On the lecture platform of 1877, the outstanding figure was the massive frame, the Jupiter-like head, and the resonant voice of Joseph Cook, one of the foremost men of that generation in the reconciliation of science with religion--if the twain ever needed a reconciliation. He gave six lectures, listened to by vast audiences. The one most notable was that entitled, "Does Death End All?" in which he assembled a host of evidences, outside of the Scriptures, pointing to the soul's immortality. Joseph Cook is well-nigh forgotten in this day, but in his generation he was an undoubted power as a defender of the faith. If we were to name the Rev. James M. Buckley, D.D., in the account of each year when he spoke in the platform and the subjects of his addresses, there would be room in our record for few other lecturers. He was present at the opening session in 1874, and at almost every session afterward for more than forty years,--aggressive in debate, instantaneous in repartee, marvelous in memory of faces and facts, and ready to speak upon the widest range of subjects. Every year, Dr. Buckley held a question-drawer, and few were the queries that he could not answer; although in an emergency he might dodge a difficulty by telling a story. For many years he was the editor of the _Christian Advocate_ in New York, known among Methodists as the "Great Official"; and he made his paper the champion of conservatism, for he was always ready to break a lance in behalf of orthodox belief or the Methodist system. Another speaker this year was Dr. P. S. Henson, a Baptist pastor successively in Philadelphia, in Chicago, and in Boston, but by no means limited to one parish in his ministry. He spoke under many titles, but most popularly on "Fools," and "The Golden Calf," and he knew how to mingle wisdom and wit in just proportions. Abundant as were his resources in the pulpit and on the platform, some of us who sat with him at the table or on a fallen tree in the forest, thought that he was even richer and more delightful, as well as sagacious in his conversation. Dr. Charles F. Deems, pastor of the Church of the Stranger in New York, also came to Chautauqua for the first time this year. He was at home equally in theology, in science, and on the questions of the day, with a remarkable power of making truth seemingly abstruse simple to common people. I recall a lecture on a scientific subject, at which he saw on the front seat two boys, and he made it his business to address those boys and simplify his message seemingly for them while in reality for his entire audience. But we cannot even name the speakers who gave interest to the program of 1877.