A HW'HILEWMI i m No. Graduation 55 Day EDGAR S WERNER NEW YORK Published by EDGAR S. WERNER & CO. NEW YORK Copyright, 1915, by Edgar S. "Werner. COMMENCEMENT WEEK ("Werner's Readings and Recitations No. 54) 192-page Book $1.00 cloth, 60c. paper binding DIVISIONS OF BOOK INTRODUCTION. — Commencement Week Features. Comprehensive article treating scope and aims of Commencement Week. PART I. — Baccalaureate Sermons PART II.— Hints and Subjects for Debate Affirmative and Negative Points Outlined PART III.— Class Day and Ivy Day Class Poems — Class Odes — Class Songs — Class Orations — Class History- — Class Mottoes — Class Chronicles — Class Day Addresses — Class Day Valedictory — Class Prophecies — Class and Col- lege Yells — Class Day Toasts — Class Day Drill for Young Ladies (with minute directions, diagrams, etc.) — Class Day and Ivy Day Sug- gestive Programs — Our Class Colors — Ivy Poem — Ivy Oration — Presentation Addresses — Last Will and Testament of Class — Greeting — Growler — Lawyer's Ten Commandments — Senior Charge — etc. PART IV.— Senior Day, Alumni Meetings, Banquets Alumni Orations — Alumni Addresses — Alumni Poems — Alumni Dinner Speeches — Graduates' Social Affairs — Popular College Candies — Recipes for making, etc. PART V.— Racing, Athletic, Play or Recital Day Games and Contests (with full directions) Rec- itations and Plays. PART VI.— Reception Day, Parting Songs. You need with "Commencement Week" ("Wer- ner's Readings No. 54") also "Graduation Day" ("Werner's Readings No. 55"), which is an im- portant part of "Commencement Week." 80 cents in cloth, 50 cents in paper binding. Edgar S. Werner & Co., 11 E. 14th St., N. Y. Werner's Readings and Recitations No. 55 draintatioit Pa^ COMPILED AND ARRANGED BY STANLEY SCHELL V5 EDGAR S. WERNER & COMPANY NEW YORK Copyright, 1915, by Edgar S. Werner. Graduation Day Werner's Readings and Recitations No. 55 ALL THE MATERIAL CONTAINED IN THIS BOOK HAS MOST SUCCESSFULLY STOOD THE TEST OF SCHOOLS, COLLEGES, HIGH SCHOOLS, PUBLIC SCHOOLS, AND OTHER INSTITUTIONS. GRADUATION DAY [Werner's Readings and Recita- tions No. 55] IS PART OF COMMENCEMENT WEEK [Werner's Readings and Recitations No. 54] BUT, OWING TO THE VAST AMOUNT OF MATERIAL, HAD TO BE ISSUED AS A SEP- ARATE BOOK. THE TWO BOOKS, IN COM- BINATION, GIVE ALL THE NECESSARY MA- TERIAL FOR A SUCCESSFUL COMMENCEMENT WEEK. MUCH OF THE MATERIAL GIVEN IS SUITED TO ANY OCCASION. JMlttye material contained in drabuation Pag [Werner's Readings and Recitations No. 55] fyas been compiled, arranged, eMtefc, at written especially iat tljis book, tofyidj Ijas been buln tapnrigiljteft, anfo all rights are ttsttvtb. <£> Copyright, 1915, by Edgar S. Werner. Werner's Readings No. 55 — page 2 ALPHABETICAL CONTENTS PAGE Action Needs Purpose (Graduation Address). — Laura Drake Gill. 139 Adieux au College de Belley (Graduation Poem in French). — Alphonse de Lamartie 173 Always Last (Valedictory) 168 Americanism (Valedictory). — M. Dell Adams 152 Ancient Seminary Maid (Graduation Poem). — Margherita Arlina Hamm 74 "Applause Goes a Great Way" (Salutatory) 65 Awakening of the Soul (Graduation Essay) 118 "Be Blind and Kind - ' (Salutatory) 67 Be Up and Doing (Graduation Address). — Charles A. Wingerter. 13" Because She's a Woman, Xot Her Learning (Graduation Poem). 79 Beginnings of Things (Kindergarten Address). — Mary Jean Miller 141 Build Castles in the Air (Valedictory) 159 Class History (burlesque) 182 Class Ode 186 Class Oration (burlesque) 183 Class Poem 184 Class Prophecy (burlesque) 183 Class Will (burlesque ) " 184 Co-Ed Gladiators (Salutatory) 67 College Daughter — Lonely Parents (Graduation Poem). — Eleanor Bates 86 College-Life Reveals Real Character (Valedictory) 157 College Training a Great Help (Graduation Address). — Daniel Coit Gilman 144 Commencement Essays (Graduation Poem) 84 Conferring Diplomas (burlesque) 185 Culture in Six Weeks (Prize Recitation) ■ 36 Culture on Bitter Creek (Prize Recitation) 58 Day Worth Remembering (Valedictory) 160 Deepwater Debate (Prize Recitation). — May McHenry 39 Despise Not Little Things (Graduation Essay) 115 Difference Between College and University (Graduation Address). — Seth Low. 123 Directions for the Reading-Class (Graduation Poem). — F. Ursula Payne : 85 Werner's Readings No. 55 — page 3 WERNER'S READINGS NO. 55 PAGE Service (Salutatory). — Minnie Belle Bradford 62 Sing with Right Good Cheer (Graduation Song) 96 Sterilized Country School (Graduation Poem). — J. W. Foley 70 Stolen Bridegroom (Prize Recitation). — Emerson Hough 48 Struggle, the Price of Progress (Graduation Oration) 109 Studies Over, Gowns Now Uppermost (Graduation Poem) 81 Study Hard, Play Hard (High School Address). — Theodore Roosevelt 148 Suggestive Graduation Theses and Orations 149 Teacher to His Boys (Graduation Poem). — W. T. Miller 93 Teacher's Address (Salutatory) 68 Theses (suggested) 149 "This Is the Last Time" (Valedictory). — Eugene Wood 150 Threads of Light (Graduation Address) 135 Three Decimal Rules of Life (Business College Address). — Gen. Stewart L. Woodford - 1 32 To Speak, or Not to Speak (Graduation Parody) 76 To the Graduates (Graduation Poem).— Teresa Beatrice O'Hare.. 80 Tolerance the Basis of Liberty (Valedictory) 164 Training for the Navy (Naval Academy Address). — Theodore Roosevelt 125 Two Diplomas (Prize Recitation) '. . 15 Uncle Silas on "Co-Edication" (Graduation Poem) 72 Vacation Renews Vigor (Graduation Poem). — Edith Putnam Painton 95 Valedictory (burlesque) 185 Vassar Girl (Graduation Song). — Wallace Irwin . ... 97 Vestal Virgin (Prize Recitation) 20 Village View Debating-Club (Negro-Dialect Play). — Helen E. Brown 186 "We, About to Live, Salute You" (Salutatory). — Eugene Wood.. 61 What College Does for Girls (Graduation Address). — James Mon- roe Taylor 133 Who Owned the Spoons? (Prize Recitation). — Fidelia Fountain.. 47 Why Class "A" Gave Thanks (Prize Recitation). — Lucy Copinger 33 Wisdom from One's Neighbors (Graduation Essay). — William G. Ward Ill Woman's Sphere and Mission (College President's Inaugural Ad- dress). — John Hampden Thomas 146 Women and the Saloon (Prize Recitation). — Samuel Dickie.. 4^ Woodland Voices Calling (Graduation Song) 90 Werner's Readings No. 55 — page 6 INDEX TO AUTHORS PAGE Ade, George 101 Akers, Vivian M 105 Adams, M. Dell 152 Adams. Mattie L 169 Bailey, Philip James 60 Baird, Jean K 29 Bates, Eleanor 86 Bradford, Minnie Belle :. 62 Brown, Helen E 186 Bryant, William Cullen 149 Burdette, Robert J 55 Burnell, Mary A 100 Byron, Lord 68. 170 Chesterfield, Lord ..-. . 63 Coleridge, Samuel Taylor 74 Copinger, Lucy 33 Cranch, Christopher F 148 Cromwell, Oliver 138 Daly, T. A 81 Dame. Ruth B 176 De Lamartie, Alphonse 173 Dickie, Samuel 46 Dunnigan, Ambrose P 154 Eastman, Ella F 181 Foley, J. W 70. 78 Fountain, Fidelia 47 Gill, Laura Drake 139 Gilman, Daniel Coit 144 Gordon. Margaret 177 Grey, Cynthia 87 Hamm, Margherita Arlina... 74 Hill. Mabel A 161 Hoar, George Frisbee 113 Hough, Emerson 48 Hubbell, Charles Bulkley.... 130 Irwin, Wallace 97 PAGE Johnson, Samuel 24 Jordan, David Starr 121 Keats, John 107 Keller. H. S 102 Kingsland, Mrs. Burton 13 Leeds, Virginia Xiles 25 Longfellow, Henry W....32, 104 Loud. John J 99 Low. Seth 123 McBeath, Tom , 88 McHenry, May 39 McLaughlin. Robert J 142 Mabie, Hamilton Wright 103 Miller, Mary Jean 141 Miller, W. T 93 Milton. John 45 O'Hare, Teresa Beatrice 80 Painton, Edith Putnam 66 95. 126, 170, 171 Payne, F. Ursula 85 Pope, Alexander 19 Potter, Henry Codman 128 Roosevelt, Theodore ....125, 148 Schell. Stanley Scott. Walter 175 Stanton, Frank L 73 Taylor, James Monroe 133 Thwing, Charles F 136 Thomas, John Hampden 146 Thompson, Keene 69 Van Vliet. Ethel M 101 Ward, William G Ill Wingerter, Charles A. 137 Wells, Carolyn 179 Wood, Eugene 61, 108, 150 Woodford, Stewart L 132 Werner's Readings No. 55 — page 7 CLASSIFIED CONTENTS PAGE ADDRESSES Action Needs Purpose 139 Be Up and Doing 137 Beginnings of Things 141 College Training a Great Help 144 Difference Between College and University 123 Education's Aims 136 Elocution 128 Latin and Greek Essential Studies 113 Lessons of School Life 126 "Let Your Competitors Smoke" 121 Opportunity to Be Seized by Forelock 130 Study Hard, Play Hard 148 Teacher to His Boys 93 Teacher's Address 68 Threads of Light 135 Three Decimal Rules of Life. 132 To the Graduates 80 Training for the Navy 125 Vacation Renews Vigor 95 What College Does for Girls. 133 Woman's Sphere and Mission 146 CLASS DAY (Burlesque) Class History 182 Class Ode 186 Class Oration 183 Class Poem 184 Class Prophecy 183 Class Will 184 Conferring Diplomas 185 Valedictory 185 Werner's Readings PAGE DIALECT Gettin' Ready to Graduate... 77 Kitty's Graduation 81 Ma and Pa, Not Polly, Needed Educatin' 69 Mollie Is Graduatin' 71 Other Boy Is the Bad Boy.. 89 Uncle Silas on "Co-Edication" 72 Village View Debating-Club. 186 DRAMATIC OR PRIZE SPEAKING SELECTIONS Culture in Six Weeks 36 Culture on Bitter Creek 58 Deepwater Debate ■ . . 39 Girl School - Teacher Who Farmed 55 Graduation Day Prize Contest 178 Honors of the Class 29 Stolen Bridegroom 48 Two Diplomas 15 Vestal Virgin 20 Why Class "A" Gave Thanks 33 Who Owned the Spoons? 47 Women and the Saloon 46 ESSAYS Awakening of the Soul 118 Despise Not Little Things... 115 Historical Novel 142 How to Write a Graduation Essay 103 Wisdom from One's Neigh- bors Ill FRENCH LANGUAGE Adieux au College de Belley.. 173 GIFTS Gift to a Girl Graduate 179 No- 55 — page 8 CLASSIFIED PAGE HINTS OR SUGGESTIONS How to Write a Graduation Essay 103 Graduating Oration 105 Graduation Program Hints... 176 Hints for Graduation or Com- mencement Day 13 HUMOR Ancient Seminary Maid Because She's a Woman, Not Her Learning Commencement Essays Directions for the Reading- Class Gettin' Ready to Graduate... Graduation at Miss Lurch's Boarding-School Graduation Time Her Senior Smile Your Water- loo I Want to Live in a College To ivn Kitty's Graduation "Old-Time Friends" on Exhi- bition-Day Ma and Pa, Not Polly, Need- ed Educatin' Other Boy Is the Bad Boy.. Pedagogue's Wooing Resistless March of Girl Graduates School-Books Out of Date.. . . Searching for Wisdom Sterilized Country School Studies Over, Gowns Now Uppermost To Speak, or Not to Speak. . . Vassar Girl 74 79 84 85 77 181 78 87 101 81 73 69 89 S3 102 88 101 70 81 76 97 CONTENTS PAGE MONOLOGUES, RECITALS Ancient Seminary Maid 74 Because She's a Woman, Not Her Learning 79 College Daughter — Lonely Parents 86 Commencement Essays 84 Girl School - Teacher Who Farmed 55 Graduation Time 78 Her Graduation 25 Her Graduation Rhyme 90 Kitty's Graduation 81 Ma and Pa. Not Polly, Need- ed Educatin' 69 Mollie Is Graduatin' 71 "Old-Time Friends" on Exhi- bition-Day 73 Other Boy Is the Bad Boy... 89 Proud of His Son-Graduate.. 75 Romance in Old College Days 94 Sterilized Country School.... 70 Teacher to His Boys 93 Uncle Silas on "Co-Edication" 72 Vacation Renews Vigor 95 Vestal Virgin 20 ORATIONS Duty the Highest Call 108 Graduating Oration 105 Orations (suggested ) 149 Struggle, the Price of Progress 109 PARODIES School-Books Out of Date... 88 To Speak, or Not to Speak.. 76 PLAYS Village View Debating-Club. 186 Graduation at Miss Lurch's Boarding-School 181 Werner's Readings No. 55 — page 9 CLASSIFIED PAGE POEMS Adieux au College de Belley. 173 Always Last 168 Ancient Seminary Maid 74 Because She's a Woman, Not Her Learning 79 Class Poem 184 College Daughter — Lonely Parents 86 Commencement Essays 84 Directions for the Reading- Class 85 Fate— Graduate 1 72 Gettin' Ready to Graduate... 77 "Good-By" 175 "Good-by but Not Farewell". 170 Good Ship, Alma Mater 172 Graduation Time 78 Hard Lessons — Harder Trials Coming 169 Her Graduation Rhyme 90 Her Senior Smile Your Water- loo 87 Kitty's Graduation 81 Juniors' Farewell to Senior Class 171 Ma and Pa, Not Polly, Need- ed Educatin' 69 Mollie Is Graduatin' 71 "Old-Time Friends" on Exhi- bition-Day 73 Other Boy Is the Bad Boy. . . 89 Pedagogue's Wooing 83 Pleasure More Than Pain.... 66 Proud of His Son-Graduate.. 75 Romance in Old College Days 94 School-Books Out of Date... 88 Sterilized Country School.... 70 Studies Over, Gowns Now Uppermost 81 Teacher to His Boys 93 Werner's Readings CONTENTS PAGE POEMS— Continued. ' To Speak, or Not to Speak.. 76 To the Graduates 80 Uncle Silas on "Co-Edication" 72 Vacation Renews Vigor 95 PROGRAMS Graduation Day Prize Contest 178 Graduation Program Hints... 176 Rural School Commencement 177 QUOTATIONS 19, 24" 32, 45, 60, 63, 68, 74, 104, 107 138, 148, 149, 170, 175, 179, 180 SALUTATORIES "Applause Goes a Great Way" 65 "Be Blind and Kind" 67 Co-Ed Gladiators 67 Don't Withhold Applause 63 First Steps 64 Future, Not the Present, the Test 64 Latin Salutatory 1 82 Pleasure More Than Pain 66 Service 62 "We, About to Live, Salute You" 61 SENTIMENT Pedagogue's Wooing 83 SONGS (Words only — tunes suggested) High Ideals Not Lost ,100 I Want to Live in a College Town 101 Mother Earth Holiday • 99 Parting of the Ways „ 99 Resistless March of Girl Graduates 102 Searching for Wisdom 101 Sing with Right Good Cheer. 96 Vassar Girl 97 Woodland Voices Calling 98 No. 55 — page 10 CLASSIFIED PAGE TEMPERANCE Women and the Saloon 46 THESES (Suggested) 149 VALEDICTORIES Adieux au College de Belley. 173 Always Last 168 Americanism 152 Build Castles in the Air 159 College-Life Reveals Real Character 157 Day Worth Remembering. . . . 160 Entering an Unknown World 174 Fate — Graduate 172 "Good-By" 175 CONTENTS PAGE VALEDICTORIES — Continued. "Good-by but Xot Farewell'.. 170 Good. Ship, Alma Mater 172 Hard Lessons — Harder Trials Coming 169 Joy and Sadness — Sunshine and Shadow 162 Juniors' Farewell to Senior Class 171 Learning, Health, Sanctity... 154 Memory and Hope: Two Great Forces 156 Sentiment Rules the World.. 161 "This Is the Last Time" 150 Tolerance the Basis of Lib- erty 164 Valedictory 185 Werner's Readings No. u5 — page 11 <3flao, of (§ur |Mutou. J\. soug, for our banner? ®lj£ faatcfyfaoro recall JSHljtclj gaue tip JRepubltc Ijer stattour "^Mutteo foe siauo — btotoeo tot fall!" <3li utaoe aob preserves us a uattou! ©fye nnwn of lakes — tip nnwn of lauos — tElje nnwn of Jitaies uoue cau seoer — SIlje uutou of ijearis, tlje uutou of Ijauos — J^uo ii|£ flag of our jptutou foreuer! Wernpr's Readings No. 55 — page 12 Werner's Readings and Recitations No. 55 Graduation Day Copyright, 1915, by Edgar S. Werner INTRODUCTION HINTS FOR GRADUATION OR COMMENCEMENT DAY. Mrs. Burton Kingsland. "Welcome her, all tilings youthful and Bweet, Scatter the blossoms under her feet." TENNYSON'S words of welcome to Alexandra, when she came as bride to England, are just what we want to express when wc see young girl graduates stepping forth eagerly, yet half-timidly, to take their places in the big world, for which a course of training for years has prepared them. It is a great event, when, on graduation day, in presence of friends of the whole school or college, they are awarded diplomas, certificates of merit, prizes, or whatever honors their fidelity entitles them to receive. A girl would not be a girl if she did not think of what she should wear. The dress should be simple, and white, emblematic of purity, and of the unknown future, the blank page on which is to be written her life's history. Hair should be arranged as usual; bunch of flowers in belt, perhaps a touch of color in sash and hair-ribbon, etc. Girls of graduating class sit on platform, on either side, facing principal and teachers of school. Bouquets, sent by friends of grad- uates, are placed in lines like footlights along edge of platform. Rest of school sit in front seats on floor of room. Piano is placed in center against platform. Exercises begin with chorus sung by entire school. Mendelssohn's "Spring Song" is appropriate, to be followed by an ad- dress on a live topic by man or woman whose character gives weight to what is said. After the address a song by a quartet from graduating class, whole school joining in chorus. Remarks from principal who (13) 14 WERNER'S READINGS NO. 55 awards diplomas, honor-pins, certificates of merit, after which guests and pupils mingle socially, for congratulations and good-wishes, and adjourn to another room for refreshments. Country school graduation day exercises may be held in school- room decorated with plants, real or artificial, class-flower predominat- ing. Girl graduates may wear same kind of flowers in hair and belt. A two-piano duet may introduce program; then a humorous recitation; string quartet, followed by pupil who reads class history, in which she pretends to report what takes place ten years later, weaving into her "history" peculiarities, characteristics, ambitions, fads, etc., of members of the class. For instance, one girl may be said to have secured hus- band through a matrimonial agency, while the speaker refers to herself as "one of those uncanonized saints called 'old maids,' and sometimes mis-named 'unappropriated blessings,' since experience teaches that everybody appropriates them in interest of their affairs, an old maid supposedly having no affairs of her own." Then may come a chorus, award of prizes and honors, address by head of school, and crowning with laurel most popular member of class. Suitable exercise may be an entertainment, given by Juniors to Seniors, in form of tableaux, illustrating titles of books, to be guessed by audience. Cards and pencils are distributed among audience who write their answers and names. These cards are collected, person hav- ing most correct answers receiving a prize, which may be a box of bonbons in shape of a book. Fortune-telling may give much amusement. One method is to use a wheel, say three feet in diameter, cut from pasteboard, covered with paper roses, small roses on spokes, large roses on tire and bunch of roses at hub, wheel arranged to revolve on pivot. Gilded arrow is fastened on one spoke. Cards, with fortunes, characters, etc., written on them, are placed on table. Wheel is laid on round table, and is* turned; wheel stopping, arrow points to card which tells fortune of some particular person. Quotations from poets are rich in suggestion on love and marriage. Bartlett's "Familiar Quotations" is helpful. "She hath a pair of chaps" has Shakespeare's authority for one, and another may read, "Her tongue will not obey her heart." The rule is that each inquirer must read his or her fate aloud for entertainment of all the company. Enjoyable is lawn dance, by moonlight; trees, piazzas, etc., dec- orated with colored lanterns; girls appearing in costumes, as, for ex- ample, Maid Marian, Flora, Ceres, Arcadian shepherdesses, Phillis, sweetheart of Corydon, dress of court ladies of Marie Antoinette, mas- querading as peasants at Trianon. Gipsy fortune-teller would be a welcome and fantastic feature of the affair. PART I. Dramatic or Prize Speaking Selections for Prize Contests or for Graduation Day TWO DIPLOMAS 4 1 T OOK, mother, here it is at last ! Listen : 'The principal J j of the normal school hereby declares that Miss Mary Beaumont is fitted and prepared to receive a position as teacher in the primary grades of any school to which she may be called.' Oh, do put away your work for a minute, and look at what I have studied so hard to get." "Yes, little daughter, I see, and I am very happy and very proud of you — but these last dozen stocks must be finished and delivered to-night. I must hurry." "Ah ! but it won't be long now before you can drop this con- stant sewing. As soon as I get my position as teacher, you will no longer need to slave at this ungrateful work." "Yes, I can no longer see as I used to, and my fingers are grow- ing stiff. But, Mary, you must not call my work ungrateful." "Why, what interest can you possibly take in it?" asked the young girl, unconsciously disdainful in her surprise. "A person soon begins to love the work that she does day after day," replied her mother with patient smile. "My pretty stocks and collars bring back so many memories ! First, when I was still a timid beginner in the store, your father used to court me on my way to and from the store with my work. Ah, those were happy days I Then came our housekeeping, with its joy and sorrow; for soon after you came to make us still happier than before, my dear, good husband died. What would have become of us then, if it had not been for my needle? It flew swiftly through the cloth in spite of the tears that blinded me. It has educated you, Mary, dear. I wish you could have seen what a dear little girl you were !" "Mother," interrupted Mary, interested only in the present, "I (Werner's Readings No. 55— page 15) 16 WERNER'S READINGS NO. 55 mean to have my diploma framed. You'll hang it in a good place, won't you?" "Certainly, dear. A diploma is a thing to be very proud of. I shall have one, too, before long." "What !" "Oh, not a teacher's diploma. I do not mean that. Mine will be simply my certificate of thirty years' work in the store." "Oh, yes," carelessly. "I have heard of that. I think it is really a stupid sort of thing to do. The owners give them to their old workers as a kind of receipt for the work they ha^e done. But what could it possibly mean to you?" "It would be a great moral satisfaction." "Well, I should be ashamed of it myself." "Ashamed ? Oh, Mary, why ?" "It would not stand for any intellectual superiority. It would be merely a sign of good conduct. Anyway, mother, I hope you'll have the good sense not to exhibit it." Mrs. Beaumont's hands trembled as she bent over the work in her lap. She understood now that her daughter was ashamed of her. Mary's words came back to her, the young girl's invariable reply to the questions of her schoolmates : "My mother ? Oh, she doesn't do anything. Because," as she later explained to her mother, "there is no use in telling the whole world of our private affairs." "What is the matter, mamma?" asked Mary, astonished at her sudden silence. "Nothing. I just pricked myself, that is all." "Have you not some friend or relative who can come and stay with you ?" asked the doctor as he wrote out several prescriptions. "No, sir, but I am able to take care of my mother myself." "You are very young, Miss Mary, to be alone at such a time." "Oh, sir, you — you do not mean that — that mother is worse?" "Her condition is very grave," replied the doctor, with a kind GRADUATION DAY 17 smile. "Serious, but not desperate. People recover from worse things than congestion of the lungs." "Oh ! doctor, when I think that it has been for me that she has made herself ill ! I begged her to rest, but she would work late, late into the night, that my clothes might be in perfect order before I went away to take my position as school-teacher — the position that I hoped would make her life so much easier. For she is tired out, is she not?" "It is certain that your mother has reached the end of her strength, that she has even deprived herself of necessary rest and relaxation for too many years, and this will, of course, render it more difficult for her to get well." "Oh ! my mother," moaned Alary, hiding ner scarlet cheeks in her hands. "It was for me that she deprived herself ! For me !" Day and night the young girl watched tirelessly at her mother's bedside, trying to read some sign of encouragement in the doctor's sober face. Mrs. Beaumont's weak voice rang in her ears: "Mary — I must get up — there is work that I must finish !" "Rest quietly, little mother, it is all done, I assure you." But the weak, delirious voice would continue: "You must take it to the store. Ask for the lady in charge of the working depart- ment. You can pretend that you are doing it for a sick neighbor. I know it is hard for you, a teacher with a diploma, to have a mother like me— only a poor working-woman. I never thought of it before, but I saw it well the day you brought your diploma home. I think my heart broke that day." "Mother, mother," implored Mary, "be merciful, do net speak so " The sick woman smiled gently, her thoughts turning now to the diploma of her thirty years' work. "Thirty years," she whispered. "I was young then. I am an old woman now ! She asked me what my diploma would stand for ; it isn't much, only my whole life. Oh ! I should have liked to have had it — three months more — but now, I cannot do it !" Qnce more she would beg for her work, and it was with diffi- 18 WERNER'S READINGS NO. 55 cnlty that Mary kept her in the bed. At other moments she be- lieved that she was back in the years of her daughter's babyhood and the pale lips framed forgotten lullabies and the childish words that a mother's heart treasures. At last Mary understood clearly what the devoted heart would never have confessed — the long nights divided between the work to be completed and the cradle where the child, sick with a child's ailments, lay tossing and fret- ting, the daily, unheeded privations by which the mother robbed herself of strength and vitality that she might give it to her daugh- ter. The young girl understood now why her mother seemed so prematurely old, why her shoulders were bent and her rosy cheeks faded. But she must stifle her sobs lest she disturb her mother. Just then some one knocked at the door. Mary ran to open it. A woman stepped in, saying, with real concern in her voice : "I am in charge of the workers' department of the store and I wanted to inquire for Mrs. Beaumont." "Alas ! madam, my mother is very ill/' "I am truly sorry to hear it. Mr. Gray, the owner of the store, desirous of bestowing a well-deserved compensation for her work, asked me to bring it to her, but now, now " "Oh, madam, my mother has asked for it so often in her de- lirium, perhaps the sight of it would quiet her. Would you come in very quietly, please?" The visitor entered noiselessly, and without a word laid the diploma on the sick woman's bed. Mrs. Beaumont did not appear to see it. "My diploma," she repeated, in a voice that was scarcely audi- ble. "I should never have shown it — because of Mary — but I should have been so glad — to have had it !" Fortunately the visitor did not understand the meaning of her words, but Mary blushed scarlet. A moment later, as the young girl turned once more to her mother's bedside, it seemed to her sorrowful fancy that the diploma lay like an epitaph on the white bed ! Three weeks later, Mrs. Beaumont, very feeble, very pale, left her room for the first time. The doctor had at last given his GRADUATION DAY 19 consent. She had been near, very near, to the gates of death ; but, thanks to her daughter's devoted care, she would live many years. Mary, too, was no longer the same girl she was before her moth- er's illness. In her turn now she watched the long night change into day, each hour more thankful that she could thus repay some part of her childhood's debt. A new expression shone in her white face as she helped her mother to dress and presently drew the thin arm under her own. "Come, mamma, I have a surprise for you," With slow steps Mrs. Beaumont achieved the long journey from her room to the little parlor. The bright autumn sunlight filled the cozy sitting-room, shining like a smile of welcome on all the familiar objects. "Well, dearie, your surprise?" "Look/' "Your teacher's diploma — framed ! Indeed, I am proud to see that !" "Yes, I had forgotten ; but this is what I wanted you to see, mother." And Mary pointed to the place of honor above the mantel, where a second diploma hung, this one much more beautifully framed than the other. Trembling with delight, Mrs. Beaumont read in a voice filled with happiness : "This diploma of honor has been presented to Mrs. ■ Mary Beaumont for her thirty years' consecutive good work in our store. Thomas Gray." "Oh, Mary " It was all she could say as she turned, her face radiant, to her daughter. "You see, I am so proud of it, mother dearest !" replied Mary, stooping to kiss the hands that had worked so hard for her. A little learning is a dangerous thing; Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring. There shallow draughts intoxicate the brain, And drinking largely sobers us again. — Alexander Pope. 20 WERNER'S READINGS NO. 55 VESTAL VIRGIN. Ct/^* HESSIE," as his fond family called him, spoke with a V_y lisp, and parted his yellow hair in the middle. He was just about to enter college. Barnes, or "Barnsie/' was a reformed middle-weight champion. He had been converted after his fifth successful engagement in the ring, and had found himself austere- ly petted ever since by a wealthy uncle. Barnsie was anxious to commence theological prize-fight with the hosts of sin, but his difficulties were no feather-weights. He would even now dream during the night that he was once more in the praise-environed precincts of the ring. He had once risen in his strength and robe- de-nuit, rushed about the room, and demolished a plaster cast of the Rev. John Knox. He had also tenderer dreams ; he had fallen in love with Mrs. Wylkynse's only daughter Gladys. Not an ac- complished wooer, he continually put delicate little attentions, such as one would give a girl, upon the young man, Chessie. Mrs. Wylkynse had an idea that this thoroughly objectionable young person was trying to court both her daughter and her son, and was jealous of him in each case. A few days before Chessie's departure for his exams, Barnsie called and was told by Gladys that Fitzherbert Netherwood, a Sophomore at the college, and a rival of Barnsie's, had assured her the Freshman were sometimes almost murdered by the upperclass men. ****** It was evening, when a brakeman telescoped his head and neck into the coach where Chessie sat alone, and yelled "Maryville !" A polite man, with "University" smiling from a small badge on the lapel of his coat, stepped up to Chessie, asked him if he was a student just arrived, took him to a cab, whose driver had the same badge on his hat, and left him. Presently, a learned looking gentleman with white beard entered, and the vehicle moved away. "Are you about to become a student ?" he inquired, genially. "Yeth, thir, that ith the understanding." GRADUATION DAY 21 "I am the Secretary, and we will go directly to the President's house, where you can have your examination in a little while, and be all ready for work in the morning. The ordeal is not hard, and you will feel better with it over." After a half hour's drive they came to a large, imposing build- ing. Chessie was led into a little reception-room. Presently, a smiling gentleman entered, and grasped him by the hand. Several clerical-looking persons circled around the room. Chessie made them a profound bow. "Now, my young friend," said the President, "kindly attach your autograph to this paper." Chessie did so. "Mr. Wylkynse, it will be necessary that I ask you a few plain questions and that you answer them frankly." "Thertainly, thir, protheed." "Mr. Wylkynse, were you ever in love?" "No, thir." "What !" shouted the whole company of professors in chorus, rising to their feet. "At this age, and in this age, and never wild- ly, deeply and irrevocably in love. Away with him !" "Do not be over-hard with the young man," interposed the President. "Do you consent, Mr. Wylkynse, to do your utmost in correcting this unique mistake?" "Thertainly, thir, if it is nethethary in order to conform with the rulth. I will do my betht, thir — my very betht." "Professor of Mental and Moral Science, record his answer. He will do his best. Be seated, my fellow-instructors. I will now propound to you another question. Are you a roisterer?" "A what— thtsrer ?" "A roisterer, sir, — roister? Tell me, and tell me truly." "I do not exthactly underthand what that ith. But I am will- ing, thir, to try, thir." "What !" shouted the professors in chorus, rising as one man. "He has never roistered? Away with him!" "Fellow-instructors, by your impetuosity you may spoil a prom- 22 WERNER'S READINGS NO. 55 ising career upon its threshold. He is willing to roister, if he only knew the details of the process. Professor of Bibliology, re- cord the answer. Mr. Wylkynse, are you familiar with that beau- tiful line in the "Psalm of Life/' "Learn to labor and to wait." "I have heard it, thir." "You will now, my dear young friend, have an opportunity of demonstrating its teachings. Professor of Gastronomy, bring the toga." The toga was brought. It resembled a modern waiter's apron. Chessie's coat was taken off, and the toga placed upon him. He was then conducted into an adjoining room, where there was a table covered with every delicacy. "Bring hither the soup," observed the President. Poor Chessie labored and waited for the matter of three-quarters of an hour. At last the banquet was over, and he was conducted back to the President's room. "I will now proceed with the examination. Mr. Wylkynse, can you dance?" "I think I have been danthing quite conthantly during the patht theveral minuteth, thir !" "Good boy!" shouted one of the professors. "I think that is true, Mr. Wylkynse," rejoined the President; "but there is another department of physical education which we never allow our students to dispense with. Professor of Ath- letics, stand forth !" "If you pleathe, thir, would you be conthent to have the retht of the examination pothponed till to-morrow?" The request was finally granted. "We have one more new student this evening," remarked a pro- fessor. "One of the boys brought him while we were at dinner. I think he is green enough to be good eating. He wishes to be examined immediately." "Good !" shouted the Faculty in chorus. "Bring him right in." GRADUATION DAY 23 Chessie gave a start; he knew him. But the would-be student shook his head slightly and declined recognition. "Let us examine him as to his physical structure, the first thing we do,'' proposed the Professor of Athletics. "You have no ob- jection, have you?" he inquired, politely, handing him the boxing- gloves. "Oh, certainly not, if you wish," and the new student put on the gloves very readily. Chessie was dumb with surprise. "A physical foundation is the basis of all true education, my young friend,*' remarked the President. "Time !" It was certainly "Time,"' and the Professor of Athletics began in a minute or two to wonder if it wasn't somewhere near eternity. The new student threw up his blew as if it were one of the play strokes of a kitten, and then gave him a return one on the right side of the head; then one on the left; immediately afterwards one on the nose; then two somewhere among the ribs; and con- cluded with an honest straightforward punch in the stomach that sent him speechless and windless against the wall. "Enough ! Enough !" shouted the President. "No, not half enough. I ain't one-third examined yet! Do you want to cheat me out o' my examination? Say, you gray-haired soul, do you?" and he deserted the Professor of Athletics and gave the President a blow that displaced a wig and a set of white whis- kers both at once, and doubled him over his chair, displaying Fitz- herbert Netherwood's flushed face. "Oh, come on and examine me !" shouted Barnsie. "Let the Professor of Rhetoric waltz to me." "Run him down, boys, and hold him !" shouted the strongest of the group. "Oh, are you all goin' to examine me at once, perfessors ? Bare- handed, too ? Hurray !" and then he commenced on them. He piled the first five he could reach on the floor, neatly across each other; he then engaged in a grand professor-hunt all over the room. Some of them tried the door : it was locked, and the key in the new student's pocket. The panic-stricken young men 24 WERNER'S READINGS NO. 55 rushed into the supper-room; he followed, pursued them around the demolished banquet. Neckties, gravy, collars, cuffs, soup, wigs, Worcestershire sauce, false hair, and students were all min- gled together in a large and unclassified museum. At last the stu- dents found a blessed window and sprang from it, one by one, the candidate giving each a hearty kick as he went out. When the last one had disappeared, Barnsie came back. "It's the first decent scrap, Chessie, that I've had since I was converted," he muttered, as the other flew into his arms. "Poor, dear Chessie ! Did they startle you?" "Thtartle me?" replied the Virgin; "it wath a conthant and bewilderin' theries of dithathters." "Well, Chessie," chuckled Barnsie, "disasters got pretty middlin' thick along the last of it, but none of the concluding series came your way. Here's a little catastrophe, now, that we'll nip in the bud." He was reading the paper that Chessie had signed. It was an order for the banquet that had just been devoured by the self- constituted Faculty. After they had destroyed it, Chessie asked, "How did you happen to come to my rethcue, Barnsie ?" "I chanced to hear that you were goin' to have a racket. I ar- rived on a later train. I met a student and asked him where any one went to get examined. He took me right to the place, and I sustained an examination they won't be likely to forget for one while — eh, Chessie?" Three days afterwards, while still at the college looking after Chessie, Barnes received a stylish letter : "You gave it to them well, especially to Fitzherbert Netherwood. I have read Chessie's account of your glorious fight in his behalf to mamma, and she has visibly softened in regard to you. She says, 'I am inclined to think there is something good in that young man, after all.' " Catch, then, O catch the transient hour; Improve each moment as it flies ; Life's a short summer — man a flower — He dies — alas ! how soon he dies ! — Samuel Johnson GRADUATION DAY 25 HER GRADUATION. Virginia Niles Leeds. Characters: Gladys, a girl. Grover, a dog. WELL, old man, here we are, out of school at last, and we know it all, don't we? Shake hands, sir, for it's the hap- piest moment of our lives. They may talk about school-days being our happiest days but don't you believe it. Only think, my dear Grover, of never having to look into an- other book as long as you live. Could anything be more simply enchanting? And of not having to obey any one or observe rules. Great, isn't it? The poor old sages — were there seven of them? I forget. And were they Greek or Roman ? I am a bit hazy about that, too. They thought they knew a heap, but they were not a circumstance to the girl who is graduated from one of the fash- ionable schools of to-day. You observe that I say "is graduated." That is correct, sir, and I hope you will never make the mistake of saying anything else. Gladys knows, for Gladys "is graduated" to-day. There was Themistocles drinking his shamrock — it was The- mistocles, wasn't it, who drank shamrock rather than give up the pass of Thermopylae? I thought so. The ancients set great store by him, and thought he knew just everything on earth, but I rather think we could give him cards and spades to-day, couldn't we? Any girl who has been at Miss Princeley's for ten years is 'way ahead of the poor old ancients. Let me see, who were the other sages? Oh, I remember — the Colossus of Rhodes, Rameses II., Issus, Arbela. Oh, I tell you, Grover, my boy, education is a great thing, but now that we've finished school we'll forget it as soon as we can and proceed to the real business of life — which is having a good time. My grandmamma says she is glad I came out so well in my 26 WERNER'S READINGS NO. OS French, that I shall need it in society. Of course, I came out well. I can conjugate French verbs with my eyes shut. Espe- cially the verb aimer. I rather think, do you know, that that verb is going to be useful by and by. Have you any idea what grad- uation means, you poor little pop-eyed, pug-nosed thing? No? I thought not. Well, I will tell you. It means the most heavenly white frock, all trimmed with lace — real lace, of course, or you wouldn't be properly graduated ; and long, long gloves. Then your hair is beautifully dressed. Your mamma and grandmamma want it done low, because you won't be eighteen for another month, but you insist upon it high because when you are graduated you are as good as "out/' and naturally you win the day, for you are graduated once only in a lifetime. White satin slippers and white open-work stockings and flowers ! If every boy of your acquaintance doesn't come to time and send flowers, you'll never speak to him again, so there ! This is what graduation means, and there isn't a happier time in your whole life or a lovelier frock, except perhaps the wedding-day, when you get a few more presents and can have "Mrs." on your cards and wear white brocade instead of Paris muslin. But nat- urally Commencement Day leads direct to the wedding-day, so you won't have so awfully long to wait. One year ought to do the business. Yes, sir, this is the whole of graduation, and you have it in a nutshell. Isn't it funny that there is always one girl in every class who thinks more about her studies than her frocks? Lucy Lent is that girl in our class, and I truly pity her. She has always had perfect marks in everything, from deportment to metaphysics. What's the use of it all? Not a boy has ever walked home with her, and I bet she won't have a flower to-day ! She doesn't know how to make fudge and seems actually to prefer algebra to danc- ing! She's valedictorian of the class, and I just know she will address us all as "my beloved classmates," and speak as if we were going to die to-morrow. That kind of a girl is naturally a dreadful blight on a class, and I must beg you, Grover, never to GRADUATION DAY 27 be that kind of a girl. Promise me, won't you, never to be that kind of a girl? I dare say Lucy does know a heap, and is fully equipped to face a stern, bleak world, but she will never be popu- lar, and what's the use of knowing anything, if you're not popu- lar? Just to skim through somehow and to understand the science of having a good time, that's been my rule, and I am willing to wager no girl ever had more fun than I. Grandpa is so tire- some ! The idea of his asking me what a rhomboid is. Do you know what a rhomboid is ? Does anybody know what a rhomboid is? But grandpa says that thousands of dollars have been spent on my education, and that I have been to the most widely-adver- tised school in the country, and he delights in asking me awful questions about isosceles triangles— sounds like a curse, doesn't it ? and the laws of the Medes and Persians. At the breakfast-table he asked me how many Punic wars there were, and I said two. He thought to floor me by saying, "Name them." But I named them all right, and that was one time when grandpa found that the thousands spent on my education had not been wasted. I said "First and Second." Mamma is nervous about my mythology. She says a girl isn't able to face the battles of life without a knowledge of heathen mythology. But I tell her not to worry; that she can just take me abroad for a year, and in the galleries of Europe I can get ac- quainted with the gods and goddesses so that I shall recognize them when I meet them again in private houses. Now, let's see, what have I learned at school in the ten years I have been attending? I can make better fudge than any other girl in the class, and have read more — that is, novels — than any one else in the whole school. I don't suppose my music would set the river afire exactly, but I can play ragtime as well as anybody; and, besides, nobody needs to play these days; you can have a pianola and get as much music as you want out of a perforated roll of yellow paper. I have my diploma for German — and, by the way, it's the dearest diploma you ever saw, all tied up in white satin ribbon to match my frock — but, Grover, if I found myself 28 WERNER'S READINGS NO. 55 in Germany, with nobody by who spoke English, and I wanted anything, from a bun to a needle, I couldn't possibly ask for it to save my life. It's not one of the polite languages, and nobody but musicians and your nursery governess ever speak it. But if I can't talk German, I can play basket-ball with the best of them, and have mastered every point of the Rugby game of football, to say nothing of baseball and cricket. My diploma says I am pro- ficient in drawing, and that means that I, could take my place with Michael Angelo and those other old duffers who went in for that sort of thing. But I don't want to take my place with them. It would be a perfect nuisance to sit up in a gingham apron on a high stool all day with dirty crayons. I wouldn't mind making a few pen-and-ink sketches of lovely, big, broad-shouldered men and stylish girls, like Mr. Christy, but anything beyond that I shouldn't care for in the least. It's so tiresome of grandpa to ask me who Phidias was. Of course, I know he was the man who built the pyramids, or sat in his chair on the beach and told the waves to go back — I don't exactly remember which. Ancient history isn't my forte anyway. The things all happened so long ago that no one is alive who re- members, and I don't see how any one can be expected to know. One thing I never can get clear in my mind is, whether it was Henry the Eighth who had seven wives or Henry the Seventh who had eight. But anyway, whichever it was, he had entirely too many, and I don't see what he wanted them for. One is usu- ally enough to take care of. But I do love psychology. I think it just the cutest study in the world, and if anybody begins talking it, I'm right at home. It's such a lovely jumble of words, none of them meaning any- thing. I wonder, Grover, if they talk psychology in society. I asked grandpa, and he said gastronomy was much more in its line. I don't remember having studied gastronomy at school, but I must have, as I studied everything on the list. It was probably in the primary department. Naturally, when your diploma tells you you know everything GRADUATION DAY 29 you do know it, and whatever your grandpapa and mamma may say it is down in black and white that you are finished and per- fect in all the different branches. Parents and grandparents have such a curious way of thinking they know more than you do ! I wonder what Uncle George meant when he said I would now unlearn everything, and proceed to get some real understanding? Knowledge is power. Shakespeare or Jeremy Taylor — or was it Martin Luther ? — said that, and it is quite true, but you never real- ize it fully until your graduation day. There are just two things, however, that stand out above and beyond everything else. One is that my frock is going to be the darlingest of the entire gradua- tion class and is sure to be a winner, and the other is that I'm going to throw all my school-books out of the window to-morrow. And — oh, yes, one thing more — that you're just the tootsiest, wootsiest little bow-wow in all the world ! HONORS OF THE CLASS. Jean K. Baird. lit I^RIENDS, Romans, Countrymen' — O bother, that doesn't X sound well, Hal. Is this better? 'Friends, Romans, Countrymen, I come to bury Caesar' " [sentence ended with boy- ish laugh]. "Carl, you seem to consider Caesar's burial a circus. Get more feeling into that, Carl. This way : T come to bury Caesar, not to praise him.' " Carl stood straight. " 'The evil that men do lives after them.' " He seemed to have caught the inspiration now. His eyes flashed, his voice was clear. Suddenly a bell rang. The would-be orator sprang from his stump, and the critic got up from the grass. "I'm not going back," said Carl. "We have no class this morning. There's a fellow down there I must see. It isn't the money I care for, Hal. When it comes to a couple of hundred a year, that's nothing to mother. It's the honor of the affair. It's a good bit 30 WERNER'S READINGS NO. 55 of satisfaction to know you can do something well. Mother would be delighted if I'd be first. You know that there are only she and I. She hasn't a plan that doesn't concern me. It's on her ac- count I wish to take the scholarship. She wouldn't think whether it meant five cents or five millions. It would be the honor. That's why I'm working so hard. It's for her sake. There's only one fellow I'm afraid of. That's Ralph Munson. He's a worker, and he's good at an oration. He lives in the little cottage corner of the square. He hasn't been at school for a week. I'm going there now for a library book." Carl reached the one-story cottage. A small porch ran before the house; the door was standing ajar; Carl could see through the small hall into the room beyond. He rapidly concluded that the Munsons were very poor, and had not always been so. The drap- eries were of handsome material, but patched and darned. The rug on the hall had been an expensive Turkish weave. Voices reached him, and unconsciously he listened. "I do not think it wise for you to study now, dear; you might ruin your eyes forever. Be content to rest a few days." "I can rest after Commencement, mother. I have not started my oration yet, and it's less than three weeks until Commence- ment. I must get that scholarship if I " "Hush, hush, dear. Do not count so much on it. Remember how many other boys are working, and that one boy in particu- lar " "Carl? He's the only one I'm afraid of. He's fine ! He does better before an audience than alone. But he will go through col- lege if he doesn't get the scholarship. It means only 'honor' to him, while to us it means everything. It seems wrong to me to be going to school while you go about nursing. I want to be edu- cated, but I don't feel like sacrificing my mother for my ambition. If I get the scholarship, I shall go on and finish; if I don't, I shall give up and go to work. I won't have you struggle for me." Carl suddenly remembered that he was listening, and rang the GRADUATION DAY 31 bell. The room into which he was ushered was shabbier than the hall. Ralph lay on the couch, a screen shading his eyes. -'Why, Munson, how's this? We didn't know you were sick!" "I'm not. My eyes are weak; cold lias settled in them, just at the wrong time, too.'' "Oh, you'll get through on your class record if you're too sick to take the examinations." "It isn't the exams I'm worrying about. I don't know my ora- tion yet : if my eyes don't get better soon, I shall have to give that up. Mother started reading it to me, but she's away all day; she is companion to an old lady who is ill. They wanted her to stay there, but she wouldn't leave me. It's lonely enough with her gone, when a fellow can't study or read/' Carl got the book he came for. "I must go," he said slowly. "If you're alone, Munson, and don't mind, I may come down this evening - /' On Commencement Day the rostrum was filled with eager, flushed faces, while below the chapel was a scene of bright gowns, roses, and fluttering fans. The orations proceeded as usual. Carl's name was last, and Ralph's just before. As the boy before him finished Ralph's face relaxed, and he glanced down to where his mother sat. With a manly confidence he stepped forward and began his oration on "Ambition : We need a loftier ideal to nerve us for heroic lives." As he proceeded his voice grew steady. "When the stately monuments of mightiest conquerers shall have become shapeless and forgotten ruins, the humble graves of earth's Howards and Frys will still be freshened by the tears of fondly admiring millions, and the proudest epitaph will be the simple en- treaty. 'Write me as one who loved his fellow-men.' " Applause rang through the chapel. Ralph had far excelled the rest. Col- lege and college joys floated before him. He saw how bright his success had made his mother. But — how he dreaded Carl ! for from the first Carl was master of the situation. He talked as eas- 32 WERNER'S READINGS NO. 55 ily as though conversing with the boys. Yet his nice conception of each idea and his rendition were worthy of an Antony. Ralph's face grew pale. The scholarship was slipping from him. "O judgment, thou art fled to brutish beasts-, and men have lost their judgment. Bear with me; my heart is in the coffin thc-e with Caesar, and I must pause till it come back to me." Tears sprang to Carl's eyes, for he saw before him the delicate, sad face of Ralph's mother. The resolution he had made hours before came back to him : "Write me as one who loved his fellow- men." So, in that part of the oration which he knew best, Carl stopped, hesitated, corrected himself, and went on. But the one blunder was sufficient — the scholarship was Ralph's. As the chair- man arose to give the decision, a slender woman came forward. "Pardon my interrupting, gentleman, — I feel that ycirr decision is in favor of my son." The judge bowed assent. "I must explain to you that from a point of honor the last contestant claims It. For two weeks Carl has read Ralph's oration aloud during the evenings, that Ralph might learn it. I have heard Carl give his oration without a fault, and I know that Carl's one fault this even- ing was premeditated. He understood what the scholarship meant to my son, and placed himself second. The awarding of the schol- arship rest3 with you, but I believe this explanation is due." The judge arose to speak, but his voice was drowned with ap- plause. "Write me as one who loved his fellow-men." Ralph was awarded the longed-for prize, but, like the hero of the old story, Carl's name led all the rest. Toiling, rejoicing, sorrowing, Onward through life he goes ; Each morning sees some task begun, Each evening sees its close ; Something attempted, something done, Has earned a night's repose. — Henry W . Longfellow. GRADUATION DAY ZZ WHY CLASS A GAVE THANKS. Lucy Copinger. CONNECTED with the Teachers' Institute was a sort of post-graduate club, small in its numbers but snobbish. This club was the inner circle of teacherdom, It was known as the Society of Scholastic Sociology, which title was perverted by en- vious outsiders into the Sour Spinster Social. Miss Lucy, teacher of Class A, had been among these scoffers until the time came when she herself was invited to aspire to its membership. The requirements for admission were few but rigorous. The candi- date wrote a thesis upon some problem of school-life, and was then visited in her school by a committee of three, who listened to the working out of the problem.. Miss Lucy scorned the humbler phases of her work, and took for her subject "A Teacher's Influ- ence upon the Moral Tone of Her Class." A week before Thanks- giving she received notice that the committee would visit her. Miss Lucy, clothed in foolish confidence and her very best shirt- waist, stood before Class A, and the dread committee, made up of two men — principal and supervisor — and a visiting teacher — a thin, spectacled spinster. Miss Lucy had taken for her sub-topic "Why We Give Thanks." "Children," she said, "I want to talk to you about a holiday we are going to have soon. Who knows what it is? Herman?" "Holler Eve." "Oh, no, Herman, not Hallow Eve. It is Thanksgiving. And now who can tell me what Thanksgiving means ? What do we do then, Sophie?" "Miz Lnzy, efery year we haf a party mit beer, and my father gits drunk, and my mother says he ain't nothing but a guzzler, and my father says, 'Go to the devil !' " "Yes, Sophie, dear — but " "And, Miz Luzy, my sister's got a beau, but my mother says he ain't nothing but a kissing-bug." 34 WERNER'S READINGS NO. 55 Miss Lucy looked apprehensively at the committee. The princi- pal was shamelessly amused, but the supervisor, a correct gentle- man, looked pained, and the blush of outraged modesty was rising upon the cheek of the visiting teacher. "That will do, Sophie. Children, some of you can surely tell me what Thanksgiving means. Anna, what do we do then?" "Nothun." "Oh, yes, Anna, surely you can think of something you do on Thanksgiving." "Nothun." At this moment an inspiration seized Bum O'Reilly. His Irish tact had told him that some especial answer was desired by Miss Lucy. He remembered that she had always shown an interest in the additions to his family. "We got a baby last Thanksgivun," he volunteered, "but we ain't goin' to git none this year." Miss Lucy hastily interrupted. "Yes, yes, James; but what is it you and all of us should do every day, but more than ever on Thanksgiving Day?" "You should clean your teeth and wash yourself all over," said Josef Bureschy. "We give thanks," said correct Marie Schaefer, the only mem- ber of Class A who ever knew anything. Miss Lucy took fresh heart. ■' "Yes, we give thanks, that is what we should do on Thanksgiv- ing Day. And now who can be very smart and tell me to whom we give thanks?" Bum answered this promptly. "The blessed Virgin Mary and all the holy saints." "Miz Luzy, it ain't so !" indignantly cried Sophie. "Don't you believe him. I go to the Luthurum Sunday School, and there ain't nobody but God and Martin Luthurum, and my mother says Bum O'Reilly worships idols." "It's the blessed Virgin Mary, I'm tellin' ye, and I'll bust yer face if ye don't shut up !" cried Bum. GRADUATION DAY 35 "James, that will do. I am surprised at your language. Now who can tell me why we give thanks? Who can think of some- thing nice that he is thankful for?" Frederick William's face brightened. "Well, Frederick, what are you thankful for?" "The gizzard." It was then that Miss Lucy gave up the fight. The visiting teacher came forward. "Let me speak to the little ones," she said condescendingly. Miss Lucy sat down meekly. She looked at the supervisor, and was surprised to see him wink at her. The visiting teacher, bespectacled, scant of hair, sour-visaged, stood before Class A. In reproof to the frivolous fluffiness of Miss Lucy's lingeries, she wore a basque buttoned tightly down the front; it came down in a point in the back. Miss Lucy won- dered if this costume was the required uniform of "scholastic so- ciology." The visiting teacher's manner was openly hilarious. "Lift them up !" was her creed. "Carry them along with you on the wave of your vitality." "Little boys and girls," she began, "open your little eyes, open your little ears, open your little hearts, and listen and look just as hard !" As she spoke, she illustrated her remarks upon the child in the front seat, who happened to be Frederick William; it was a painful shock to this most dignified of Miss Lucy's scholars to have his eyebrows pulled up, his ears tweaked, to be gently poked in the stomach, and, as a climax, to receive a rap on the head. His eyes filled with tears, and he looked beseechingly at Miss Lucy. Miss Lucy's attention was engaged elsewhere. A loudly whispered conversation was being carried on between Sophie Bauerschmidt and Anna Karenina. The visiting teacher caught sight of Anna's extended tongue. "Little girl ! little girl !" she said reproachfully. "Why, little girl !" Sophie sniggered, but Anna glowered threateningly. "Id ain'd my fauld," she said. "She says him's" — pointing ac- cusingly at the supervisor — "her father, and you're her mother, 36 WERNER'S READINGS NO. 55 und you ain'd. Onct I seen Miz Luzy's mother, und she ain'd so old ad all." After school the principal came to Miss Lucy. "You didn't pass," he said. "You made a good try, and the supervisor and I would have let you in, but I don't think the — er — maternal idea exactly appealed to our distinguished colleague." "Oh, well," said Miss Lucy, "I guess it's for the best. I never could have dressed the part anyhow. I'd have to pickle my face, and put my clothes all on backward." CULTURE IN SIX WEEKS. MARY ANN came from the west, and the object of her visit was to perfect herself in piano, singing, dancing, elocu- tion, Delsarte, English literature, French, German, Italian, palm- istry, etc. Mary Ann's arrival was preceded by concisely worderl warnings addressed to prominent exponents of the arts named. "Respected Sir: I shall arrive in your city on or before the 15th hist,, to remain six weeks, during which time I desire to take a complete course in . I shall pay cash (in advance), and shall expect the best quality of instruction obtainable. Respectfully yours, "Mary Ann Perkins." The copy of the above which was addressed to the professor of Delsarte awaited, unopened, his return from Europe. At ths mo- ment he tore open the envelope Mary Ann was coming up in the elevator. "Oh, these Americans, these Americans !" he said. "Well, what have these Americans done now?" inquired Miss Whitney, his assistant. "Why, they are always insisting on a complete course of some- thing in six weeks. Over in Europe now " At that moment Mary Ann entered the office. "Are you Prof. Samuel Johnson?" she asked. "Well, I am Mary Ann Perkins. You received my letter, I presume?" GRADUATION DAY 37 Mr. Johnson said that he had just finished reading - Miss Per- kins's letter. "Then you know what I require," said Mary Ann, drawing off her gloves. "We will begin at once, if you please. It is now ten o'clock. At eleven I have an engagement with my French teacher, at one I am expected by my piano instructor, from three to four I shall be employed with my vocal master, and from that time until six I shall be dancing, reciting, and reading Chaucer. My even- ings will be devoted to a course of lectures on the literature of the Elizabethan period. So I will call at ten precisely every day. Kindly conduct me to the teacher of Delsarte?" "Miss Whitney," said Mr. Johnson, "you will please take charge of Miss Perkins." Miss Whitney saw before her a bright-looking girl. Her pos- ture 'was abnormally erect. One of her shoulders was higher than the other, and both were thrown back till every effect of grace was destroyed. Mary Ann also toed in a little and carried her hands with palms forward. "And so," said her teacher, "you desire a complete course of Delsarte in six weeks. If you were persevering you might get it in six years." "Well," replied Mary Ann, "you can surely teach a person something in six weeks?" "Oh, yes ; you can learn to keep your shoulders on a level." "That's what I am here for." "And to stand erect and yet allow each portion of the body to remain in its natural position." "That is exactly what I most wish to learn," said Mary Ann, earnestly. "And you might improve some in the manner in which you use your hands." "I am satisfied," said Mary Ann. "Let us begin at once." * * * * -/■ ■ -i- Mary Ann had determined to take her elocution of Prof. Josephus. 38 WERNER'S READINGS NO. 55 "Yes," said the Professor, "I received your letter. You had better go home." "I shall go home in six weeks," replied Mary Ann, "and not before. No doubt, I can find someone else who " "Why, girl," interrupted the professor, "you can't learn to say 'HO !' in six weeks. Let me hear you try it now — 'Ho !' " "Ho!" said Alary Ann. "Why, you can't learn in six weeks how to distinguish between your larynx and your epiglottis." "But surely," persisted Mary Ann, "one can learn how to recite something simple and touching in six weeks." "Oh, yes, you can learn how to recite 'Curfew Shall Not Ring To-night/ and perhaps one or two other selections." "Then," answered Mary Ann, "we will begin at once, if you please." ^< * * * * * Mary Ann was only too well aware that there was something not entirely graceful about her walk, and she had naturally con- cluded that a competent master of dancing was the proper person to supply the deficiency. M. Benari, to whom she applied, was amazed. "Vat !" he exclaimed, "you t'ink you learn ze — vat you call ? — ze poetry of motion— ze dance — in seex veeks ! Mais, non, nevair." "But you can surely teach me something in six weeks?" "Zat is vairy true. In seex veeks you may learn von leetle pas seul — not more." "Well, then," said Mary Ann, "let us begin at once." ^ % ■% >|c 5jc ^; But Prof. Meissonier, the French master to whom Mary Ann applied, would not be placated. "Seex veeks !" he said. "It is ze most perfait nonsense. You learn in seex veeks not more zan ze first chaptaire of ze gram- maire." "I don't care so much about the grammar/' said Mary Ann, GRADUATION DAY 39 "What I want is some easy conversational lessons that will enable me to " "Ah, yes ; I comprehend. Ah, yes, you vant ze easy conver- sation. Veil, you go and find one teachair of ze Meisterschaft System and you learn ze French language — oh, you learn him splendid in seex veeks V So Mary Ann took up the Meisterschaft System, in which she made such rapid progress that after six lessons she could "polly voo" quite fluently. When, at the end of the six weeks, she returned to her home, her improved appearance was the talk of the town. Her position as belle was no longer disputed by the eldest Jones girl. Her piano playing, her singing, her elocution, her palmistry, her knowl- edge of defunct poets, and her drawing provoked general admira- tion. It was her Meisterschaft French, however, that astonished the natives. At the table it no longer was "Please pass the cheese," but "Donny maw lee fromage, see voo play." Never again did she ejaculate, "How beautiful!" but "Say too see kong pew vwar de plew bow." All her "good evenings" were "bong swors," and all her "good days" "bong jours." It all went in her rustic home. Mary Ann had scores of admirers, and the next year the rustics left town by hundreds for a six weeks' course in the city that had so reincarnated Mary Ann. DEEPWATER DEBATE. May McHenry. DEEPWATER boasted not only the best speller in the val- ley but the champion debating-club. The champion speakers were the three Barton boys — Daniel, Cyrus and Silas, — and Cad- wallader Evans, the school-teacher. The fame of these rustic ora- tors filled the land ; so one eventful day there came an invitation for the Deepwater Debating-Club to meet in discussion members of the Flowerville Lyceum. The Deepwater Club jumped at the 40 WERNER'S READINGS NO. SS challenge. The Flowerville Lyceum was a social and literary as- sociation counting among its members some of the most cultured young people in the county-seat. The Big Four suspected that the challenge had been sent in a spirit of levity. It was a chance to prove their mettle. An expectant circle at Gilly's store awaited Daniel Barton, returned from a meeting with the Lyceum Com- mittee. "It's all settled," Daniel announced. "The debate will be in two weeks, to be held at the Deepwater schoolhouse, followed by a supper at Boyd's hotel. If the sleighing holds out, the youth and beauty of Flowerville will come up in two large sleds, each drawn by four prancing horses." "Who are they going to put up against us, Dan'l?" his brothers demanded. "To begin with, there is the young Baptist preacher, the Rev- erend S. M. Smith." "I know him," Cyrus exclaimed ; "a pretty speaker, but too flowery for a debater. He will be quoting poetry when he ought to be making points." "Lawyer Bleasley " "He knows more than he can tell." "Frank G. Potter " "Um-n. Windy Potter! Who is the other one?" "Sternger, Al Sternger." Daniel mentioned the last name constrainedly. The school- teacher rubbed his hands with enthusiasm. "There is, indeed, an eloquent speaker, an opponent worthy of our highest efforts." "Don't you want to know the question we are to discuss?" Daniel chuckled. " 'Tis a great question, 'War and Intemperance : Resolved, That war has brought more suffering upon the human race than the intemperate use of intoxicating drinks.' ' ; The Deepwater debaters had been brought up on "War and In- temperance ;" it had been the pap of their oratorical infancy, and meat and drink as they developed. GRADUATION DAY 41 "Mr. William Herrington chose the subject. He is president of their lyceum. He said it was their desire to select a subject that was likely to have been under previous consideration by us. As the challenged party, we had the choice of sides, so I took the affirmative." "Well, for my part, I'm glad it is goin' to be about something we're all used to and can understand," the storekeeper broke in. "I like to hear something I know. It's like listening to a band play. You try to think it's pretty while they're tootin' out trilly- oo-la-las, but you don't have any quivers inside until they strike up ' 'Way Down upon the Suwanee River.' " For two weeks Deepwater tingled in expectancy. When the eventful night arrived, the school-house was crowded to the ut- most, with visitors from Flowerville occupying front seats. Daniel happened to be at the door when the young lawyer, Al Sternger, entered with a pretty young woman. Daniel's greeting was mark- edly stiff, and he turned a grim face upon his cousin, Delilah. "Why, Daniel ! You do not look as though you expected to win," Delilah exclaimed. "I do hope you are going to do your best." "What is the use of pretending, Delilah?" Daniel growled. "We all know where your sympathies are." Delilah's cheeks were pinker than usual as she followed her es- cort to a seat. She made no reply when Mr. Sternger complacent- ly remarked that her relative seemed to be a victim of the green- eyed monster. The Deepwater Club was to select one judge, the debaters from Flowerville were to bring with them a second, and the two thus provided were to agree upon a third who was to be chairman. Daniel exclaimed in surprise when Hank Edgar, who was Deepwater's judge, told him their choice of chairman was Mr. Ed Bogart, an ex-schoolmaster, equally noted for learning and brilliant lack of veracity. "He's all right ; he'll preside with eggclau. I have him fixed," Hank asserted. "He's owed me a big store-bill for years, and I shut down on him. Yesterday he boned me about opening an 42 WERNER'S READINGS NO. 55 account again. I switched him off onto the debate, and told him 'twas my opinion he'd make an ornate judge. That took him. I told him 'twas a matter of local pride to want our own side to win, and that I myself was anxious you boys should get the verdict to the extent of being willing to give a due-bill for ten dollars in the cause of justice. That fixed him." "Oh, righteous judge !" laughed Daniel. "Look here, Hank, if we are licked, that would not do." "That's all right, Dannie. You go ahead and do your best. Whatever you win, I'll see that you get it; that's my business." The speakers from Flowerville were really anxious to let their Deepwater friends down easily, and their first speaker spent nearly all of his time in saying so. • "Better be preparing for their own obsequies, instead of gather- ing flowers for our fellows' graves. They don't seem to know what they are up against," an outside critic observed audibly, through a broken window-glass, and was called to order. By the time the first speaker for the affirmative had ripped his courteous friend of the negative up the back, by the time he had sketched in war such lurid colors as made Sherman seem tame and inadequate, by that time the over-confident Flowerville crowd be- gan to have a faint conception of what they were up against. The Deepwater debaters had worked hard. They were ready to flaunt all the blood-dyed pages of history from the siege of Troy to Bull Run. They daunted them; they touched upon the ethical, the national, the commercial perniciousness of armed strife, and ex- pressed lofty sentiments worthy of a peace congress. It is not to be denied that their opponents spoke well on the side of intemper- ance. Yet, somehow, the polished rhetoric failed to impress the audience, as did the familiar famous passage in which Cyrus Bar- ton demonstrated mathematically on the blackboard that the human blood shed in battle, if collected, would submerge the nar- row valley of the Deepwater from hilltop to hilltop. "Conceive of that, ladies and gentlemen," he said. "Think of the vast, vernal cup of these hills filled with such a draught for the GRADUATION DAY 43 devil as that. Then, remember that this sea of blood represents at least fourteen millions of slain men, and that for every slain man there came a moan from the lips of some woman. Ah, those moans of women ! My friends, they unite in a mighty wail of human agony that shakes the stars and thunders at the throne of God, crying out against war !" However it might be with the judges, it was evident that the audience was for war. Al Sternger, who had the closing speech for the negative, felt that something must be done. The brilliant young member of the bar stepped outside and regarded the stars while he tipped a silver-mounted flask. Then he went in and made a fluent, fiery speech on intemperance, and he told a story. He described a drunkard's home — the fireless room, the starving children, the heart-broken mother, the terror of the shuffling foot- steps on the stair. He made them feel the hunger and the shame, and the heart-break, until half the people in the room were openly wiping away tears. Deepwater partisans looked blank. Even Cyrus and Silas Barton looked interrogatively at Daniel, who was to follow Mr. Sternger, closing the debate. Daniel was reading something that had been passed to him from the other side of the room. Calmly, almost monotonously, he be- gan his summing up. His friends fidgeted. Was he not going to do something? "And now, Mr. Chairman," he said, "I approach the extraordi- nary speech of the gentleman who preceded me." He eulogized that speech; he told how proud he was to live in a county that could produce so eloquent a speaker. "If we push aside the flow- ery language to get at the gist of the matter, however, we find no real argument. That story cannot be accepted, because of the un- reliability of its source. One of the chief questions with regard to all evidence is the source. The speaker did not give his story as from his own experience, nor did he tell where he got it. Had I been in his place, I, too, should have been ashamed to tell where I got it. Mr. President, we, of the affirmative, quoted from such lofty authorities as Hume, Gibbon, Josephus, yea, even Holy Writ. 44 WERNER'S READINGS NO. 55 Behold the scholarly volume from which the other side quoted." He drew a small, crumpled paper book from his pocket. "This weighty authority is known to all who have been threatened by gout, spleen, measles, mumps, or spinal meningitis, as well as to those who would consult the signs of the zodiac and the phases of the moon. Yes, it is an almanac — a Vinegar Bitters advertisement almanac, and it is last year's almanac at that !" The debate ended in a roar of laughter. After a lengthy session, the judges returned and the chairman announced that the decision was two to one in favor of the affirmative. Hank Edgar alone looked glum. "If it hadn't been for that old Ananias and Sapphira of an Ed Bogart, we'd a given you the decision unanimous," he told Daniel. "The Flowerville judge was with me from the start." "I thought you had Ed fixed." "So I had and so had Sternger — at a leetle higher figger." Daniel Barton's sister had accompanied him to the school-house, but when they came to start for the supper at the tavern she mur- mured : "You will not care, will you, Dan ?" and whirled away in the sleigh of a young farmer from up the creek. "Don't take it to heart, Dannie," he was advised. "Put on a bold front and steal some other fellow's girl." A sudden, reckless impulse prompted Daniel to turn to his cousin. "Are you ready, Delilah?" he asked, just as though she had not stopped riding in his sleigh two years before. Greatly to his surprise, and greatly to the surprise of onlookers, and of the young lawyer in the next sleigh, Delilah permitted Daniel to swing her in under his buffalo robe. - "Have you and Sternger quarreled?" Daniel demanded. "No. However, I think it quite likely that we shall, don't you ?" "How did you come to know about that story ?" he asked. Delilah laughed. "When you saw that almanac, Daniel, were you not just a little bit ashamed of the remark you made to me as I went in ?" GRADUATION DAY 45 "Yes. I am always ashamed when I say such things to you. I wish you would explain." Delilah laughed again. "Mr. Sternger came to our house early this evening, and while we were waiting, he picked up the almanac and read that story aloud. In a flash it struck me that he intended to use it in the debate. As we went out I slipped die almanac into my muff. You know the rest." "Deli, you are a brick and a patriot ! But you have not ex- plained why you are here with me." Delilah dropped her head. "It was your fault, Daniel. You challenged me. Besides it was the first thing you had asked me since — in a long time, and I had made up my mind long ago to — to do the first thing you asked." "Why are you driving so very slowly? Nearly every one has passed us. What will they think?" "That I am proposing to you for the fourth time, no doubt." "But you are not !" "No ; I swore I would not, didn't I ? Look here, Deli !" They had reached the cross-roads. Just ahead, blazing with .ights was the tavern. To the right, a level road stretched out into the silent night. "Daniel, where ?" f To Paradise !" Daniel answered, as he kissed her. Now the bright morning star, day's harbinger. Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her The flowery May, who from her green lap throws The yellow cowslip and the pale primrose. Hail, bounteous May, that doth inspire Mirth and youth and warm desire. Woods and groves are of thy dressing, Hill and dale doth boast thy blessing, Thus we salute thee with our early song, And welcome thee, and wish thee long. — John Milton. 46 WERNER'S READINGS MO. 55 WOMEN AND THE SALOON. Samuel Dickie. OPEN wide the doors and admit that glorious company of women, a million strong, who come from every quarter of the globe. See them press eagerly to the front, singing as they come. A bow of white ribbon is on every breast. This is the splendid army, the hopeful host, the swordless warriors of a win- ning battle, the Woman's Christian Temperance Union. How shall we divide these? I want to be fair. I mean to be generous, but I cannot put a stain on the brow of one member of this galaxy of mothers and sisters and wives and sweethearts. No, Mr. Mayor, not one of this company in all the earth will stand with your saloonkeepers and bartenders and gamblers, not one of this elect host will contribute a word or an ounce of influence to save the saloon from the hell to which it ought to go. They will use their best endeavor to save the saloonkeeper and his victim, but for the saloon they carry the black flag that means no quarter, and they will yet walk at the funeral of the Godless thing. Here comes another company of women, ten thousand, twenty thousand, fifty thousand, a hundred thousand of them, — the poor, unfortunate and unhappy victims of man's inhumanity to woman. God forbid that I should speak of them in other than the tone of sympathy and the accent of sorrow, for they present the most piti- ful sight on which the eye can rest. But how will this miserable and motley company divide? Will they all go yonder? No, a few with streaming eyes and heaving bosoms and trembling limbs will throw themselves into the arms of the white ribbon women and beg for another chance, and get the help they seek. The great majority, some gladly, some heedlessly, some reluctantly, will range themselves on the other side and stand for vice because, God pity them, because they think they must. Wipe out the saloon, and the social evil becomes an easier prob- lem. Liquor inflames and arouses the evil propensities of those who are the patrons of the horrid trade. GRADUATION DAY 47. WHO OWNED THE SPOONS? Fidelia Fountain. WHEN Mrs. Elisa Fountain was a young woman she taught in a country school until she had saved money enough to indulge her great desire for a set of silver spoons. She was mar- ried soon after to the young man of her choice. Six years passed by, years of hard work and economy by both, happy years, though no children had come to bless their union, when by a sudden ill- ness her husband was taken away. The day after the funeral the grieved wife was surprised by the entrance into her home of the two brothers of her husband, bringing with them the village lawyer. They told her they had come to set a value upon their brother's property, in order that she might know what part of it was hers. She held her peace as they set down the worth of each article of furniture in her little home, until they finally came to the box of spoons. Then she spoke, "These are mine. I bought them with my own money before I was married." "Yes, ma'am," said the lawyer, "but you know, ma'am, that after a lady is married, everything belongs in law to her husband." So all the little property was divided, the brothers taking half, and she took the spoons with her share, at the price that had been set upon them. But it obliged her to give up the home and she, with her few effects, went into rented rooms and began life anew. Occasionally teaching a school, and always sewing if possible, she supported herself very comfortably for about three years. Then a life-long friend of her husband offered her his hand in marriage. She liked him well and she thought with pleasure of again being mistress of a home. So they were married. In a few years the husband's health declined, and for many months she gave him most tender and unceasing care. She had a few times spoken to him about making a will, but, as it seemed an unpleasant subject, she ceased to mention it. Finally the end 48 WERNER'S READINGS NO. 05 came. There came to attend the funeral his nearest relative, a nephew from New England, whom she had never seen before. In a day or two he brought two men to the cottage to appraise the property, and again was there a price set upon the well-preserved spoons. On the evening of that day, as she was preparing supper, the nephew entered the kitchen and said, "Aunt Liza, I am dis- posed to be very easy with you; the worth of all of Uncle's prop- erty has been carefully estimated, and I will allow you to include in your half of it any article of furniture you may choose." And again she paid the price of her first darling purchase of silverware. But there was not enough left after the half was taken for her to keep the house and lot, so they went into the hands of strangers ; and, with her cat, Aunt Liza again went into cozy but hired rooms. She was a pattern of thrift and tidiness, as a smart widower of the neighborhood was well aware, and in less than a year he made a call upon the comely matron. He was wise enough to make his first visit short, but lingered a moment in the door, and suggested that in the near future they become better acquainted. She answered, "I am living here very comfortably, and I think, Mr. Johnson, that it will not be worth while for you to call." Clos- ing the door hastily, she turned to her cat : "No, Tommy," she said, "I have bought those spoons three times, and I don't intend to risk them any more." STOLEN BRIDEGROOM. Emerson Hough. WHEN Frederick William Ware, better known as Runt Ware, left Princeton, his father asked, "What can you do?" "Pitch four curves, and stand for even Lon Byron's delivery. Oh, father, you ought to see that fellow pitch !" There seemed nothing particular for Runt Ware to do in a busi- ness concern where everything was already doing, so there was a GRADUATION DAY 49 paternal sigh of relief when Runt announced that he thought of going west. Whereupon he turned up, at Barlh, on the edge of • the booming Canadian west. Previous to his arrival young men went out soliciting orders with tennis-racket or cricket-bat in hand. "Let's start baseball !" said Runt to Billy Hardy, his old Prince- ton chum. "Why, of course/' said Billy. So the Baseball League was or- ganized. News came to Barth of the standing of all the clubs on the cir- cuit, and always the name of Vancouver led the rest. "Listen to me," said Runt to Billy Hardy. "I'll bet a dollar they've got a man in from Seattle. Tainted baseball way out here ! We've got to beat 'em somehow." Several weeks later a telegram arrived for the Runt. "From Byron," he remarked. Billy glanced at it and read, "Going west in a rush. Pass through Barth Tuesday. Meet me at train." "Why's he in such a rush?" "Oh, I believe he's going to get married. He always was doin' some impractical thing or other." "I wonder if it is Grace Dinwiddie? He was awf'ly gone on her, you know." "Yes, I suppose that's who it is. She's been out at Seattle with her uncle. They are stopping at Victoria now, and he is going to take her on to Alaska- They are trying to keep her away from By. He hasn't much money, you know." "Of course, we'll meet him at the train," resumed Billy, "and help him get the girl. Lmcles don't always have the best judgment in the world. But, say, what are you thinkin' about." "Oh, nothin', only that our game with Vancouver is Wednes- day, — only that Byron was absolutely the best pitcher ever put on the black and orange, — only that he whitewashed Yale and set the world crazy." ****** 50 WERNER'S READINGS NO. 55 Odds at the Barth Hotel broke against the home team. Every face in Barth was long except that of the Runt; he spoke apart in whispers to O'Brien of the Mounted Police, a member of the Barth nine. "But I tell you, Runt, it's his wedding-trip/' pro- tested Billy Hardy. "What is a wedding here or there, I'd like to know ?" asked the Runt. As the Imperial Flier rolled in on Tuesday, Billy and the Runt made for the rear end, where the sleepers were attached. They found Byron at once and all went out on the station platform. Ser- geant O'Brien engaged in imperious conversation with the porter, to whom he confided a five-dollar bill and received in return a dress-suit case and an umbrella. Byron beamed, blushed and admitted : "I'm the happiest beggar in the world !" The conductor, afar off, called: "O-o-o-o-or-r-r-t-t-t — !" "Grab him, Billy !" gasped the Runt. And Billy grabbed. "Here, I'm off," said Byron. "Leggo, you ! Wait ! quit ! stop ! leggo ! I tell you !" "T choo-choo-oo-o-ooo-ooo-ooo-oooo !" whistled the engine. "You low-down friends !" cried Byron. "Look ! — last train ! — Married to-morrow ! Alaska steamer leaves — oh, what will she do?" After dinner the boys took Byron for a joyous little canter around the hills. "We'll just go a bit down the street," called the Runt ; and Byron, exulting in the air and speed, clattered over the little bridge, with thunderous hoofs; to meet O'Brien, sergeant of the Northwest Mounted Police, in full uniform. "Sorry, sir," said O'Brien, "but this is against the law. Furious ridin'. Have to take you in charge, sir-" "I say, fellows," began Byron, as the strong arm of O'Brien thrust him through the iron-barred gate of the little lock-up, "this is too much." GRADUATION DAY 51 The Runt looked at him implacably. "You will get to Victoria after we've beat the suffering tar out of that Vancouver ball-team, and not before. Why, man, what's a weddin' against a real emer- gency like this? Haven't you got any heart?" The unfortunate Byron could do no more than groan and sink down upon his narrow cot in outraged anger. The Runt and Billy sent the following message : "Miss Grace Dimviddie, care Col. James S. Dinwiddie, Victoria, B. C. Mr. Byron slightly injured. Not serious. No occasion alarm. Sleeping quietly. Asks you to come on at once. Frederick William Ware." Before bedtime messages began to arrive. No. 1 : "Much alarmed. Send details at once." Ten minutes later No. 2 : "Why no details ? Impossible to come." In five minutes No- 3 : "Cannot stand suspense. Must know." No. 4 : "Start ten-thirty. Give him my love. Tell him to bear up until I arrive." "Confound it !" said the Runt, "I don't see why that girl can't keep calm." When the eastbound Imperial Flier rolled into town, it bore a shouting, stalwart, piratical band of youths, whose bosoms dis- ported a large red-lettered "V. B. C." It bore also a tearful but undeniably handsome girl. The Runt stretched out his hand. "My dear Miss Dimviddie !" he exclaimed. "How glad we are !" "Tell me, is he much hurt? Will he know me?" "Well, I would, if I had ever seen you." She entered the narrow corridor, trembling. Then swiftly her eyes took in the details of the barred door, the tiny window, the straw upon the floor, the narrow cot, the forlorn figure and the bottle and siphon near by (gift of O'Brien, sergeant of the North- west Mounted Police). "Alonzo Byron," she said, "what have you done ? What is that bottle?" Byron sprang to the bars. "Kiss me, Grace." 52 WERNER'S READINGS NO. 55 "That bottle ! Ah, I see it all !" "That? Why, that's for — for insects!" In the parlor at the summer hotel Grace Dinwiddie and Fred- erick William Ware held earnest converse. "So you have put me in this position for the sake of winning a beastly little ball-game !" "Well, of course, I don't know that he can win the game." "Of course, he could win. Why, I've seen him hold Columbia down to three hits — but I couldn't marry Alonzo Byron now. He would think I was following him around. I'll never forgive you ■ — never." "You can marry him after the game, if you want to." "I'll never marry him !" "Then," said the Runt sweetly, "I'll marry you myself, if you say so. I've never said that to another girl in my life, Miss Din- \ widdie. But I don't intend to prevent any weddin' that was al- ready arranged. My position is, that it is no harm to postpone a marriage in case of anything more important; if you refuse to help us there is an empty cell waiting on the other side of Byron. I run the town, Miss Dinwiddie." The girl gazed at him in open-eyed astonishment. "Will you ask him to pitch?" asked the Runt. "Yes, oh, yes, I will — I will do anything." "Will you marry my friend, Mr. Byron, after this game is won, Miss Dinwiddie?" "Yes, oh, yes," with sobs. "And will you explain to him, Miss Dinwiddie, that unless he does win this game, there isn't going to be any weddin'?" "You brute ! Yes, yes !" [Sobs.] >j» JjC 5fS 5JC 5j£ 5|S There were two attractions in Barth on the following afternoon. One was the baseball game, and the other was Grace Dinwiddie, who occupied a seat on the grandstand, behind the protecting net. "My, ain't she easy to look at?" whispered the Runt to Billy. The toss-up put Barth at the bat, which pleased the Runt, who was anxious to study Bingham, the Vancouver importation from GRADUATION DAY 53 Seattle, who was in the pitcher's box. The latter went about his work with superciliousness, striking out O'Brien and a highly intelligent Jap in one-two order. Earth's face fell, as Jennings, who played third, followed these with empty hands, and Van- couver came trooping in with sneering cheers. Byron, between O'Brien and Ramsey of the Northwest [Mount- ed Police, walked to the pitcher's *box with methodical step and then passed an easy one over to Salters, captain for Vancouver. The latter struck it so vicious a blow that it sailed past the third baseman so far that the latter got lost in trying to find it. The pride of Vancouver was too deep for articulate speech. Upon the face of the girl behind the net there froze a swift look of hor- ror. She moved on a seat or so toward the front. Vancouver scored two more. Byron was as one in a trance. He scarcely knew when the inning ended. When he was escorted to his seat near the net he heard something behind him like a sob. He turned swiftly. "Grace," he cried, "it wasn't my fault. I couldn't come." "Oh, it isn't that," sobbed Grace Dinwiddie. "I'm sorry to lose you, but that isn't it — that was such a rotten ball. Alonzo Byron, do that again, and I won't marry you; not if you were the last man in the world." "Bully girl !" cried the Runt. "This," said the captain of Vancouver, "this is what I call easy." A white, hard face was thrust close up against his. "It's what you call easy, is it, you lubber ?" hissed Byron. "Now, look here: I'll just bet you five hundred to one that you yourself never get first again. I'll bet you the same your team doesn't get another run. I'll make it the same, by gad ! that not two of you ever get as far as second. Pitch ! Why, confound you, I'm just playing with your children !" "Is that so?" sneered Vancouver's captain. "It is the soest sort of so ! By heavens ! if ever I did white- wash any poor suffering lot of infants, it's going to be you be- nighted Eskimos right here !" 54 WERNER'S READINGS NO. 55 It chanced that the Vancouver captain came first to the bat. He saw an easy, slow, straight ball come sailing in as big as a balloon and as slow as a fat hen. With all his might he smote it full — or thought he did so. "Strike one !" chanted the umpire. The Vancouver man braced again for one that came in fast and straight. But some way it rose and went chug! into the big mit- ten of the Runt, catcher for Barth. Again Vancouver's captain swung the bat. Why he missed that easy, easy ball he never knew. It had resembled a Yorkshire pud- ding in size and contour to his gaze. "Oh, this is easy, is it?" called Byron from the box. "You big dub ! -Dig out another drugged lamb, you people !" They put in Springfield, a good, even man with the stick. He fanned sweet mountain air in vain, and sat down, red and sad. "Oh, easy !" mocked Byron as the next man came to bat ; and thereupon hurled in so terrible a straight ball that the Runt's face grew white. "Strike one V tolled the umpire. And Vancouver retired to confer. It was of no use. Once the Runt dropped a straight one that came in too hot, and winced a bit as he did so. A- Vancouver man got first on that. But he never got beyond. For the last three rapid innings Grace Dinwiddie crowded close to the net behind the catcher. The score stood 8 to 4 for Barth, with hours of daylight to spare. "Isn't this great ball?" cried Grace. Byron left his box and made toward the shielding net. The girl met him, radiant, her nose against the meshes. "Lon !" she cried. "Grade/' and they kissed. "Why don't you walk around the net?" asked the Runt judi- cially. "What is the matter with your hand, you poor thing?" asked she. GRADUATION DAY 55 "Nothin'," said the Runt. '"Little finger broke, I s'pose. I'm always breakin' it/' "You clear boy," said Grace, and kissed him openly in public, while Byron wrung his other hand. "It was great !" said Grace, looking with pride into Byron's eyes. Then suddenly she grew rosy and silent. Byron, '03, started as though suddenly thinking of something he had forgotten. "That's so !" said he. "Let's go get married." GIRL SCHOOL-TEACHER WHO FARMED. Robert J. Burdette. I NOTICED in a newspaper recently the following item: "Miss Ella Witchazel, a charming young school-teacher from the East, finding the close confinement of the school-room in- juring her health, tried the outdoor cure. Instead of spending her winter's salary and summer vacation in a crowded hotel at the seashore, she went on a farm, cut twenty-five acres of prairie hay, harvested forty acres of wheat, gained twenty pounds in weight, a coat of tan for her hands and face and a rugged com- plexion that cannot be equaled anywhere off a farm. There's the girl you are looking for, young man." Now I want to say, I am well acquainted with this young school- marm. Fact is, it was my farm she spent the summer on. Nice girl, Ella. We was glad, wife and me, to have her come. Yes, sir, she farmed. First day nothin'd do but she must drive the hoss-rake. Well, every man an' woman that comes from town wants to drive the hoss-rake, an' they call that gittin' in the hay. My little Jancy, eleven years old next May, usually drives the rake for us, but she hasn't been overly peart this summer, an' I kinder kept her out of the sun. So Miss Ella gits herself boosted on the hoss-rake — my boy Joe, he boosted her — an' then she screamed an' fell off. Then she got on agin, hit the hoss a crack an' away she went on the dead jump out o' the field into the road, hoss a-goin', dust a-flyin' an' Miss Ella screechin'. Some o' the 56 WERNER'S READINGS NO. 55 men headed her off an' stopped the hoss. Then she tried it agin. This time she struck right through the standin' grass where it was tallest an' thickest an' tangledest; hoss a-balkin' an' tuggin' away by turns; grass comin' up by the roots; rake teeth a-snappin'! We got her out o' that, an' lost a whole day on the rake, gittin' it mended. She tried drivin' a load into the big barn. Had to send to the house for a ladder, an' all the men had to go clear out of the field while she climbed up on the load. Drivin' in she got the wagon caught in a hedge gap as wide as the Missouri river, ran over two hives of bees, upset the load and buried herself under two hundred pounds of hay. It was the safest place for her, so we jest left her ther' ontil the bees got cammed down an' we got some work done. Next load she went in on, an' then turned all the men out of the barn while she climbed up into the mow, an' then she wan- dered around ontil she stepped into a chute an' shot down about twenty-eight feet into the cow-barn an' lit right on the back of the Jersey calf that was worth two hundred and fifty dollars. Miss Ella wa'n't killed, but she was jammed up so that she lay in bed two days, an' but for that providence we'd hev be'n workin' at that hay yet. An' anybody that wants that calf can have him at his own Aggers. Well, comes wheat harvest; she must drive the self-binder. That was a leetle too resky, -but she had her own way. But she couldn't be trusted up above the knives ; somebody had to set up there an' hold her on. My boy Joe, he held her on, an' if she didn't make him drive around every poppy and every blossomin' weed she see in the field to save it. Never mind the wheat, but save the blamed weeds ! There was only one stump on three hun- dred and twenty acres of prairie land, just one stump, an' that girl run into it an broke the reaper. Next day she was that proud an' confident that she thought she could drive alone. Well, we tied her into the seat so she couldn't fall off, an' she started. Two rod from the start a big blacksnake stuck up his head — an' you know how slick them knives amputate a snake ? Miss Ella, she gives a GRADUATION DAY 57 little squeak, an' faints dead away. My boy Joe — he's always hangin' around — he jumped for the horses, took Miss Ella down an' carried her to the house. Money, or healthy tan, nor rugged appetite, nor nothin' couldn't coax Miss Witchazel into that field agin, an' we got through har- vestin' all right. Land, how all the men laffed ! An' yet we all liked the girl. But the idee of her farmin' — why, do you know, sir, one day in hay in', she went to town, took one of my best work-horses an' was gone all day, an' came home with 'bout twenty yards of blue an' white ribbons, an' tied 'em onto the men's hats an' rake handles, an' wanted us all to wear biled shirts with the sleeves looped up with blue ribbon, an' go marchin' out to the hay-field, me at the head, a-singin', "We merry haymakers, tra, la, la, la, la." She saw it done that way once in a concert or theayter, an' thought that was the way hayin' was always done. An' she was so vexed she cried when we wouldn't wear 'em. My boy Joe, he did wear his hat, but he hid it under the hedge when he got out of sight of the house. Well, Miss Ella got along fairly well after wheat harvest. Gath- ered some "graceful sprays," she called 'em, of poison ivy one day, an' couldn't see out of one eye for nigh a week. One day she took a tin-pail to go out after berries, an' when she went through the pasture the cows thought there was salt in the pail an' chased her till she was nigh ready to drop. But we liked her. An' we hated to see her go. An' she will make a splendid wife for some man, if she can't run a farm; but I don't know about any young men comin' out to look after her, for when she said good-by to me to go back to town, she throwed her arms around my neck an' give me a kiss that I says to my boy Joe, standin' by the wagon to take her to town, he was always somewhere round, "J oe /' I says, "you'd give your share in the farm for that," an' Joe, he didn't seem to care for anything of the kind, an' Miss Ella, she up an' give me another squeeze an' a kiss, an' I saw her lookin' over my shoulder at my boy Joe, an' — haw ! haw ! haw ! they're engaged ! 58 WERNER'S READINGS NO. 55 CULTURE ON BITTER CREEK. LIFE in the west was new to me. I was young and just out of college. I was fond of talking. I thought it would be novel and delightful to sleep out of doors with half-savage ox- drivers, with no shelter but the vaulted, star-gemmed heavens. Of the teamsters, one was a giant in stature, and Avore a bushy black beard.; another was shorter, but powerfully built, and one-eyed; the third was tall, lank, and hame-jawed; while the fourth was a wiry, red-headed man. I pitied them, on account of the hard life they led, and spoke to them in a kind tone, and endeavored to make my conversation instructive. I plucked a flower, and, pulling it to pieces, mentioned the names of the parts — pistil, stamens, calyx, and so on— and remarked that it must be indigenous to the locality, and spoke of the plant being endogenous, in contradis- tinction to exogenous, and that they could see that it was not cryptogamous. In looking at some fragments of rock, my thoughts wandered off into geology, and I spoke of the tertiary ?nd car- boniferous periods, and of the pterodactyl, ichthyosaurus, and dinotherium. The teamsters looked at me, then at each other, but made no response. We squatted down around the frying-pan to take supper; and, as the big fellow with his right hand slapped, or sort of larruped, a long piece of fried bacon over a piece of bread in his left hand, sending a drop of hot grease into my left eye, he said to the one- eyed man : "Bill, is my Shakespeare in yo' wagon ? I missed it to-day." "No. My Tennerson an' volume of Italian poets is in thar — no Shakespeare." The lank-looking teamster, biting off a piece of bread about the size of a saucer, said to the big man, in a voice which came huskily through the bread, "Jake, did yer ever read that volum' of po'ms that I writ?" "No; but hev often hearn tell on 'em." GRADUATION DAY 59 "Yer mean 'Musin's of an Idle Man ?' " spoke up the red-headed man, addressing the poet. "Yes." "Hev read every line in it a dozen times," said the teamster with the red hair ; and as he sopped a ^our-inch swath with a piece of bread, across the frying-pan, he repeated some lines. "Them's they," nodded the poet. "The Emp'ror of Austry writ me a letter highly complimentin' them po'ms." "They're very techin'," added the wiry man. I took no part in these remarks. Somehow I did not feel like joining in. The wiry man, having somewhat satisfied his appetite, rolled up a piece of bacon rind into a sort of single-barrelled opera- glass, and began to squint through it toward the northern horizon. "What yer doin', Dave?" asked the stout man. "Takin' observations on the North Star. Want to make some astronomical calkilations when I git into Sacramenter." "Well, yer needn't ter make that tel'scope. I could er took yer observation for yer, as I hain't but one eye." "Git out dar, yer durned old carboniferous pterodactyl," yelled the hame-jawed driver to an ox that was licking a piece of bacon. "I give a good deal of my time to 'stronimy when I was in Yoorup," remarked the tall man. "Over thar long?" asked one. "Good while. Was Minister to Rooshy. Then I spent some time down to Rome." "Rome !" exclaimed the lank individual. "Was born there. My father was a sculptor." "Well, one wouldn't er thought it, to look at yer." "I never was in Yoorup," remarked the one-eyed man. "When I occupied the cheer of ancient languages in Harvard College my health failed, an' the fellar that had me hired wanted me ter go ter Yoorup for an out. but I concluded ter come west ter look — hold up thar, yer infernal old ichy'ceverus," he bawled to an ox that was chewing a cud. I felt hot and feverish and a long way from home. 60 WERNER'S READINGS NO. 55 "I got ready once ter go ter Rome — wanted ter complete my studies, but give it up," said the one they called Dave. "What fur?" "They wanted me ter run for Guv'ner in Virginny." "Yer beat 'em?" "Thunder, yes." "Why didn't yer stay thar?" "Well, when my job as Guv'ner gave out they 'lected me 'Pisco- pal bishop, an' I hurt my lungs preachin'. Come west for my lungs." "Found 'em ?" "Well, I'm improvin'." 1 did not rest well that night. As day came on and the men began to turn over in their blankets and yawn, the tall one said : "Hello, Bill! How yer makin' it?" "Oh, I'm indigenous." "An' Dave?" "I'm endogenous." "An' you, lanky, yer son of a sculptor ?" "Exogenous." "How you feel, Jake?" "Cryptogamous, sir; cryptogamous." I walked out a few steps to a little stream to get a drink. I felt thirsty and I ached. Then I heard a voice from the blankets : "Wonder if those durned old dinother'uns of ourn are done grazin' ?" Then a reply : "I guess they've got to the tertiary period." I walked a little piece to breathe the morning air. I kept on walking. We live in deeds, not years; in thoughts, not breaths; In feelings, not in figures on a dial. We should count time by heart-throbs. He most lives Who thinks most, feels the noblest, acts the best. — Philip James Bailey. PART II. Salutatories "WE, ABOUT TO LIVE, SALUTE YOU.' (Salutatory.) Eugene Wood. MR. PRESIDENT, Ladies and Gentlemen: The gladiators of old Rome, when they filed into the arena, passed before the throne of Caesar and cried aloud: "We who are about to die salute thee!" .But to-day, as we pass in review before you, we cry aloud, not in despair but in most buoyant hope: "We who are about to live salute you!" It may seem to you and to us that we have lived, that we are living now; perhaps when old age comes we shall look back upon these boyish years and sigh regretfully: "Ah, life was worth the living then," but yet in very truth there still remains to us to be, to do and to suffer. To be the men we hope to be, to develop the character each one has, that underlying human nature modified by birth, environment, up- bringing and by education. To do things that make the world a better place to live in; to earn a living, which means to render to our fellow- men a just equivalent and something more for all they give of food, of clothing, shelter and comforts, physical and mental. To suffer, to experience joys and sorrows; to know the happiness of one's own home, — his own and not his father's; to know the grief of that home darkened and in one silent chamber set apart the still and lifeless form of one we loved; to feel the fierce glow of victory, and the cold chill of undisguised defeat; to endure all things as faithful soldiers, the dan- gers of too speedy success and the heart-sickness of a hope too long deferred, the hardships and misfortunes that befall us either by our own fault or by an adverse fate, and not alone to endure with passive virtue but to conquer, to surmount them all and preserve the calm poise of the strong soul within. It is for the reason that these things remain to us that this day, which marks the auspicious ending of the scholastic year, is called "commencement." Here ends the preparation; here begins the work. Here ends the dreaming; here begins the deed. But let no one say: "I have finished my education;" for while here ends scholastic train- ing, here the real education begins. We have not gone to school all these years that we might learn the things we are to use in after-life, else we had all studied how to prepare a legal brief or learned tc diagnose disease; how to deal wisely with a problem of conscience; how to distribute tension and to calculate the strain of structures; how to detect with unfailing eye the very moment when the steel is fit to cool for tempering. All of these things can not be taught to all, for time is far too brief. But who of us, standing as we do on the mere threshold of a busy life, with but the briefest glimpse of all the mani- fold activities within, can say, with positive conviction, that he does himself strict justice: "This will I choose to learn and not the other, for thus and so will lie my pathway through the years to come?" (Werner's Readings No. 55 — page 61) 62 WERNER'S READINGS NO. 55 But to oe prepared, to be ready to take up the work for whicr. liking dev-lops, what circumstance (the greatest molder of our for tunes) lays next to hand, — in a word, to follow worthily our fate, thai is, to hive got the good of school. None of us can say that he has profited to his uttermost by all the things prescribed for him in school to su jple and to strengthen him for the long struggle of life. To the que tion "Are ye able to drink of this cup?" none of us can answer wi n the calm assurance of the Sons of Thunder: "We are able," but ao we pass before the kindly Caesar of the world, we lift our hands ind cry aloud: "We who are about to live salute you!" SERVICE. (Salutatory.) y D Minnie Belle Bradford. EAR FRIENDS: "A hundred thousand welcomes. I could laugh and I could weep. I am light and I am heavy. Welcome." We, Class of , stand to-day before the door of the world of! action. You are beside us, wishing us a hearty "God-speed." We thank you. Our door opens toward a world of light. We look forth j filled with hope, courage, faith. There is work for us to do in that world; we are ready to do it! We cannot fail if we hold fast to the truth — in which we have been so well grounded here at , that "service is the highroad to success." That service is not a royal road, we are well aware. There are mountains to climb, dismal valleys to pass through, but we fear not, for "Before us, even as behind, God is, and all is well." Sometimes we may be tempted to go around a mountain; it may seem easier. But let us remember that only by climbing to the sum- mit do we get the broad view. From the heights of surmounted diffi- culties we catch glimpses of the true meaning of life, and see more clearly our pathway for the future. Perhaps but few of us — possibly none of us — will ever be great in the world's eyes. But to be truly great lies within the reach of all. The world will be richer and better for our having lived in it if "Service!" "Service!" "Service!" ever be our motto. "If I can stop one heart from breaking, I shall not live in vain. If I can ease one life the aching, Or cool one pain, Or help one fainting robin Unto his nest again, I shall not live in vain." For four years we have been studying. What we have gained can never be taken from us. We have a knowledge that shall make all life sweeter and deeper. These years have been happy ones. God alone knows how much they meant to us, and only He knows how full of GRADUATION DAY 63 gratitude our hearts are — gratitude to Him, as the great Giver of all things, and to our faithful teachers, who have been most truly guides, pointing the way to a higher and broader development. There is a tinge of sadness in our hearts to-day. It is hard to leave this dear home. But in the truest sense we are not leaving it. Its spirit goes with us wherever our path may lie. As our knowledge deepens we shall become more truly members of our alma mater. dlhe spirit of har- mony, which has pervaded our work, will be felt throughout our lives. And as harmony is the secret of true happiness, we may safely say we have learned how to be happy. Discouragements may come; we may be for a time plunged into a sea of discord, but I believe it cannot last; for, as Carlyle says, "We have a work, a life-purpose; we have found it. and will follow it!" So we go forth into the busy world, with unbounded hope, courage, and faith. And now, friends all, we welcome you most cordially to our exercises. If but our earnest purpose in life shine through our words — 'tis all we ask. DON'T WITHHOLD APPLAUSE. (Salutatory.) TRUSTEES, Patrons, and Friends: On part of teachers and pupils I welcome you at the closing of our studies for the term. I welcome you as witnesses of the proficiency in letters some of us have attained. I welcome you as judges of efforts made to show progress made by pupils and skill and faithfulness to duty by teachers. As trustees, patrons, friends and judges, I salute you in behalf of the school. The ordeal through which we have passed you have all gone through and forgotten. The hard work cf the scholar, his hopes to achieve something in the way of knowledge, his fears of failure, the difficulties in his path, and even his disappointments, are all dim mem- ories to you. To us they are active. They are too near to be forgot- ten; and if some of those who to-day endeavor to amuse you, should win your favor, let it not be scantily expressed. Should you feel that their crude efforts have some touch of merit, give them your applause, and do not censure them if they show by look or manner that they exult in triumph. No grown man lives entirely devoid of vanity • no one who is not cold or base can be insensible to the good opinion of those around him. Pardon, therefore, in the scholar what is common to older and wiser people. After all, you are only bigger boys and girls than we are, and some of you, when called en to speak your little pieces or write your little compositions, feel very much elated if you provoke loud approval. So ycu will excuse the little ones if they do like the big ones. Somebody has said, "The boy is father to the man," but here the man is father to the boy. And now, giving way to my worthier classmates, I again, on their behalf, welcome you one and all. Aim at perfection in everything, though in most things it is unat- tainable. However, they who aim at it, and persevere, will come much nearer to it than those whose laziness and despondency make them give it up as unattainable. — Lord Chesterfield. 64 WERNER'S READINGS NO. 55 FIRST STEPS. (Salutatory.) LADIES and Gentlemen: We come to show you, in ^rcrr modest way, what progress we have made in- our studies, so far as progress can be expressed by essays and orations on subjects of interest. We welcome you as witnesses and judges. But, before you criticise our efforts too rigorously, we beg of you to consider that our essayists are not practiced writers, nor are our speakers accustomed to address audiences. Remember that we are boys, not claiming to be men, but who are still in training to take our future manly places, and the instruction we have received here is only the rudiments of that edu- cation which, beginning at school, continues through life, and ends at the grave. Older men, wrapt in cares or engrossed in the pursuits of busy life, are apt to look with passive contempt on the immature efforts of school-boys at Commencement. No one leaps to the head at a single bound. He gains it by many and often painful steps. His first strides are slow and cautious, and become freer and bolder as he gains confi- dence. He must take the first steps, or he does not travel at all. The chilJ first crawls, then makes a few tottering steps, then walks, and at last is able to run. As to the good of our essays and orations, that is evident. They are not only the first steps of the future writer or the future speaker, but they serve to give you some clew to the future of the boy in whom you may, either from ties of blood or kindly feeling, take an interest. They are the first efforts of authorship or oratory, two of the most potent forces in shaping the destinies of men and states. Let no man, engrossed by desire of gain, or who is engaged in manufactures, trade, or traffic, undervalue the power of authorship. The products of authorship are needed by every one. They enlarge the mind, relax the bent bow, and refresh the worker. .As for oratory, its power is so manifest and its effects so evident that it needs no defence. We welcome you to our table to-day; and. though we can promise you no great mental feast, yet the poor dishes on the board are given with our hearty good-will, and I bespeak for the literary cooks your kindest consideration and lenient judgment. THE FUTURE, NOT THE PRESENT, THE TEST. (Salutatory.) I T is not so much style of house, elegance of furniture, appliances of the table, nor even palatable nature of dishes, that puts the guest so much at ease as the sincere and hearty welcome of the host. You are our guests to-day. We bring you to no stately palace; there are no silken hangings and gilded chairs; cur table is small, and the mental fare we offer is but homely; but we give it — we beg you to believe — with warm welcome. We feel your visit an honor as well as a pleasure, and we shall do our best to make you feel at home. If some of the fare we provide does not suit ycur palate, if you come to the conclusion that the cooks are inexperienced or that too many cooks have spoiled the broth, pardon all this, because we are about to GRADUATION DAY 65 set before you the best we have, and with a desire to please. You must not infer because at this Commencement we merely show re- spectable proficiency in elocution, music, and authorship, that our teachers have neglected to ground us in other and less ornamental branches of knowledge. That would be injustice to them and to the school. But the more useful parts of the education given here are of a nature to make their display wearisome. Indeed, the exercises are not given merely for display, but because they lighten the occasion, and it is hoped they will please, or at least amuse the audience. The best place for displaying what has been gained here ic in the home- circle and in the duties of after-life. It is in the families of pupils and with their friends that the instructors, who have trained us so patiently and so well, are to gain their laurels, if they gain them at all. What- ever more solid information they have led us to acquire, whatever improvement of manner or perfection of morals their teachings have produced, is to be shown in our own future. It cannot be presented to you to-day; you have to infer part of it from what you hear and see. You do not expect to hear skilled performers, authors of genius, or orators of eloquence, therefore, our deficiencies will not greatly displease you. We know you will be lenient judges; we submit our crude efforts, poor as they may be, without fear. And as our friends, we again welcome you. 'APPLAUSE GOES A GREAT WAY. (Salutatory.) BELOVED Professors, Ladies and Gentlemen of the Audience, and Schoolmates: I greet you all; you who lead us along rugged paths of knowledge, guiding our feet and supporting our tottering steps; you who come to listen and judge if any of us have gained by instruction or not: and you, such of my schoolmates as do not take part in the exercises of the day, I greet you with a welcome to these halls, and a hope that this, trifling as its incidents may seem, will be a red-letter day in our lives, to be recurred to as one of quiet pleasure. The air brings the odors of fragrant flowers over which it passes, and the Dupil is apt, in his first efforts at literature or declama- tion, to show some traces of the training he has received. In fact, the essays at a Commencement show more the skill, the ability, and the brain of the teachers than of the pupils. Yet if among the chaff into which we may have beaten the solid wheat of our Seniors, you find a few grains worthy of note, if a single original thought or a happy turn of a sentence bears marks that it is not borrowed, but is of the speaker's own growing, I pray you take the trouble to note and admire it, and be liberal with your admiration. Applause goes a great way. The soldier dies to obtain it; the statesman labors hard by night and day to secure it; the author burns midnight oil to gain it; and why should not the scholar toil for it in his feeble way? And so I bespeak for my comrades what I do not ask for myself, appreciation and "a show of hands." 66 WERNER'S READINGS NO. 55 PLEASURE MORE THAN PAIN. (Salutatory.) Edith Putnam Painton. IN our life-time, pain and pleasure, Both must fall unto our share; Sometimes duty seems a blessing, Often it is but a care. Yet we find that every pleasure Far exceeds the heaviest pain, And that in the compensation Not a sigh has been in vain. Thus we feel, on this occasion, When our school-term closed last May, It was very hard at parting, Hard that long good-bye to say. We were joyful at our triumph, Yet with pain each heart did swell, For we feared that careless parting Was to some a last farewell. Now again we come together, With the "will' to find a "way," And it has become my duty (But a pleasure, let me say), To meet you with words of greeting As our year-book doth unfold; And to bid new faces Welcome, Glad to see again the old. Let us strive for greater victory As we start upon this year; Outstrip every previous session, Toward the goal more firmly steer. There is yet some fault to conquer, Grander laurels, richer fame; And let us resolve to win it, And do honor to our name.. It is said that words of greeting Are the best when soonest o'er; And, as I wish not to tire you, I will say but little more. Let me bid you all a welcome With a handshake, firm and true; Old and new, it matters little, We are glad to welcome you! GRADUATION DAY 67 "BE BLIND AND KIND." (Salutatory.) KIND friends, who are here to-day to see us close with our exer- cises the school' work of the term, while we welcome your com- ing and are honored by your presence, we beg of you not to expect too much from school-girls in the way of intellectual perform- ance. We beg of you to overlook our shortcomings — "Be to our faults a little blind," and to our merits, if you find them, very kind. Be satis- fied with the intention of my schoolmates to do their best; and, though their best might be better, it is not likely, with the training they have had, to be very bad, unless their bashfulness should get the better of their knowledge. Whether they please you or not, they are glad to see you all the same. Fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, kinsfolk, and friends, we welcome you to the place where we close our studies for the term, not with the routine of our usual school-exercises, but with exercises meant to add to your amusement, while it forms our enjoy- ment. V/e have been laboring at literary work for months, and this is literary play. It is the school-girl's holiday. You may forget it all in a little while, but with them it will be an abiding memory. A tri- umph won to-day, however trifling it may be to others, is a serious thing for the victor, for it proves that her industry has been well be- stowed and the labor of our teachers has not been thrown away. CO-ED GLADIATORS. (Salutatory.) WHEN gladiators, who were to fight to death, entered the arena, they elevated the points of their swords to the emperor and cried: "Caesar, we, who are about to die, salute thee." We salute you, imperial audience, before we begin the display of our intel- lectual games, but we do not intend to die in your presence — not if we can avoid it. You will find us a very healthy set of girls and boys, and we intend to live just as long as we can. We desire to become old— that is, the boys do; the girls never intend to get any older than twenty. Not that they mean to die, either. By no manner cf means. They will get to twenty, and live on at that age in a perpetual and perennial state of freshness and beauty. We boys intend to get old, and each cne of us will be President of the United States, except one poor- spirited fellow, who is more modest and less scrupulous, and he is con- tented to be alderman in some large city. But, though we do not in- tend to die until our time comes, we salute you all the same, most imperial audience, and solicit your favor. You will hear a deal of speaking to-day — such as it is — and very fair, I dare say. The best always comes first, and that is why I open. I should have preferred to have spoken last, because the boy who de- livers the valedictory is supposed to be, mentally, the big bulldog of the tan-yard; but they availed themselves of my ability as a speaker to welcome you in a fitting way, leaving the closing speech to some one else, which, I may mention to you confidentially, is equal to letting it take care of itself. You will see by these remarks that my principal 68 WERNER'S READINGS NO^ 55 fault is modesty; but it is an amiable weakness, and you must forgive, and I'll try not to be modest again. On second thought, too, I prefer not to speak last. It is very pleasant to welcome you all, but rather sad to bid good-bye. I did intend to wind up with some humorous remarks, just to set you all in good humor and take the edge off the dryness of my school- mates who are to follow me, but I forbear. The fact is, I dare not be as funny as I can for fear of causing trouble and breaking the domestic peace of a dozen families. If I were to be only one-half as funny as I might, what would happen? The ladies here, I know, would preserve their dignity, even under such trying circumstances; but a number of the gentlemen would go off into peals of laughter. At every explosion, off would go a button from the shirt-bosom, first one — poof! then an- other — piff ! Each poor fellow would never know it, being too happy, and would go home. Next morning he'd miss the buttons. Then he would say to his wife, "Why don't you sew the buttons on my shirts?" And she would say, "My dear, I did." Then the circus would begin — a quarrel, lawyers, courts, and divorce. And they'd lay it all at my door. No, no, ladies and gentlemen, no fun to lay on my conscience. Let me in sober, quiet, and decorous manner, welcome you all to our Commencement, and hope that you may all live to come to a great many such, and enjoy yourselves every time. TEACHER'S ADDRESS. KIND FRIENDS: Assembled here we welcome you. We feel honored by your presence. We beg of you not to expect too much in way of intellectual performance. You are anxious the children should do well; our desire is to please you. These exercises are intended to give them confidence, and ease of manner, which will be invaluable to them later in life. As they grow older the incidents, impressions, and words used in their schooldays come vividly to mind. Very few are attractive speakers at first. One of our greatest orators, in some of his early efforts, was painful to listen to; but after con- siderable practice he rose with perfect grace and self-possession, spoke easily and fluently; and, after holding his audience in close atten- tion for an hour, closed with a splendid peroration, provoking the wild- est enthusiasm. What he did, others can do. The children are to be our orators in the future. Practice now may prove useful hereafter. There is a pleasure in the pathless woods; There is a rapture on the lonely shore; There is a society, where none intrudes, By the deep sea, and music in its roar. I love not man the less, but nature more, From these, our interviews, in which I steal From all I may be, or have been before, To mingle with the universe, and feel What I can ne'er express, yet can not all conceal. — Byron. PART IK. Graduation Day Poems MA AND PA, NOT POLLY, NEEDED EDUCATIN'. (Graduation Day Poem.) Keene Thompson. MOTHER and me, we pinched and saved To send our girl to college. She's home again: so well-behaved, And burstin' full of knowledge. "You mustn't say 'done' for 'did/ Ma-maw, It's wrong!" she says to mother. Then next it's me : "Not 'seen,' but 'saw/ Pa-paw; and don't use 't'other'!" Mother and me, we don't know how To act, it seems, or talk ; We're mighty meek and timid now, And on our tiptoes walk Around the house, for fear we'll make, Through ignorunce or folly, Some kind of clumsy slip or break To further shame our Polly. Mother and me, we've sort of come, Of late, to the conclusion, Seein' as how we're both so dumb, That it was a delusion Goin' to all the trouble and fuss, And cost of graduating Our girl through college, when 'twas us That needed educatin' ! (Werner's Readings No. 55 — page 69) 70 WERNER'S READINGS NO. 55 STERILIZED COUNTRY SCHOOL. (Graduation Day Poem.) J. W. Foley. THE walls and the ceiling they're spraying; They're scrubbing the woodwork and floors; A stream on the blackboard is playing; They're boiling the desks and the doors; The old water-pail has been scalded, A cup for each lassie and lad; And no one may drink, as we all did, From that old tin dipper we had. They've cleansed every pointer and ferule; The ink-wells are scrubbed out with lye; The books and the slates are made sterile; The old well is filled up and dry; The girls have to wear willy-nilly, A button which bears this bold sign: "The lips that touch germs or bacilli Are lips that will never touch mine." The dunce-cap is boiled every morning; (They've the individual kind!) The front door is set with this warning: "Who enters here leaves germs behind." No apple is smuggled for sharing, As was in the schooldays of yore, Until they've made sterile the paring And quite disinfected the core. Alas ! The old pump is discarded And gone in the flight of the years; The new drinking-fountain is guarded By the Anti-Germ Grenadiers. GRADUATION DAY 71 The vines from the windows they're stripping Lest germ-breeding - insects might stay; The eaves and the rafters are dripping, All wet with a sterilized spray. Oh, come, in the joy of the morning, What secrets of schooldays we'll tell! That thick, rising vapor gives warning That teacher is boiling the bell. It's time for the B class in scrubbing; The A class is set out to cool From its recent boiling and rubbing — Three cheers for the sterilized school! MOLLIE IS GRADUATIN'. (Graduation Day Poem.) M OLLIE is graduating an' they say she's goin' to speak A little piece in Latin, an' another piece in Greek. I dunno nuthin' 'bout 'em ; I'm dull as a dunce could be ; But Moll has a way of talkin' with her dear, sweet eyes to me ! What do I keer f er Latin ? It's Greek to me, I say ! But I understan' the language when her bright eyes look my way ! I know she's thar, on the platform; I hear her sweet voice speak; But her eyes — they're talkin' English to the heart that don't know Greek ! I hear the folks applaudin' ; I hear 'em an' I say : "They dunno nuthin' about the eyes that are lookin' her lover's way l» But I read 'em; an' feel more thankful than ever my heart kin speak, That her dear eyes talk in English to the heart that don't know Greek ! 72 WERNER'S READINGS NO. 55 UNCLE SILAS ON "CO-EDICATION. (Graduation Day Poem.) NOW I've been thinkin' quite a spell, An' wonderin' where their senses is, When people go to work an' tell That gals can't learn like boys — gee whiz! Why, let me see, — twuz fifty- four When I quit schoolin' an' all sich, But I can tell you I learned more'n Ter say gals didn't know "how" an' "which." An' so I can't quite see the p'int Of all these argyments brought out, Ter show that gals git out o' j'int With schools and colleges about. Colleges are fallin' in line, Are openin' wide their gates to all, An' I'm right glad, I think it's fine, That gals air goin' in this fall. They'll show the boys a thing or two That they have never known before, An' then, besides: — 'tween me an' you — 'Twill make 'em work a blame sight more. Yes, I believe they done jes' right Ter take the gals into the school, Co-edication's won the fight, An' gals with boys, — that is the rule. They talked around they wuz afraid The standard would be lowered some, But that's all bosh — our gals wuz made Ter study es well es stay ter hum. GRADUATION DAY 73 The boys agin it ! By an' by, They'll feel so glad the gals is there, That they will allers wonder why They didn't treat 'em kind o' square. Co-edication's come ter stay, An' everybody's glad, I know; Why course that is the only way, Now, honest — don't you all think so? "OLD-TIME FRIENDS" ON EXHIBITION-DAY. (Graduation Day Poem.) Frank L. Stanton. MISTER "Soldier of the legion," you are dying in Algiers, And the boy upon "the burning deck" is shedding bitter tears ; And we're getting closer— closer to the Hohenlinden fight, And we really fear that Curfew's going to ring again to-night ! Sir John Moore will be buried in his ancient soldier's coat, While not a drum is beating, and we hear no funeral note; And Mary, known to all the girls so very long ago, Will lead us out that "little lamb," whose "fleece was white as * snow." And Cato will tell Plato that he reasons very well, While Hamlet on the future in soliloquy will dwell ; And we'll hearken on the hilltops, and we'll listen in the glade To wonder and the thunder of the charging "Light Brigade." But come, old friends, and lead us to the meadows far away, For the boys who rang the Curfew once are getting old and gray, And Death, the reckless reaper, is thinning out the line, But in dreams they drift to Bingen — to "Bingen on the Rhine!" 74 WERNER'S READINGS NO. 55 ANCIENT SEMINARY MAID. (Graduation Day Poem.) Margherita Arlina Hamm. DEAR grandma says that long ago, When she was but a little lass, A seminary, comme il faut, Received her in its lowest class. She learned to curtsy, smile and pout, To paint, embroider and crochet, To read such books as were devout And sing in true Italian way. Her little shoes had paper soles ; She learned to cultivate a cough ; And in her favorite books and roles Consumption took the lady off. She never exercised, for fear 'T would tinge her cheeks a vulgar red; But made a hectic flush appear By going supperless to bed. She laughs at " 'ologies" and art, And sneers at maids of brawn and brains ; She says they spoil a woman's heart, And frighten eligible swains. She made a helpful wife and true To grandpa, through both weal and woe; But then, as I am told, he knew No more than she did long ago. As idle as a painted ship upon a painted ocean. Water, water, everywhere, nor any drop to drink. Alone, alone, all, all alone, alone on a wide, wide sea. So lonely 'twas, that God Himself scarce seemed there to be. ■ — Samuel Taylor Coleridge. GRADUATION DAY 75 PROUD OF HIS SON-GRADUATE. (Graduation Day Poem.) Y ES, that's my boy, sir, there ! Dark eyes, and darker hair — His mother's hair, that curled my heart round, once. She was the pride of the school, And never broke a rule — While I — I was a scapegrace then, and dunce. And yet I won the prize; A score of years — time flies. I'm getting gray, and that six-footer's mine ! I hope he knows his speech; Gad, how these fellows reach Above their heads, shades of Parnell, O'Brien, And all the rest — he's struck The Irish question ! Luck Go with you, Dan. That reasoning's not bad. Quite a strong case he made Against the landlords, weighed His pros and cons not poorly, for a lad. What is the latest whim? A ticket for the "Gym," A safety wheel — you'll have to have it now. I've not the heart for no, When you've been working so — Where did the rascal ever learn that bow? And now he's done ! Aha ! What was it that I saw? So then, my boy, your charmer's eyes are blue! I might have guessed her there, By that indifferent air. You're Helen's son, but you are my son, too. 76 WERNER'S READINGS NO. 55 Well, you shall have the chance I never had, to advance. Pll put that stock in your own name to-day. Vour mother'll do the rest. Ah, Dan, we both are blest. If we reach heaven, she has led the way. TO SPEAK, OR NOT TO SPEAK. (Graduation Day Parody.) TO speak, or not to speak, that is the question, Whether 'tis nobler in the boy to suffer The grins and giggles of outrageous schoolmates, Or to take up books and leave the school, And thus by leaving 'scape them ? — to read — to speak, No more, and by a speech to say we end The. scoldings and the thousand natural ills That boys are heir to — 'tis a consummation Devoutly to be wished. To read — to speak ; — To speak 1 perchance forget ; — ay, there's the rub ; For in that speech of youth what fears may come, When we have shuffled out upon the floor, Must give us pause. There's the embarrassment That makes calamity of so long speech ; For who would bear the squints and grimaces of girls, The teacher's frown, the prompter's sad delay, When he himself might his quietus make With a bare curtsy ? Who would speeches make To blush and stammer under a declamation, But that the dread of something after school, The ever ready ferule, of whose sting No boy is unaware, decides us all, And makes us rather speak the piece we have Than wait for that we do worse dread? Thus speeches do make cowards of us all, GRADUATION DAY 7? And thus the crimson hue of bashful youth O'erspreacls the face of hopeful youth; And declamations of great pith and moment With this regard, their accents turn away And lose the name of eloquence. GETTIN' READY TO GRADUATE (Graduation Day Poem.) SALLY'S in the parlor. Listen, you can hear ; She's oratin' all about "Woman an' Her Sphere." Henry's in the stable talkin' to the hay, Shoutin' : "Rome was not, sirs, builded in a day." Over in the medder neighbor Spriggin's Nate Saws the air, an' hollers of affairs of State; Thompson's boy Elisha's in the timber lot, Readin' from a paper on "The Trend of Thought." Abraham McGinnis, down there in the brush, Scatterin' the silence with his wordy rush, Yellin' : "Feller-citizens, can it be denied — Beyond the Alps is It'ly, jest the other side?" Silas Braddock's Rufus, yonder on the hill, Speechifyin' strong on "Workin' with a Will." William Wiggins stands there, on a stump, an' busts All the air around with "How to Deal with Trusts." Some one in the corn-field, kickin' up a fuss 'Bout a gladiator, name o' Spartycuss. Henry Clay ain't in it, Daniel Webster's beat, Patrick Henry's simply knocked plumb off his feet. Gemunee ! It's noisy here from dawn till late — Scholars gittin' ready for to graduate. Tromped the crops completely, scattered all the birds, Woods is full o' speeches, air is full o' words. 78 WERNER'S READINGS NO. 55 GRADUATION TIME. (Graduation Day Poem.) J. W. Foley. i l T3 EYOND the Alps lies Italy/* -D "Through obstacles to stars/' "Give me death if not liberty ;" "Can there be souls on Mars ?" Come, ye benighted mortals, come, Soar up to heights sublime, By merely hearing, being dumb — - 'Tis graduation time. A gown of white, a mortarboard, A ribbon-gathered scroll, A mind with vastest learning stored, A high and lofty soul ; A bow, a gesture, and a hand That points up at the sky : "Shall tyranny e'er rule this land? No ! Echo makes reply." Bring moldy Shakespeare from his tomb, And trot him to and fro; Go follow Cranmer to his doom, Lay Robert Emmet low; Let bold Rienzi speak again. Go ransack prose and rhyme For lofty thoughts and visions when It's graduation time. So now we pry into the deeps Of coward Brutus's heart, Shed tears where sad Ophelia weeps, And move with Poe apart; GRADUATION DAY 79 Sail with Columbus when he went Far from his native clime, To find a world and lessons lent For graduation time. And yet — and yet — I would I might Go back there and somehow Add to my learning of that night The knowledge I have now ; I would go forth so well equipped That with a lusty shout Fd have the demon Failure whipped Before the week is out. BECAUSE SHE'S A WOMAN, NOT HER LEARNING. (Graduation Day Poem.) SHE has wrestled with the sages of the dim historic ages; she has studied declamation from Demosthenes down to Burke; She has sounded Schopenhauer, and been under Dante's power, and can giggle in all languages from American to Turk. She can argue in the isms, knows the history of schisms, and will go 'way back to Adam to elucidate her views ; She can bring- up illustrations she's obtained from, divers nations on the somewhat strained relations of the Christians and the Jews. From old Socrates to Spencer she has read and read, and hence her intellectual adornments are a wonder to be seen; In the angles she's a terror, and in art she makes no error, and she knows the mental value of the hackneyed Boston bean. She can show that old man Pliny was in some respects a ninny; she has sneered at Archimedes and brought Tacitus to task ; She's revised the laws of Solon, knows the value of a colon and can calculate the contents of the Dutchman's famous cask. 80 WERNER'S READINGS NO. 55 She has studied up on diction, has explored the realms of fiction, knows the views of Hobbes and Bacon and of Paley and their crews; She can quote from Pepys's diary and knows Pope (so small and wiry) and has fathomed Billy Shakespeare and read Burton on the blues. There is not a branch of knowledge that this girl so fresh from college has not made herself familiar with, from Plato down to pie; But it isn't for her learning that she fills us men with yearning — it's because she is a woman ; and that's just the reason why. TO THE GRADUATES. (Graduation Day Poem.) Teresa Beatrice O'Hare. THE same fair June with its roses red, The same wise words to the young hearts said ; The same deep sea and the same blue sky, The same fair hopes and the promise high; The same pure eyes, the same soft hands, The sunlit hair with its golden strands. The same glad song with its echoes clear, The same low whispers of friendships dear; The same farewells and the passing shades, Like sun half hidden in woodland glades ; The same soft tears for divided ways, The same fond vows for the coming days. The same frail barque on the shoreless sea, The same mute fear of the Is-to-be. God keep you fair as the flowers you hold, White as the lilies with hearts of gold; God keep you pure as the prayer of a nun, God guide you and bless you, every one ! GRADUATION DAY 81 STUDIES OVER, GOWNS NOW UPPERMOST. (Graduation Day Poem.) JUNE again, and Commencement Day! One of many o'er all the land, But the only one to the happy band Who joyfully, laughingly wend their way Through the halls of the . The burning questions are not as of late, "Expect to pass?" "Did you get that "'sup'?" "Is your essay finished ?" "Are your note-books up ?" "Do you think you are going to graduate?" Things have changed entirely. Since the powers that be have settled their fate, Their brows have lost their ancient frown. And "How do you think I look in my gown ?" Is the question; and, "See, is my cap on straight?" As they saunter up and down. Another year and another June, And the classmates scattered widely apart, Have various other interests at heart, But oft on their lips the same old tune, "Do you like my hat and gown?" KITTY'S GRADUATION. (Graduation Day Poem.) T. A. Daly. DUBLIN Alley jisht was crazy, jubilation was the rule, Chewsday week whin Kitty Casey won the honors at the school. Shure, the neighbors had been waitin', all impatient of delay, For to see her graduatin' on that most important day. 82 WERNER'S READINGS NO. 55 Eddication is a power, an' we owned wid one accord Casey's girl's the sweetest flower ever blossomed in the ward, Whin, wid dress white as the daisy, but wid cheeks that shamed the rose, We beheld wee Kitty Casey in her graduation clo'es. Now, this Casey loved his daughter in a most indulgent way, An' he spent his gold like wather for her graduation day. Sich a dale of great preparin' ! Shure, ye'd think she was a bride \ Sorra hair was Casey carin' for a blessed thing beside. For whin Casey once comminces, faith, he niver stops at all, An' he dressed her like a princess at a Coronation Ball. An' 'twas Madam Brigette Tracy for dressmaker that he chose, For to fit out Kitty Casey in her graduation clo'es. Of dressmakers, shure, the oddest was this one that Casey'd got, For her bill-heads called her "Modiste," though the prices theie did not. "But," sez Casey, "I can stan' it for to pay a few more cints, So jisht go ahead an' plan it, ma'am, raygardless of ixpinse." "Bong Moonseer," sez she, "I'll try it wid the usual 'savoir fair.' " "As fur that," sez Casey, "buy it, wid the other things she'll wear." So ye see the man was crazy for to get the best that goes For his little Kitty Casey in her graduation clo'es. All the women jisht were itchin' for to see her gettin' dressed, Some were crowded in the kitchen an' the stairway, while the rest, The most favored ones, wint rushin' to the livin' room above, Where stood Mrs. Casey blushin' wid a mother's pride an' love. "O !" sez she, " 'twould be a pity if I couldn't schame an' plan So that Kitty'd look as pritty as Mag Ryan's Mary Ann." "Tut ! ye needn't be onaisy," sez a neighbor. "Goodness knows, There'll be none like Kitty Casey in her graduation clo'es." An' there's really no denyin', whin they marched into the hall Kitty Casey pushed the Ryan girl complately to the wall. GRADUATION DAY S3 Whin she made her prize oration an' they gave her her degree, There was sich a dimonstration as ye'll niver live to see, For the men from Dublin Alley voiced their feelin's in a cheer Like they utther whin they rally in a Dimmycratic year, An' of Casey's proudest days he counts that best of all he knows Which beheld his Kitty Casey in her graduation clo'es. PEDAGOGUE'S WOOING. (Graduation Day Po«m.) THE pedagogue among his pupils had A maiden fair. He loved her ; who would not ? Her eyes were soft, And turned to his with saucy glance full oft; And when his tiresome Latin put her out Her pretty lips were all too prone to pout : He longed to kiss them — love had made him mad — But did not dare. One morn he met her on the way to school, The hour was late; But wait he would not, could not. Thus he sighed: "Sweet maid, I prithee, be my beauteous bride ? Already hast thou marked, nor need I tell, That I have loved thee long and passing well; Nor time nor absence can my passion cool; Let's conjugate !" "Ah !" with arch modesty replied the fair, "That would be fine ; But 'tis impossible, for, as thou know'st, Small stock of learning can thy pupil boast. The first declension now absorbs my thought ; The verb I have not yet at all been taught, I cannot conjugate; all I may dare Is to decline!" 84 WERNER'S READINGS NO. 55 COMMENCEMENT ESSAYS. (Graduation Day Poem.) I HEARD the essays. That one on The Magna Charta and King John, The head girl wrote. She with the wreath Described "Lear's Wanderings on the Heath" Quite prettily. Another one Explained "The Spots upon the Sun/' "The Influence of Browning," and "The Early Writings of George Sand;" "The Transcendental Movement : How It Touches German Letters Now." All these I sadly listened to : "What earthly good can these things do?" I asked myself. "Does old King John Teach you to sew a patch upon A coat ? Or can the spotted sun Say when a roast is rarely done? Do Browning's tangled poems tell The way to mend a stocking well ?" While I was wondering sadly there, A sweet girl rose, and, I declare, She talked about all homely things From washtubs down to muffin rings ! She had ten pages all on pie; She knew the choicest way to fry An oyster, and how best to bake A good old-fashioned johnny cake. Next day that girl was asked to share The fortunes of a millionaire; She now reads Browning's wondrous books, And leaves the cooking to her cooks. GRADUATION DAY 85 The girl who wrote on Brownings work Is married to a gentle clerk., Whose income's small. No girl have they; She scrubs and cooks the livelong day; And sighs, while bending o'er the range, When she reflects upon the change — The fall from school sublimities To tattered books for recipes. DIRECTIONS FOR THE READING-CLASS. (Graduation Day Poem.) F. Ursula Payne. WHEN in your turn you're called to read, walk with your head erect; Your teacher, keenly watching you, will notice each defect. Mount nimbly to the platform, and sit down with graceful ease; Don't huddle with the other girls as if you feared to freeze. When called upon walk bravely forth, and let your arms hang free, For if you hold those members up, reproved you'll surely be. Soon comes that fascinating drill, the bowing exercise ; When many a careless, erring girl her teacher's patience tries. Now hold your arms down at your side, draw one foot slowly back; Now draw the other, bend quite low, — of bowing get the knack. Don't lose your equilibrium and tumble to the side; Don't bow too stiffly, just as though your hearers you defied. Don't tilt your feet, or jerk your bow, don't hold your head toe low, As though ashamed of some great sin and wrapped in abject woe. But bravely face your audience as though you wish to please, For if you move deliberately they all will feel at ease. And now begin to read, but pray don't be in too much haste; For to be heard you use, of course, "the muscles at the waist." 86 WERNER'S READINGS NO. 55 Shoot forth each sentence forcibly — staccato is the word, — And then by every friend and foe you'll certainly be heard. Though your oration's perfect and your eloquence draws tears. 'Twill be no use at all to you if not a person hears. Accent with care the proper words, and close attention pay; If you commit an error, you'll be stopped without delay. And when you're through your reading, to perform once more begin ; For to omit the final bow would be a grievous sin. Turn toward your right and walk with care, for. it will be your fate To walk across that platform if you ever graduate. You've reached the floor at last, and now march up the center aisle ; Drop in your chair with glad relief and a contented smile. COLLEGE DAUGHTER— LONELY PARENTS. (Graduation Day Poem.) Eleanor Bates. I DUSTED the piano keys and shut it up to-day, For no one here can play on it since daughter's gone away ; Her summer hat was hanging behind the kitchen door ; I stopped and kissed the ribbons as I swept along the floor. The young folks aren't as social as they were before she went, But they all congratulate me — and I'm sure it's kindly meant; They say it's so improving to the mind that longs for knowledge To have associations girls can only get at college. I never knew the clock could tick so loud and harsh before, And seems to me the sunlight creeps more slowly on the floor. Her kitten's grown into a cat, and doesn't play so much; And when I tie his ribbon, I should think he'd miss her touch. Her father has grown grayer since he said good-by to her, His eyes begin to fail him and he says his glasses blur; GRADUATION DAY 87 He frets and sighs and scolds about the various sorts of knowledge That filled his little daughter's thoughts and tolled her off to college. Her window plants are.blossoming and look so fresh and gay; She wore a cluster at her belt the day she went away; I'm bound to keep them growing for the pretty child's dear sake, And I'm going to mix a cake for her the next time that I bake, And send her with some butternuts and knitted slumber shoes, And the weekly village paper which will tell her all the news, For I know she's too true-hearted to despise its homely knowl- edge — O, heaven bless the bonnie lass who blithely went to college ! HER SENIOR SMILE YOUR WATERLOO. (Graduation Day Poem.) Cynthia Grey. A FEATHER and a ribbon and a fall of pretty lace Will make a frame bewitching for 'most any maiden's face ; But when you meet the Senior it is then your heart is stormed, .The college girl in cap and gown is beauty unadorned. Hat off, bow down! You met your Waterloo When the Senior donned her cap and gown And sweetly smiled on you. The gown falls from her shoulders with a graceful, classic air; The mortarboard can not confine the tendrils of soft hair ; The long sleeve folds about her arm like a protecting wing; The tassel flutters 'gainst her cheek — the tantalizing thing ! Hat off, bow down! You met your Waterloo When the Senior donned her cap and gown And sweetly smiled on you. 88 WERNER'S READINGS NO. 55 And when in bach'lor reveries your cares in smoke you drown, There floats across your memory the girl of cap and gown ; And in her eyes the courage that you saw there years before. And somehow single blessedness becomes just then a bore ! Hat off, bow down ! You met your Waterloo When the Senior donned her cap and gown And sweetly smiled on you. At last content before the fire you sit in study brown, And close beside you, quite demure, the girl of cap and gown ; And high above the mantel hangs a treasure that you hoard. It is that irresistible, that saucy mortarboard ! Hat off, bow down ! You met your Waterloo When the Senior donned her cap and gown And sweetly smiled on you. SCHOOL-BOOKS OUT OF DATE. (Graduation Day Parody.) Tom McBeath. C C T T T HERE are you going my pretty maid ?" V V "I'm going to school, if you please, sir," she said. "And what do you learn there, my pretty, fair maid?" "Why, how to make pretty things, sir," she said; "We weave little baskets of willow twigs ; We fashion nice clay into cute little pigs; We plait just the prettiest mats ever seen, All criss-crossed in blue, red, yellow, and green ; We sew little patches on sweet little squares, And make, out of tooth-picks and peas, little chairs; We draw and we paint, we sing and we play, And then we've a new fairy story each day." GRADUATION DAY "But where are your books, my pretty, fair maid ?" "We have no use for them, sir/' she said. "Then how do you study, my pretty, fair maid?" "Why, where have you come from, sir?" she said. "To ask such a question ! Humph ! even a fool Knows nobody studies these days at school. Our teachers have found us an easier way; We're learning by doing, sir. Good-day !" OTHER BOY IS THE BAD BOY. (Graduation Day Dialect Medley.) I WAS sitting in my school-room, after a weary day, When there came an angry woman who berated me this way: "Why do you keep my Johnny, who's as good as he can be, Why do you keep him from coming home at three ? He always minds his father, and minds his mother too ; You surely seem to punish him for what the others do." I reasoned with the mother, and tried to make her see, That even her little "angel" could sometimes naughty be. But all in vain. She went off with threats to do me harm. It was as much as I could do to keep an outward calm. Next appeared a sturdy German, a parent fond and true, Who also thought his precious boy was being martyred too. "Vy do you vips mine Shacops, for vat he does not do? Dere's anoder poy sits py him, he dalks da whole day droo; Und my poy Shacops is a goot poy, und I'd like to let you know Dat if you vips him more efer, mit dere drustees I vill go." Next appeared an Irish woman, who wondered how I could Think of marking little Mickie, she thought he was so good. "Shure, it's the bye that sits fornist him, it's him that does the wrong, A.nd gets my bye poonished for iverthing that's done." 90 WERNER'S READINGS NO. 55 "I came to see about 'Enry," said another parent true ; " '~E's 'alf the time in trouble for what he does not do. There's h'another boy sits near 'im, h'it's 'im that does the wrong, H'and gets my boy punished for h'all the mischief's done." Well, talk about Job and his patience, A teacher needs much more To carry her through the worriment, That falls thus to her store.* At night I sit and wonder, How to find that other boy, Who causes so much trouble, To every mother's joy. If I only could expel him, What joy there would be mine. No more trials, no more sorrows, Would then my heart entwine. HER GRADUATION RHYME. (Graduation Day Poem.) THERE are pestilential nuisances To vex us every day. There are cranks of every caliber, Each bound to have his say — The man who would reform the world And set religion right, The man who can't forget the war But cherishes the fight — But the thing that's most depressing In this balmy summer time Is the plaintive maiden poet With her graduation rhyme. When the hedges bloom with roses And the robin trills his song, GRADUATION DAY 91 When the circus and the salmon And the ice-cart come along, Then arrives the silly season When the schools are on parade — Wit and wisdom take to trees and Common sense gets in the shade. We could stand the declamations, But that wail for auld lang syne ! Oh, there's nothing quite so wilting As the graduation rhyme. After years of fret and worry In that mental treadmill, school, After tedious tilts with grammar And the arithmetic rule, After philosophic delvings And a dip in classic lore — A campaign that, while it lasted, Was considered quite a bore, Rises up the class-ode poet And, forgiving, paints the time With the tints that bloom in rainbows In her graduation rhyme. One might think ideas romantic And a love of pious ways Quite extinct in times pedantic — - In these selfish, wicked days; But there still are green oases, Spots where faith and love commune Their palms are happy Seniors And they blossom out in June. Yes, for proof of passion tender, Buoyant hope, and faith sublime, See the fervid, tearful phrasing Of the graduation rhyme. 92 WERNER'S READINGS NO. 55 Cynics call it affectation — Gushing o'er departed days — And such tales of lofty virtue Fill the class with blank amaze; For, until they've heard the story, Which in verse the maiden sings, All unconscious of their graces Are these cherubs (minus wings) ; And they never dream of glory, Nor of dizzy heights to climb, 'Till they learn their own perfections From the graduation rhyme. While the warring theologians Are dissecting each belief, Souls perplexed and apprehensive May find solace and relief In the class-ode proclamation Which, ignoring creeds, declares - That when life's great school is ended We shall climb the golden stairs. Yes, salvation universal Is the reassuring chime That jingles at the closing Of the graduation rhyme. Oh, we're tired of "friends and teachers," And "beloved classmates," too, Of the "tender tears at parting" And the "sorrowful adieu;" In the hot and sticky weather 'Tis a sad and dreary thing — This wishy-washy nonsense That the blooming maidens sing, And we turn to Whitcomb Riley, Or to Kipling's verse sublime, GRADUATION DAY 93 To revive our spirits drooping 'Neath the graduation rhyme. TEACHER TO HIS BOYS. (Graduation Day Poem.) W. T. Miller. YOU are all my boys, Your sorrows and joys Are mine as well as yours; Your youthful ways I blame or praise, But my faith in you endures. The work that you do, And your frolics, too, Are part of life's lesson severe; And you'll share with me, Both gloom and glee, As you build your future career. You'll find in life Much bitter strife, And the pace will oft be killing; But all we ask Is that each task May find you strong and willing. I call you mine And in fancy twine Your names with mem'ry's wreath; When from here you've gone You'll still live on, And to me your thoughts bequeath. You the only ones? Ah, no! the sons Of many homes I've known; In many a street My boys I greet, And call each one "my own." Some win, some lose, Some wrongly choose, Some have griefs, some rest, some joys; But sad or gay, You here, and they, Will be always just "my boys." 94 WERNER'S READINGS NO. 55 ROMANCE IN OLD COLLEGE DAYS. (Graduation Day Poem,) IN the old college days, on the old college green, With corners of sumach and foxglove and rue, Where the gold of the sunlight lay tender between The morning and night-time, Sweetheart, I found you. The sheen on your hair was as gleaming and fair As the glint of the noonday that kissed it — and rare— In the old college days! And the light on the treetops was solemn and sad As, blushing, you went on your way through the grass; And the flowers, your footprints had made them so glad, Were kissing your slippers, my willowy lass; And I, though my heart was a torrent of love, Stood whittling a stick by the purple foxglove — In the old college days. In that happy old time you were slender and tall, Your face like a flower drenched fresh by the dew; And your lips, like a love-cup, were made to enthrall The heart in the corner of foxglove and rue, For, spite of my learning, I'd never been taught The mazes of hair-shine, and so I was caught — In the old college days. But the gleam of your tresses is chastened and gray, The bloom of the youthtime is evermore lost, And the years, had they opened and showed us to-day So calm 'neath its burden of furrows ?nd frost, Do you think we'd have left the dear dream on the green Or hugged it the closer, my snow-crowned queen — In the old college days? But that far-time is precious, for never again The throb of our hearts will so passionate beat! The impulse of boyhood, all heedless of pain, To stretch out his life 'neath your satin-shod feet Is gone — we are only two peaceful old souls, With the madness of living cast off on the shoals — Of the old college days. And perhaps, who can say, when we wander away The arms of the Reaper may bargain with Time, And beckon us back through the shadowy day, Up the roadway that leads through the gateposts of lime, To the broad smiling green, with the rue and foxglove, And the sumach in clusters, the shy silent love — And the old college days! GRADUATION DAY 95 VACATION RENEWS VIGOR. (Graduation Day Poem.) Edith Putnam Paintor.- FRIENDS and school-mates, we have gathered In this dear old room once more; But we feel a tinge of sadness That we ne'er have felt before. We have met day after day here, Met some profit to supply; But at last has come a parting — We have met to say "Good-by!" One more year has reached and left us, One more year of life hath fled, And since first we met for study Think how swiftly time has sped! With the thought of gaining knowledge, We have gathered many a day, Now the term is all but ended, And the year has flown away. Yet we feel a thrill of pleasure, For ws know we have done well, And our sentiment at parting Is "Good-by" but not "Farewell.'* We shall meet, vacation over, All our duties to renew, Strengthened by the intermission Ready then to be and do. Ah! our dread at coming parting Is not easy to resist, For we know at our next meeting Many faces will be missed. And though we be joined together, Some will meet with us no more, While the others we shall welcome Never can their loss restore. When we meet again next autumn, When vacation days are o'er, We shall miss the cheering presence Of cne class that comes no more. But, aside from this, I wonder, Will there be a miscing face? Will, among the gathered students, There be found one vacant place? 96 WERNER'S READINGS NO. 55 Who can tell? Before the morrow, Many may be called away, — Called to leave for God's great school-house, In the shining realms of day; Called above to learn the lessons Taught by Him who rules us all. Ah! my friends, who will be missing? Who will answer at God's call? Looking back over our history, We are conscious of success, And our joy, at this our triumph, Makes the pain of parting less. Let us, as our term is closing, Go out feeling we have won, And come back with renewed vigor To outstrip all we have done. SING WITH RIGHT GOOD CHEER. (Graduation Day Song.) (Air: "Work for the Night Is Coming.") NOW is our labor ended, Welcome vacation's joys; All hearts are filled with gladness, Happy girls and boys. Sing till the walls re-echo, Sing with a right good cheer, Sing that we all are merry, For vacation's here. Work has been hard and earnest Playtime will be most sweet, With bluest skies above us, Flowers at our feet! Sing till the walls re-echo, Sing with a right good cheer, Sing that we all are merry, For vacation's here. Now may vacation give us Happiness, strength, and health; These are the best of blessings, These are truly wealth. Sing till the walls re-echo, Sing with a right good cheer, Sing that we all are merry, For vacation's here. PART IV. Graduation Day Songs VASSAR GIRL. (Graduation Day Song.) Wallace Irwin. ( t f\ H, Martha's back from Vassar," 1 1 Said farmer James McCassar: ^^ "O Martha, come into the house and mix a batch of bread." But Martha's accents fluttered As she murmured, as she stuttered, "I have studied the satanic Ways of bacilli organic, And it throws me in a panic, pa, to mix a batch of bread." CHORUS. At Vassar-oh, at Vassar-oh, That's what we learn at Vassar! We love our alma mater so We do not like to cross 'er. We have a superstition There's nothing like the damsel with the dear old Vassar V. "Oh, Martha's back from Vassar," Said farmer James McCassar: "O Martha, go out to the barn and milk the brindle cow." But Martha cried: "Oh, bother!" As she faced her poor old father, "With golf I love to tussle— And with basket-ball to hustle — But I haven't got the muscle to subdue the brindle cow." CHORUS. At Vassar-oh, at Vassar-oh, That's what we learn at Vassar! We love our alma mater so We do not like to cross 'er. We have a superstition There's nothing like the damsel with the dear old Vassar V. "Oh, Martha's home from Vassar!" Cried the angry James McCassar: **0 Martha, take yer study-books and don't come home no more!" (Werner's Readings No. 55 — page 97.) 98 WERNER'S READINGS NO. 55 So the maiden in contrition Got a typist-girl's position, Wed a millionaire named Harris Who, lest poverty embarrass, Made his wife a millionairess. And she's ne'er been heard of more. CHORUS. At Vassar-oh, at Vassar-oh, That's what we learn at Vassar! We love our alma mater so We do not like to cross 'er. Learning's road is rough and stony; But for golden matrimony There's nothing like the maiden with the dear old Vassar V. WOODLAND VOICES CALLING. (Graduation Day Song.) (Air: "Suwanee River.") ONCE comes again the joyous season, Summer is here; School over, work and study ended, Vacation dear! Hear the woodland voices calling, Birdies, brooks and flowers. Haste from the hot and crowded city, Rest in the fragrant bowers. All through the bright and gladsome summer Vacation's ours; Joyous we hail with happy freedom Long, sunny, restful hours. Hail, vacation, happy season, Books now closed must be, Green woodland shade so cool invites us, Spreading its balm so free. When yellow leaves and red of autumn Tinge forest grand, Then to the now deserted school-room Turns back the merry band. Now, vacation we will hasten • Far from toil and care, September's call again will find us Ready for duty there. GRADUATION DAY 99 MOTHER EARTH HOLIDAY. (Graduation Day Song.) (Air: "Battle Hymn of the Republic") MIDSUMMER sunshine fills the air with golden light to-day, The roses bloom on every side, a^ng the ledges gray, While fragrant breezes, brooks, and birds are singing on their way. Vacation's coming near. CHORUS. Merry, merry voices are swelling The chorus from glad hearts upwelling Joyfully, joyfully telling, Vacation's coming near! For joyous weeks to come, no more of lessons learned from books, But pages full in flowers and stones, and in the running brooks, Where speckled trout lie dreamily within the shadiest nooks, Vacation's coming near! CHORUS. For us shall fields and forests green put on their best array, And Mother Earth for us shall keep one long, long holiday; The hills shall echo back our songs, for all our hearts are gay, Vacation's coming near! CHORUS. PARTING OF THE WAYS. (Graduation Day Song.) John J. Loud. A BAND of sisters linger we Here at the parting of the ways, Hope beckons to the opening paths, But backward still we gaze. Kind teachers faithful to their trust, The friends whose smiles have cheered our days, Half sad, half joyful, here await The parting of the ways. Our hearts with tender farewells thrill; The past, more than the present, seems To be with us. The passing hours Are but as waking dreams. Whate'er the future has in store Of cloud or sunshine for our days Sweet mem'ries throw their halo round This parting of the ways. 100 WERNER'S READINGS NO. 55 HIGH IDEALS WOT LOST. (Graduation Day Song.) y Mary A. Burnell. (Air: "Just One Word of Consolation.") SCHOOLMATES, friends, all hold you dear, Whom you see now gathered here; We all joy in your success, Admiration, too, confess; Others, wearied by the way, Might have stood with you to-day; With firm purpose, you've held true, Kept Commencement Day in view. CHORUS. Paths that looked so steep ahead, When we first began to climb, Now with rosy hues are spread, Viewed at this Commencement time. And so we now would say to all, — Let none tempt you from the door How e'er loud may be the call When the bell shall ring once more. While we wish you all God-speed, For the world has urgent need Of the earnest and the true And we rest our faith in you, — Still we all shall miss you sadly Where we daily met so gladly, All your happy, cheerful voices And the less melodious noises. CHORUS. Since to us are left your places While no more we'll see your faces We will try to fill them well. Deeds, not words alone, will tell. High ideals are not lost; Nor we'll count too great the cost. So with tender thoughts and true We now say "Good-by" to you. CHORUS. Say farewell and yet again, Thoughts and faces to you turn; Happy school-days spent together, Whatsoe'er might be the weather, Heart to heart hath closely bound, Inspiration, too, we've found. Time forbids us more to tell, So my friends, dear friends. Farewell. CHORUS. GRADUATION DAY 101 I WANT TO LIVE IN A COLLEGE TOWN. (Graduation Day Song.) George Ade. SOME girls would be by the sounding sea, Where the rolling breakers beat; Some girls would stay on a mountain top In a quiet, safe retreat; Some vegetate in a rural state Among the placid yaps, While some are ripe for the sporty type Of the hoorah city chaps. But if I had my say Of some good place to stay, I think I'd rather settle down In college town. CHORUS. I want to live in a college town Where men are thick as bees, Where the noisy boys in corduroys Are grouped beneath the trees. Each night a light In the parlor bright And a song in the key of G, With a real Dutch lunch For the midnight bunch, A college town for me. SEARCHING FOR WISDOM. (Graduation Day Song.) Ethel M. Van Vliet. (Air: "Marching Through Georgia.") T AKE your good old speller, boys, and learn the right from wrong, Spell it as we used to spell it, pass the word along, For vacation's coming, so we sing our joyful song, While we are searching for wisdom. CHORUS. Hurrah, hurrah, now comes our jubilee! Hurrah, hurrah, vacation sets us free! So we sing the chorus of vacation's jubilee While we are searching for wisdom. How we children shouted when we heard the school-bell sound, How we sighed and puzzled o'er examples which we found, Hard examinations how they ever did abound, While we were searching for wisdom. CHORU9. 102 WERNER'S READINGS NO. 55 Now vacation's bringing a glad playtime in her train, And we think we've earned it, for we've worked with might and main. So good-by to study till the school-bell rings again, Then we'll be searching for wisdom. CHORUS. RESISTLESS MARCH OF GIRL GRADUATES. (Graduation Day Song.) H. S. Keller. (Air: "We Are Coming, Father Abraham.") THEY are coming, men and brethren, Many hundred thousand strong; They are pouring forth an army Exceeding wide and long. They are smiling, they are nodding, And their plumes are waving high, As each maiden lifts her banner To the glorious shining sky. They are full of mighty wisdom, And the world their oyster is; They have buckled on the armor. And are ready now for biz. They are ready for the battle, And their war-cry fairly thrills: Some will sprout as full-fledged lawyers, Some as mixers up of pills. Man, poor, craven man, before them Flees afar and hides his head, For the ground is charmed completely By the beauteous army's tread. Man's a second fiddler sawing Sadly on a single strand, In the face of such an army Swarming wildly o'er the land. They'll be filling all the places Filled by poor prosaic man; They'll be claiming all the options, Bossing ev'ry scheme and plan. And the one nice way to stop them In their stalwart, onward stride Is to woo them and to win them, And to make each one a bride! PART V, Graduation Day Addresses, Essays, Orations HOW TO WRITE A GRADUATION ESSAY. Hamilton Wright Mabie. IN writing, as in every other thing, don't try to be somebody else; be content to be yourself. Imitative people are never interesting, nor are people who do things in a way which is not natural to them. Don't become rigid when you take up your pen; let it lie in your hand as easily as a baseball bat or a tennis-racquet. Don't allow yourself to have feelings or thoughts about writing any more than you have feelings or thoughts about talking. Don't try to do some- thing impressive or elegant or fine; if you do, you will do something ctupid. Above all, don't think that you are doing something for an audience; that is fatal to naturalness and simplicity. Write as if you were talking to the boys and girls about you. If you find it hard to do that, put the composition form out of your mind and write a letter on the subject to some one you know well; then strike off the begin- ning and the ending, and you will have your composition. You will need a subject at the very beginning. Don't try to select a subject; let it select itself. It will do this, if, instead of searching through all the fields of knowledge, you will sit quietly and let things come to you. Your subject ought to belong to you; you ought to own it by right of possession through personal knowledge or interest or the bent of your mind. You have made a journey; you have been to a city and heard a concert or seen a play; you have taken a walk in the woods; you have seen a brisk old man come into a street-car, and a young woman, after looking reproachfully at the men around her, get up and offer her seat, and you have seen the old man look angry and decline it; you have been at a fire on a windy night and seen the flames mount and sway to and fro; you have discovered a strange and eccentric character; you have been reading a book which has made you forget yourself and you want to talk about it; something happened to you when you were a child and made a great impression on you: these are your subjects; they belong to you; they are not strangers from foreign lands nor ghosts from history books. You cannot do your best unless your subject comes from your neighborhood, your experi- ence or your reading. You cannot interest others unless you are in- terested yourself; that is the reason why when you write on "The Progress of Civilization," "The Sphere of Woman," "The Rights of Man," your composition is without color or individuality; you do not know anything about the subject at first hand; it does not touch you and you cannot tcuch other people. On the other hand, when you de- scribe a visit to a rolling-mill, or a canoe-trip on the river, or an Arctic voyage you have just been reading about, everybody listens and the committee on prizes pays strict attention; you are interested, and you have interested others. When your subject has come to you, treat it as an old friend; (Werner's Readings No. 55 — page 103) 104 WERNER'S READINGS NO. 55 don't put on your Sunday clothes and sit in the "best parlor" with it; keep it outdoors, or take it up to your own room; talk with it easily and comfortably; don't be prim and formal and carefully polite with it. If you have an experience to describe, do not set down everything that happened — choose the interesting things and let the others go. A bore is a man who never lets anything go; if he is telling you about a trip and he comes to ten miles of level road across a flat country, he describes every mile of it. A good story-teller, on the other hand, puts the whole ten miles into a phrase, and in a minute is on the top of the hill where something happens. If you want to describe a journey, leave out the things that did not make you look twice at them. If it will help you, take a pencil and a sheet of paper and put down a list of the things that stand out most clearly in your memory; if there are too many of them, strike out those you care for least. Work over this little sketch or plan until you have clearly in your mind what you want other people to see. It is quite as important to use your own words as to select your own subjects. When the style of a writer affects you deeply it is because the language he uses is alive. His style is not a set of words he has dug out of a dictionary; he is using words which fit his ideas, his feelings, his tastes and character. There is great danger of using long, impressive or far-fetched words, instead of simple, direct and familiar words; there are many people whose words are two or three sizes too large for their ideas. This is one of the faults of compositions: the style is stilted and unnatural because the words are long and unfamiliar. One of the most wholesome tendencies nowadays is the growing love of simplicity. We have been going through an elaborate and ornate age in dress, furniture, decoration and speech, and are begin- ning to see that the best result of real culture is simplicity, which ought to be the keynote of graduation exercises. Formerly such occa- sions were made to display all the unused powers of boys and girls, by loading them with unfamiliar subjects and urging them to write in a style so formal that it had no more relation to the unhappy boy Gr girl than the lotus-flower has to the soil of the frigid zone. The victims of this mistaken idea often read or spoke like graven images reciting in an unknown tongue. On public occasions especially the natural life and the normal interests of a school ought to be brought into view, and those who take part ought to be helped to be simple and perfectly natural. It is a mistake to take the life out of such occasions by asking or permitting boys and girls to select subjects too old for them and to use language borrowed from bigger people. The wooden gestures and solemn manner of some school-exercises make them a purgatory to those who are on the program and a bore to everybody else. Though the mills of God grind slowly, yet they grind exceedingly small; Though with patience He stands waiting, with exact- ness grinds He all. — H. W. Longfellow (Translation). GRADUATION DAY 105 GRADUATING ORATION. (Practical Hints.) Vivian M. Akers. THE Commencement exercise, as presented in the greater number of schools and colleges, is the most inadequate and unjust test to which a graduate could be subjected. After years of unbroken application to study so severe as to necessitate seclusion from society, the young student is forced to appear before the public, with an origi- nal production in the form of an essay or an oration, having had but little experience in writing, and, in the majority of cases, absolutely no instruction in bearing and in delivery. As most people gain their sole knowledge of school-work in their community by attendance on annual exercises, they naturally and almost unconsciously feel that the graduate who makes the best appearance on that occasion has been all along the strongest pupil. This is manifestly unjust and often un- true. Any teacher will testify that oftentimes the finest mathemati- cian, the most accurate and discriminating Latin pupil, is the shyest, most diffident member of the class, the least fitted to make a good public impression. The object of this article is to give practical helps and definite directions how to avoid embarrassment, how tc be natural, how to give the simplest literary effort a satisfactory and pleasing delivery. After the oration has been accepted, and before actual rehearsal be- gins, two things are especially necessary. The first is that you cast from you all sense of dissatisfaction with your production; and, while avoiding a too exalted opinion of it, compel yourself to be content with your work. It is well enough v/hile engaged in writing, to have the mind stimulated by a desire to improve; but once the thing is done, and you feel that it represents the best that is in ycu, there let it rest, and turn your energies toward the work yet to come. You can easily perceive that you will be unable to impress an audience with the merit of a production of which you yourself are ashamed. Second, have the subject-matter perfectly committed to memory. Whether a written copy is carried in the hand or not, this is equally important. Many things are liable to occur, such as turning two pages or dropping a sheet, which might result in disaster to the reader's composure. There- fore, know the text of your essay so thoroughly that, in the words of an eminent teacher, you can repeat it "forward, backward, or sidewise." The next step is rehearsing aloud. At first this should be done in private. That is, net in the presence of one's classmates or family, unless one of the latter is competent to act as instructor. Even where one has a teacher, it is well to strengthen the helps received at the lesson by frequent private rehearsals. Use the pauses, inflections, and, as nearly as possible, the volume and the quality of tone desired for the final delivery. If the throat is weak, do not overtax it by too great an effort to speak louder. Let the voice be intense and penetrating rather than loud, else in your endeavor to be understood you will find yourself shrieking instead of speaking. Fix your mind (not your eye) upon the remotest corner of the room, and strive to cast the voice so far. This, combined with clear-cut articulation, will solve the difficulty. You 106 WERNER'S READINGS NO. 55 must be heard, or all your labor will be fruitless, and if you speak to the farthest person in the audience, those intermediate must hear dis- tinctly. Though we are just now speaking of rehearsal, and rehearsal in private, yet I use the word "audience" advisedly, for you must ac- custom yourself to an imaginary audience if you wish to avoid em- barrassment before the actual one. Can you in fancy cause the walls of your room to recede, and the open space to be filled with faces? It is a difficult feat for the untutored imagination, but it can be done, and if the best results are to be secured, it must be done. Having then created an assemblage of listeners, speak directly to them. There is between the successful orator and his hearers a subtle sympathy, a oneness, a "mental telegraph" along which he flashes his magnetic personality, his brilliant intellectuality, causing corresponding impulses in every brain in the circuit. Directness of speech is the principal means of establishing this connection. It is not enough, as is often suggested, to select one person in the room and talk to him alone; neither is it sufficient to regard the whole audience as one person, for then the individual feels that he has no part in the doings of the hour but is merely looking on. But if by the power of your eye, and out of the fulness of your desire to impart your thought, you can grasp both the spirit of the assembly en masse and the fellowship of each separate mind in it, you will feel your diffidence fall away, and you will stand forth and deliver your message with power, with dignity, with repose, Each person will feel that you are appealing to him directly, and will send back to you such a wave of sympathy and appreciation that you will be helped to still more successful efforts. When you have established this connection, you are ready to begin speaking. For the opening sentences of an address, it is best to assume an easy (not a jaunty) standing posture, with the weight of the body thrown forward, ever so little, to lend earnestness and force to the thought, and with the arms and the hands perfectly relaxed by the sides. This position of the arms is the fundamental cne from which nearly all gestures should emanate. Do not begin at once to make gestures, but rather first gain the attention you desire by bearing, voice and will-power, holding gesture as a reserve force to brine: into play when the increasing warmth and action of your delivery seem to de- mand it. Even then be very discriminating in employing this form of expression, using it not as an end, but as a means to assist language in conveying your thought. It is better to have a few strongly char- acterized and much-needed gestures, or even none at all, than to be constantly disturbing the atmosphere in ycur vicinity by waving your arms in an inane and useless, though possibly graceful manner. When you are well launched into your theme, and begin to "feel" your audi- ence, you may then begin to gather up your forces, here a little and there a little, holding well in hand the advantage already gained, mov- ing steadily and with ever-increasing momentum to the end. In your daily rehearsal there are many things that you must rigidly require of yourself. Ascertain the relative position of the front of the stage with regard to the seat you will occupy on Commencement Day, and practice advancing and retiring. Let your movements be delib- erate, but not offensively so, else it will seem that you have assumed a. calmness that you do not possess, in order to hide your real discom- GRADUATION DAY 107 posure. In fact, it is best to assume nothing, but really to feel, if possible, as you wish to appear. Repress all signs of nervousness, such as twiddling the fingers, and shifting the feet. Do not look at your hands or feet when you move them. Seem not to think of them at all. Above all, do not allow yourself to march from side to side of the platform or stage. When it is necessary to change the position, do so quietly and easily, and at a point in the oration where a new thought is introduced. The spectators will scarcely be conscious that you have moved, but the altered attitude will add measurably to the force of the new idea. These things will require much practice. Be unsparing in your efforts to remember them while rehearsing. But when the real hour comes do not try to recall a single one of the hints I have given. If you havs been constant and conscientious in your preparation, you may then throw away all rules, feeling certain that the effect of your faithfulness will remain with you, and be apparent without special en- deavor on your part. When the great day actually dawns, rise at usual hour, and engage in any light duties that present themselves. Do not become excited by receiving callers, or by constantly reciting your "piece." If you fear that memory may fail, it is well to read the oration slowly and care- fully once or twice, but avoid regular rehearsal. Do not keep the mind oppressed all day by fears. Eat light, nourishing food, avoiding candies and Dastry. Bagin in good time to dress for the evening, that there may be no occasion for haste. In order to act naturally, one must feel at ease, and clothing has much to do with the case. Have the hair done in us^'l manner, dress of ordinary length; do not wear French- heeled shoes unless you have accustomed yourself to walking in them. In a word, wear nothing so uncomfortable or unusual as to make you think of yourself, as that will certainly cause you to become em- barrassed. When you take your seat on the platform, begin at once to get acquainted with the surroundings. If there are footlights, do not allow their unfamilia" brilliancy to disconcert you. Note carefully the loca- tion of rugs and other stage-furnishings, and be prepared to pass easily and smoothly to the front and back again. Determine beforehand to retain your self-possession in any emergency. A child may cry out, or a woman may faint, but you must not be disturbed by such things. If, at the last moment, when your name is pronounced and you rise to confront that awful amphitheater of faces, your heart fails, turn for one moment toward that row where sit in painful, hopeful, beautiful anxiety that gray-haired father, that tender, tired mother, who have given up so much that would have made life easier for them that you might stand where you do just now. Look into their eyes beaming with love and breathless suspense, and draw therefrom inspiration to your noblest effort. It is your duty, it is your privilege, to make them proud of you; to make them feel that by your supreme endeavor to do them honor the years of ceaseless watchfulness, of careful tending, of self-sacrifice, all are this night repaid. Beauty is truth, truth beauty — that is all Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know. — John Keats. 108 WERNER'S READINGS NO. 55 DUTY THE HIGHEST CALL. (Graduation Day Oration.) Eugene Wood. AS the whole shining circle of the sky is reflected in one humble dewdrop, so is the horizon of life and its arching vault of aspira- tion contained in one terse phrase of the catechism: "To do my duty in that station of life unto which it shall please God to call me." Search through the wide world of literature for some saying that shall more fitly set forth the dignified and solemn purpose of our being, and you will find nothing so sturdy, nothing so plain, nothing so earnest. All that is to be achieved, all that is to be endured, the con- quest of material things, the conquest cf the inner self, — all are in that, one word "duty." To win success, fame, honor, glory, is no unworthy incentive to man's utmost efforts, but not the greatest. The desire for the approbation of his fellows burns in the breast of every man, and we can not scorn it as common or unclean. But what truly makes for progress in the race is that spirit within, ever unsatisfied with former work, yet ever striving for that far-off goal where self may honestly declare to self: "Well done, oh, well done!" " 'Tis not in mortals to command success, But we'll do more, Sempronius; we'll deserve it!" If in the race of time the Latin peoples have been outfooted by the Anglo-Saxons, it is because the one lived and died for glory, the other for the sake of simple, English "duty." If glory be the meed of strife, why struggle when the battle's lost? But if the spur be duty, then one must do his uttermost, regardless of the outcome. Half the vic- tories that stir the pulse and set the teeth and make us proud of our illustrious race and lineage were won because our kinsmen still kept up the fight, nor ever dreamed that they were whipped. "Duty" is but a plain and homely word, curt and elemental. It has no linked sonority of syllables to commend it to the hired orator that celebrates the praises of a popular idol. It does not thunder on the tongue; it does not flame with red fire, nor quiver with the crash of bands of music. In the clear, white light that streams from it the highest heroism and the noblest self-denial seem but the things that should be, the only things a man could do. There are those that decry this saying but they read it wrong. They quote it: "In that station of life unto which it hath pleased God to call me," as if it were written to keep down the low-born and to make them keep the place assigned to them by a Providence whom it were impiety to strive against. They forget how much the Elizabethan age was like our own in thought and in feeling. The Western world was but new-found, and in the struggle for its spoils the little isle of England woke to deeds of high emprise. Merchant adventurers sprang up and from small beginnings became men of wealth and power. The ferment of new learning was working in the intellectual world. Kit Marlowe, ill-starred youth, Ben Jonson, Shakespeare (half-starved linkboy and poet of all time), were springing up. The quiet of the GRADUATION DAY 109 cloisters of the church was broken with tempestuous dispute. All that had cnce been taken on authority was now put to the question. The last was first, what had been first was last. The men that wrote the catechism were of the new faith, — "upstarts," so their rivals called them. Were they likely to throw down the ladder by which they had climbed and to drone out platitudes about walking in the old paths and doing as one's father did and never daring to aspire above the peasant's lot? Net they. Their word shows it. They use the future, not the perfect tense. "To do my duty in that station of life unto which it shall please God to call me." In that one word lies all the difference between the spirit of the Dark Ages and the spirit of the Renaissance. The first looked backward, peering through the shadows of past years, declaring it discerned a constituted plan and scope of things, sTave to be slave, king to be king, until the end of time. Thus it had always been, thus should it always be. But the Renaissance turned toward the light, presuming not to say what God had ordered for each rank and station, but, with a faith sublime, trusting each soul to hear the higher call and prove its worthiness by climbing up through every hardship that opposed. There is no altitude too high to be included in that call; there is no breadth too wide but duty may stretch out to it. There remains, then, only the dimension of depth, gauged by the impelling force of each one's character. By these and these alone we must determine what is to be the space we are to occupy in the new life that lies before us. STRUGGLE, THE PRICE OF PROGRESS. (Graduation Day Oration.) A BRAVE hunter, so the legend reads, wandering one day beside a forest stream, caught for an instant the reflection of a beauti- ful bird in the water at his feet. Snow-white the image was, and cf such rare beauty that the hunter strained his eyes but found nothing like the vision in the blue vault above him. As he stood amazed, and full of a deep longing to see once more what had been granted to him but for a moment, a voice addressed him thus: "Young man, the bird which you have seen is called Truth. He who has once seen her never rests again. Till death he desires her. The Mountain of Mystery will rise before him. He must climb it; beyond lies Truth. Some men have struggled up that mountain; circle above circle of bare rock they have scaled; and, wandering there in those high regions, some have chanced to pick up on the ground one white-silver feather dropped from the wing of Truth; and it shall come to pass that when enough of those silver feathers have been woven into a cord, and the cord into a net, that in that net Truth may be captured. Nothing but Truth can hold Truth." The hunter turned resolutely toward the mountain; year after year he labored; step after step he cut in the huge rocks that rose tier upon tier above him. His hair grew white; his fingers stiff and bent, yet onward still he toiled. At last his strength departed. Tears gathered in his eyes. He looked sorrowfully down upon his work and bravely said: "Where I lie down, worn out, other men will stand; by the steps HO WERNER'S READINGS NO. 55 which I have made, they will mount; by the stairs which I have cut, they will climb; they will find her, and through me; 'for no man liveth to himself and no man dieth to himself.' " Far above us, in the illimitable blue, the white bird of Truth com- plete still flies in perfect freedom, untempted by any net which the hand of man has made. When we, Class of , sit in judgment upon our collegiate course, what silver feather of Truth does it offer us? What steps have been hewn out of the Mountain of Mystery o'er whose cloud-capped head the white bird sails? Positively, emphatically, comes the answer: Steps have been cut; the mountain is less a mys- tery than before; and, best of all, one white-silver feather has been captured. It is called, "the price of progress." It is labor; it is strug- gle; the labor of one against many; a negative activity which beats and hurls itself against the wrong, frequently, in the end, to be overcome by the wrong! Not so! The price of progress is truly the struggle that overcometh, because it is the struggle not of one, not of many — it is universal activity. In the beginning of the 19th century, those Americans, who had not a share in the material blessings of life, recognized that they must take up the cross of labor; but they took it up of necessity, and, as they hoped, they took it up temporarily. To-day our greatest men, our richest men, our wisest men, are teaching us a different doctrine. Labor we must, not only because he who will not work may not eat, but because he who will not work may not live. Life, the heart, the core, of the Mountain of Mystery, cries for labor. "What, without asking- hither hurried whence, And without asking; whither hurried hence," we do not know. The Arc of the Before and the Arc of the After, the perfect circle, is still beyond our ken. But we do know that the law of our natures, the law of life, the Arc of the Present, urges, nay com- pels us, to act the part of the hunter, to fight our way toward Truth, to master the Mountain of Mystery and catch, if may be, immortal Truth herself, who alone can point out to us the perfect circle, shining in the radiant blue of a heaven still unknown to mortal eyes. The price of progress, then, is struggle. It is struggle not for one ; it is struggle for all. The Gospel of Work is a gospel not for one nation, not for one class — it is the universal creed, it is the universal hope. The Arc of the Present invites no one to a mossy bank of rest. It has no system of ethics which provides for a class of idle exotics. It has no clause in its creed which bids the dreamer drug his faculties in the pleasing potion of his light and airy fancy. To one and all sounds the trumpet-blast, "Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with all thy might." To the gay woman of fashion, to the landed gentleman of leisure, to the college man, and to the college woman, comes the message of the century through the lips of John Ruskin: "It is our duty, first, to live on as little as we can; secondly, to do all the whole- some work for it we can, and to spend all we can spare in doing all the sure good we can. And sure good is, first, in feeding people; then in dressing people; then in lodging people; and, lastly, in rightly pleasing people, with arts, or sciences, or any other subject of thought." GRADUATION DAY 111 In doing this work, which in very deed we can't travel far up the Mountain of Mystery without finding, shall we pay the price of pro- gress? Shall we mount to those high regions where Truth moves with the steerage of her wings? Yea, verily; for, saith the hunter, "no man liveth to himself, and no man dieth to himself." If we advance, we must advance together; and, until we have cleared the way for all to rise to that great height where the silver feather of the century has fallen, until we all know the price of progress, we can hope "to see but as through a glass, darkly," even the Arc of the Present radiant in the light of its great lesson of work, and work idealized — work which is no longer the service of the slave, but the service of the freeman; the labor of the artist; the labor of him who gets the same joy out of each stroke on his canvas that he gets out of the picture completed; the labor of him who sees the end in the beginning. What matter, then, if you are a hewer of wood, and I, a drawer of water? Have we, too, not learned that to mount we must mount together, "that no man liveth to himself, and no man dieth to himself?" Then, and only then, when this great work is finished; when the cry of the homeless, "I was a stranger, and ye took me not in," and the cry of the perishing, "I was naked, and ye clothed me not," and the cry of the dying, "I was an hungered, and ye gave me no food," shall cease on this fair earth, then, and only then, may cease, for lack of need, "the toil of serf and sweeper, the tale of common things." Then, and only then, shall we have earned the right to the faith of our fathers, to the faith of our prophets, to the faith of Rudyard Kip- ling, who said: "When earth's last picture is painted, and the tubes are twisted and dried, When the oldest colors have faded, and the youngest critic has died, We shall rest, and, faith, we shall need it — lie down for an aeon or two, Till the Master of all good workmen shall set us to work anew! "And those that were good shall be happy; they shall sit in a golden chair; They shall splash at a ten-league canvas with brushes of comets' hair; They shall find real saints to draw from — Magdalene, Peter, and Paul; They shall work for an age at a sitting and never be tired at all! "And only the Master shall praise us, and only the Master shall blame! And no one shall work for money, and no one shall work for fame; But each for the joy of the working, and each, in his separate star, Shall draw the thing as he sees it for the God of things as they are!" WISDOM FROM ONE'S NEIGHBORS. (Graduation Day Essay.) William G. Ward. EDWARD EVERETT HALE tells us to talk for fifteen minutes every day to some one wiser than we are. To whom would Mr. Hale himself talk? He probably would answer, — to some one wiser in some direction; or to a distant man, Shakespeare for in- stance, if you have no near neighbors. But you have near neighbors, who know something of importance, if they could be brought to think so. Your interest in them may cause them to think better of their own life, and thus accomplish Mr. Hale's purpose for them, if not for 112 WERNER'S READINGS NO. 55 yourself. Therefore, if you are not always able to find the person wiser than yourself, you may at least find one equally useful to you, in some direction. This is the lesson which we must learn to value, — the nov- elty, the beauty, and the worth of every individual, when viewed from the standpoint of art, by one who is an artist. The great mistake of modern culture has been in trying to make all persons alike. To make every one know a little of everything, and feel uncomfortable because he does not know more about anything. Instead of that, we are now trying to have them feel proud and confident because they really know a great deal about something. That particular something they not only know, but they can do — can express that feeling, that attribute, in their own lives. No one is interesting except in doing and being the thing that he is. Hence you must always find out what the person can do, or what he stands for, and then talk to him about what he really knows. Great literature, and all great art, is built on the principle of making every man true to himself. He must be himself, must express himself. Dogberry may or may not think well of his own virtues, but we can think well of him only on the condition that he shall be constant to Dogberry in thought, word, and action. Many a Dogberry has been lost to the world of letters, as well as many a Hero and many a Beatrice, for want of the sympathetic lover of human nature who shall find him out, and forever fix him in his own orbit. But how are we to interest people in revealing to us their inner life? By respecting them. When they feel honored by our interest in them, and in their affairs, they will reveal themselves. Only the dry-rot of conventionality makes one despise his own growth, his own town, his own home. People are astonishingly interesting when you can get them to express themselves, instead of trying to be something which they are not, and cannot be. The mere bald facts of the life in any community may be unimportant, or even decidedly unlovely. Visit the scene of very many of the world's great events and you will find they shock you at first with disappointment. But you must not stop there. Let the imagination play with the place; idealize it, at least as much as the past has been idealized. Do not be too severe with our new earth, merely because it is new, and because it is Ameri- can. Keep the artist standpoint as with Bryant you look upon "The hills Rock-ribbed and ancient as the sun, — the vales Stretching in pensive quietness between; The venerable woods — rivers that move In majesty, and the complaining brooks That make the meadows green; and, poured round all, Old ocean's gray and melancholy waste." Surely to idealize this much is not going far. But now take a step further. Let your vision include not only the hills and the vales, but the inhabitants as well, until you can say with Wordsworth, "For I have learned To look on nature, not as in the hour Of thoughtless youth, but hearing oftentimes The still sad music of humanity, Nor harsh nor grating, though of ample power To chasten, and subdue." GRADUATION DAY 113 If this does not appal you, as entirely surpassing the bounds of possi- bility with reference to your own, your native land, then there is one step more you may take. Talk fifteen minutes with Browning, while he tells us how "I but open niy eyes — and perfection, no more and no less, In the kind I imagined, full-fronts me, and God is seen God In the star, in the stone, in the flesh, in the soul and the clod. And thus looking within and around me, I ever renew (With that stoop of the soul which in bending upraises it too) The submission of man's nothing-perfect to God's all-complete, As by each new obeisance in spirit, I climb to His feet." The country in which he saw this was the poor parched desert of Palestine, with the morally degenerate and hopelessly decadent king who ruled over it. Why not apply the same splendid optimism to our own incomparable fatherland, and to our own resplendent nobility of public and private citizenship? Hegel says that a human being may express himself by planting a tree, building a house, or rearing a fam- ily. As an ultimate expression this is true. But may not equally de- sirable results be obtained by teaching people how to appreciate the trees already planted; how to dignify by noble living the houses already built; how to train the tender human twigs in the families already rear- ing? Ruskin spent a long and useful life in doing these very things for the English-speaking world. How many of you are following his example? Keep the artist standpoint; keep it loyally, with all its wide' interest in earth and air and sky; with all its broad tolerance and magnanimity toward human bias and human frailty; with all its hidden wealth for eyes that see aright, and for hearts that beat true. Then if you cannot always find your superior for that daily conversation, you may at least reveal a new standpoint to some one else, which will make every to-morrow superior to its yesterday, both for him and for yourself. This much we expect of you; and we feel sure that in such service you will never grow weary. Certainly you cannot, if you re- member Schiller's aphorism, "Then only do I truly enjoy my life when every day I re-conquer it, as a new possession." LATIN AND GREEK ESSENTIAL STUDIES. (Graduation Day Address.) George Frisbee Hoar, (Late United States Senator.) FOR a good many years I have been a good deal in legislative chambers and court-houses, and have addressed hundreds of political meetings, and heard and read thousands upon thousands of sermons. I have had a great chance to observe what training fits men to convince and persuade their auditors by speech, a faculty in- dispensable to orators, statesmen, advocates and preachers. Indeed, no man can live in this country, with his eyes open, and not have occasion to think of the great problem by what form of education are we to get the best men as material for our public service. Until lately it has been almost universally thought that this faculty was best gained 114 WERNER'S READINGS NO. 55 and attained by the study of Latin and Greek, familiarity with the best models of style in those languages, and the habit of translating them into English. Proficiency in these things was required for the college degree of Bachelor of Arts. The rank of students in colleges and universities was determined by that standard; but of late the rigor of this rule has been relaxed, so that now a degree of A. B., in some of our foremost universities, may be given to youths who have never studied Greek at all; and if Latin be required for entrance, or to be studied for a part of the course, the student may, if he choose, dis- continue the study of Latin, of which he may have had but a poor smattering, and that pretty much forgotten before he gets through. I hope and believe that in this matter of the elective system the pen- dulum will swing back again. All countries have had great examples of men who are called self-educated men. We have had Franklin and Abraham Lincoln, and others quite worthy to be named with these. But I believe that all of them would have agreed that they themselves would have been better fitted for the work they did if they could have had a good college training; and that their education, so far as they learned anything of science or literature, was not as good for their own purpose as that they could have got from a good college. It was to the experience and knowledge of human nature and of the char- acter of the people that they gained in an early life of hardship and poverty, and the confidence of the people, who regarded them as pecul- iarly belonging to them, that their power over the people was owing and not specially to their faculty of speaking or writing, marvelous as that may have been. I think the best character intellectually and morally, the best type of cultivated manhood, the best instrument for the people's service in public life, or at the bar, or in the pulpit, the most perfectly rounded type and example of the gentleman which the world has so far seen, is to be found in the product of universities and colleges. It is a type of manhood which is improving and growing better frcm generation to generation. Now I think I have a very deep-seated and strong con- viction that one powerful influence in forming such a character, in the matter of taste, of mental vigor, of the capacity for public speaking and for writing, in the power of conveying with clearness and force and persuasive power, without any ioss in the transmission, the thought that is in the mind of the speaker cr writer to the mind of the people, is to study and translate what are called the classics, the great Latin and Greek authors. I think this not only an important but an essen- tial instrumentality, I do not object to the education of youth, de- signed for other employment than these professions or public life, at the same institutions, or in the same classes, with those of whom 1 have spoken. Indeed, I think they ought to be so educated, and that in general it would be better for them to be educated in the same way. If in any respect they ought to have a different training and the inter- ests of the two are in conflict, let their interest give way or be post- poned to the other. Certainly do not take any risk of spoiling the classical education by striving to blend any other with it. Now if this be true, how unwise to permit the boy who is destined for such a career to elect in his youth that he will attempt it, without GRADUATION DAY 115 using the best means and instrumentalities to fit himself for it. You put before him the temptation of an easier way of getting into college; you put before him a motive slight, but still enough to determine the decision of a child, to join some favorite companion in a study, to avoid a disagreeable teacher, or to study under an agreeable teacher, or to get rid of severe labor, or some other of the thousand motives that affect the immature fancy of youth, or you put upon the parent a responsibility for which he or she is utterly unfit, and which the uni- versity or college, if it has good government, ought to assume, and the fate of the boy is decided. Foreign languages, especially the dead languages, are not learned, as a rule, after one comes to manhood. The elective system dooms the scholar to be shut out forever and for- ever from the literature of Greece and Rome. I do not know that that literature is greater than that which is known as the Jewish Scrip- tures. But the religious literature of the Hebrews comes to us, I sup- pose, without substantial loss, through the medium of our great trans- lation. On the other hand, there are to be found in the English lan- guage few examples of a translation from which the Englishman or the American, who does not know Greek or Latin, can get the least conception of the original. Your boy is to be an artist. Will you let him, if you expect him to gain a high place in his art, elect before he is twenty years old, perhaps before he is twelve years old, or will you let somebody elect for him, that he shall never in his life see a work of Greek or Italian art? And yet your elective system dooms to a like fate, to a worse fate, the boy who expects to follow some calling, to which refinement of taste, clearness and precision of thought, vigor and power of utter- ance, the gift of eloquence, the capacity to persuade, the capacity to delight, to set on fire the people whom he addresses, is indispensable; and he never in his life, if you have your way, is to know any of the great things of this kind which mankind have done from the beginning of time, except what are found in his native tongue. Of one thing I feel very confident. That is, that the men whom I have known at th^ bar, in public life, and in the pulpit, who have been good Latin or Greek scholars, and who have kept up the love and study of either language through life, especially those who have been lovers of Greek, have shown great superiority in the matter of effective public speak- ing. Certainly the biographies of Englishmen of note for the last hundred years will show the same thing. DESPISE NOT LITTLE THINGS. (Graduation Day Essay.) THERE is nothing, however small, in nature that has not its ap- propriate use, nothing, however insignificant it may appear, that has not some important mission to fulfil. The living dust that swarms in :lusters about our cheese, the mildew casting its emerald tint over our preserves, the lichen and the moss wearing away the words of grief and honor engraved upon the tombs of our forefathers, have each their appropriate work, and are all important in the great economy of nature. By the steady and long-continued efforts of this 116 WERNER'S READINGS NO. 55 fragile little plant, high mountains have been leveled, which no human power could have brought from their towering heights. Castles and strongholds, raised by the hand of man, have proved weak and power- less under the ravages of this tiny agent, and become scenes of ruin and desolation — the habitations of the owl and the bat. Yet who, to look upon the lichen, would think it could do all this? — so modest that we might almost take it for a part of the ground upon which we tread. Contemplate its unobtrusive course; endowed by nature with an or- ganization capable of vegetating in the most unpropitious circum- stances — requiring little more than moisture of the atmosphere to sus- tain it, the lichen sends forth its small filamentous roots and clings to the hard, dry rock with a determined pertinacity. These little fibers find their way into the minute crevices of the stone; now, firmly at- tached, the rain-drops lodge upon their fronds, and, filtering to their roots, moisten the space which they occupy, and the little plant is then enabled to work itself farther into the rock; the dimensions of the aperture become enlarged, and the water runs in in greater quanti- ties. This work, carried on by a legion ten thousand strong, soon pierces the stony cliff with innumerable fissures, which being filled with rain, the frost causes to split, and large pieces roll down to the levels beneath, to become soil for the growth of a more exalted vege- tation. Is not this a lesson worth learning from the book of nature? "Persevere, and despise not little things." The poorest and humblest of men will be able to accomplish great things, if he will take the precept to himself. Nature is full of examples to stimulate us to perseverance, and beautiful illustrations of how much can be achieved by trifles unheeded by the multitude. The worms that we tread in the dust are the choicest friends of the husbandman. They loosen and throw up in nutritious mealy hillocks the hardest and most unprofitable soil — the stones dis- appear, and where all was sterility and worthlessness, is soon rich with luxurious vegetation. We may call to mind, too, the worm upon the mulberry-tree, and its miles of fine-spun glistening silk; we may watch the process of its transformation till the choice fabric which its patient industry has produced is dyed by an infusion gained from another little insect (the cochineal), and then endowed with the glory of tint and softness of texture, it is cut into robes to deck the beauty of our wives and daughters. Where is the man, sluggard though he be, who would not shake off his slothfulness on observing the patient industry and frugal economy of the little ant? or where is the drunkard and spend- thrift who could watch the bee, so busy in garnering up a rich store for the coming winter, and not put his shoulder to the wheel, and think of old age? If we turn from the book of nature and open the annals of dis- covery and science, many instances of the importance of little things will start up and crowd around us. By the accidental mixing of a little nitre and potash, gunpowder was discovered. In ancient times, some merchants traveling across a sandy desert, could find no rock at hand on which to kindle a fire to prepare their food; as a substitute, they took a block of alkali from among their heaps of merchandise, and lit a fire thereon. They stared with surprise when they saw the huge GRADUATION DAY 117 block melting beneath the heat, and still more so, when they discov- ered that, mingled with the sand, it had been transformed into a hard and shining substance. From this originated the making of glass. The sunbeams dazzling on a crystal prism unfolded the whole theory of colors. A few rude types carved from a wooden block have been the means of revolutionizing nations, rooting out the most hardened despotisms — of driving away a multitude of imps of superstition, which for ages had been the terror of the learned, and of spreading the light of truth and knowledge from the frontiers of civilization to the coasts of darkness and barbarism. "We must destroy the Press," exclaimed the furious Wolsey, "or the Press will destroy us." The battle was fought, the Press was triumphant. The swinging of a lamp .suspended from a ceiling led Galileo to search into the laws of oscillation of the pendulum; and by the fall of an apple the great Newton was led to unfold what had hitherto been deemed one of the secrets of nature. When the heart of the woolspinner of Genoa was sickening with "hope deferred," and his men, who had long been straining their eyes in vain to catch a glimpse of land, were about to burst into open mutiny, Columbus picked up a piece of wood which he found floating on the waters. The shore must be nigh, he thought, from whence this branch has wafted, and the inference inspired the fainting hearts of his crew to persevere and gain the hoped-for land. Such trifles have often befriended genius. Accidentally observing a red-hot iron become elongated by passing between iron cylinders, suggested the improvements effected by Arkwright in the spinning ma- chinery. A piece of thread and a few small beads were means suf- ficient, in the hands of Ferguson, to ascertain the situation cf the stars in the heavens. The discovery of Galvani was made by a trifling oc- currence: a knife happened to be brought into contact with a dead frog lying on the board of the chemist's laboratory, the muscles of the reptile were observed to be severely convulsed — experiments soon un- folded the whole theory of galvanism. The history of the gas-light is curious, and illustrates cur subject. Dr. Clayton distilled seme coal in a retort; and, confining the vapor in a bladder, amused his friends by burning it as it issued from a pin-hole. It was left for Murdock to suggest its adoption as a means of illuminating our streets and adding to the splendor of our shops. If God has instilled the instinct of frugality into the ant, and told us, in His written word, to go learn her ways and be wise, think you He will be displeased to observe the same habits of economy in us? To achieve independence, you must practice habitual frugality; and, while enjoying the present, think now and then of the possibility of a rainy day. Recollect the precepts and life of Franklin, and a thou- sand others who rose to wealth and honor by looking after little things. Be resolute, persevere, and prosper. Do not wait for the assistance of others in your progress through life. Gird up your loins; meet diffi- culties and troubles with dauntless courage; resist every temptation that may allure you to indolence or every fascination that may lead to prodigality; think not that the path to wealth or knowledge is all sun- shine and honey; look fcr it .only by long year3 of vigorous and well- directed activity; let no opportunity pass for self -improvement The 118 WERNER'S READINGS NO. 55 dove did not return to Noah with the olive-branch till the second time of her going forth; why, then, should you despond at the failure of a first attempt! Persevere, and above all, despise not little things. AWAKENING OF THE SOUL. (Graduation Day Essay.) "We all, with open face beholding as in a glass the glory of the iLord, are changed into the same image from glory to glory." —St. Paul, 2 Cor. III., 18. ONE of the divinest compensations in the life of a teacher is the opportunity to see the awakening of the soul; the opportunity to mark its gradual unfolding beneath the transforming power of lofty purposes and correct ideals. In common with you, I have for the last few days watched the culmination of this process; not its comple- tion, for its growth goes on forever. Those whom we welcomed as strangers three or four years ago have stood before us, at last, trans- formed, glorified. Radiant with the light of truth and the beauty of sincerity, they have left an abiding impression on us, and on the col- lege spirit. Nor have they failed to stimulate our minds and hearts to higher zeal. As I listened, I have been thinking, What recompense have you for masters such as these? They reach new heights. They come to you with a message. In answer, I can only reply, These moments of transfiguration are equally profitable for all of us. No one comes down from the mountain the same person who went up. The infusion of new life comes to us all in common, whether we are con- scious of it or not. As we behold, we, too, are changed "into the same image from glory to glory." I often think that Dante, as he tried to see with the eyes of his soul, while fulfilling his promise to write of Beatrice, such things as had never been written of any other woman. When he had passed through the dolorous region of hell, and had climbed the steep and bitter ascent of purgatory, he came cut at last upon the top of the mountain, where his guide, Virgil, explained that he cculd conduct him no farther. As Virgil vanished, he suddenly discovered that Beatrice had come from the celestial choir to be his guide through the Nine Heavens. We cannot fail to observe the device by which Dante was enabled to make his wonderfully poetic picture of the heavenly world was the employment of the features of an earthly human being whose existence and whose memory he had worshiped, but who was, none the less, only a human being; nay, far more inter- esting than an angel, because she was human. We have somehow for- gotten that the glory of God is revealed through His works, and that the chief work of God is the human soul. Nor need we forget that precious casket of the soul, the human countenance, through which the soul is revealed. Wordsworth long ago taught us that "Trailing clouds of glory do we come From God, who is our home. . . . The youth, who daily farther from the East Must travel, still is nature's priest, And by the vision splendid Is on his way attended." GRADUATION DAY 119 Only in the full-grown man does it fade into the light of common day. But this need not be, and is not, when right conditions prevail. When right ideals are always held before the mind, we ought to pass from youth to manhood by an everchanging progress "from glory to glory." In truth, this is the very principle for which all educational reform- ers have striven. Every one of them was started en his career by no less a purpose than the redemption and the glorification of human life through the influence of education. They desired to prevent the de- generation of humanity by leading it steadily forward, instead of allow- ing the pristine glory of childhood to decay. Perhaps, after all, these young people builded better than they knew. Our astonishment at their success is owing to false standards in estimating educational pro- gress. Ask the first hundred men who pass along this pavement, or along any other pavement in America — ask them their definition of education, and ninety-nine cf them will tell you that education is knowl- edge, or learning. Whereas, not one of the great educational reform- ers will agree to such a definition. On the contrary, it has been the effort of their lives to uproot that idea. Learning is not necessarily education. Locke maintained that the first element in education was the inculcation of virtue; without this, knowledge is only a curse. His second element was the inculcation of wisdom, which is the capacity of knowing how to use knowledge. The third element, in order of importance, was conduct, by which we are to understand, not simply manners, but rather the meaning which Matthew Arnold has given us under the head of conduct, which includes all our relations to indi- viduals and to society. The foregoing, according to Locke, are the essential elements in education, while learning would be given rank only as fourth in importance. Froebel did not reverse this order, but spent even more time in developing the earlier stages of the childhood, even before Locke's steps could begin. Pestalozzi carried the same idea even further. First of all, he demanded that we should put the child in possession of his faculties. By these he meant, first, his physi- cal faculties, without which nothing further could be attained; and second, those of his mind and heart, in much the same order as Locke. Herbart agreed, in the main, with these principles, but elaborated them much further, especially providing for their more systematic ap- plication to the entire community. Locke's mistake had been in limit- ing his ideal to the education of a single person, some prince or favorite of fortune. Herbart brought us to right methods by democratizing education; and also added that most important of all modern ideas, the aesthetic presentation of the universe, not as a dull fact of mere knowl- edge, but knowledge as related to art, and to beauty. This is because all art is representative. There is no such thing as art in the abstract. There is no such thing as beauty in the abstract. This explains why there is so much vague and indefinite vaporing about beauty among writers on aesthetics. All beauty is concrete, the beauty of some particular object, or some particular person. All art is representative. It is easy to see that this is true in music. It is also plain in painting; there the picture stands; it has nothing to do but to represent its original. The same is true, though a little less apparently, in sculpture and in architecture. In poetry it is much more difficult 120 WERNER'S READINGS NO. 55 to observe. Not many would be able to prove it. In oratory it is equally essential, and it is equally easy to recognize the truth of the statement. Here, however, it becomes necessary to ask, If art is representative, what does it represent? The answer is, Life; it repre- sents life, and nothing else. It is our business to produce the picture, be it painted by whatsoever art it may. We cannot produce life, but we can direct and mold it. All progress is a growth, through this direction and unfolding of existing life. But I call you to observe that the process requires a highly specialized kind of knowledge, — delicate, ethereal, spiritual. So does all modern education. The graduate of the great college of our day differs from his fellows almost as much as might the graduates of a hundred different colleges in the olden time. Each man possesses the highly specialized education of his own group of studies, though he must remain ignorant of many other things. Only in this way can he hope to make an impression. The day of the all-around man has gone by. I, therefore, call on you to notice that this definition of education does not imply a neglect of knowledge. Let no man dream that we despise or neglect the office of knowledge. Learning and knowledge have full recognition, only it is the highly specialized knowledge of which I have been speaking, the kind of knowledge which you can obtain nowhere else. The methods and teaching by which it is imparted are the most difficult teaching in the world; but they are also the most effective. As Henry Ward Beecher once said, the projector of this kind of influence has a difficult task to perform; but his forces once set to work, he has only to sit on the shore and see the waves come in. The self-propelling power of natural law is behind them, and nothing can limit the movement of such a force. We all recognize this for ourselves and rejoice in it. Then there is another result still more marvelous. We find that these young people can go to the ends of the earth and reproduce the same spirit. The welcome which they meet shows that the people need the contagion of their courage and their sympathy. And much more do they need it than they are aware. You shall find them as Browning says David found Saul: "He relaxed not a muscle, but hung there as, caught in his pangs And awaiting his change, the king serpent all heavily hangs, Far away from his kind, in the pine, till deliverance come With the springtime — so agonized Saul, drear and stark, blind and dumb." Moreover, you shall find that for some reason, best known to Him- self, God has conditioned the redemption of all such souls, and of all others, so that they must depend on the interposition of a human per- sonality, a living representative. He might have sent angels, but He did not. He sends His messages through human beings. Like Dante, we are guided, even through the heavens, by human love and human sympathy. Like David, we are permitted to cry out, at last, to every perishing Saul: "O Saul, it shall be A Face like my face that receives thee; a Man like to me Thou shalt love and be loved by, forever; a Hand like this hand Shall throw open the gates of new life to thee! See the Christ stand!" GRADUATION DAY 121 J LET YOUR COMPETITORS SMOKE." (Graduation Day Address.) David Starr Jordan, (President Leland Stanford, Jr., University.) A HARVARD professor said to me the other day, "The best advice I can give to my graduates is: 'Let your competitors smoke.'" In other words, if somebody must go through life carrying a handicap, let it be some other fellow. The professor went on to say that he did not consider the matter primarily from the point of view of hygiene or of good example, but from that of saving of time. The man who succeeds is the man who knows how to use time. Life is a bit short at the best, and it seems much shorter when you get on into the middle of it. Its effectiveness is measured in part by its length. Its length is measured not by years, but by that part of it which we use. We use only that part we spend in sleep, in training, in play, in effective helpfulness. Smoking does not come under any of these heads. Smoking is our disguise for idleness. When a man smokes, says the professor I have quoted, he does not realize that he is idle. He is putting in the time, the time that he might otherwise use in some one of the normal purposes of life. Daudet tells us of certain clubmen who meet and think not, neither do they speak — just smoke. One lesson of the college life is the value of training rules. If a man is to do his part in a game or a meet he must have every nerve free from prejudice. The effect of tobacco is to trick the nerves. It is a nerve irritant, and wears the disguise of a narcotic. But a nar- cotic is likewise dangerous. We ought not to be sleepy when awake. We have the right to sleep when we have earned it, by nerve exercise which demands nerve rest. To break the training rules is to lose the game, when the game demands accuracy of sensation and motion, absolute truthfulness of nerve response. But the essential purpose of going to college is to prepare one- self for the higher games, for the fine play in the noblest and most difficult of all meets, the fine art of living. In this game, one has need of all mental subtlety, of all virile reserves. Every day the test is closer than in any athletic game. Every day, more depends on one's being in perfect trim. Every man, sooner or later, at some time in his life, is brought under training rules. If he is not, he is forced out of the business. Most usually these come too late. Every enforced lie of the nervous system makes it harder for it to tell the truth after- ward. Every strain in accuracy of nerve response makes the mind flabby. There is an ancient rule of health which runs in this fashion: "Rise early, before you are twenty-five, if possible." This rule I com- mend to you. That you have observed it already is plain enough. If. you were not early risers you would not be here to-day. If you had not already mastered some of these precepts, we should not send you forth with the confidence that to-day we are showing. But there are maxims within maxims. The secret of early rising is the saving of time. To rise at twenty-five, the thing to do is to be already thirty years old. Not thirty years old in waste and disillusion, like some 122 WERNER'S READINGS NO. 55 old young men we know, but thirty years old through the saving of time from idleness for thought and will and achievement. And in this the waste of smoke is only one of many kinds of waste, and the great- est waste of all is the waste of time. The great achievements of men have been for the most part in the intervals of a busy life. It is an old saying, that when you want anything done you must get a busy man to do it. The man of leisure cannot bring his power together. He may have his horses, but his hands are not on the reins. The years of life are threescore and ten, and we cut off twenty at one end for training, and nature cuts off what she pleases at the other. But any man can make the other forty as long as he pleases. He can at least get twice as much time out of them as the average man does, and effectiveness in life is proportioned to the square of the time saved. In any event, momentum is proportioned to the square of the velocity. The velocity is measured by the ground you get over, by the time you save from idleness for life. What is lost in waste must be deducted from our savings. The man who is thirty years old at twenty in. dissipation and disillusionment, can count his living age at only ten. He counts ten years of life and ten of death, with ten years of child- hood to begin with. "The gods for labor give us all good things." This was part of the philosophy of the ancient Greeks. They learned it as a fact of experience long before it was first put into words. Over and over again each generation of men tries its own experiment and comes back to the same unvarying conclusion. Moreover, we find that these same gods never give us anything worth having for any other price. They make loans sometimes, but theirs is a high rate of interest. They do not forget the contract. "By their long memories the gods are known." By the gods the Greeks meant the forces that lie all about us, the forces that condition our life. These are our realities. The rest is dead matter. Our knowledge comes from contact with these ways and forces, our power depends on acting in accord with this knowledge. In this lies all human possibility. He who knows the truth can trust all and fear nothing. He who strikes as the gods strike has the force of the gods in his blows. He who defies them wields a club of air. It has been a part of your college training to learn something of the laws and forces that limit life. To know where you are and what you can do, is the first element in the saving of time. You can rise early when the time comes for action. You will hear men say, "The rich man must know how the poor man lives," else humanity cannot keep together. But you are poor in gold, I -hope, though rich in the better commodities of will and hope. So let us say, "The poor man must know how the rich man works," not the rich men who have in- herited land and bonds, and who do not know how to use them because they have not created them. You must know how the strong man works; and, if you would be strong, you must struggle even as he does, and, if may be, with loftier ideals and more genuine aspirations. Your place will be among the working men and women. Each of you has powers and potentialities of his own, this for one, that for another. To make the best of what is in us, this is success in life. But our duty is only relative. It goes with the fact of time; GRADUATION DAY 123 With time enough, any of us could do anything. With this great multi- plier, it matters little what the other factor is. Any man could be all men if he had time enough. With eternity man becomes as the gods. But we are not in business for eternity. Our days are few, however much we may stretch them; and, no doubt, as the humorist reminds us, "We shall be a long time dead," so every hour we waste carries away its toll from our life, as the dropping water carries away the rock. Every lost day takes away a bit, or a cubit from our stature. And so we come back to our first word again. Let us be alert, as becomes the men of the time. Let us rise early. Let us make some mark in the world before we are twenty-five, if possible. And, above all, "Let your competitors smoke!" DIFFERENCE BETWEEN COLLEGE AND UNIVERSITY. (Graduation Day Address.) Seth Low, (Former Mayor of New York, Former President of Columbia University.) THE American college, in its beginnings, was simply an English college transplanted to American soil. Like everything English so transplanted, it has been modified in its development and has taken on characteristics peculiar to itself. It has awakened in many men a desire for scholarship; but this desire they have had to satisfy elsewhere, not because the American college has not satisfied it to the extent of its ability, but because the American college, as such, did not possess the facilities for training scholars in the technical sense of that . word. In the two decades from 1850 to 1870 the college-bred men of America, desiring to become scholars, began to go abroad for study in considerable numbers, and especially to the German universities. These men found in Germany a system capable of making scholars, and offering facilities for scholarship of which they had never dreamed. Returning to this country in larger and larger numbers, with this knowledge and with this inspiration, such men became centers of agi- tation for the development in this country of facilities for educating scholars that should be comparable with those found in Germany. The German system was taken as the type by these men, partly because German hospitality to them as foreigners had given to them these great privileges, but principally because neither the English university nor the French university by any modification could be adapted to American needs. This discussion will have prepared you for the definition I am to give of an American university, as distinguished from an American col- lege. The aim of the American college is to give a liberal education, or, if you please, to develop the man. The aim of the American uni- versity, on the other hand, is to make a specialist — it may be in one of the professions, or as a historian, an author, or a man of science. Theoretically and ideally, the university ought to be founded on the college, because a man ought to be broadened before he begins to spe- cialize, but practically this is not a necessity of the situation, however 124 WERNER'S READINGS NO. 55 desirable it may be. On the other hand, it must be said that, wherever the aim of training specialists is distinctly recognized, an institution that unites with this aim the conduct of a college is still properly called a university, for the name university is evidently a name of wide com- prehensiveness. It cannot be denied, however, that the small American college (by which I mean a college unconnected with a large univer- sity) is obliged to find a place for itself to-day under conditions widely different from those which have existed heretofore. The high schools have been carried up in their work and the universities have been car- ried down, so that the colleges no longer have a well-defined and un- challenged field which is theirs alone. The great majority of students leave school at the end of the grammar grades; another large number at the end of the high school grade; still another large number cease their studies at the end of the college; and it is, after all, only a few out of the great number of those who go to school who are privileged to continue their studies until they have taken an acknowledged posi- tion as both broadly-trained men and recognized specialists. It is in- evitable, therefore, and not undesirable, that the high schools should carry some students beyond the point where they formerly went to college; and it is also natural, and not undesirable, that colleges should, where they can, carry students beyond the point where they may fairly be considered to be liberally-educated men, and therefore ready to spe- cialize to the best advantage. For both the high school and the col- lege, by so doing, will give to many men, who cannot go further in their studies, a better education than they otherwise would get. America needs broadly-trained men as much as it ever needed them; and the age in which that liberal training ought to be obtained is from sixteen to twenty, or from seventeen to twenty-one, just as it used to be. Small colleges cannot hope to compete with the uni- versities in the matter of training specialists, and they will do injus- tice to their students, who propose to specialize, if they try to. If each college will formulate for itself, with definiteness, its proper aim, the means for carrying out that aim will be clear enough. In point of view of breadth of opportunity, a small college can never compete with a college which is part of a university; but, in point of view of quality of work within its own range, the small college can challenge without fear the competition of the large ones and of colleges connected with universities. A denominational university is a contradiction in terms; unless the only direction in which it aims to specialize is in preparation for the ministry. But, for the training of men and for the develop- ment of character, the American people must change importantly be- fore the denominational college will have lost its place. Such a col- lege will be valuable, perhaps one should say, not so much because of the merits of the denomination that controls it, as because loftiness of ideal, earnestness of purpose, and the qualities of character that spring from the religious impulse are factors in the education of men which are in no danger of losing their power. As I have already said, the aim of the college is to give a liberal education, the aim of the university is to train specialists. This recog- nized difference in aim between the college and the university applies as clearly to the non-professional as to the professional work, and GRADUATION DAY 125 leads inevitably to a difference of attitude towards the student in the college and in the various university schools. In some of the univer- sity schools the entire course is required; in others it is wholly elective; and in yet others required and elective work may be taken in different proportions. In other words, the aim in each school being distinctly recognized, whatever curriculum appears best suited to the accomplish- ment of that aim is adopted without regard to any other consideration. TRAINING FOR THE NAVY. (Address to Annapolis Naval Graduates.) Theodore Roosevelt, (Former President of the United States.) IN receiving these diplomas you become men who above almost any others of the entire Union are to carry henceforth the ever-present sense of responsibility which must come with the knowledge that on some tremendous day it may depend on your courage, your pre- paredness, your keen intelligence and knowledge of your profession, whether or not the nation is again to write her name on the world's roll of honor, or to know the black shame of defeat. We all of us earnestly hope that the occasion for war may never come; but if it has to come, then this nation must win; and the prime factor in securing victory over any foreign foe must of necessity be the United States navy. If the navy fails us, then we are doomed to defeat, no matter what may be cur material wealth or the high average of our citizenship. It should, therefore, be an object of prime importance for every patriotic American to see that the navy is constantly built up, and, above all, that it is kept to the highest point of efficiency, both in material and in personnel. It cannot be too often repeated that in modern war, and especially in modern naval war, the chief factor in achieving triumph is what has been done in the way of thorough preparation and train- ing before the beginning of the war. It is what has been done before the outbreak of war that is all-important. After the outbreak, all that can be done is to use to the best advantage the great war engines, and the seamanship, marksmanship, and general practical efficiency, which have already been provided by the forethought of the National Legis- lature and by the administrative ability, through a course of years, of the Navy Department. A battleship cannot be improvised. It takes years to build, and the skill cf the officers and crew in handling it aright can likewise never be improvised, but must spring from use and actual sea-service and from the most careful, zealous, and systematic train- ing. Some of you will have to do your part in helping construct the ships and the guns which you use. Ycu need to bend every energy toward making these ships and guns in all their details the most perfect of their kind throughout the world. The ship must be seaworthy, the armament fitted for the best protection to guns and men, the guns in all their mechanism fit to do the greatest possible execution in the shortest possible time. Every detail, whether of protection to the gun crews, of raoidity and sureness in handling the ammunition and work- ing the elevating and revolving gear, or of quickness and accuracy in 126 WERNER'S READINGS NO. 55 sighting, must be thought out far in advance, and the thought carefully executed in the actual work. The best ships and guns and the most costly mechanism are utterly valueless if the men are not trained to use them to the utmost possible advantage. From now on throughout your lives there can be no slackness on your part. Your duty must be present with you, waking and sleeping. You have got to train your- selves, and you have got to train those under you in the actual work of seamanship, in the actual work of gunnery. If the day for battle comes you will need all that you possess of boldness, skill, determina- tion, ability to bear punishment, and instant readiness in an emergency. But though without these qualities you can do nothing, yet even with them you can do but little if you have not had the forethought and set purpose to train yourselves and the enlisted men under you aright. Officers and men alike must have the sea-habit; officers and men alike must realize that in battle the only shots that count are the shots that hit, and that normally the victory will lie with the side whose shots hit oftenest. Seamanship and marksmanship — these must be the two prime objects of your training, both for yourselves and for the men under you. You, to whom I give these diplomas, now join the ranks of the officers of the United States navy. You enter a glorious service, proud of its memories of renown. You must keep ever in your minds the thought of the supreme hour which may come when what you do will forever add to or detract from this renown. LESSONS OF SCHOOL LIFE. (Graduation Day Address.) Edith Putnam Painton. THERE is no period of life fraught with more dangers or tempta- tions than school-days, for it is then that you are in the formative stage of your existence, and the habits you then form and the character you then build will stay all through your life. It is not only the "readin', 'ritin', and 'rithmetic" that you are learning in the daily, routine of your studies. In a very few years, you may forget the very first principle of the conjugation of a verb, but you will not, by any means, forget the good or evil tendencies that are gradually developing in your heart during these years of your life-preparation. How many of you remember the first time you ever whispered in school, contrary to the teacher's orders? You felt guilty for a long time, didn't you, and dreaded to have the teacher's eye turned in your direction? But you didn't get "caught," and the second time you found it so much easier; the third time you didn't think much about it, and it was not long till conscience kept still and allowed you to disobey that rule at pleasure, without a single reminder. You did not know then what it meant — it did not seem a very glaring sin, did it? But, boys, girls, it is upon just such little misdeeds, as this seemed to be, that our whole character is based. Did you ever think of that? You will remember, too, the first time you ever passed the work of another as your own. You were almost sure your answer was the correct one, but, to be doubly sure, you peeped slyly into your book, or upon the paper of GRADUATION DAY 127 your neighbor. It was easy then to correct the one word or figure that marred the accuracy of your own exercise; but, ah! there was a blem- ish made on your character by the same act and one not so easily cor- rected. That was the first scratch on your sense of honor, the first lesson in deceit; and, years afterward, the same prompting will come to you in some form or another, when you have long since forgotten the exact date of the battle of Antietam. My young friend, that was a more important and decisive battle in your life than the battle of Antietam, and you were the vanquished! Possibly you are an idler in school. You may learn more easily than your classmates, and have, after your lesson is prepared, too much of that spare time that Satan so often contrives to fill; or, it may even be — though I do not like to think it, — that you idle away time which you should be devoting to study. This is a little thing, isn't it, not worth mentioning? But do not forget that you are forming a habit, and one that you will not find it easy to break. There are no heights worth attaining that can be reached without close application; and how can he, who has not formed the habit of application, hope to succeed? I wonder if you realize how important a part the companions and asso- ciates of your school-days will play in your after life. It is so easy to fall into ways of those you are constantly with; and, if they are not good ways, you are the sufferer. One person, who is saucy, rude, im- pudent, or vulgar in speech or manner, may contaminate a whole crowd in amazingly short time. How much more easily do we gather and assimilate evil than good! On the other hand, one person, taking a decided stand for the right, will do much toward leading others to follow, for nine persons are always willing to be led, either right or wrong, by the stronger will of the tenth person. Try it, boys and girls, and see if I am not right. Then there is the strife for class-distinction and the highest mark- ing. Don't think I condemn it, for strife, if legitimate, is a sure road to success; but how many a temptation to dishonesty presents itself in rivalry of this kind, and how seldom are all making a free and open fight! Better, by far, to stand at foot of the class all your life than to advance one step, except honorably and creditably; and the petty jealousies originating in the school-room may develop into master- passions in the battle of life opening before you. Few of you seem to realize what interest your teachers have in every one of you; how pained they are by lack of interest or by dis- obedience; how proud of your advancement and good deportment. They recognize, what you do not, that these, your happiest days, are also the most important ones, for they are the foundation-stones upon which the future is builded. I wish I could make you see this clearly. Why, I've forgotten nearly everything I learned in my school-books; but I've not outgrown one of the habits then formed. Day by day some trait becomes manifest that causes my mind to go back to the old brick school-house far away, and I think how much depended on my living those days well. Do not think, that because you cannot see the practicability of algebraic demonstrations that they are worthless. They are really mental gymnasiums where your mind wrestles and gains power to cope with the weightier and all-important problems 128 WERNER'S READINGS NO. 55 that will confront you in "life's school." One of my teachers used to say, "Going to school is a business — an intense business, and must be conducted along business lines." If you remember this, you will be all the more conscientious in performing every day's duties, and will build such characters that you may look back to your school-days with pride and satisfaction. ELOCUTION. (Address to Business College Graduates.) Henry Codman Potter, (Late Bishop Protestant Episcopal Church.) M R. PRESIDENT, Ladies and Gentlemen, Undergraduates, and those soon to be graduates of College: I received from your President catalogues of this college, also a number of addresses delivered on occasions similar to this. One of the most con- spicuous was an address on "Elocution," and, as I found it at top of the bundle, I assumed that I was to accept it for the purpose of in- struction. Now, the standard of elocution, as set forth in the pam- phlet, was very high. I found myself a moment ago, as I hope you did not, putting my hand into my pocket. The pamphlet was very severe to gentlemen who spoke to an audience with hands in their pockets; yet, with singular inconsistency, it held up the late Mr. Horace Greeley as a pattern of oratory, and Mr. Greeley's hands were not only in the pockets of his trousers, but, as I remember him, his trousers were sometimes in the tops of his boots! The fact is, the standards of elocution are various and variable; and, while I entirely agree with your preceptor, that the first and the last and the middle note of in- struction in connection with elocution should be naturalness, I think it would be difficult for any of us to define precisely what naturalness is — how far it is an unconscious expression of the best culture, how far we are to understand by it that often uncouth mode of expression, which we confound with another, in the sense that we confound ignor- ance with natural condition. You are here to-night to take your diplo- mas, because education with you stands for the power of training and unfolding the powers of nature and adjusting them to the tasks of life. Whether one's office in life be to speak, or to act, keep books, or to command men, to lead an army, or to minister to the sick, I believe that that will be the final definition of elocution, and its adequate and appropriate expression. In other words, whatever the natural gift of any one of us, it is bound to be better for training, and the kind of training that qualifies it to translate itself to men. There can be no more important sphere for education than in con- nection with that for which this college stands. I remember a young married friend telling me that her idea of keeping accounts was to enter with great care the money she spent for pins, and then to charge all the rest, including house-keeping wages and what she spent for bonnets, under the one head of "sundries." The power of distinction is far more rare even in competent minds than one would expect — the sense of proportion, recognizing the relations of things to one GRADUATION DAY 129 another and having what we call, in the great affairs of life, a due in- tellectual perspective. One of the advantages of the training you re- ceive in a business college is to help you along those lines. A set of books which includes a ledger, a day-book, a journal, and a cash-book, is an anachronism in one aspect, but it adjusts the large and the little in their relations to one another, and it enables the business man to discern the state cf his affairs in their largest aspect. By this I mean the aspect of his own business credit — the obligations of his debtors; his obligations to his creditors are within his reach by turning to one or the other of these volumes — in a way which any merely casual or desultory mode of keeping records of that character would render absolutely impossible. Now then, what is the principle that underlies that? It is that civilization differentiates itself from barbarism — because civilization stands for order. The barbaric state, whether it is in the account-book of the young woman cr the savage, is the state of chaos. A high civilization is a condition in which one has emancipated himself from a bondage of ignorance and disorder, and has arranged things in their adequate and proper relations to one another. I venture to predict that before fifty years are over, no university will be regarded as com- plete in its curriculum that has not included among its departments with medicine and lav/, and the arts and the higher sciences, a curric- ulum for business training. I wish I could tell you with what sympathy and interest I recog- nize to-night the fact that you have completed your school course. I had the privilege of spending the earlier years of my life in a count- ing-room. The ambition, born in me, when I was fifteen years of age, was to be a business man, and if I had chosen my own career and had not listened to a voice higher than a human voice, I presume I should have been in the counting-room to-day. I remember, when I went out of it, that I said to the head of the firm that I could not but regret that I had lost the three years spent in that counting-room from a life of study; and he said to me — rare and far-seeing man as he was: "I venture to think, the time will come when you will realize that the three years spent in the counting-roorn have had some value in train- ing you for life." I learned to do so in a very little while, and I believe every minister of religion would be a stronger and a wiser man, if he had business training. It would give him a knowledge of men; and, after all, a mcst potential element in the service of mankind is the knowledge cf those whom you are to serve. It is because in the train- ing you have received in this institution you have brought your facul- ties to bear upon the things that concern the ordinary affairs of life; that concern its business transactions, its great business rivalries and competitions, that when you come to take up the tasks of life, you will find yourselves just so much stronger and riper for their discharge. Elocution, which is the power of expression, whether it is the power of the voice, cr cf the hand, or of the brain, or of the man at the desk — this is a rightful and fundamental part of human training. A wise, a competent power of expression, whether it be in a speech, or a sermon, or in an account, whether in the business world or in any other, makes service better and makes work more efficient. I ask God to bless you. 130 WERNER'S READINGS NO. 55 OPPORTUNITY TO BE SEIZED BY FORELOCK. (Address to Business College Graduates.) Charles Bulkley Hubbell, (Former President of the Board of Education of New York City.) MR. PRESIDENT, Graduates, Ladies and Gentlemen: May I be permitted to express to you the delight that I experience at the privilege of being here as a representative of the depart- ment of public education in this city and of greeting you, young men and young women, many of you the products of our public schools, as you stand on the threshold of a new life that is opening before you? I could not but think as the first sounds of the bugle were heard as you entered this room and approached us in such impressive array, that, Behold! these are the young soldiers of commerce who respond now to the first reveille in their commercial lives before they go forth to the battle in which they are so well equipped to win. I have come to assume to myself during the years in which I have been accustomed to appear at academic and scholastic gatherings that perhaps I have a certain right, not "by the authority conferred on me," to use the language of the old college diplomas, but rather by reason of the deep sympathy that I feel for the young men and young women who are at each succeeding Commencement season joining the vast throngs of this metropolis that start in the struggle in which we are all engaged, — that I have a right to venture now and then to give a word of advice and caution on occasions like the one that brings us together to-night. May I then say to you, young ladies and gentlemen, that from the time of your first employment, your success will be largely determined by the alertness and the sensitiveness with which you recognize and greet the first opportunity that comes to you? Op- portunity sometimes approaches with the indefinite lines of a phantom; and yet, if you school yourselves by cultivating keen powers of ob- servation in that direction, and are ever on the alert to grapple with it, unsubstantial and elusive though it appear, nevertheless, if you will, you may mount and ride on to certain fortune as surely as the tides do rise. I have lived long enough to know that there are some things which must be observed if success is to follow the efforts that are put out in professional or business life. My personal experience among business men, and in my profession, has brought me into constant contact with the men of commerce of this city; I have found that in the employment of a young man or a young woman first coming into relations with an employer, that if such are to succeed in the hot com- petition into which we all must enter, they must give a little more to the employer than they are employed to give, for it is that young man and that young woman who moves upon those lines who will soon find that he or she is outstripping those who simply wipe the measure level with the top when the grain is measured out. If, then, you are alert and anxious to recognize your opportunity when it comes, if you are desirous of giving a little more in the measure of service concerning which you contract than the contract calls for, you have certainly adopted a policy most necessary for the success that I believe lies before nearly all of you. If you come into relations with your em- GRADUATION DAY 131 ployer with that sentiment, you are bound to succeed. There is no obstacle that can keep you back; you will develop qualities that neither you ncr your friends have suspected in you, that will carry you on to the goal of success, and when under the weight of responsibility your powers increase, you will, before you realize it, have assumed the posi- tion that causes you to be numbered among those who are the true winners in the fight. It has lcng been a popular belief in the minds, I think, of young men more, perhaps, than in young women, that much depends in your lives, professional and business, on luck. The longer I live the less am I disposed to concede much, if anything, to mere luck. Luck mas- querades under other names, and I would say that the man and the woman who succeed in life succeed in proportion as they possess that genius which consists of an ability to recognize opportunity when it presents itself. It was once said by a distinguished French author, "Opportunity wears her locks in front, but has no tresses behind; then seize her by the forelock, for, if she eludes you once, not Jove himself can ever catch on again." That last line is very liberally translated, but I believe it carries the true sense in this modern day, and perhaps is quite as well understood and as perfectly applicable as though a more literal translation were brought to bear. I have stated that you would develop qualities that were not suspected in you before, until the occasion has called them forth. A story is told of a Southern darkey who came in and told his master of a most astonishing sight that he had seen a few moments before in a part of the farm not far from the house. He said: "Massa, I have seen de stranges' thing I eva saw in ma life." "What is that, Sambo?" "Why, I saw two dogs chasin' of a rabbit acrcss dat ar lawn, and de dogs dey kep closin' in on de rabbit, and d^y kep closin' in, and bye and bye they got almost onto de tail, and, by jingo, de rabbit jes' as de dog v/as goin' to grab it, he clim' up in a tree and stayed dar in de branches." "Why, Sambo, don't you know a rabbit cannot climb a tree?" "Well, Massa, he had to clim' de tree to git away from de dogs." I will not detain you longer, because I know you are impatient to hear the man so many of us have known. There are some among you perhaps who have not heard him before, and who are very anxious to hear him now. Therefore, I will close by simply saying that when our friend, President , shall come into the October of his life — still quite remote, let us hope, for no winter comes into the lives of such men as he — we can rest assured that his monument will be in the lives of thousands of men and women whom he has lifted up from the level where he found them to one where they are walking and working en higher planes, and when he shall have passed to that reward that awaits such men as he, there may be written — and I doubt not that he would prefer that his experience of these years should in some way be commemorated there — there may be written on the stone that marks his resting-place, these words of Fitz-Greene Halleck, with but a slight change : "Green wave the grass above thee, Friend of our schoolboy days; None knew thee but to love thee, None named thee but to praise." 132 WERNER'S READINGS NO. 55 THREE DECIMAL RULES OF LIFE. (Address to Business College Graduates.) General Stewart L. Woodford, (Former Lieutenant-Governor of State of New York, United States Minister to Spain, etc.) MR. PRESIDENT and Friends: I cannot thank you for this wel- come. My heart is full, and I must leave each one of you to think what I would say — I cannot say it. I shall not attempt to advise you, young women, and you, young men. A bishop has given you his blessing, and the President of the Board of Education has given you advice. You are hardly in the humor to want very much advice, for each of you knows that you are going to win. You feel it, you believe it. With that feeling and that belief go the energy and the power that start you for successful lives. I am going to leave with you to-night only three simple, business-like, decimal rules of life. It is not enough to live and get money; it is not enough to live and accomplish temporary success. If there is no hereafter, this life is a dead failure; if there is a hereafter, then the thing for each intelligent person to do is to build a character now that will be useful to-day and that will be effective and useful and happy in the living in the here- after. Build character; build character and build it out of integrity, truth, fidelity, economy; economy of time, economy of labor, economy of effort, economy of money, for more people fail from carelessness in money matters than from almost any other one cause. The man who has an extra dollar has something that works for him while he is asleep; the man who owes a dollar has something that works against him while he is awake. The man who has money controls the labor and the lives of other men, and the man who has not money is con- trolled in his life and in his labor by other men. I want then to leave you three decimal rules of life. First: Read ten pages of something that is worth reading every day; something that you can put into your brains; something that you can put into your memories; something that you can put into your lives, for ten pages of real thought, read and mastered every day, will make a wise woman and a wise man out of each woman and each man before he or she is fifty years of age. Now do not pass that as a truism. Lodge that in your thoughts. It is not hard to find time to read ten good pages. It is not difficult to remember at least ten good lines out of each ten pages; it is not difficult to think out the philosophy of ten good pages; and ten good pages each day are three thousand six hundred and fifty pages in the course of a year, and with the average of four hundred pages to a book, you will see what you can do in each year of your life. Now the second decimal rule that I want to suggest is this: No matter how little you earn, try to save one-tenth of your income. At the start you won't earn much, and economy will be very hard. I know myself what it is to earn very little money, to work hard and to live hard. But whatever your income is, try to save one-tenth of it. One cent out of every dime, one dime out of every dollar, and the GRADUATION DAY 133 average woman and the average man, before fifty years of age, will have accomplished a competency. The money that you squander, and the money that you waste, wastes your life and drags you down. It is your duty to save money; your duty to save it so that you may educate children; your duty to save it so that you may have something to give to others; your duty to save it so that you shall be a mistress and a master of other men, and not a bound servant compelled to labor in order that you may simply live. I do not believe that I shall cross the philosophy of the bishop who sits on this platform, when I say that intelligent economy is practical Christianity. Now for the third and last decimal rule: No matter what your income, give away one-tenth. Give it away intelligently, one cent of every dime, one dime out of every dollar, one-tenth of all your earn- ings, and you will grow to a large and a complete manhood, if you fol- low these three simple decimal rules. Giving money will make you intelligently generous and the steady study of a little learning every day will keep your minds broadening and expanding. And think of the woman or the man at fifty years of age who shall have put ten lines of honest, sterling thought into her brain or his brain every day of life; think of the woman or man who shall have saved one-tenth of all the income that she or he earns and put it away, not in speculation, but in honest and legitimate saving. Think of the man or woman who doing this shall have intelligently given away one-tenth every day, every year of life and so shall have developed enduring and generous character. This will be something that you can carry with you beyond the grave. A mind that" shall be rich, stored with the learning of the past; a brain that shall be intelligently economical, learning how to master and minister, and guard the affairs of life; a character, a mind, a brain, that shall never have learned to be miserly, but shall have learned to be intelligently generous. Take these business decimal rules into your life, and life will be useful to you here and in the ages to come. WHAT COLLEGE DOES FOR GIRLS. (Graduation Day Address.) James Monroe Taylor, (Former President of Vassar College.) IT is quite impossible for a girl of to-day to appreciate how vast a change has taken place in one generation. There were colleges more than thirty years ago that educated women, but instead of a general recognition of the worth of such education there were doubt, suspicion, derision, scorn. In the early part of the last century Mrs. John Adams said that the education of girls was confined to writing and arithmetic; and, in the case of those specially favored, music and dancing. Frances Power Cobbe's training at one of the best schools for girls in England, where a chief point in education was to enter and leave a carriage gracefully, would interest and amuse any girl who will read that chapter of her autobiography. Emma Willard, the great American leader in this educational reform, tested her proficiency in 134 WERNER'S READINGS NO. 55 mathematics on a college sophomore before she quite ventured to believe that women could master geometry. Some educators back in the opening days of Vassar in 1865, and even later, raised questions as to the capacity of a woman's mind for college education, and chal- lenged the sanity of those who were attempting the task. Now the great majority of colleges for men have opened their doors to women, and all the separate women's colleges are overcrowded. There are over twenty thousand women students in American colleges, and the work has spread in Spain, in France, in Germany, in England, in Rus- sia, in Austria, and even makes a beginning in Egypt and the far East. However viewed, as an economic or social problem, as an influence in home, society, church and State, no movement of our wonderful last century can be ranked above this in the scope and endurance of its influence. College education for girls was an answer to a new need. There were always women active in public concerns, and educated women, but never a time before when women took so large a part in the world's life. In literature, in journalism, in education, in all the pro- fessions, in organized charities, hospitals, prisons, in missions, temper- ance and the Red Cross, in politics, even, and in business, woman is at work, not as an unintelligent and dependent factor, but„as director and organizer. Such an extension of influence and responsibility demands larger training of body, mind and spirit; and college education is the best single answer to the demand. How does it meet it? First, it sets before itself an ideal of what a life should be, and works definitely toward it. That ideal is not to take away anything that belongs to woman, but to heighten her powers and broaden them, and to develop well-rounded womanhood. The college differs, properly, from the uni- versity in that it aims at general and liberal education rather than train- ing for some special work. If one part of the education of a boy or girl can be more important than another, it is, therefore, just this col- lege section of it, because of its aim, and because of the age to which it addresses itself. The college youth is at the most susceptible stage of training, re- sponsive to new ideals, reaching out enthusiastically into new and un- tried ways, eager to confront new questions, awake to the calls of friendships which make or mar the life ; physically, mentally, religiously awakened, susceptible, longing for guidance, or ambitious to throw off every restraint — this is the time of the student's gravest danger and the teacher's supreme opportunity. Now is made the character which shapes the after life; now are born the ideals which form the scholar, the active business manager, the administrator, the broad man or woman who turns with well-rounded life and formed energies toward any task the world may impose, and any opportunity that may be opened to mind and heart. But how do we work toward our ideals? Thorough intellectual training must have the foremost place in the an- swer of the college. Whether science will ever show radical difference between woman's mind and man's or not, may well be doubted; but, whatever the possible differences, they will never bear against the fact that the intellectual training given must be thorough, definite, accurate, scholarly. Girls ought often to be shown, in the course of their early GRADUATION DAY 135 studies, just how much that seems uninteresting and pointless is yet helping to give them mental force and direction, as truly as their gym- nastics are forming muscles and making possible quick response of body to will. The skill gradually acquired in any game, tennis, basket- ball, may illustrate how important to mental skill and readiness is this definite, strict, steady mental discipline. Necessarily, with this training the addition to the resources of life is continuous. Every study adds a vista to the life of the mind, new suggestions of Imowledge, fresh in- terests to be pursued some day, facts that will come back most un- expectedly and happily in our hour of need. As one advances in college, and begins to deal with the great ques- tions of economics, philosophy, science, history, literature, the re- sources of life are multiplied rapidly, and the college begins to give the rewards of culture to those who have gained the earlier training; but only begins. Much as the student gains from college study, and inestimably precious as the mere knowledge is, the chief result, in- tellectually, is the steadying and training of all the mental powers, the rendering them fit to respond to her calls, and then the great outlook over the field of knowledge, which shall abide ever as a blessed and inspiring vision, whether she be able to follow the beckoning of schol- arship, or whether in the toils of the world's work she keeps the vision only as the saver of her soul from the bondage of the sordid and the common. THREADS OF LIGHT. (Graduation Day Address.) THIS day we close for the year the schools. We now part with you, the girls and boys we are no more to teach. I say girls and boys, for, when threescore and ten years have come to you, you will be glad to have your friends say that health and peace of mind have kept your hearts warm; that you wear no brow of gloom, are not borne down with age, but still, in heart, are girls and boys. When these years come, and I hope they will come to all, the tide of time will roll back and tell you of your school-time days, when the! fair, the kind, and the true, found love; but the false heart found no friend, no tongues to praise. These days bring rich gifts to age; when you shall cease to think of them, your fire has burned low and your light has gone out. Here you have been taught in the hope that the school would help to make you of use to your friends and to the world, would give you faith in all that is good and true, and lead you to seek work. For that you must seek and do, if you would have a good name, wealth, a home, a charge to keep, or a trust to serve. Go forth with a bold, true heart to seek the work for you to do. Keep in mind that the hours to work run through each day, and that God's great law of life is, "In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread." Now, for you, young man, this truth is told. Go where you will, through the world, and you will find on the front doors of shops and mills, of stores and banks, on ships, on farms, on roads, in deep mines where men toil for wealth; where laws are made that make some men too rich and men of worth and work through all our land too poor; 136 WERNER'S READINGS NO. 55 where men by law are taught to plot with sin, to spurn the right; where law is so pleaded that the judge must guess to find what's law; where quacks most fight over sick men's pains and dead men's bones; where types are set and none to mind the proofs; where priests do preach and pray, and where schools are taught this sign: "Brains Will Find Work Here." Don't fear. Step up, ask for work; brains will get it. If asked: "What can you do? Will you learn a trade?" say: "I have none, but I can learn one and put brains into it." When you go to a place where brains should hunt for work and be sure to find it, it may be said to you: "Do you see that plow? Can you hold and drive it deep?" That plow, in its wise use, gives all men food. Do you see that wheel, that crank, those shafts, that press; do you hear the rush and hiss of the steam which moves them? Can you make and hold and run them? Can you build and drive the works and wheels which make the wealth of the earth and cause it to roll and to float to and fro from place to place, where it is best for man to use it? Can you spin the thread and weave it which makes robes for kings and silks for the rich and vain, and dress for the poor, and all that skill and art have wrought by loom and hand for man's use? These things are all shot through with threads of light, the light of mind and art and skill which shines each day more bright and dims all the old by some new- found light as the years go on. EDUCATION'S AIMS. ('Graduation Day Address.) Charles F. Thwing, (President of Western Reserve University and Adclbert College.) EDUCATION seeks to make character vigorous without making it harsh or boisterous, patient without indifference, conscientious without being hypercritical, efficient without ostentatiousness, symmetrical and impressive, noble and self-reliant, but sympathetic with the less worthy, rich in itself, but without selfishness. The prob- lem of education is not to teach us how to make the bow of Ulysses — that bow is made without difficulty — but it is to create men of strength, of self-restraint, who can bend the bow. The problem is not so much to teach men how to get rich, although that may be important, but how to use riches after they are gained; hew to save themselves from being crushed by its responsibilities, from being smothered by its soft pleasures, or torn in pieces by its distractions. The problem is not how to get great honor, place, eminence, but how to bear the responsi- bilities which great honor always carries along with it. Education seeks to make the individual of resource, of the power of initiative, of honesty and honor, in whom the vision of truth is united with tho power of doing one's duty, in whom tenderness of heart for the suf- fering is justly joined with capacity for moral indignations. It seeks to train leaders — intellectual, ethical, religious, civil. It seeks also to lift the whole level of the race to broader and clearer seeing, to finer thinking and nobler appreciation. GRADUATION DAY 137 BE UP AND DOING. (Graduation Day Address.) Charles A. Wingerter. YOUNG men of the graduating class, my first word to you is one of congratulation. Alma mater has crowned you with her "well done." It is a precious title. May the felicitations of all who are here to greet you by their presence, help you to appreciate it fully. This is your Commencement Day. To-day you begin life's race. God speed you in it! But, remember that while the prize is offered to all who start, it is given only to those who persevere to the goal. It is good for us, your elder brothers, who have already battled for a space, and who, panting and weary, but undaunted, have come back to sit a moment to-day at the feet of our foster-mother, to repose and gain new courage and vigor when we take up the fight anew. To-day we rest; to-day we relax our straightened sinews and our overstrung nerves. We have become as little children again, reclining at our alma mater's feet, with her soothing touch upon our brow. As we recall the heroic stories of the early missionaries, who, by arduous lives and sometimes bloody deaths, witnessed for the true God in the face of savage nature and still more savage man; of the great prelates who, in the forefront of battle, opposed themselves to the bigotry of ignor- ance, and, still worse, indifference; of the great educators who wit- nessed for the God of right learning in the schools and colleges; of the men and women who slowly built up noble charities — as we recall all these things, we are forced to ask ourselves, What are we now to do? Having had placed into our hands the princely heritage of the glorious deeds done with heroic energy by past and passing genera- tions, we must perforce ask ourselves. Is this all, is the work finished, are we idly to stagnate, to sit in luxurious indolence, to rest content with the laurels of our fathers and our elder brothers? Your voices, resonant of youth; your eyes scintillating with the fire of energy that will not be subdued; your hearts, vibrant with power of endurance that asks to be but tried; your souls, enkindled at the university by the ambition to make your lives to count for something that is worth while — give the answer, "No!" Let us then be up and doing in very truth! For us no lurking in the comfortable shades! No skulking in the pleasant by-paths! No trailing towards the rear! It should never be said of any graduate in this university, it must not be said of any one of this day's class of graduates that he shirked the call to the firing-line in these days of tremendous opportunity and grim responsibility. Young gen- tlemen, you have been cast in no narrow mold. The wisdom of centuries has guided the teaching that has shaped your char- acters, trained your minds, sharpened your faculties, and filled your breasts with precious knowledge in this great seat of learning. You have been taught in this university to love God and your con- science first, to love your native land next only to them, to guard it as you would the apple of your eye. Your fathers and your fathers' sires marched and fought and wrought and poured out their hearts' 138 WERNER'S READINGS NO. 55 best blood in lavish streams to bring into being this great republic, where the tears of the people of all lands are wiped away, where chil- dren are born to liberty, sing its songs and grow up in its strength and might; and, later on, when a mighty peril placed the nation's life in direst jeopardy, your comrades in numbers that cannot be counted walked again the perilous heights of a duty undismayed, and fought and bled anew that a government of the people, for the people and by the people should not perish from the earth. Even if your names are to be engraven on no tablets of bronze and your praises are to be sung by no mortal voice, your true success will be assured if you cling fast to the principles of honor and duty and fidelity taught you in these classic shades. Behind the great and glori- ous galaxy of suns which we are permitted to see in the heavens, there are unnumbered myriads of no lesser stars, known only to the Creator, who made them and flung them into space to spin in the tireless and distant orbits marked out for them by His wisdom. The most glorious stories of heroes are those that are never told on history's page, the gladdest paeans are those that are never sung by human lips. Men have witnessed for the truth, for the reality and power of the life eternal, not only by their labors, their achievements, their characters, and their sufferings, but also by their defeats. Somewhere at this hour is being sung the hymn of glory to the vanquished. Many whom the world pities as victims will be crowned as victors by the omniscient and just God. It is no dishonor to lie dead and vanquished on the field of battle when your face is turned towards the foe that smites you and the brightest light of divine scrutiny can find no flaw in your armor and no stain upon your shield. We must all learn the lesson of renunciation. We cannot go forward to any prize without leaving be- hind many things that seem desirable. We may be shadowed by sorrow, scourged by the fierce fires of suffering, panged by the sharp stings of defeat, but we must not murmur as we renounce. We must think only of the prize. Go forth, then, inflamed with holy zeal and tempered with power to endure. Let not the fear of failure daunt you. Fight pluckily to the last ditch. Go and take your place wherever it is assigned you, high or low. Do your particular duty whatever it may be, remember- ing that "on what field or in what uniform or with what arms we do our duty matters little, or even what our duty is, great or small, splen- did or obscure; only to find our duty certainly; somewhere, somehow, to do it faithfully, makes us good, strong, happy and useful men, and attunes our lives into some feeble echo of the light divine." Go, with your lives trained in strong, impartial and gentle thought, your hearts disciplined in purity and unselfish love, your tongues controlled to silence and to truth and stainless speech, your souls inured to the law of right living and of selfless service; go, dauntless, steadfast, serene. Go! You are your brothers' keepers; the future of America is en- trusted in some part to your zeal. Go! Your alma mater expects you to do your duty and hold untarnished the honor of her name. Put your trust in God, but mind to keep your powder dry. — Oliver Cromwell. GRADUATION DAY 139 ACTION NEEDS PURPOSE. (Graduation Day Address.) Laura Drake Gill, (Dean of Barnard College.) YOU are passing through massive gates to-day. They have swung wide open to let you pass out into the realities of mature life. Some of you are looking back upon the path which you have followed for many years; to you the day appears in the light of grad- uation. If there is any time when it is justifiable to look backward rather than forward, it is in such a crisis as this. Yet, looking back- ward is not natural for long. You are moving forward, and wisdom suggests that you look in the direction of your movement. Therefore most of you are facing out toward the new life, and are thinking of the day as one of commencement — commencement of new duties, com- mencement of heavier responsibilities, commencement of the self- achieved success which will determine your place in society. The great problem confronting you is this: "What will bring suc- cess?" My brief message to you relates to the sure knowledge which inevitably follows conscientious action. By this I do not mean, of course, aimless action. As art for art's sake is not the highest motive for art, so activity for activity's sake may be a relief for tense nerves, but it is more likely to conceal than to illuminate the vital issue. Few temptations beset American life to-day more dangerous than that of over-exertion in valueless activity. Idleness is bad, but far worse is nervous exhaustion in the pursuit of things not worth the winning. Action, then, to have its right value, must be action with a purpose. To some of you the purpose is very distinct. A chosen profession, a well-defined duty, a recognized taste or capacity — any one of these blessings may lend a clear motive to your effort. You who have such clear visions of the goal are to be highly congratulated— congratulated not so much because your chances of success are exceptional as be- cause you are given the unity of action and keen enthusiasm born of concrete hope. You are surely blessed in the present; the future can be trusted to care for itself. This assurance is more general for boys than for girls. Large numbers of girls believe that in their individual cases a definite plan of life is forbidden. The definiteness of purpose need not be one whit less because the facts of life are manifestly un- certain; the definiteness need only be lifted to a more abstract plane. Seek to unify the scattering duties to a general intellectual and moral end, and the petty routine becomes a stepping-stone to high attain- ment. Absolute honesty and a definite will often produce better results without unusual intellectual gifts or opportunity than the keenest intel- lect can attain without these moral qualities. Since well-directed power is the measure of success, it is within the reach of every human being. Let us define a philosophy of life. It is not what we think about life, but the convictions which govern our actions. A man may believe himself unselfish, may even talk with enthusiasm of the beauty of self- sacrifice; but if the acts of his life are selfish, no one hesitates for a moment to characterize his philosophy as a selfish one. Wall Street knows the business honesty of many a man more clearly than he has 140 WERNER'S READINGS NO. 55 ever dared acknowledge his philosophy to himself. Every school has certainly watched some student whose action did not square with his avowed principle; no one questions which is the real and which the imagined philosophy of that student. A sane philosophy of life comes through a life well lived. It is not by looking on and theorizing about life, but by entering into it heartily, honestly, conscientiously, that we learn to recognize our own part, then later the parts of others, until at last the great drama of human life becomes full of rich meaning. Two famous men stand out as examples of this principle. One failed signally to find any hopeful foundation principles for a working philosophy, although he had as keen a mind as the world has often seen. He has been styled the "father of modern pessimism." The 1 other was assailed by even greater doubts, but he seized every positive conviction which was allowed to him and formed upon it an active campaign of service to his fellows. He ended with a glorious philoso- phy which stimulates every reader of his words. These two men were contemporaries; they were Arthur Schopenhauer and Frederick Will- iam Robertson. .Arthur Schopenhauer was a German philosopher and man of letters. When thirty years of age he went to Berlin as lecturer in philosophy, and began his work with the most extravagant estimate of the importance of his own opinions and with open contempt for the prevailing idealistic philosophy represented at that time in Berlin by Hegel. Schopenhauer's vanity led him to announce his lectures at the same hour as Hegel's chief course. The consequence was inevitable; Schopenhauer had a small hearing, was obliged to discontinue hisi course, became embittered, and withdrew to private life. Frederick William Robertson approached his intellectual problems from the other side; he went through the darkest hours of philosophical doubt and of personal sacrifice for his convictions. He resigned his pastorate at Cheltenham, went abroad to fight his spiritual battle through, studied night and day to reach a sound basis for a religious faith, kept his troubles to himself, believing that "a man should burn his own smoke if he cannot convert it into pure flame." He said, "In the darkest hour through which a human soul can pass, whatever else is doubtful, this at least is certain, — If there be no God and no future, yet even then it is better to be generous than selfish, better to be chaste than licentious, better to be true than false, better to be brave than to be a coward." Here was a man who did not hold himself aloof from the struggle of life and busy himself with his doubts. He faced them honestly; sorted out the positive things he knew; developed a positive philosophy of action, and gradually came to the logical triumph. To-day you are probably in a state of joy and exuberance. You are feeling your place as an individual. This is the part of youth. To- morrow you will just as surely have a reaction, when you come to see how small your part is in the old world. Then comes a time of de- spair. You can only rid yourself of it by action. Play your part well — be it small or great — and despair will disappear like the morning mist before the sun. It is to action alone that we must look for the antidote to ennui, for the truer sensations, for the growing will. What we earn we enjoy. Action makes your environment your servant. It has been wisely said that every really useful, every active man in any sense, is always a hopeful man. GRADUATION DAY 141 In closing, let me quote the words of President David Starr Jor- dan: "To-day is your day and mine; the only day we have, the day in which we play our part. What our part may signify in the great whole we may not understand; but we are here to play it, and now is our time. This we know, it is a part of love, not of cynicism. It is for us to express love in terms of human helpfulness. Wisdom is in know- ing what to do next. Virtue is in doing it." BEGINNINGS OF THINGS. (Kindergarten Association Address.) Mary Jean Miller. ONCE upon a time a seed of corn fell into the earth. The seed of corn was hard, dry and apparently lifeless. It was yellow and small. The earth was cold, black, dark and dry. The great sun radiated heat and light, and warmed the earth. The rain came and wet the warm, dark earth. The balmy south breeze tempered the atmosphere, and life inside the small seed of yellow corn was stirred into activity. This force in action was too large for the seed corn's shell, and it burst in silence; for all of the material for sprout and root- lets of the forthcoming blade and ear were compressed into the small yellow seed cf corn. This is only a bit of nature's life history, and nature's method of growth. Once upon a time a tiny bundle lay in a fond mother's arms. The good warm sun, the refreshing rain, the purifying air, and the firm earth, furnished material for food, clothing and shelter. The brave, true parents supplied an atmosphere of happi- ness and harmony, and the tender, yielding, physical and spiritual of the babe, stirred by the breath of life, grew, expanded, developed. It had no shell to break, yet within this tiny bundle in the mother's arms were all of the possibilities of the future man. This babe, so helpless and innocent, is to become a helpful and wise creature, or — a harmful and wicked one. And this is a bit of humanity's life history; but what shall be the best method of development? The kindergarten was a natural product of its time and Froebel a necessary person to discover the method of nature regarding human- ity. The kindergarten could not be kept away from America, any more than could Christopher Columbus; it is as integral a part of our great republic school system as the public school is in turn an essential part of our republic. Rightly to understand the place of the kindergarten in our national system of education it is necessary to look backward. It is less than a hundred years since the kindergarten had a discoverer in Germany. It is less than fifty years since the kindergarten had an existence in the United States, and it is only forty years since it was first a part of any public school in our country. To-day we have more than 300,000 children in kindergartens and more than 4,000 kindergart- ners. And why this phenomenal growth? We sometimes are alarmed when we consider the great material prosperity of our nation. But need we fear when our great benefactor, the public school, is incorporating into its very being such a system of education as that for which the kindergarten stands— a system which holds (and practices as far as the public demands and conditions will 142 WERNER'S READINGS NO. 55 permit) that the physical as well as the mental, that the moral as well as the religious, that the social and aesthetic as well as the emotional natures, must each and all be equally and harmoniously developed? "We need have no fear, if we educate our children properly," says Froebel. In the slavery of ignorance only is there danger. In the free- dom of all-round development is there salvation for any sin, victory over any vice. I should be of narrow vision indeed if I could not behold "through a glass darkly" the fact that our public school system is far from per- fect; it is not even complete, but its possibilities are so limitless, its foundations are so solid, and its basis is so secure, who can predict but that our republic shall succeed and that our democracy shall make possible all that it promises? As yet our public school system does not satisfy the needs of all. The elementary school prepares for the secondary school, and that in turn for the high school and college; but the few only can go to college. The leaven of the kindergarten shall require time only to vitalize these various departments which now lack a practical humanitarian touch; for the kindergarten holds to the principle that each is an essential part of the social whole, be he rich or poor, black or white, imprisoned or free; that he, therefore, is worthy of the development which results from knowing and doing things in the company of others, who have equal opportunity with himself. HISTORICAL NOVEL. (Graduation Day Essay.) Robert J. McLaughlin. IN this busy age of material progress we are told that literature has lain dormant and that the world of letters has receded rather than advanced. In a large measure this may be true; nevertheless a unique development — that of the historical novel — is rising out of the darkness and appearing in what we hope is the dawn of a new litera- ture. In classic days anything as light and unreal as the historical novel would have been an impossibility. The sober Greeks and Romans had no history but that which they themselves were making. War and politics were their trades; and, when they turned to literature, verse was the medium, and mythology, not history, the theme. Through the Middle .Ages men of letters seemed g»oping to discover the historical novel, but not until Sir Walter Scott did the world know its attractions. It has been urged against the historical novel that it cannot be true to the times and the people of which it pretends to afford a description, because it derives its insight and information from the imagination of the author. This objection seems plausible, but it is unjust. The ideal of the historical novelist is founded on historical fact, is the true interpretation of history, the proper analysis of human action, and the just deductions of the master-mind. Human nature is confined to no age and to no clime, and so the philosopher of life may read between the lines of history, and discover the motives and mean- ing of those who have acted their parts in the drama of life and passed forever from the scene. No test of the truth of ideals is greater than GRADUATION DAY 143 the approval of mankind; for we all form opinions as to the characters of the past, and when we read the ideals of the master-mind, his con- ceptions come to us like a revelation, light is cast upon what we had searched for in vain, and we approve of the interpretation as the most probable which the facts can justify. The novelist, therefore, is an effective teacher of history; he reveals its beauty and its romance, and inspires it with life. He draws the swcrd of the warrior, and fights again on the battlefield. He fills the dull eye of death with the fire of ardent life, and sounds the clarion of war in the ever vital world of literature. The foremost historical novelist cf the day, according to eminent critics, is the great Polish writer Henryk Sienkiewicz. In his novels there is intense reality, a comprehensive knowledge of human nature. The character of Nero is an acquisition which the student of history can never too fully prize. The wonderful description of the burning of Rome, while the vile monster stood by playing on the harp, and seeking inspiration from the roaring sea of flame which his in- cendiary hand had enkindled, is an imaginative painting which will Know the glory of immortality. One of the foremost American his- torical novels is "Richard Carvel." American statesmen, sailors and tOidiers figure prominently in this book. The imagination of the reader wanders back over the pathway of time to the bloody deck cf Paul Jones's flagship, and pictures the sturdy captain snatching victory from the very jaws of death and defeat. The character of the great sailor, as undei stood by Winston Churchill, is a great improvement on the stern and silent personage that Fenimore Cooper has pictured in "The Pilot." In discussing a branch of literature which by its very nature is connected wUh the past, it is necessary to review some of the condi- tions which united in forming it. The ignorance, marking the period before the invention of printing, would scarcely be credible in this age of enlightenment. Men who could read and write were honored as scholars of rare attrnments. Any adequate knowledge of history was, with the masses ot the people, an impossibility. Whatever of past events was i;ncwn, was so intermingled with romantic fiction and vague fancies that there was no place for the historical novel, since its ficti- tious and truthful components could not have been distinguished. A general acquaintance with a large body of written history was abso- lutely necessary for the popularity of our novel. This happy condition exists in the present time. The deeds of our fathers, the struggles of the early pioneers, the stories of the Revolution and the Civil War, are fruitful themes which possess unlimited possibilities. What could be more romantic than the adventures of the discoverer of America, who, after overcoming untold difficulties, finally crossed the wide waste of waters and entered a tropical paradise such as the Old World had never known? What could afford greater scope for imagination of the historical novelist than the conquest of Mexico, the splendor of the regal Montezumas, the overthrow of their vast empire, and the intro- duction of Spanish influences which finally paved the way for the re- public which to-day flourishes where the semibarbarous Aztec once held sway? Or, if he turn to our country, he may behold its wondrous advance among the nations. All our history is alive with the elements of romance and adventure; our sailors have ever triumphed on the sea, 144 WERNERS READINGS NO. 55 and our soldiers have ever borne the emblem of liberty on the field of battle with glory to final victory. In the United States the object of the historical novel seems to be to teach us the stirring history of our native land. Its object seems to be to remind us that ours is a living history, active and glorious; the pictures presented, of mighty events, of gallant achievements, of intrepid heroes and patriots whose names will ever be identified with the glory of the American Republic, stir a chord of sympathy in the hearts of our people, teach them the true worth of the founders of the republic, and inspire them to love that free government which the blood of our forefathers has redeemed for us to enjoy and perpetuate forever. The stories of the past, teaching the children of the republic the true ideals to be imitated and loved, and kindling anew in their hearts the pure spirit of freedom, are to be fostered and commended, since they form a bulwark against the sinister spirit of conquest and commercialism which is beginning to poison the minds and pervert the hearts of America's sons. Let us, then, welcome the historical novel, the romantic teacher of history; let us center our hopes in its rising glories, and let our wish be that its fortunes shall become identified with those of another Walter Scott, under whose magic touch the his- torical literature of the future will surpass the powerful productions of that "Wizard of the North." COLLEGE TRAINING A GREAT HELP. (Graduation Day Address.) Daniel Coit Gilman. SKEPTICS in regard to higher education may point to Shake- speare, with his little Latin and less Greek; to Franklin, the philosopher and statesman, with his homely English and poor French; to Grote, the historian of Greece, who had no academic life; to Whittier, Howells, and Cable, our own gifted contemporaries, and to many more writers who never went to college; and I confess that such examples seem at first to show that colleges are not essential to literary culture. But we must remember that our institutions are not devised for an oligarchy of intellect, but for a democracy; not for a few royal dignitaries, but for a throng of faithful workers. In a recent biography of Spinoza is this pithy saying: "The secret workings of nature which bring it to pass that an iEschylus, a Leonardo, a Fara- day, a Kant, or a Spinoza is born upon earth, are as obscure now as they were a thousand years ago;" and, if this be admitted, surely col- leges are not to be built up and maintained for such extraordinary phenomena. We call these men gifted; we say they have genius; we except them from rules. They will win renown under any circum- stances, hindered but not repressed by acting parts in a theater, like Shakespeare; or setting type in a printing-house like Franklin; or man- aging a bank like Grote; or learning the trade of a bookbinder like Faraday. It is neither for the genius nor for the dunce, but for the great middle class possessing ordinary talents, that we build colleges; and it can be proved beyond the shadow of a doubt that for them the opportunities afforded by libraries, teachers, companionship, and the GRADUATION DAY 145 systematic recurrence of intellectual tasks, are most efficient means of intellectual culture. Mental discipline may indeed be acquired in other ways; the love of letters is not implanted by a college; the study of nature may be pursued alone in the open air; but, given to each one in a group of a hundred youths a certain amount of talent, more than mediocrity and less than genius — that is to say, the average ability of a boy in our high schools and academies — it will be found, nine cases out of ten, that those who go to college surpass the others during the course of life, in influence, in learning, in power to do good, and in enjoyment of books, nature and art. Mental powers may be developed in other places — the mechanic's institute, the mercantile library, the winter lyceum, the private study, the gatherings of good men, the haunts of business, the walks of civil life, — but not so easily, nor so systematically, nor so thoroughly, nor so auspiciously, nor so pleas- antly. With all their defects, colleges are the best agencies the world has ever devised for training the intellectual forces of youth. Gocd colleges give training in the arts of expression as well as in those of observation; it not only favors acquisition of knowledge by its students, but it shows them how to bring forth knowledge for the benefit of others. This function of a college has not always been suffi- ciently developed. Learning of appointed lessons, memorizing of rules and dates, solution of problems, observation or performance of experi- ments, — all these are undoubtedly gocd discipline, but they are not enough. The scholar should be able to express himself clearly, neatly, and fitly; very few, indeed, can do this without long and careful prac- tice. I have talked with leading publishers of American books, regard- ing manuscripts submitted to them; I have spoken with editors of the best magazines, and from both sources I received the same impression, — that this country is prolific in writers, but that the number of trained literary men who can write well, and make of literature a profession, is very small. While there are many eager to print their effusions, there are few willing to elaborate their work, — re-writing, re-arrang- ing, pruning, condensing, shaping until the best form possible is attained. It is a mistake to suppose that writers who win the highest renown are commonly hasty, that they dash off what they say by a stroke of genius. The biography of Dickens shows what pains he took to secure right proper names; for example, note his choice of the title "Household Words." His proof-sheets show how carefully he revised every paragraph. The very last proofs of a romance of Walter Scott received the master's final touches just before printing. Bret Harte's famous "Heathen Chinee" was corrected and recorrected, and on the ultimate revision received that satirical touch which gave it world-wide fame: "We are ruined by Chinee cheap labor." Emerson is considered by many as a sort of oracle, simply opening his mouth to let fall aphor- isms of profound importance, but authentic narratives of his life show that he forged his sentences like the gold-beater preparing a setting for pearls. You may think it trifling to speak of penmanship, but I cannot refrain from telling a story of one of the most illustrious mathemati- cians of the nineteenth century, whose great treatise lay unnoticed for nearly three years in the archives of the French Academy, because, as Legendre himself acknowledged, it was almost illegible, being written 146 WERNER'S READINGS NO. 55 with very faint ink and the characters being badly formed. Rescued from the temporary grave to which its bad penmanship had consigned it, this treatise became the point of departure for profound researches. All this seems to me to indicate that training, imposed by one's self or by one's teacher, is essential to literary success. Colleges provide such training. WOMAN'S SPHERE AND MISSION. (Inaugural Address as President of Oxford College.) John Hampden Thomas. AS I stand before you, this audience seems to extend its limits, and a shadowy group stretches into the dim past. Some of my kinfolk seem to be here, and many of your fathers and mothers, noble men and women, lovely and pleasant in their lives, many now wearing the crown of a blessed immortality, some awaiting their sum- mons to the eternal reward, some yet bearing the heat and burden of the day. I am putting on my armor; it is not for me to boast of what will be done here. Rather would I gather, if I might, from those once students in college halls their message to us. Under these benign in- fluences it is fitting to ask, What is the aim of college-life for young ladies? The time-honored course leading to a degree is approved by the experience of many generations for the broad culture it affords. Does educational progress call for any radical change? In respect to the tools used, yes: as to the underlying principles, no. You, young ladies, have chosen courses best fitted to develop your gifts, making art or, it may be, oratory, science or language your major. This is well; but is this all? Is the chief value of college-life to acquire skill in some department of art or knowledge? To do this has value, but mainly to give you self-mistery, a full command of your talents. The studies pursued in college are instruments rather than ends. Self-reverence, self-knowledge, self-control, "These three alone lead life to sovereign power." Education is not to pour in, but to draw out; its end not to fill up a reservoir, but to set free and flowing a fountain of life. The sailor fixes his gaze on high and discerns the pole-star which guides his jour- ney. As I reflected on the lofty aims the attainment of which should govern education, the words of the Psalmist came to my mind: "Strength and beauty are in His holy place." The Hebrew poet was an idealist; his eyes had been touched by the Lord; the golden light of heaven had glorified his earthly conceptions; his soul was uplifted; his feet rested on the earth, but his mind soared into the chamber of the most High. The idealist is not a visionary. The teacher is an idealist. On him, as the poet, the divine light has shone. Who can calculate the influence of the ideal, and when have ideals such abiding influence as in youth? A college for young ladies surely should be their temple. "Hitch your wagon to a star/' is Emer- son's advice. Kingsley, in sweeter language, says: GRADUATION DAY 147 "Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever; Do noble things, not dreani them, all day long; And so make life and death and all that vast forever One grand, sweet song." Strength and beauty, — are not these the crowning graces of culti- vated womanhood? Strength is the product of culture; it is the real- ization of nascent power. How marvelous the bodily organization! Men have been taught to despise the body. What madness to do so! The new education wisely lays stress on physical culture as the con- dition of the highest efficiency of the mind as well as of the body. But strength is an attribute of mind and soul also. If to cultivate the intellect is the express purpose of collegiate studies, the curriculum of a college must be stated in terms of the intellect. The end of educa- tion should lead the student to control the heart and to train the will. To cultivate the mind, while leaving the affections to increasing corrup- tion, is to develop the heartless villainy of such a man as Goethe's Faust. Culture and depravity are combined in real life as well as in the works of imaginative genius. A woman's heart, what power of attraction it possesses! How it has swayed the destiny of empires? True culture teaches a girl to control her attachments by strength of purpose and to bestow her heart only upon one worthy of it. The lack of a trained will dominat- ing the affections in men and women is a crying evil in our day, blast- ing thousands of homes and leading multitudes to everlasting death. Now strength of affection and of will is attained by daily exercise. Not more surely does the brawn of the blacksmith increase by blow after blow of hammer on anvil, than does the power of a dominant will exercised in daily life. Strength surely is one aim in education. And beauty — who is not thrall to beauty? What is beauty? Beauty is- harmony; it is petfectness; it is the fulfilment of ideal standards giving joy to the beholder. Beauty is symmetry; and beauty of character results from the symmetrical development of every talent and grace. Reverence is an element in beauty of character. we shall be largely indebted to our school for the means of success. I Let us, then, ever remember our school with affection and gratitude. '"Tet us ever feel a noble pride in those who have so wisely and so generously placed the means of edu- cation within our reach. To school officers, and to teachers, we return sincere thanks for their hearty and continued interest in our welfare?^ /nd now, fellow-scholars, the class of this year will soon separate^ never again to be united in the school-room. May prosperity and hap- piness attend both teachers and scholars in their future career! SENTIMENT RULES THE WORLD. (High School Valedictory.) Mabel A. Hill. SENTIMENT has been an important factor in all great achieve- ment. Science has revealed the mysteries and powers of nature; reason has searched for truth and found it; opinions have strug- gled for supremacy in the realm of debate; but when action has been necessary, sentiment has been the inspiration that has aroused men and women to the great deeds that mark the progress of the race. Love of home, love of country, love of fellow-men, love of God — these sentiments rule the world. They are higher than science; they are above mental attainments. The kiss of his mother made Benjamin West a great painter; a spirit of patriotism inspired the sailors in Manila harbor and the soldiers about Santiago; lofty sense of duty, and not desire for a day's pay, caused the elevator man in the burning hotel to die at his post in efforts to save women and children. Senti- ment cannot be taught from books nor learned like a lesson in algebra. Every worthy emotion needs the inspiration of high ideals, the influ- ence of noble lives, to foster its growth. The school wins the loyalty and retains the affections of those educated in it, not wholly because of the knowledge it imparts, but even more because of the sentiments and purposes it instils. Lessons learned from text-books may soon be forgotten. They are but the scaffolding of the building. The person- ality of teachers and the influence of schoolmates remain in the mem- ory, in the heart, in the life. Let no cne smile in derision if, on an occasion like this, some enthusiasm is manifested for our alma mater, and some sentiments of affection are expressed for those who, within its walls, have molded the characters and trained the minds of genera- tions of pupils. Gentlemen of the Board of Public Instruction: We feel that the 162 WERNER'S READINGS NO. 55 benefits received from our studies are owing in large part to your wise management. We desire to acknowledge the debt; and, as a class, to pledge ourselves to unceasing loyalty to the ideals that have made our city prosperous and our country great, united and free. To , and to all our teachers, we give sincerest thanks. With patience and skill you have labored to make us strong, to train us to self-mastery, to fit us to use with efficiency the powers we have. Like soldiers, we have been under training for a great and noble battlefield. We should, indeed, be ungrateful did we not feel and express a senti- ment of appreciation for the efforts put forth in our behalf. We real- ize our debt, and hope to pay it in part by .using the strength we have gained in helping others, as you have helped us. Dear Classmates: After pleasant years in school together the rela- tion of schoolmates must be severed. We shall always look back to this period of our youth with happy memories. We now stand at the door through which we must pass into a sphere of new experiences. Heretofore, our steps have been guided by teachers and friends. Now we must choose our own paths and fight our own battles. If these years of preparation have fitted us to conquer difficulties, to face dis- couragements, and still press on to noble achievement, they have been well and wisely spent. A feeling of sadness mingles with our joy to- day, because we must bid farewell to our alma mater and to the scenes of so many seemingly trifling but really important events of our lives. If we feel that our duties have been cheerfully and faithfully per- formed, our time well employed, that we have done the best we could, there need be no real regret that we are four years nearer the larger activities of manhood and womanhood. But we have reached one goal only to see another ahead of us. Already we see what so many have realized, that the ideal is always far in advance of attainment- "Nevv occasions teach new duties, Time makes ancient good uncouth; They must upward still and onward Who would keep abreast of truth." The future, upon which we are entering, promises opportunities for achievement greater than those offered by former years. The world's greatest battles have not yet been fought and its greatest victories have not yet been won. Hence, we may part, with high hopes and pleasant prospects. As we say farewell to our alma mater and to one another, let us resolve to find our work in this busy world and strive by earnest and persistent endeavor to win true success. JOY AND SADNESS— SUNSHINE AND SHADOW. (College Valedictory.) THE honor has been conferred upon me of addressing you at this final meeting of the class. It brings with it a commingled feel- ing of joy and sadness — joy because we have reached the goal for which we have so long been striving; sadness because of the severing of long and intimate companionships. Yet there is an end to all things, "to the shortest path and to the longest lane there comes an end." In every varied tongue of earth we find one word, that word that GRADUATION DAY 163 draws down the curtain upon the brightest scenes of earthly life — that word to give utterance to which we have assembled here to-night — that sad, sweet word, "farewell." We breathe it tenderly, we breathe it , earnestly, for it bears in its accent a blessing and a prayer. To you, people of this fair city, we extend the parting hand with emotions of special regret. We came into your midst quietly, but we celebrate our departure; we came untried, unlearned, but we go bearing the marks of discipline; we came with our careers scarcely yet opened, but we go with our careers as students finished. To you we came as strangers, seeking knowledge, friends and home. In your midst we have tarried thus long with pleasure and profit. From your midst we shall, on the morrow, depart to pursue the mission we have chosen in the great outer world. Farewell, fair city. Farewell, friends, tried and true. Farewell, scenes and places grown familiar to our view, which time never can efface from our hearts' fond recollections. When the brows that now flush high with youthful ambition shall become with- ered by age, perchance we shall look back as to a bright sunbeam amid the shadov/s of the past, to this dear place, to these well-remembered faces to which now we say, farewell. There are those before us to-night who hold especial claims on our gratitude. Mr. President, and Gentlemen of the Board of Trus- tees: We thank you for your care, for the interest you have taken in the welfare of those who come hither each year to your kind over- sight. As we bid you adieu, believe that we shall ever cherish in our hearts the thought that to a great extent it is to you we owe the privi- leges we have enjoyed — the privileges of fitting ourselves for the noble and honored profession we are about to enter. If it be a joy to know that "labors of love are not all in vain;" if it be a pleasure to know that "seeds of kindness are bearing rich and abundant fruit," may that joy and that pleasure be yours in fullest portion. May you ever be able to look with feelings of heartfelt satisfaction on all your efforts for the advancement of those enrolled on the register of your staunch and noble institution, and especially on this band whose lot it is now to bid you a long farewell. Gentlemen of the Faculty, Most Honored Instructors: To you has been given the task of impressing directly on our minds those truths that shall develop the truest manhood of each nature, and of implant- ing into each brain and heart the germs of knowledge, whose perfect growth shall form lives of success, and whose fruitage shall be the crowning of well-spent lives. How well you hav2 discharged this re- sponsibility, the present but faintly shows; the future alone can tell how well and how faithfully you have labored in our behalf. We tremble as we leave you, for here we have relied on your wisdom, your guidance; here we have sought counsel and assistance from you who have ever been so willing to bestow it. Now we launch our little craft away, away from the shipyard, off the stock, away from the master- builder's hands. We go to battle with the waves where there shall be none to guide or assist. Our own eyes must now watch the compass and scan the chart. Our own hands must hold the rudder. Farewell, kind, faithful teachers, farewell. If ever hours of dark defeat and fail- ure come, bitterly shall we rue the neglect with which we have met, alas, too many of your monitions; and when the banner waves high 164 WERNER'S READINGS NO. 35 and the welkin echoes with glad shout of triumph, we shall think of you and say, that to you, to your wisdom and instruction we owe it all. "The king is dead, long live the king!" Thus cried the royal courtiers. We too are inclined to "welcome the coming, speed the parting guest." As we move off this stage of duty, our places are quickly filled by others. We welcome you, fellow-students of the ad- vancing class. You are to enjoy the opportunities we have enjoyed. May you improve them better. Ycu will fill the places which we now fill. May you fill them more worthily. We leave you, too, and extend the hand of parting. What can we say more than farewell, except, to wish you well for the time to come? Together we have pursued our way through academic shades; we step out of them a little in advance, leaving you to linger there a little longer, and then to follow us, giving place to those who in their time shall follow you. In all the mazes of the future, in all that awaits you in the life to come, we bid you Godspeed and fare-you-well. Fellow-Classmates: Our college days are ended. Here our friend- ship has grown into mutual affection. Here we drink from the same fountains, have the same brave thoughts and high aspirations for the future; but, as I have already said, there is an end to all, "to pleasure and to pain, to idleness and to toil." It well behooves us to step cau- tiously as we cross the threshold and emerge upon the dazzling sun- light and the deafening din and tumultuous whirl of the busy world. Think not that all is sunshine, nor that fame will wait on your bid- ding. "He who would win must labor for the prize." If the thought arises, are we adequate to the task of so shaping our course in life's dark maze as to reach the goal, the haven of success which we seek? let the success of others be our stimulus. But I will not dwell on this theme; the usual hackneyed platitudes concerning this great problem of life are already familiar to every ear; their echoes linger in every mind. We would fain linger here, but the words we might utter are too sacred. The solemn thought that this may be the last time our dear old class shall meet unbroken, chills and awes every heart. For- getting, as we do, all the heart wounds of class rivalry, let us bear away from this place the precious casket of our strong, true love. Com- rades, farewell. God be with every one; and, if our next meeting be in the great Hereafter, may an unclouded path of glorious labor, toil and triumph lead back and back amid and beyond the scenes of time's life to this time and to this spot where now we say "farewell." TOLERANCE THE BASIS OF LIBERTY. (Valedictory.) THE ancient world knew nothing universal. China's non-inter- course, of which her Great Wall is but a feeble symbol; Brahmin castes in India; the impassable barrier of Jew and Gentile; the English rural classes of little over a hundred years ago, to whom "stranger" and "enemy" were one word; Mohammedanism, universal only as universal intolerance — these have no hint of the brotherhood of man. Christ laid the first foundations of catholicity; the religion of love is the only universal religion. Yet, how slowly the principle has taken root in men's hearts, let the Inquisition, let Louis XIV., let GRADUATION DAY 165 Salem, — nay, even within the memory of a generation, let American slavery bear witness ! Little by little society has unfettered us, and yet our opinions have but begun to be free. Not only is intolerance at vari- ance with every principle of liberty and every teaching of the gospel of love; it is open, as Mill has shown, to pertinent objections from a purely utilitarian standpoint. There is too great risk of rooting up the wheat of truth with the tares of error. Progress, too, is born of strug- gle, the conflict of all views develops the right, and it is the love issue which affects character and conduct. Finally, the perfection of individ- uality depends on freedom. Theory and practice agree. It is not only right, but it pays to have a broad mind and a liberal heart. There is breadth, to be sure, which is shallowness; one may con- ceive himself catholic, because, having no foundation for belief and no concern for what he believes, he is "carried about by every wind of doctrine." But the true catholic recognition of others' opinions does not mean that we have none of our own. Tolerance, again, is not in- difference. We must care whether right or wrong prevails. Catholicity is not stifling conviction for fear of offense, nor is it subservience to the will and thought of those who happen to possess greater power. Those who in deference to others' opinions deceive themselves as to their own, simulate in public what they do not believe in private, and take no step towards the realization of what they are convinced is truth, are cowardly, not catholic. Many delude themselves with such com- promises, but catholicity is none of these. There is a sacred obligation to think independently, to think deep and clear, and to stand firmly by the outcome of one's thinking. But on the other hand, and perfectly consistent with this clear-sighted earnestness, is the broader universal sympathy, the true tolerance that springs from the realization at once of all men's worth and our own fallibility. Nay, rather, belief is the very foundation. He who has not thought deeply and thoroughly, and reached a conclusion, is in no position to be catholic, however wide his interests. But to have convictions is not necessarily to suppose that we have the monopoly of truth, nor to conceive ourselves incapable of error. The first element of catholicity is the honest recognition of the fact that truth and error are so distributed that every man has his share of both. When one realizes that he may be wrong, and others at least partly right, he has taken a long step forward. Akin to this is the receptive spirit. It is hard to be corrected by an enemy or by those we deemed unworthy our contending. But truth is the object of our search wherever found, the priceless stone what- ever the setting. To that mind which is most ready to receive shall most be given. The catholic spirit is one of generous sympathy. It is human, and "counts no human interest foreign." With justice, it accords to each his due, but it does more. It concerns itself with his thoughts; it tries to see from his standpoint; it recognizes brotherhood. This is t! e leaven which is transforming and yet to transform; this is the goal of philosophers and the dream of poets, for it is the very essence of that great commandment, "that ye love one another." Catholicity is tolerant; not for the sake of ease, nor because error is ever useful, but for the sake of reclaiming the wanderer. Paul was "All things to all men" — why? That he "might save some." Catholicity is democratic. With it is liberty, for it denies the right of any to im- 166 WERNER'S READINGS NO. 55 pose his beliefs on any other. With it is equalty. The pomp of power does not distort its vision; position and worldly circumstance do not disturb the balance of its scales. Class and rank, race and nation, give way to the one supreme fact of manhood, for catholicity is all-inclusive. It asserts at once the dignity of every individual and the unity of man- kind. In the face of pride and prejudice, narrow thought and selfish action, it cries, "A man's a man." Justice and sympathy, breadth and depth, recognition of individuality, love of truth — this is catholicity. It is this which should be one of the first characteristics of the college- man. If the college-man has not taken the next step, and realized the host of other opinions in the world, he has made poor use of what we call liberal education. What in the same space of time can give a wider outlook than college training? We have studied history, to learn what other men have done; literature, for what other men have said; philosophy, for what other men have thought. Our faces have been turned to other races, other times, other callings than our own. We have had contact with a wide circle of teachers and learners, with all their diversity of interests. Yet with all this, college-life has also its narrowing influence. Living in an ideal world of our own, the actual, present world outside we lose sight of. The man of culture, when he comes once more into contact with those who have none, is prone to surround himself and look down. His very breadth is narrowness, be- cause he finds so few on the same plane. To what end have we been here? Have we learned of books and of each other in vain? Is it for naught that they of old time and they of now have united to show us truth and stir our zeal? Nay, let us read the lesson aright: Go deeper; go wider. Make the most of yourself but not for yourself. "Freely ye havejreceived; freely give." To you, Mr. President, on behalf of the graduating class, let me offer our congratulations on the growth and increasing influence of the college to whose prosperity you have so zealously devoted your ener- gies. And not for her sake only, but for our own as individuals, shall we remember you with honor and regard, for we have felt the impulse of the keen insight and the fine candor in which we have delighted, and know that you send us away with both clearer understanding and higher ideals. Gentlemen of the Board of Trustees, we know that you have been back of this college, faithfully guarding her material interests and guiding her with undiminished prosperity through these trying seasons, and that in the same liberal spirit which has so transformed her in the last twenty-five years you now enter upon a richer trust and multiplied opportunities. We, your debtors, invoke the same success for your ad- ministration. Gentlemen of the Faculty and beloved Dean, now that we realize that we are to sit as learners at your feet no longer we begin more justly to appreciate the worth of that daily intercourse. We have learned to honor you, not vaguely, because of your authority, but heart- ily, because, having met you face to face, we have seen your learning and ability, have found insight and uplift, and have known you to be sterling men. We have felt, too, your genuine sympathy with all cur student interests; the wisdom and consideration, with which you have met a class of men so hard to please, is witnessed by the rare degree GRADUATION DAY 167 of harmony which prevails between the faculty and student body of our alma mater. Members of the Undergraduate Body, to you we commend the in- terests we have hitherto cherished together, knowing that your enthu- siastic loyalty is no less than ours. But let us remind you that democ- racy is no less an element of our success, and our democracy, if any- thing, is in danger. To us, the last class to graduate from the College of , hence- forth to bear a prouder title and exert a wider influence, may be per- mitted the parting hope that the spirit of the college we have known may be the spirit of the university that is to be. An enthusiasm that never can be silenced, a loyalty unchanged in victory or defeat, a de- mocracy truly catholic, which leaves each to stand on his own merits, and makes all one — that is the making of men. Whatever change there is in form and whatever expansion in equipment, we cannot insist too strongly that it is the same educational institution. This is no time for oivision cr relaxed effort. In every great department of our college interest, our halls, our sports, our daily work, and our religion, let the enthusiasm extend to every part. If any of these activities seem to be flagging, be assured that their vitality is undiminished, waiting only for the renewal of that undivided interest which has always character- ized our best endeavors. Fellow-members cf the Graduating Class, how large these four years of privilege seem as we look back upon them! Much we have lost, which it is now vain to regret. Much we have won, and hence- forth we must render account of our stewardship. Do we realize that the measure of privilege is the measure of responsibility? What that privilege has been comes to us with amazing force in these last mo- ments, and yet one word of warning. It is just possible that the two best influences of college-life should be each other's undoing. The very multiplicity of influences which broadens us makes it impossible to do justice to them all, class-work sometimes becomes veneer; we are satisfied with less than we are worth. On the other hand, earnestness of thought, whcse contact makes for depth, may also narrow us. The college student is proverbially the harshest of critics; he is so used to the best that he has little patience with more ordinary thinkers. Shall this be? Is that, which should make us catholic, only to make us thor- ough; and that, which makes us earnest, makes us only narrow and intolerant? Surely our response shall be to the best in our environ- ment, the hundred things noble, not the one thing low. In these four years we have learned to know and value one another; we have formed the unrivaled friendships of college life; we have shared our pleasures beneath these elms, and together we have read to the end of the long chapter of opportunities. There remain now only the last brief words of farewell, — words we may have heard so often here, words spoken through tears. Commonplace? Yes; but always with a new sadness. No amount of experience can make parting painless, nor yet give us words for what we feel. How much of memory and how much of hope is bound up in those two syllables, "fare-well"! How faithfully shall we cherish the remembrance of our college and our class! What is there of good that we do not heartily invoke for them both? We are drawn together now as we have never been before; the last hand- 168 WERNER'S READINGS NO. 55 shake has a new thrill in it. But the last hour has struck. With change- less love for our alma mater, with steadfast loyalty to one another, with a heart bent on high things, and broad enough for all — so go we forth, and Godspeed! ALWAYS LAST. (Valedictory Poem.) YOU'VE heard, kind friends, I have no doubt, The story of the hapless lout, Who had the hard, unlucky fate To come into the world too late! In reference to his sad case, 'Tis said his woful birth took place Upon the last day of the year. Added to this, the fact quite clear That it was also the last day Of the last month; and people say, 'Twas the last minute's dying stroke Of the clock, that on the midnight broke. I must be something like this man; For, though I work the best I can, With faithful students have been classed, — Yet, somehow, I am always last! I was not, therefore, much surprised, When, at the last, it fell to me To speak the valedictory. And, added to it, was the sorrow, That I must neither steal nor borrow; But the said speech must emanate Original from my own pate. I knew I must perforce obey; I tried to think of what to say; I racked my fancy, brain, and mind, Some fresh and new idea to find. I was ambitious to prepare A speech containing something rare; I hoped to strike some stirring theme, Pleasant and sweet as some fair dreamy But, 'tis a thing so hackneyed o'er By orators who've gone before, That it would take a genius bright, A valedictory to write, That would not be considered tame, Much less add luster to a name. Blood from a turnip can't be squeezed; My conscience I at least have eased. You know, I've tried to do my best, And here we'll let the matter rest. For your attention so polite My earnest thanks receive -good-night S GRADUATION DAY 169 HARD LESSONS— HARDER TRIALS COMING. (Valedictory Poem.) Mattie L. Adams. LAST night we stood with our teachers And our sad farewells were said; Our hearts were woven together Through trials we'd loved each other, Now to break the tie asunder Seemed a knell above the dead. Each one had been often angry, And to each had inflicted a wound. Child-like, we had scolded and fretted, And daily we all regretted That the red sun yesterday even O'er our angry hearts sank down. Many and hard were the lessons we learned, But we learned them bravely and well; For oft as we sat in the gloaming With minds all wandering, roaming, We strove with the strength of heroes And broke the alluring spell. And oft, as the clock on the mantel Numbered the hours of night, We were learning our lessons on and on, Till chanticleer shrilly crowed for the morn; When with heavily drooping eyelids A mist came over our sight. 'Twas hard to have ourselves pent up And youth pass thus away; The moon revealed th' untrammeled sheep, Content we knew the earth at sleep, But we must toil on in the rugged path, Climb the same old hill from day to day. But we've lost ourselves in dreaming Of our hardships that are past, They say we'll have harder trials, And keener self-denials, And recall these days as seasons That were far too lovely to last. Howe'er it may be in the future, Full well we know that last night We wished our hearts had been stronger, Our lessons and sessions longer, And that we had pressed with more vigor To the glorious end of the fight. WERNER'S READINGS NO. 55 We're going home, now, schoolmates, To a palace or a cell; But each will remember the other Ever as a brother, For we felt no proud distinction Last night when we said farewell. 'GOOD-BY BUT NOT FAREWELL. 5 (Valedictory Poem.) Edith Putnam Paintcn. HERE, at the parting of the ways, We stand > and toward the future gaze; Our paths, that side by side for years Have kept us one in smiles or tears, Have run their course and God's great hand Leads out in ways none understand, While echo-like some far-off bell The words, "Good-by, but not farewell." Together have we laughed and smiled, And many a happy hour beguiled; Together have we wept and prayed When life's dark shadows 'round us played. 'Tis hard, indeed, to part from friends, Not knowing what. the future sends, Yet vain regrets we try to quell And say, "Good-by, but not farewell." We wonder, "Shall we meet again?" And idly question, "Where?" and "When?" But God alone can really know, So blindly on our ways we go. He who hath led us all life's way Is just as powerful to-day; And so we bravely try to tell These friends, "Good-by, but not farewell." Farewell? No, no! On that far shore, Where friends shall meet to part no more, We'll bridge once more earth's farthest space And stand united face to face. There memory will assert its power Till we recall this parting hour, And say, 'neath heaven's blissful spell, It was "Good-by, but not farewell." 'Tis sweet to know there is an eye will mark Our coming, and look brighter when we come. — Lord Byron. GRADUATION DAY 171 JUNIORS' FAREWELL TO SENIOR CLASS, (Valedictory Poem.) Edith Putnam Painton. YOUNG lives are now leaving our harbor, No longer at anchor to be; Completed are all preparations, And bravely they strike cut to sea; Four years have they been making ready Upon this life-voyage to start, But now every nail hath been driven, And the hour cometh on to depart. Their friends to-night cluster arcund them To bid them a final adieu, To wish them success on their voyage As the channels of life they steer through; To warn them of turbulent eddies Against which no vessel can stand, To beg them to steer ever onward Direct to the heavenly land. Our barks must be moored to the landing For one short and fleeting year more, When we, too, must pull up our anchor, And manfully push from the shore. Unnumbered routes lead from our harbor, And no two barks follow the same; But all end in one blessed haven, The port to which all mean to aim. They will still go on learning new lessons, As through the dark breakers they steer; And often a storm-cloud will threaten, And the skies will look dull, dark, and drear; But the sun will be shining behind it, And will shortly send forth a bright beam To guide them in pleasanter channels, And show them a much clearer stream. To-morrow, at even, the sailors Will push out upon the dark sea, And far from all danger of shipwreck, God grant they forever may be! Their voyage just opens before them, What its ending will be, who can tell? We know not; we only can murmur, "God bless you, dear friends, fare you well!" 172 WERNER'S READINGS NO. 55 FATE— GRADUATE. (Valedictory Poem.) THE task has fallen to my share, A valedictory to prepare; But much I fear, You who are here, May think it but a poor endeavor, And very far from being clever. But please be kind, And bear in mind That 'tis a trying thing to stand Before the savants of the land, And give the proper air and tone To composition all one's own. Before I close I now propose To tender thanks to each of you Who've seen our exhibition through. We hope hereafter to appear Before our friends from year to year, Until it is each pupil's fate, With honors high to graduate. GOOD SHIP, ALMA MATER. (Valedictory Poem.) THE good ship, alma mater, rides at anchor in the bay, With all her colors flying, in the summer wind to-day, Four years she stoutly bore us, but now the ocean's past, And in the hoped-for haven she has landed us at last. O good ship, alma mater, we bid farewell to thee; Stand stately in the harbor, ride queen-like on the sea. May never storm come nigh thee, may never tempest make Thy mighty masts to quiver, thine oaken sides to shake. Oh, you who sailed before us, in the good ship long ago, We followed where you led us, stars above and sea below. You led us like a beacon that lit the seething foam, You led us like the glitter of a star that pointed home. Oh, you who shall come after, we give you all God-speed! Stand by the alma mater and serve her at her need, Till you, too, pass the billows that hold you from the shore, Till you, too, ride at anchor, and plough the waves no more. O good ship, alma mater, a long farewell at last! We're hopeful for the future, we're grateful for the past; Sail on thro' sunny waters, with more than lips can tell Of sorrow at our parting, we speak the last — farewell. GRADUATION DAY 173 ADIEUX AU COLLEGE DE BELLEY. (Graduation Day Poem in French.) Alphonse de Lamartie. ASILE vertueux qui formas mon enfance A l'amour des humains, a la crainte des dieux s Ou je sauvai la fleur de ma tendre innocence, Recois mes pleurs et mes adieux. Trop tot je t'abandonne, et ma barque legere, Ne cedant qu'a regret aux volontes du sort, Va se livrer aux flots d'une mer etrangere, Sans gouvernail et loin du bord. O vous dont les lecons, less soins et la tendresse Guidaient mes faibles pas au sentier des vertus, Animables sectateurs d'une aimable sagesse, Bientot je ne vous verrai plus! Non, vous, ne pourrez plus condescendre et sourire A ces plaisirs si purs, pleins d'innocens appas! Sous le poids des chagrins si mon ame soupire, Vous ne la consolerez pas. En butte aux passions, au fort de la tourmente, Si leur fougue un instant m'ecartait de vos lois, Puisse au fond de mon coeur votre image vivante Me tenir lieu de votre voix! Qu'elle allume en mon coeur un remords salutaire! Qu'elle fasse couler les pleurs du repentir; Et que des passions l'ivresse temeraire Se calme a votre souvenir! Et toi, douce Amitie, viens, recois mon hommage; Tu m'as fait dans tes bras gouter des vrais plaisirs; Ce dieu tendre et cruel qui m'attend au passage, Ne fait naitre que des soupirs. Ah! trop volage enfant, ne blesse point mon ame De ces traits dangereux puises dans ton carquois! Je veux que le devoir puisse approuver ma flamme; Je ne veux aimer qu'une fois. Ainsi dans la vertu ma jeunesse formee Y trouvera toujours un appui tout nouveau, Sur l'ocean du monde une route assuree, Et son esperance au tombeau. A son dernier soupir, mon ame defaillante Benira les mortels qui rent mon bonheur; On entendra redire a ma bouche mourante Leurs noms si cheris de mon coeur. 174 WERNER'S READINGS NO. 55 ENTERING AN UNKNOWN WORLD. (College Valedictory.) WE, Class of 19— „ have arrived at the end of our college life. Duty bids us say good-bye to the years of preparation, that we may enter more fully into the years of action. Yes, though it is an honor and a triumph to be here to-day on this platform, eagerly awaiting the moment when we shall, with beating hearts, receive that which is most dear to all college graduates, the Bachelor's diploma, yet we cannot but feel the pain of being torn from the happy associa- tions of student life; from halls where, with varying success and fail- ure, we endeavored for the sake of knowledge, — "To scorn delights and live laborious days;" from the play-grounds, where we so often felt the enthusiasm which comes with victory, or the depression that accompanies defeat; from the encouraging and kindly presence of our professors, words which only coldly express the amiability which they have manifested towards us. It would be impossible for us, who have had the privilege of pass- ing through all the grades and classes of — , to enumerate the many impressions that vie with one another for recognition in our memories to-day. But our college days are no more. Never again as students shall we be admonished and instructed by our professors; never again shall we listen to their words of learning in the class-room. Yet I am sure that all we have learned by their teaching has taken firm root in our hearts, there to be, I hope, the foundation of great and noble deeds. In time to come, when we recall these days, we shall remember them as happy ones, never to be forgotten. To you also, fellow-students, we must bid farewell, — you among whom we have enjoyed and spent many happy hours. Some of you, perhaps, we shall never again see; but we earnestly hope and pray that during the years you will remain here at , your life will be as happy and as free from care as was ours. And now, dear classmates, we must bid a last good-bye. For years we have been united in all our intentions and pursuits; have assisted each other in daily inter- course; and now, when the day has come which we have so patiently and yet so eagerly awaited, a shadow casts a gloom over the sunshine of our joy, because we who have enjoyed comradeship for so many years to-day must part. To-day we enter into a world unknown to us, to fight the battle of life for which we have endeavored to prepare our- selves. We start out alone in pursuit of honor and success. We must be upright in all our dealings with others, if we wish to obtain for ourselves respect and renown. We have loved, honored and respected one another during our life here; let us, then, when we are each en- deavoring to forge ahead in the race of life, remember this, and pray that each of us may obtain that success which our college and our friends expect from us. Farewell, , home of our youth, farewell; never shall the scenes and pleasures we have enjoyed within thy walls fade from our memories; in this our last and prolonged gaze all shall be firmly im- printed on our hearts. Not alone for ourselves shall we seek fame and GRADUATION DAY 175 prosperity, but for you also shall we endeavor to attain and possess these worldly goods and honors. Success, happiness, whatever may be obtained in our future career, all — all of it will be attributed with grate- ful hearts to alma mater by the Class of 19 ■. "GOOD-BY." (Valedictory Poem.) THE golden glow of a summer's day Rests over the verdant hills, And the sunlight falls with mellow ray On fields and laughing rills; But ere its last beam fades away Beyond the mountain high, Our lips must bravely, sadly say The parting words, "Good-by." Kind friends and parents gathered here, Our gratitude is yours, For all your care and sympathy, Which changelessly endures. We've tried to use the passing hours So they would bring no sigh, When to our happy days of school We say our last "Good-by." Dear teachers, we shall ne'er forget The lessons you have taught: We trust the future may perfect The work your hands have wrought; And may they bring good gifts to you, These years that swiftly fly, And may you kindly think of those Who bid you now "Good-by." "Good-by!" it shall not be farewell, — We hope again to meet; But happy hours are ever short, And days of youth are fleet. There's much to learn, and much to do; Oh, may our aims be high, And ever lead toward that bright land, Where none shall say, "Good-by." O woman! in our hours of ease, Uncertain, cov, and hard to please, And variable as the shade By the light quivering aspen made; When pain and anguish wring the brow, A ministering angel thou. —Walter Scott, PART VII. Graduation Day Programs GRADUATION PROGRAM HINTS. Ruth B. Dame. GRADUATION programs, to be thoroughly representative and appropriate, should present outline of work of class during the entire year. The most effective graduation program should be centered about one idea. Some of the simplest ideas of this kind are from the world of nature — flower or tree program. This appeals to children, and does not require great preparation. Flowers, songs, poetry, with short compositions by different children, are easily found and arranged. Birds also are readily converted into graduation ma- terial. These should all, however, have received distinct attention by the whole class, and appreciative walks should have laid the founda- tions of fresh enthusiasm. Study of famous buildings, during school year, forms basis of a successful graduation program. Pictures — cheap good pictures are obtainable — are a great aid. Teachers can supple- ment with history of, and legends connected with, famous buildings; children may write compositions on the buildings. It is easy to illus- trate by comparing the arches, columns of buildings in town. Graduation program may begin with the Egyptian pyramids. A composition on the labor of the captive Jews, secret chambers and' mummies of kings and hieroglyphic hands uplifted in supplication for food, may be followed by a recitation of Napoleon before the pyramids. There is enough in this recitation to fire any child's imagination. Next comes the Parthenon. In connection with this children should knew the position, early choice cf the Acropolis for a stronghold, story of Persian wars, abandonment of Athens for safety of Greece; then, as citizens return to their safe but ruined homes, rebuilding of city about base of hill and consecration of the Acropolis to Athena. The legend of Poseidon and Athena, with contest of horse and olive-tree, is learned with stories in sculpture over the pediment. The Parthenon frieze gives opportunity for a splendid picture of the Panathenaic pro- cession winding up the steps at the west and around the Acropolis. The gold and ivory statue by Phidias and the bronze image on the hill, made from the arms of the defeated Persians, are also extremely in- teresting; one almost sees the sailors watching far out to sea for the flash of Athena's great bronze spear. A splendid narrative poem to accompany this comes directly from iEschylus himself, in the account given of the battle of Salamis. History runs easily from Greece to Rome and the Colosseum, and compares games of Athenians in their Panathenaic festival with brutal gladiatorial combats of Romans. Tra- ditions are found in Miss Bronte's "Golden Deeds," in "The Last Fight in the Colosseum." "The Death of Gaudentis" is an effective com- panion-piece. "The Last Days of Pompeii" furnishes material as easily adapted as the arena scene from "Quo Vadis." The story ends in Christian Rome; the step is quickly taken from Rome to the great (Werner's Readings No. 55 — page 176) GRADUATION DAY 177 Christian Gothic cathedrals. An account could be well inserted of the Alhambra, with Irving as an aid. Christian cathedrals have much to interest children. Form of the cross in which they are built should be mentioned, crypt of the saints, and the long arched aisles, through which filed, in solemn procession, with singing and swinging of incense, sweet-voiced choir-boys and cardinals in scarlet robes. The enthusiasm which fastened men and women to carts to drag stones of the great cathedral up the hill to Chartres, while they confessed their sins in pauses, is stirring, after all these centuries. Little technical knowledge can be easily understood of the great glass sides of the French cathedral, through which the sun streamed into the church and the bulwarks and pinnacles that car- ried the weight of the roof from the frail walls. Durham and St. Cuth- bert are a good choice, with the story told by Scott in "Marmion." Canterbury is perhaps even better, for to Canterbury came Roman monks in response to Pope Gregory's famous words of English cap- tives, "Non Angli, sed Angeli." St. Dunstan and his contest with the devil follows, and then Thomas a Becket and the Canterbury pilgrims. Then, still choosing representative buildings, we may skip from the old world to the new and select the most famous old building of which the children have personal knowledge. Fanueil Hall, Boston, offers excellent material, and can be accompanied by Whittier's poem. Every teacher's knowledge will suggest available buildings. RURAL SCHOOL COMMENCEMENT. Margaret Gordon. FOLLOWING program is based on supposition that teachers in rural district have park or woods available. In case of bad weather, schoolroom may be transformed into wood scene. Monday. — School is called at usual time. Promotions and rear- rangment of classes are attended to. Pupils, wearing class-colors, march in classes to park or woods where lunch is served, coffee or cocoa being made oyer bonfires, followed by picnic frolics. Tuesday. — Class Day. Program may be given at school or out- doors. If given outdoors, and if boy is class historian he may be dressed in Mother Gcose costume as the Wise Man "who scratched out both his eyes," boy being blindfolded and repeating the history as if he were blind. Another feature is a hypnotic stunt. Two boys dressed as professors of occultism — long ulsters, silk hats, white spats, gloves, etc. — give class history together. One boy represents hypnotist professor, while other boy is the victim, who, being in hypnotic con- dition and therefore not responsible, gives away class secrets. If girl is class historian, she may appear as Mother Hubbard, who goes to cupboard, and, finding it bare, recites rhyme telling where she went, what she found out about her class and their past. Class poem may be read by "lost child," who proves that she was lost trying to find material for her poem. If exercises are outdoors, classes circle or march round bonfires singing their respective class songs. If gifts to teach- ers or outgoing class are made, they should be presented on this day. Every Senior should take part in program. 178 WERNER'S READINGS NO. 55 Wednesday. — Clearing up of year's work and preparing for the morrow. At evening Senior class may hold formal reception either at school or at private house. Girls carry flowers. Such a function is taking the place of the old-fashioned platform bedecked with floral gifts. Thursday. — Graduation Day. Exercises may be held either indoors or outdoors. Graduating essays are giving place to an address by prominent person, by whose coming audience is better pleased and school is brought into greater prominence. A unique feature, in one school, was originated by a boy saying, "let's do it up brown;" where- upon all boys wore brown suits, brown shoes, brown gloves, straw hats with brown bands. Girls wore white dresses, brown shoes, brown ribbons, brown parasols. Another school reports presenting stage-pic- ture called "Rainbow of Promise." Stage was draped in gray and lav- ender class-colors. Girl graduates wore gowns and mortarboard hats of different rainbow colors. The one boy graduate wore purple cap and gown. Pupils sat in semicircle to form rainbow. Graduates read short essays and were presented with diplomas. GRADUATION DAY PRIZE CONTEST. IN many boys' schools it is the custom each spring to select a dozen boys who have done the best work in elocution throughout the year, and allow them to appear in a prize contest. From these twelve boys, the six whose work is deemed best by the committee, are chosen to appear on program. Below is a program which may be given exactly as it reads, or may be subject to any changes deemed suitable. All pieces have been tried, and have proved attractive. PROGRAM FOR BOYS. 1. Race for Life J. Fenimore Cooper 2. Capture of Major Andre . ...Chauncey M. Depew 3. Elijah Brown. 4. Bob Henry W. Grady 5. James Henry in School Emily Selinger 6. Festival of Mars : . . Eldridge S. Brooks 7. Franz Wells T. Hawks 8. Jest of Fate , ,. Sam W. Foss 9. Sunshine Johnson. 10. The Dollar Walter S. Logan 11. Siege of Cuautla: Bunker Hill of Mexico. .Walter S. Logan 12. Ole Bull's Christmas Wallace Bruce 13. Garfield ^ Frank Fuller PROGRAM FOR GIRLS. 1. Rose of Rome George Henry Galpin 2. Naughty Little Comet Ella Wheeler Wilcox 3. Ballad of Sweet P Virginia W. Cloud 4. Sally Ann's Experience Eliza C. Hall 5. My Childhood's Love. Charles Kingsley 6. Tarpeia Louise Imogen Guiney 7. When George Was King Theodosia Pickering 8. Trying the "Rose Act" Marietta Holley 9. The Witch Virginia W. Cloud 10. Bud's Charge Louis E. Van Norman (All these selections are in "Werner's Readings and Recita- tions No. 22" — 35 cents in paper, 60 cents in cloth binding.) PART VIII. Graduation Day Gifts GIFT TO A GIRL GRADUATE. Carolyn Wells. SUITABLE gift may be made from blank-book or scrap-book filled with scraps or incidents from school or college-life. If blank- book is used, cut out groups of four to six leaves at intervals throughout book. Cover design may be pen-and-ink sketch pasted on cover, with name of book in center, or anything else ornamental, made as elaborate as desired. Name of book may be "A Day in June." Decorate first inside page in form of frame and into frame insert photo- graph of maker of book. Under photograph write: "An unlessoned girl, unschooled, unpraeticed; Happy in this, she is not yet so old But she may learn." — Shakespeare. On opposite page begin "Contents," arranged alphabetically and giv- ing page where each thing is found. Make "Contents" pages as at- tractive as possible. Write "Contents" on right-hand page only. In middle of next (left-hand) page, write: "The world is so full of a number of things, I'm sure we should all be as happy as kings." — Robert Louis Stevenson. Around quotation make marginal sketches of books, fans, flowers, tea- cups, pictures, bicycle, boat, banjo, golf-stick, or any special hint of recreation your friend is fond of. Next left-hand page is devoted to picture of schoolhouse or college buildings. Decorate around picture and write name of school under picture. Just below design write: "Still sits the schoolhouse by the road." — Whittier. Next pages are used for photographs of favorite teachers. Arrange group of bordered spaces for insertion of photographs. Place follow- ing quotation at beginning of photographs: "I count myself in nothing else so happy, As in a soul remembering my good friends." —-Shakespeare. Page (having pretty border) for teachers' autographs may have series of lines indicating place for each teacher's name. At bottom of page put: "Taught thee each hour one thing or another." —Shakespeare. Class photograph page should have attractive border. Beneath border: "A bevy of fair women." — Milton. Page for class members' autographs should have under last name: "Companions That do converse and waste the time together, Whose souls do bear an equal yoke of love." —Shakespeare. (Werner's Readings No. 55 — page 179) 180 WERNER'S READINGS' NO. 55 Page for class-colors should either have class-colors painted in, or bits of ribbons forming class-colors sewed or pasted in. A pretty idea is to sketch a flag-pole, from top of which floats tiny silk flag represent- ing class-colors. Below, put quotation: "Thoughts, master, are masked under such colors." —Shakespeare. Class-motto page: Write motto in center of upper half of page. In lower half of page paste or paint in class-flower, under which write: "Hast thou the flower there?" —Shakespeare Class-yell page: If yell is musical, draw music staff with requisite notes. If 'yell is simply spoken jargon^ print it in bright colors, with comic heads screaming with all their might, or use any other funny conceit. If faces are too difficult, draw in a crowing hen. Write below yell and decorations: "With timid accents and dire yell." — Shakespeare "I should think your tongue had broken its chain." — Longfellow. Page of grinds: Decorate page with jester's stick, cap and bells. Be- low decorations put: "A college joke to cure the dumps." — Dean Swift. For class-day program page use tiny decorations in corners, leaving plenty of space for program to be pasted in. Put at bottom of page: "To try thy eloquence, now 'tis time." ■ — Shakespeare Commencement gown page: If white muslin gown is worn, charming effect may be made by decorating gown with tiny flowers, gloves, slippers, lace handkerchief, and any other accessories of costume. Or if college cap and gown are worn, use design of Portia-like maiden, dressed in black silk gown and mortarboard. Put below flowers or design: "And in a college gown That clad her like an April daffodilly." — Tennyson. Newspaper clippings page: Use corner decorations of ink-bottle and quills, or clipping-shears and paste-pot. Place at bottom of page: "Praise me not too much, ~&or blame me, for thou speakest to the Greeks, Who know me." — Bryant's "Homer's Iliad." Other pages may be added. On last page of book put either of fol- lowing quotations: "Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever; Do noble things, not dream them all day long." — Charles Kingsley. "The child is a woman, the book may close over, For ail the lessons are said." — Jean iugelow. PART IX. Graduation Day Plays GRADUATION AT MISS LURCH'S BOARDING- SCHOOL. (Burlesque Play.) Ella F. Eastman. Characters. THE FACULTY. MISS LURCH — Principal and Professor of Vocal Music. MARGARET PRIMEVIL, A. B. — Mathematics. MLLE. REUCHE — French and German. ROX1E SWIRBUCKLER, A. M.— Sciences. RODERICKA RANDOM, Ph. D. — Greek. JEAN LIND, Ph. D.— English. ARDEIXE FA SALLE. — Violin. ANN SWITZER — Piano. CARL VIBERG, A. B., A. M., Ph. D. THE GRADUATES. ANN SPITZPOODLE, FAITH PURITAS, JEAN DOOLITTLE, HENRIETTA MARYLAND, MARGUERITE TACOMBER, HELENE ASHTREE, NELL ANN TEWKSBURY, DOROTHEA LIZZARD, ALICE MARIA WIGGLESWORTH, EMMA GROSBERGER. Costumes and Music: Costumes are simple, and to suit characters. If desired, piano music may be substituted for orchestra. Scene: Platform; class-motto on wall at back of platform, "Nihil Sine Lahore." At rise of curtain, faculty, principal, and Dr. Viberg are on platform. All remain standing until Graduates march upon platform, then all sit at same time. Time of playing: Forty minutes. PROGRAM. March Ann Switzer Selection Orchestra Salutatory Alice Maria Wiggles worth Class History Nell Ann Tewksbury Selection Orchestra Oration Faith Puritas Address Carl Viberg Class Prophecy Helene Ashtree Selection Orchestra Class Poem Marguerite Tacomber Class Will Jean Doolittle Selection Orchestra Valedictory Ann Spitzpoodle Selection Orchestra Conferring of Diplomas Miss Lurch Singing of the Class Ode By Class Parting Word Carl Viberg (Werner's Readings No. 55 — page 181) 182 WERNER'S READINGS NO. 55 SALUTATORY. Gallia est omnis divisa in partis tris, quarum imam incolunt Belgae, aliam Aquitani, tertiam qui ipsorum lingua Celtae, nostra Galli appel- lantur. Hi omnes lingua, institutis, legibus inter se differunt. Gallos ab Aquitanis Garumna flumen, a Belgis Matrona et Sequana dividit. CLASS HISTORY. It was in September, , when the famous Class of filed in order to the chapel to receive its first words of welcome from cur much beloved principal, Miss Lurch. We received thorough instruc- tion in manners, street conduct, diet, and all that goes to make a boarding-school complete. One famous incident I remember happened ct our first chapel meeting, — Ann Spitzpoodle was on time, the only time in her four years at Lurch's. Our first year was spent in begin- ning Latin, algebra and French, most of our classes being with Miss Lurch, much to our disgust and horror. Helene Ashtree was caught using a "trot" during our first week in Latin, and, as punishment, was obliged to recite a poem in Latin at each chapel exercise for the rest cf the term. Many of our class distinguished themselves in algebra by flunking the first term, which, Miss Lurch declared, was the result of eating too many sweets and attending too many midnight spreads. Although we were Freshmen, we were after all treated very kindly by the upper classmen. In fact, our only punishment was our weekly reception to the faculty which was exceedingly boresome and exas- perating. However, with various experiences and trials, we entered the sec- end year of cur career with several additional members to our class, among them, Faith Puritas, who became a favorite of Miss Lurch's for her precise manner and wonderful command of language. Miss Lurch said that Faith used less slang than any other girl- she had had in school. During cur Sophomore year we gained wonderful confidence in ourselves, so much so that Alice Maria Wigglesworth tested her fire-escape and fell three stories, coming out with only a sprained ankle, much to the jcy of her classmates. Dorothea Lizzard, always wishing to manage the dormitory, took Miss Greenwood's place one night, rang the last bell and called forth, much to her surprise, Miss Greenwood clad in night attire. There were rousing shouts from the corridors, — Dorothea's aim was accomplished. Miss Greenwood was at last seen as her real self, all artificiality left behind in her room. One evening, near the end of our second year, Miss Lurch announced in chapel that her Sophomore class was the finest in French she ever had had. ^There- upon the whole class rose and gave her the "Chautauqua salute," which we had been taught by Miss Lurch was the highest honor that could be paid to a person. Thus we entered our Junior year filled with the hopes of having but one more year in the Lurch penitentiary. Some of our class this year were caught breaking the food rule and were seen to crawl out of the cellar window in Tea-Room by Miss Lind, our much-beloved English teacher. Jean Doolittle, who had a reputation for eating more than anyone, was the victim of the worst punishment. She became caught in the window and could not move until assisted by the police. Now for the grand old Senior year, some of us to go on to college, GRADUATION DAY 183 others to make their debut in the most gorgeous of society. Each Monday afternoon of this year was devoted to etiquette, how to use good grammar, the introduction of society slang, which was one of the most pleasing features of Miss Lurch's. Our annual Senior I "Prom." gave us the first chance of dancing a round dance with a young gentleman, leaving the dear old square dances for Miss Lurch and the undergraduates. So to-day we stand on the threshold of march- ing out into the world, having spent four years of varied experiences in this our dear old boarding-school. CLASS ORATION. This part is omitted. It is a false part. Miss Lurch says in regard *o it: "My dear friends, the Class Oration will be omitted this after- noon, as Faith Puritas has been taken suddenly ill with an attack of angina pectoris. It gives me great pleasure to have with us this after- noon Dr. Carl Viberg, who will address the graduating class. Dr. Viberg is known not only in Paris, New York, and Chicago, but in all the United States as well— Dr. Viberg." DR. VIBERG. Miss Lurch, Members of the Graduating Class, and Friends: It gives me the most ecstatic pleasure to-day, after traveling from to , to greet you. It was but a short time ago that I was read- ing in the "Astrological Phenomena" that boarding-schools are the most fit place for woman. The equilibrium and the superabundant acquire- ments of all the classics and the use of applied science in promulgat- ing the art of gastronomy tend to make woman an encyclopedia of scientific idioms. Thomas A. Edison says, I believe, "Haste makes waste," so I beg you in all your tasks of life to take everything with due deliberation, always mindful that, whatever calling in life you may embrace, there is nothing on this mundane sphere approximating a profound, well concatenated ratiocination. CLASS PROPHECY. 'Tis June; the warm air of summer blew softly about me, as I sat on the veranda awaiting the airship which was to take me on a pleas- ure trip, after my hard year's work as a teacher. Hark! a buzzing and a humming sound! Oh, yes, here was the machine. I seized my suit- case; and, as the ship was well filled, I was obliged to sit near the front. I did not care, however, as I wanted to see all the sights. The first place we stopped at was , one of the leading suffrage cities. In fact, every important position in was filled by a woman, with Ann Spitzpoodle Chief of Police, Faith Puritas Judge of Police Court, Alice Maria Wigglesworth Chairman of the Board of Aldermen. These dear classmates seemed indeed happy in their various vocations. As for myself, coming from as I did, I had that gaunt feeling, a person usually has, after a year of hard labor and struggle. A cup of coffee, in this state of my feelings, obtained at the Hotel, now managed by Henrietta Maryland, revived me, and I was able to walk U p Street like a new person. A glance at various signs attracted my attention, but one more than the others. 1 read in an excited st~" J of mind "Nell Ann Tewksbury, Pension Claim Agent, Estates ° Justice of the Peace " 184 WERNER'S READINGS NO. 55 Times!" " Times!" came a shrill cry from a news- boy, "all about the change in ownership of Lurch's Famous Boarding- school." Yes, there in large red headlines, were the Words: "Jean Doolittle, now prominent in educational circles, becomes principal and owner of Miss Lurch's Boarding-school." Taking a car up > • Street, I was sternly saluted by Marguerite Tacomber as motorman, and by Dorothea Lizzard, as conductor, both exceedingly efficient and trust- worthy in their positions. " 's, the largest dry-goods store in the city of — ," cried the conductor. I hastened to the car-door, and, after the usual trouble in alighting from a crowded street-car, I en- tered this remarkable store. Emma Grosberger was buyer and floor- walker in the tango sash department, and I "learned later was very well known in her line of work. But the time for returning to had arrived. I pressed a button, and, as if by magic, the airship awaited me to leave ■ , a city much to my heart's delight. CLASS POEM. Now, hark, the tolling of the curfew-bell, Its ringing seems to say that all is well; Nay, 'tis not so within each throbbing heart As on life's journey we'll soon depart. Oh, thou, tedious study who greets each dawn, Aye for e'er thou wilt live when we are gone; Thou hast made us humble servants of thine; Ah, thou hast led us by thy hand divine. Now our weary eyes are filled with tears As we oft look back on these four years; Oh, Faculty, beloved, and Miss Lurch too, You have helped us in our work to do. Farewell to these classic halls of fame, We'll ever glory in thy grand old name; Victory be our watchword for thee As now we launch upon life's restless sea. Thou art alma mater, to us so dear That we shall cherish thee year by year; Farewell, farewell, this day to thee we'll say, As in this great world we shall make our way. CLASS WILL,. Be it known that we, Class of , of the Lurch Boarding-school, in the County of , and State of , being of sound and dis- posing mind and memory, do make, publish and declare this instru- ment to be our last will and testament, hereby revoking all former wills by us made. (1) We order our executor hereinafter named to pay all of our just debts. (2) We give and bequeath the sum of forty- nine cents to be used as a permanent fund in remodeling Miss Lurch's sleeves and dresses in general. (3) We give and bequeath all the flow- ^and ribbons worn by us to-day to the Class of ■ — -, to be used \m in decorating for their Commencement exercises. (4) We bequeath to Miss Lurch the use of all slang and the right to ie hesitation waltz, the tango, one-step, Venus waltz, and all GRADUATION DAY 185 the rags. (5) We give and bequeath to Dr. Primevil, our "Math." teacher, the right to prohibit the use of all originals in geometry. (6) We give and bequeath the sum of $1.49 for the purpose of purchasing a room in cold storage in which to preserve the white lilacs in Miss Lurch's hair. (7) We give and bequeath to the Lurch Boarding-school all the residue in our class treasury for the purpose of purchasing plenty of food to relieve the monotony of our everyday menu. (8) We give and bequeath all our slashed skirts, Marcel waves, and French heeled slippers, to Miss Lind, our English teacher. (9) We give and bequeath all our discords, classic music, and broken violin strings to Mile. La Salle, our violin teacher. (10) We give and bequeath the right to break all rules, and our privilege of giving "Chautauqua salutes" to celebrities who shall visit the school in coming years, to the Class of . Signed, sealed and declared by the above-named Class of to be their last will and testament in the presence of us who at their request have signed our names as witnesses thereto. Amos Knowlittle Babcock, Arthur Wilbur Snobbish, William Dunster Dingley. VALEDICTORY. Farewell! Farewell! Oh, dear old halls of Lurch. May slang be used and rules be broken! Take this as a parting word from the Class of . We are in many ways sorry to leave the dear old school and the gym. For what shall we do without our Indian-clubs and dumb- bells? We'll die for want of breaking rules, and how sad we'll feel not to be able to return and get some of those stewed prunes and rice with syrup. But still another thought, the saddest of all, comes to our minds as we look into the future and know that we too shall soon look like Miss Lurch, a prim, sedate maiden lady. To the honored faculty we owe many thanks; we wish to impress upon them that, though we'll not be, back another year, we weep, yes "melancholy," because we never can be as learned as they are. We can say, however, that we are "deelighted" to be able to do the round dances with the gallant young men and leave the dear old square dances to Miss Lurch. To you, dear classmates, who have been kind friends of mine through all the scrapes which I have passed in these four years, I greet and thank you this day. Let us say to each other as I believe Brutus said to Cassius: "Do or Die" in all the hard tasks of life. Oh, school days that are now past, Thy bonds have ever held us fast; Farewell — I bid Faculty, Principal, and Classmates, Farewell! CONFERRING DIPLOMAS. It is with a feeling of deep regret that I graduate you a class of noble and pure-minded young v/omen. You are to me as beautiful roses who bud and blossom and flit away into life's hallways never to return again. In all my fifty-eight years as promoter of education I never have graduated a class with such high honors as the Class of . Some of you, it seems to me, have reached the very acme of etiquette and scholarship and these are upon my honor list. [Reads.] Marguerite Tacomber, Faith Puritas, Emma Grosberger, Alice Maria 186 WERNER'S READINGS NO. 55 Wigglesworth. It deeply grieves me, however, to say that some of you must needs receive smaller diplomas than others, for you were caught dancing the tango and did not have your lights out at nine- forty-five. Class of will now rise to receive diplomas. CLASS ODE. (Air: "America.") The parting day is here, From friends so true and dear; From these halls gay, We'll ne'er forget the place, Nor Miss Lurch's kindly face So now, we'll say with grace, Farewell, to-day. PARTING WORD, Let these be the final words which I desire to impress upon you? "Hitch your wagon to a star." VILLAGE VIEW DEBATING-CLUB. (Negro-Dialect Comedy.) Helen E. Brown. CHARACTERS. Chairman. Secretary. , Miss Ameriky Jones ("Water"). Debaters ^ Mjgs Melje j ohnson ("Land"). Members. Costumes: Up-to-date costumes of stylish colored women. Masks of soft material, black or brown, may be worn, if one does not care to blacken face. Masks are made to fit over entire head and face, and are shoved into neck of gown all around. Places for eyes, nose and mouth are cut out of masks. Eyes and nose may be blackened, and mouth reddened, with grease-paint and rouge. Hats and bonnets are worn in such fashion as nearly to cover hair. Debaters wear black Jersey or silk gloves. Members wear gloves of any color. Fans or umbrellas may be carried. Entertainment: Success of entertainment depends largely on life put into action, and easy flow of dialect. Scene: Room in which club is held, table in center, behind which is presiding officer's chair. To left of table three chairs for com- mittee; on each side of table chair for debater; around room chairs for members, debaters and committee. On table song- books and small bell. [Enter three Members, who look around as if surprised to find no one there.] GRADUATION DAY 187 1st Member. Massy sakes ! I b'lieve we's de fust ones here ! 2d Mem. 'Gar fo' goodness, I b'lieve we is ! 3d Mem. Well, law, I didn't know we's comin' so early! [Enter two other Members.] 1st Mem. Wy here done come Sis' Green. [Goes to meet her, holding out hand.] How you do, Sis' Green! I's powerful glad to see you. Sis' Green. I's just toler'ble, thank ye; how's yo'self? [All shake hands with newcomers and continue conversa- tion in lozv tone. Enter three Members.] 1st Newcomer. No, we's not de fust, neither; I knowed we wa'n't too soon ! [They are greeted by other Members with shaking of hands and loud kisses. Some zvander about room or fall into groups, continuing greetings and talk in low tones. Mem- bers come in by twos and threes until all, except Chair- man, have arrived. Last two come in hastily and out of breath, one saying:] Law, I was af eared you had dun commenced, and [fanning vig- orously] I jist had ter run ter git here ! All. Sh — ! Sh — ! [Enter Chairman. All rush forward eager to greet her and bow very lozv as she shakes hands with them. They ask her questions as, "How you do dis even', Miss Chaar- man?" "Is you well?" "You're lookin' well." ] Chairman [going to table and tapping bell]. Meetin' please come to order an' members please take dere seats. [All scramble for chairs.] Sis' Adams, will you please han' roun' de books? [Sis' Adams takes books from table and hands one to Chairman, and one to every tzuo or three Members, there being not enough for each to have one.] We'll open dis meetin' by risin' up an' singin' on number two hundred. [All turn to page, rise and sing, Chairman beating time. As they sing, Members keep time zeith their heads, then zvith hands, finally with bodies, so while last stanza is sung, all are in a sway. Sing in high key a.nd not too fast.] Frien's dey come, frien's dey go, While on dis yaarth we stan'; Dere come erlong joy, dere come woe, While on dis yaarth we stan'; 188 WERNER'S READINGS NO. 55 Soon we'll all be leabin', Soon we'll all be leabin', Soon we'll all be leabin', For de happy Ian'. - Dere's much ob comfort, much ob pain, While on dis yaarth we stan'; Dere's brightest sunshine, drearest rain, While on dis yaarth we stan'; Soon we'll all be jinin', Soon we'll all be jinin', Soon we'll all be jinin', De blessed, happy ban*. Den from wickedness an' sin, While on dis yaarth we stan'; Let us make us pure within, While on dis yaarth we stan'; So when we are leabin', So when we are leabin', So when we are leabin', We'll reach de happy Ian'! [Rolling eyes upward, Members take seats.] Chairman [standing]. Secretary, please read de minutes ob de las' meetin'. Secretary [coming forward, book in hand, from, which she reads]. De Village View Debatin' Club met conjointly an' to- gedder in de specious room fitted up by de active members on las' [zveek before this is presented] night. Meetin' was call' to order by de opperficious chaarman, an' opened by risin' up an' sing- in' on number seventy-six, after which we listened to a animated an' eddyfyin' debate 'twixt Miss Mandy Whittle an' Miss Susanna Minton, de question ob which was: "Which is de mos' becomin' to de mos' complexions, de shade ob red or de shade ob yellow?" De committee decided in favor ob de red. Miss Ameriky Jones an' Miss Melie Johnson was app'inted to perform de debate ob de nex' meetin'. After de debate, de members departed de hall to meet agin de nex' week. Dere was present twenty-fo' includin' officers an' members. Chairman. Does yo' all agree to de readin' ob de minutes? A Member [rising]. Miss Chaarman, I move de secretary for- got dat speech dat Sis' Ellis made ; I move dat fine speech be put in. Another Member [rising]. I second dat motion. Chairman. It has been moved an' seconded dat de secretary forgot de fine speech Sis' Ellis made las' week ; all in favor ob put- tin' it in say "aye," contrary, "no;" de "ayes" am bigger dan de GRADUATION DAY 189 "no's" so Miss Secretary please see dat de speech go on de book. Any mo' objections? If not, dey be as dey is. Ladies an' gem- men, we members ob dis female debatin' society am here dis night to hear a debate 'twixt Miss Ameriky Jones an' Miss Melie John- son, de question ob which am : "Which hab produced de mos' won- ders, de Ian' or de water?" Miss Jones an' Miss Johnson please come forward, an' take dere seats. I p'ints Miss Bytha Allen, Miss Cloe Jenkins an' Miss Manthy Ballard to ack as committee, an' dey will please come forward an' take dere places in dis row ob seats fixed here for dat purpose. [They take seats.] Water takes de lead; Miss Jones can begin. [Miss Jones sits on right of table, Miss Johnson on left.] Miss Jones [rising]. Miss Chaarman, geographers tell us dat one-quarter ob de yaartlrs surface is Ian' an' three-quarters is water ; in one squaar foot ob dat water is more wonder dan in forty squaar rods ob de Ian'. Dese chillen settin' 'round hyar can figger on dat. Dat's a argyment I introduce jus' to keep de chillen quiet awhile. When, you spill water on a table, it spreads out all thin — on a clean table, I mean. Now, s'posen de table's dusty. Note de change. De water separates in globules. Fer de informa- tion ob some ob de folks I would 'splain dat globules is draps, sep- arated draps. Now, why is dat? Isn't dat wonderful? Can de Ian' do like dat? No, ma'am. Dere's no sich wonder in de Ian'. [Drops into chair and fans.] Miss Johnson [rising]. Miss Chaarman, I don't see nothin' wonderful in de water, gettin' in drops on a dusty table. Dat's de natcher ob de water. Dere's nothin' wonderful in anythin' actin' accordin' to natcher. S'posen it wasn't its natcher, what cause it ' to get into drops ? De dust ! De dust ! Dat am de pulverized Ian', de Ian' ! De wonder's in de Ian', after all. Miss Chaarman, Miss Jones makes no argyment for de water at all, but all for de Ian'. She makes a pint dat de table should be dusty. De dust makes de wonderful change in de water, an' de dust is de Ian' ! I wants no better argyment for de Ian' dan Miss Jones makes. [Sits, zvith sat- isfied toss of head.'] Miss Jones. Miss Chaarman, speakin' ob de wonders in de water, I introduce Niagary Falls — de gran', stupenjus, majestic wonder ob de whole worl'! [Spreading arms.] Dere's no such or-inspiring objeck in de Ian'. Den see de waterfalls ob minor importance scattered all ober de face ob de yaarth. Who eber saw de Ian' rollin' ober de precipice like de water? See de mitey ocean, 190 WERNER'S READINGS NO. 55 She hole up de ship full ob frate an' passengers'widout props, an' yit de ship move along - in de water if jus' a little wind touch her. Put de ship on de Ian' an' load her; forty locomotives tear her all to pieces 'fore she move. I said before dat dere's more wonders in one squaar foot ob de water dan in forty rods ob de Ian/. I knows I's right ! Why, one night las' week I's ober to Doc' Rus- sell's house, an' de ole doctor he ax me would I like to see a drap ob water in his glass — his magnifyin' glass, I mean. I tole him sartinly. So he rig up de glass, an' when he got um all right, he tole me to take a good look. Well, Miss Chaarman, in dat one drap ob water I seed more wonders dan I eber saw in de whole course ob my life before. Dere was a animal like a gran'mammy's night-cap wid one string, a-scootin' round after anodder t'ing like a curry-comb wid a flounced handle. Dere was a year ob corn wid a ruffle down each side ; an' [growing very animated] de fust t'ing I knowed, a six-legged bass-drum come swimmin' along an' jes' swallowed it up. Talk about de wonders ob de Ian', dey aint a patchin' to de water ! [Bring fan or fist down upon table with force as last words are spoken.] Miss Johnson. De fust part ob Miss Jones's argyment seems to me is all for de Ian'. Dere would be no Niagary or any odder falls if de Ian' wasn't in such a raos' wonderful shape to make falls. De water falls 'cause dat's its natcher. Jes' look right here in Mount Vernon. Dere's Norton's dam; dere's de same principle, de same law ob natcher. Take away de dam, de water is no more dan common water. No, ma'am [with toss of head] dere's no wonder in de water at Niagary. De wonder's in de Ian' ! Miss Jones [rising with very important air]. P'rhaps it's not gen'rully known, but still it am a fac' [striking palm of left hand . with fan], dat if it's not for de water in de air, we'd all die. Dere mus' be water in de air we take into our lungs to sustain life, An', strange as it may seem, dere mus' be water in de air to sustain combustion. Yo' couldn't kindle a fire were it not for de aqueous gases ob de air. By aqueous I mean watery. I call dat wonderful. I can see nothin'" like it in de Ian'— dat de water which put out de fire is necessary to make de fire burn ! Miss Johnson [rising very quickly, hardly giving Miss Jones tune to sit doivn]. Miss Chaarman, I hope dat you'll rule out all dat Miss Jones jes' said. Instruct de Committee not to take no count ob it. Sich talk's too much fool nonsense. [While Miss Johnson is saying this, Miss Tones fairly jumps from chair and is about to attack opponent. Shakes head as if to say: "You had GRADUATION DAY 191 I ctter apolo\j.c/' when Miss Johnson begs to be excused. Chair- man cagerlinotions Miss Jones to seat.] "Sense my "spression, but I git so V .cited when I hear such tomfoolery an" ridicdous stuff in a sptable meeting I forgits myself, an' don't know for cle miniut wedkr I's oher de wash-tub or in a meetiir . 'Scuse me, £ri i 11 try fo rep --. l^alves down. But. as I say, when sich trash is luggec 1 in as sensible argyment, it riles me. Miss Jones says we mus' lb water to breeve. I daar her to de trial. [Shak- ■ ing fist at Mi5 Jones, who rises to accept challenge, but is mo- tioned to scaiby Chairman.] She may go down air stick her I college bed — >h, 'sense me. ma'am. I mean her eddicated hed, in de creek, an'take her breevin' dar, ma'am, an' I'll take my stan' an" iiiy breeW on dis platform, by de stove, an' let de Committee decide de crse on de merits ob de proof on who holes out de long- est.! Den Isten to what she say 'bout water makin' de fire burn. Did T ou eler — did you eber hyaar de like? Xow 'cordiir to Miss Jonei, s'ptsen I wants to kindle a fire in dis yar stove. I gits some shavn's aa' den puts in some pine kindlin"s, den berry carefully pouron a little, jes' a little, karysene. den puts on a few nice pieces ob cciai, iigYu:. a i.icACci, sticks her to de shavin's an' she don't burn. J lights a newspaper an" frows her under de grate, de shavin's don t light. I gits mad, an' T slaps in a bucket ob water, an" away she goes, all a-blazin' in a secon' ! Oh. pshaw ! sich talk ! [Turn- ing to Committee.'] Don't take no 'count ob dat. It would be a wonder if it was true; but oh, my! [throwing hands and head hack, laughing scornfully] what cabbage it is ! Jeclges, don't take no [count ob dat idle talk. I say, ma'am [turning to Chairman], dat de Ian' produce' de mos* wonders. Look at de trees, de flow- ers, de grain, de cabbages, de inyuns, dat spring up out ob de Ian'. Look at de Mammoth Cave, more wonderful dan all de falls dat eber fell ! See how dey bore in de groun' fifteen hundred feet or mdre, an' out come coal-oil, two t'ousand bar'ls a minit. I'd jes' like to see any ob dese water folks bore a hole fifteen hundred feet down into de ocean, an' pump out one gallon ob coal-oil in an hour. Can ycu dig down in de ocean or de lakes an' git out gol' an' silver an' iron an' coal? Can you build a railroad on de ocean, and cut a tunnel t'rough de waters ? Xo, ma'am [Speaker lias x^orked up to great climax, and now striking fist upon table, or umbrella upon floor, she sinks into chair, exhausted.] Miss Jones. Miss Chaarman, it's jes' 'curred to my mind on Miss Johnson's speakin' "bout de trees an' de grass an' de inyuns [s'-nick lif>s at mention of onions] an' cabbages, dat when I wp^ I 192 WERNER'S READINGS NO. 55 out in de fur Wes' [indicating direction] I alius no/e dat on de plains, on de mountains, anywhere away from de stpms, no tim- ber grows, no wegitation, no grass, mos'ly barren ; fit all 'long de streams clere's de grass, de trees, de wegitation. i/hy? 'Cause ob de moistureness, de water ! So, 'pears to me dat/e cause ob all de beautiful wegitation, after all, is uc ;:Jm ;■ -All; " Xt sOT i ua ; a tl t ^4 [Leans far over the table as she addresses Chairm^.] Chairman. Yas, dat's so, dat's so ! V [Debaters turn backs upon one another as MisWones takes seat. Committee put heads together for Hnal\onsultation, for they have been taking notes and exchangig opinions during debate. Debaters try to zvhisper to Committee and make motions to win favor to their respective sues. Mem- bers are deeply interested in decision, and leak forward, whisper or nudge one another. At last decisio\ is nlade and paper is handed to Chairman, who reads vecy slcwly as if she understands writing with difficulty. Debaters sit back to back, expressing little interest until theii sublets are mentioned, when they listen intently.] A . Chairman. Ladies an' gemmeii, de Committee hab decided about as follows: [Reads.] De advocate /ob de water side hab made a good showin' considerin' how little I we really knows 'bout water. [At mention of water Miss Jones looks up with interest, and thinking she will zvin, claps hands and points -finger at op- ponent.] But as we is more sartin ob de Ian' we must decide in favor ob de Ian' [here Miss Johnson is interested jTjhcii she wvfif^ m she claps liands and reaching over table punches Miss Jones with umbrella; her triumph is shown in eyes and mouth], but recom- mend de water side as desarvin' high credit for de investigation, an' de instructin' an' edifyin' ob de meetin'. [Miss Jones tosses head in derision.] Ladies an' gemmen, as de debate am now ober, when I taps dis bell yo' can all rise up an' be dispersed. We t'anks yo' all fur yo' attendance an' attention, an' hopes yo' all will come back agin at de ringin' ob de nex' bell. So we bids yo' good-night. [Curtain.] [// play be given where there is no curtain let Members crowd about Miss Johnson to congratulate her and then go to Miss Jones to offer sympathy. It would be impossible to describe every action, but if spirit be put into it, entertainment will be made very amusing.] s ONGS and HOW TO SING THEM Practical Lessons in Singing and in Interpretation FRANK HERBERT TUBBS Music Giveti in Every Instance 1T.— angles JEver JBrfgbt anD jfafr Aria for Soprano from Oratorio "Theo- dora " . . . . . . . 50c. By George Frederick Handel "ITU.— © IRest fit tbe XorD Aria for Contralto or Mezzo-soprano from Oratorio " Elijah " . . . ,50c. By Felix Mendelssohn 1F1F1I.— /Ifcg Bearest Ibcart Love Song ...... 50c. Words and Music by Sir Arthur Sullivan •fflD— BaODg Pathos Song 50c. Words by Mary Mark Lemon. Music by A. H. Behrend Any ef these songs sent postpaid for 50c. SPECIAL OFFER.— All four of these songs ci ?r sent postpaid for «J>±.£3 This Special Offer is good only when sent directly to us, the publishers. . . Address the Publishers V EDGAR S. WERNER & GO 11 East !4th Street, New York L