '94.
Coming East from Dubuque to Chicago, it is inspiring to an Eastern man to see how the life of this busy metropolis of the West is guided and influenced by the Eastern-trained man and woman. On the same street with the great University of Chicago is Chicago Theological Seminary. I had a delightful interview with the man who presides over this institution, training the virile young men of the West for the work of the Christian ministry and also for work in the mission field. This man is Dr. Ozora S. Davis, a graduate of St. Johnsbury Academy and of Dartmouth College. Dr. Davis attended St. Johnsbury Academy during the principalship of that gifted and consecrated Christian gentleman, Charles E.Putney, Ph. D. A powerful influence for righteousness exerted by the quiet but inspiring personality of this educational leader is now felt throughout the world. Truly the fourth verse of the nineteenth Psalm is applicable to this former principal of a New England academy: "Their line is gone out through all the earth and their words to the end of the world."
H. Philip Patey, '86.Journal of Education.
It is fitting that Mr. Putney's work and influence as an officer in the church in whose service he was so constant and faithful should receive some mention. While serving as principal of St. Johnsbury Academy during some of its most prosperous years and largest enrollment, he found time to serve actively on the board of deacons of the South Church, to teach a large class of students in the Sunday school, and to be unfailing in attendance upon the mid-week meeting. He was a pillar in the church he loved. And while in the Academy he maintained the religious traditions on which it was founded, he recognized that it was in the church that these traditions found their source and inspiration.
On his removal to Burlington he took up similar relations with the College Street Church, and continued them to the end of his career, loyal to its interests and liberal in its support. If fine distinctions are to be made between vocation and avocation it would be difficult to determine to whichinstitution the terms should be applied as his life is reviewed.
C. H. Merrill,Vermont Missionary.
It was not my privilege to sit at the feet of Mr. Putney as a student. In about the year 1870, I attended prize-speaking at the high school of Norwich, Vermont, and was told that the young principal was a Mr. Putney. Something about the man appealed to my boyish senses and I wished that I might know him, but lack of confidence prevented my making myself known. An acquaintance was formed three or four years later at St. Johnsbury. For a time, I was associated with Mr. Putney in certain lay-religious work and came to know him well, if not intimately,—a friendship which ever after continued. After the death of Mrs. Hazen, I received a beautiful letter from Mr. Putney, written laboriously by a shaking hand, but it expressed so much in a few words, characteristic of his genuineness, it is a letter that will ever be preserved among my most cherished possessions.
What was the subtle something that so appealed to me that long-ago evening at Norwich? It seems to me it was the unspoken sympathy of the man which touched the lives of all who came in contact with him even as the fragrance of a flower permeates the atmosphere. Surely he lived a life that is well "worth the telling."
Perley F. Hazen.
I want to join in the chorus of love and tender remembrance which you are hearing from all sides in regard to your father.
He was my first teacher, at Norwich, when for the first time I went to school, and his kindness and consideration helped me over the strangeness and discomfort of the new experience. He taught me Latin and I began Greek with him.
He was a most delightful principal of the school, and thought of the pleasantest things for us boys and girls to do, in and out of the classrooms; for instance, long walks together in which he accompanied us.
All my life I have thought of him with warmth and pleasure, and on the few occasions when I have seen him the old gratitude and confidence have been renewed. He was so good and so delightful all at once.
Sincerely yours,Katherine Morris Cone.
One lately dying—though alas I deemMyself unfit to praise his high, clear faith—Followed his Master till the darkling streamWas bravely crossed, sure that in life or deathNothing could separate from the love of Christ.So faithfully he kept with God his long, last tryst.J. A. Bellows, Dartmouth, '70.
One lately dying—though alas I deemMyself unfit to praise his high, clear faith—Followed his Master till the darkling streamWas bravely crossed, sure that in life or deathNothing could separate from the love of Christ.So faithfully he kept with God his long, last tryst.
One lately dying—though alas I deem
Myself unfit to praise his high, clear faith—
Followed his Master till the darkling stream
Was bravely crossed, sure that in life or death
Nothing could separate from the love of Christ.
So faithfully he kept with God his long, last tryst.
J. A. Bellows, Dartmouth, '70.
From his brother Freeman.
The hearts of all your father's brothers were terribly wrung by his death. For it has not often been given to a household to have a leading member who commanded such reverently affectionate esteem as did our brother Charles. His life, his spirit, his purposes, his exemplary attitude toward worthy living, his generously helpful thought—always expressed in action—how could they well be other than a constant challenge to his brothers and sisters? We all have rare cause for deep gratitude that he was ours for so many years; we cannot express our gratitude for our memories of him.
From a friend.
There is just one mind and one expression regarding your dear father—"One of the grand old men has gone to his reward." The presence of Mr. Putney has been a benediction to our high school. How thankful you must be that he had no lingering illness but just laid down his books and entered into the fuller life. We thank God for such a presence in our midst.
From an associate teacher.
In the years in school Mr. Putney was always ready with good counsel to the younger men. He never seemed to lose his courage nor even to grow old. The last time I saw him, his smile was as bright and his voice as cheery as I remember it always to have been.
From another associate teacher.
I count myself very fortunate to have known your father, and to have been his friend for a short time. He was one of the finest Christian gentlemen I ever knew. His influence in the city, the church and the school is certainly past all measuring.
From a friend.
A man whom literally thousands love and revere in memory, and whose work and influence are still going on.
From a former pupil.
I need not tell you that his going is, as was the death of your blessed mother, like the loss of one of my own parents. The kindness of those two good people to me when I needed help of just the kind they so finely and unselfishly gave has always been a most helpful influence in my life. To grow old looking upon his advancing years and the future with grace and an abiding faith, as Mr. Putney did, is in itself an inspiration to us all.
From a more recent pupil.
I do not need to tell you how we all loved him—everyone did who ever knew him. He was everybody's favorite teacher, and instead of hating to go to his classes we loved to do so. Somehow I always felt better after having talked with him, and I only wish everyone in the world could have known him. He was a real gentleman and a scholar.
He is not dead, this friend; not dead,But on some road by mortals tread,Got some few trifling steps ahead;And nearer to the end;So that you too once past the bend,Shall meet again, as face to face this friendYou fancy dead.—Robert Louis Stevenson.
He is not dead, this friend; not dead,But on some road by mortals tread,Got some few trifling steps ahead;And nearer to the end;So that you too once past the bend,Shall meet again, as face to face this friendYou fancy dead.
He is not dead, this friend; not dead,
But on some road by mortals tread,
Got some few trifling steps ahead;
And nearer to the end;
So that you too once past the bend,
Shall meet again, as face to face this friend
You fancy dead.
—Robert Louis Stevenson.
To live to old age; to keep one's physical health and mental vigor to the very end; to work at one's chosen task with undiminished enthusiasm; to know one's self greatly useful and greatly beloved; to go, at last, swiftly, and to be mourned by many friends;—what could one ask, of all the gifts of life, better than that?
The impression left by Mr. Putney is that of a singularly serene and happy old age. And surely, if ever a man had reason to look upon his life with serenity and quiet satisfaction, Mr. Putney had reason to do so.
It is a touching and also an inspiring thought, how the successive generations of young boys and girls passed through his life, each one receiving something of the rich gift which Mr. Putney had to share with all, but then too, each returning something of the fresh outlook and untarnished faith of youth to keep his old age green.
Mr. Putney lived long but never grew old. Perhaps because of his very association with the young, he tasted the fountain of perpetual youth.
How valuable and how prized was the gift which he imparted, is best known to those who best knewthe man himself. No pupil of his seems to think of him primarily as a teacher, but as a wise and kindly friend, whom to know was, somehow, to become one's self wiser and of a more human spirit.
And yet he was a superb teacher.
It is simply that this phase of him is lost in the totality of the man.
One thinks instinctively of a phrase of Cicero's—Cicero whose orations Mr. Putney taught for so many years—"Vir amplissimus." It means something much more, something quite other than simply "Great man." It means one adequate for the occasion, whatever that occasion might be.
That is the final verdict to be pronounced, as it is the highest praise to be bestowed. From whatever angle Mr. Putney was regarded, and to whatever test he was brought, he measured up; he sufficed.
John E. Colburn.
When Mr. Putney died, we could not at first realize our loss. He had been so much a part of the school life that it seemed hardly possible that, while that life went on, he could be away.
We all loved and admired him, but we seldom stopped to measure him. We accepted him, like any other accustomed gift, without realizing quite fully how much he meant to us.
As we remember him now, what impresses usmost strongly is the thought how little in him we could have wished to change—how extraordinarily well he measured up as a man.
There was a fine serenity about him, and a kind of soundness and sweetness of character like the autumnal ripeness of a perfect apple. It was tonic and wholesome to be under his influence.
There have been great teachers who could not teach. Nevertheless they were great teachers because a virtue went out from them which touched the lives of their pupils and was better than all instruction.
There have been great instructors who could not be respected, because along with intellectual brilliancy and clearness went a narrow, or a low, or a selfish outlook on life.
Mr. Putney measured up in both respects—he was a large-minded man, he was a great teacher.
The very nature of his profession precluded any wide or ringing fame. His work was done quietly, unobtrusively, one might almost say, obscurely. A teacher's work is always so.
His memory rests with us who knew him, but with us it is very secure.
It is the memory of a man whom we could respect without coldness, and love without making allowances.—Burlington High School Register.
In these days when the so-called practical side of life has seemed to crowd out the humanities, so that in many schools Latin and Greek are notincluded in the curriculum, Mr. Putney has held high the torch of classical learning. To him much credit should be given for keeping alive a real interest in Greek, and for giving thorough and inspiring work in Latin.
Moreover, in all school relations Mr. Putney has been not only ready but glad to co-operate. Whether for a social gathering of the teachers requiring a tax, for tickets to the many ball games, or for Thanksgiving baskets to be filled, Mr. Putney's purse was always open. Not many, indeed, know how often he overpaid his subscription so as to be sure to do his part.
But, of course, it is the personality of Mr. Putney, so elusive and yet so real, that has impressed us all. In the hurry and rush of modern days, he never failed to be truly kind, to be warmly sympathetic, and at all times to be wholly unselfish. So with the poet we say,
"And thus he bore without abuseThe grand old name of gentleman."
"And thus he bore without abuseThe grand old name of gentleman."
"And thus he bore without abuse
The grand old name of gentleman."
Effie Moore.
The thing which impressed me the most about Mr. Putney was the way he saluted the flag in Assembly every morning.
One could tell by his manner in saluting that he loved the flag and would fight for it again, anywhere, any time.
I. A.
Mr. Putney was a man who always found the best in every one; who proved himself such a sympathetic teacher that he inspired all to try to please him.
His name will always bring to mind most tender remembrances.
L. B.
Mr. Putney has always been to his students the highest ideal of man and of teacher. He has been a true friend. His generosity to faults and the encouragement he has given us all to live better lives will bear fruit. He had a whole-hearted smile which none of us will ever forget. He is, and always will be, the outstanding figure in my school life.
E. C.
With the passing away of this most venerable character Burlington High School has lost a shining star,—a star that shone in the hearts of all his students and of all of those who knew him. He was a friend of all creeds and was always ready to lend a willing hand to them. Religious to the utmost and a real American in the full sense of the word,—such is the character of the soul which will no longer cheer us in our daily tasks, but which will remain in our memories forever.
A. F.
Of all Mr. Putney's most striking attributes, his smile always impressed me greatly. Every time he smiled we looked up and just naturally smiled, too. And when he laughed it was contagious—a ripple of happiness sounded through the class. His smile always drove away the blues and encouraged us; not only in our Latin lessons, but in every way it made life brighter.
E. L.
Mr. Putney's love and friendship for the pupils and the respect which they had for him stand out most strongly in my mind. Never did he hesitate when asked to help some of his pupils out of hours. Never did a cross word pass his lips, and a nod was all that was needed to stop any disturbance in the hall or room.
He will be missed as the most loved, most able, and most respected teacher and companion that ever entered "Old Edmunds."
C. K.
Mr. Putney, the most perfect man I have ever known. Only a few words are necessary to say that though I knew him only for a short while, he stood as a symbol of my utmost ideal in man.
Justice, kindness, love and brotherhood were living in his heart. His most beautiful characteristic and the most precious was his consideration for others.
G. E. R.
What especially appealed to me in Mr. Putney was his love for his pupils. He always tried to help them in every possible way. He even stayed at school an hour or so after the school had closed to help those "who might wish to come for help," as he always said in his pleasing tone. I shall never forget his words, "Well, you will have it to-morrow?" when some person was not prepared with his lesson.
No greater loss could be sustained by the school than this giving up of Mr. Putney.
D. R.
Mr. Putney was a man dearly loved by all who knew him. His gentle ways, his remarkable whole-heartedness and his polished manners are characteristics of a man who was a great but modest hero in the great Civil War.
He had no favorites among the pupils but he was the favorite of the pupils. Thus we mourn the loss of Mr. Putney next to the loss of a near relative.
C. T.
When I first saw Mr. Putney I was impressed by his dignity and his kind face. After knowing him better, what appealed to me most forcibly was the absolute confidence and trust he had in his pupils. This trust in us made us want to do our work well, and made us feel that we must do our work well so that we would deserve his trust.
"Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul."
"Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul."
"Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul."
When we heard of Mr. Putney's passing all was silence; that was the only tribute one could give. Mere words, mere music,—nothing reaches the summit of a life given over to service. His creed was, What do we live for if it is not to make life a little less difficult for others. Surely that is the highest goal of any human soul. He lived so that to come into his presence was to be warmed and cheered as by the sun. By a life heroic he conquered death.
Whenever I looked at Mr. Putney and the flag in assembly, I could not help connect him in some way with Abraham Lincoln and the great struggle for freedom. He used to carry himself in such a soldierly manner. Whenever he spoke to us it was a rare treat.
H. M. B.
You have not asked me to speak to you this morning about Mr. Putney because I can tell you anything about him which you do not already know. In fact it does not matter very much who speaks to you about him. You only wish to have an occasion to recall a familiar and delightful and impressive teacher. You wish someone to do what Mark Antony did for the Romans and tell you what you yourselves do know and enable you to repeat the experience of Samson's mother in the scriptureswho said about the angel's visit, "The man came to me who came to me the other day."
You have set me a difficult and an easy task. Difficult because you knew the man and open your ears for words good enough to speak about him, and easy because you knew the man and can yourselves supply what I may miss, and smooth my awkwardness by the harmony of your own recollections.
You might be interested to hear something about Thomas Arnold of Rugby, Tom Brown's teacher, or about Bronson Alcott who had such strange ways in discipline, requiring an offending pupil to punish him, holding out his own hand for the ferrule; or about Tagore in India who requires his boys to go out early in the morning to sit for half an hour under some bush or tree for quiet meditation. Talk about these men might perhaps appeal to your general interest in teachers and teaching, but what you crave this morning is different. You wish to repeat the experience of Achilles who slept beside the many-voiced sea, thePolu phloisboio Thalasses, and dreamed that his slain friend Patroclus came back to him:
"Like him in all things—stature, beautiful eyesAnd voice and garments which he wore in lifeA marvellous semblance of the living man."
"Like him in all things—stature, beautiful eyesAnd voice and garments which he wore in lifeA marvellous semblance of the living man."
"Like him in all things—stature, beautiful eyes
And voice and garments which he wore in life
A marvellous semblance of the living man."
Or the experience of Peter when his Master appeared to him and freshened the old love and admiration and moved him to carry on the Master's service in his own life.
You have set me a very difficult task but when Igive you an inch you will take an ell. Where I stumble you will walk with sure step. If I am too much like Hamlet with old Polonius saying this cloud is like an elephant or a camel, you will see a cloud like that which went before the Israelites in the desert—a high spiritual presence to guide them.
A few days ago he was here. The memory is full of life. His stalwart figure clothed with gentlemanly care and taste, his bearing and movement so fine, so dignified, so courteous and so pleasant. His voice so special to him, with all harshness fined out of it, tuned as their voices are who have in their spirits the accent and habit of good will. And that fine face, the out-of-doors sign of good thinking and good feeling, practiced long and become a second nature. That shapely, well-proportioned, roomy head with its glory of white hair. He had, it seemed to me, in his physical presence the charm of old age without its weakness. He was not a sentimental, flowery man. He was naturally perhaps like the rock in the desert which Moses struck and drew water from it. The rock did not look as if it hid a fountain of living water, but he took duty to wife. He loved to do his duty. He could not be comfortable in any other course and doing his duty became his joy, his life. Wherever you found him, in school, in church, in the state, in the Grand Army, he was at his post, on guard, awake, alert, devoted. He did not go with the crowd into the Civil War. He thought alone and deeply. He weighed the matter by himself. He compared his obligation to his father on the old farm with thecall of the Union and concluded that he ought to go. After a long life of fidelity to obligation he could not breathe easily in any other atmosphere. He went simply and straight to his post with his whole gift and might. Duty—
"Stern lawgiver! Yet thou dost wearThe Godhead's most benignant grace;Nor know we anything so fairAs is the smile upon the face,Flowers laugh before thee on their beds,And fragrance in thy footing treads.Thou dost preserve the stars from wrong,And the most ancient heavens through thee are fresh and strong."
"Stern lawgiver! Yet thou dost wearThe Godhead's most benignant grace;Nor know we anything so fairAs is the smile upon the face,Flowers laugh before thee on their beds,And fragrance in thy footing treads.Thou dost preserve the stars from wrong,And the most ancient heavens through thee are fresh and strong."
"Stern lawgiver! Yet thou dost wear
The Godhead's most benignant grace;
Nor know we anything so fair
As is the smile upon the face,
Flowers laugh before thee on their beds,
And fragrance in thy footing treads.
Thou dost preserve the stars from wrong,
And the most ancient heavens through thee are fresh and strong."
Mr. Putney was an instructive teacher. Some of you know it. Many old pupils gratefully acknowledge his service. Both in the classroom and in private personal contact he had an enthusiasm for teaching. He managed to secure knowledge of what he taught. He was interested in his pupils and he was interested in his subject and interested in bringing the two together. Teaching I should think would be difficult without all of those interests. No doubt Mr. Putney had a gift for teaching, but in teaching as in other kinds of work one does much to make one's own gift. Barring conspicuousness for a calling, this creative energy is the man himself. I like to remind young people of this fact because they are wondering what they will do in life; what they are fitted to do. With some reservations it may be said that one becomes fitted to do whatever onedetermines to do with one's whole mind and soul and strength. Think how hit or miss our choices often are. Accidental circumstances or chance openings when we are looking around for a job, something which happens to be in the air when we come on the stage have more to do with our first choices than any supposed genius for this or that.
When men and women who have begun their career in this quite casual manner succeed, then people say they have a remarkable gift for their work. The gift in a very real and large sense is the creation of their own energy. I believe that it was so with Mr. Putney. He was diligent and faithful in his calling and his calling opened its treasures to him.
You remember what the Scripture says: "No man having tasted old wine straightway desireth the new for he saith the old is better." Mr. Putney illustrated the saying. There was a graciousness, a consideration, a pleasantness and good will in his ripe age which made it beautiful and drew warm personal feeling to him. A custom of the heart grew up about his name. Some of you loved him. That feeble old soldier whom he visited every Sunday afternoon is lonely without him. He had "that which should accompany old age, as honor, love, obedience, troops of friends." Not a few boys and girls have reason to remember with tenderness his delicate and patient sympathy.
I received a circular the other day signed by my old teacher of mathematics. I have not seen him for nearly forty years but reading his words, seeinghis name I lifted him again before my mind as if I sat again before him in the Albany Academy. I recall his bodily presence, his voice, his manner. I am grateful for his clear, and to me inescapably conclusive teaching, and something I cannot analyze came back to me—perhaps I should better say, came over me for my debt to him has been growing all these years. Something of him has taken root in my life and grown and borne fruit. In youth we take such influences for granted. We are careless about them. We absorb them without thanks. But the years bring thought and thought reveals service and we are grateful.
"All my best is dressing old words newSpending again what is already spentFor as the sun is daily new and oldSo is my love still telling what is told."
"All my best is dressing old words newSpending again what is already spentFor as the sun is daily new and oldSo is my love still telling what is told."
"All my best is dressing old words new
Spending again what is already spent
For as the sun is daily new and old
So is my love still telling what is told."
In coming years some of you will be thinking and saying about Mr. Putney with growing appreciation what some who are now in the thick of life are already saying in the words of Scripture "Demetrius hath good report of all men and of the truth itself: yea, and we also bear record."
Whatever our path in life or the aim of our ambition, the real measure of our service and success is the influence we exert upon the present generation and those who come after us. We may dothis through our everyday life, through our individual service, through our benefactions. When our lives are summed up, we are asked not what we gained, but what we gave, not how much wealth we accumulated, but how much good we did through our service and the means at our disposal.
To grow old beautifully in service for humanity has been named the height of human achievement. It falls to few men to do this in the measure reached by Professor Putney, who has just passed out from this community mourned by all. His long life joined generations far separated. Those who paid tribute to his life and individual service included the rapidly thinning "blue line" of the veterans of the war for the preservation of the Union, for human freedom, of nearly three-quarters of a century ago as well as hundreds of school children who had learned to love him through the close association of teacher and pupil. It is given to only one man in ten thousand thus to link close to his own personality the genuine affections of organizations representing extreme youth and advanced age.
To have done all this is proof that Professor Putney in every sense of the expression "grew old beautifully." The human interest element serves to bring out this side of his life still more impressively. It was his ambition that he might teach on his eightieth birthday. A few more days would have witnessed the consummation of this allowable wish. His conscientiousness was supreme however. He remarked to his granddaughter that if he did not recover in two weeks it would not beright for him to retain his position as a teacher in the Burlington High School, great as was his desire to celebrate his fourscore anniversary "in harness."
He continued to the end one of the youngest of aged men. He kept in touch with youth and was thus able to reflect the spirit and intense interest of youth. He was constantly aiding boys in his home who needed help in their studies. He gave of himself ungrudgingly in this way and refused recompense. It was with him a labor of love. If he had frailties, and who of us has not, he governed them instead of letting them have dominion over him, thereby showing himself better "than he that taketh a city." For his pupils and his associates as well as for those who associated with him in his Christian work in the College Street Church he was always the gentleman of the old school and the embodiment of unobtrusive beneficence combined.
All boys and girls who may be inclined to bewail the impossibility of being of service under present conditions or limitations will establish their privilege of serving as he served, if they bear thoroughly in mind that Professor Putney did what he did, not through the aid of wealth or position or the favor of powerful friends, but solely through his own individual service to others.
Of such it is written "that he shall doubtless come again with rejoicing bringing his sheaves with him." In the years to follow the sheaves of influence of Professor Putney's life will come many times to the youth whose privilege it has been to be associated with him, and they will rejoice that his influenceentered their careers. Who shall measure the influences for good that he has set in motion in the young lives and in the life of our community? Happy the man to whom it is thus given to grow old beautifully! Thrice happy that man who in thus growing old beautifully is able to bring down to the latest generations the best traditions of the past and through them to make his life a benediction to many generations to come.—Burlington Free Press.