I lass J^ecord. ^V y\rr\Kerst/88. AMHERST COLLEGE. CLASS OF 1888. CLASS RECORD, 1888-1893. Published by the Class, 1893. iHLiNG Bros. & Everard, Printers, Kalamazoo, Michigan. ai5t \zzf^^ ef^JiJiy-4- PREFACE. "If it be true that good wine needs no bush," it is also true that the record of so good a class as '88 needs no preface. There would be none if it was felt that the record was complete. So far as it is correct it is good, of course, but while care and accuracy have been sought, only one who has attempted to gather information from a hundred fellows, at long range, can appreciate the difficulties that prevent one's finding precision in statistics. The publication of the poems and orations of Class Day is in accordance with Ihe desire expressed at the triennial reunion. Perhaps they have lost the value with which our fancy then coloured them, but at least they serve as pegs for delightful reminiscence. As the last utterance of the class in its prophetic stage they well pre- cede the Book of Chronicles. The thanks of the class are due to Rev. F. L. Garfield, upon whom fell the burdensome task of collecting the letters from the members. They have been used with only so little change as space and the requirements of a general plan made necessary. The compiler would also acknowledge here his obligation to many classmates who have kindly helped him to secure information concerning derelicts and non-graduates. It has been impossible to thank them individually. S. O. HARTWELL. Kalamazoo, Mich., Sept. 1, 1893. CLASS OF EIGHTY-EIGHT. William M. Prest, Boston, Mass., President. Shattuck O. Hartwell, Kalamazoo, Mich., Sec'y. and Treas. GRADUATES. Herman Vandenburgh Ames, M. A., 1890, Ph. D., 1891, (Harv.) Michigan University, Ann Arbor, Mich. William Henry Harrison Andrews, Scotland, Mass. Leonard Foster Apthorp, Norfolk House, Roxbury, Mass. Harmon Austin, Jr., 207 Mahoning Ave., Warren, Ohio. Asa George Baker, 6 Cornell St., Springfield, Mass. Albert Sprague Bard, LL. B., A. M., (Harv.) 1892, 70 W. 51st St., New York City. Ralph Wilbur Bartlett, LL. B., (Bos. Univ.) 1892, Exchange Build- ing, Boston, Mass. Clarence Wyatt Bispham B. D., (Gen'l Theol. Sem.), A. M., (Amherst) 1891, 1732 K St., Washington, D. C. Charles Lincoln Bliss, M. D., (N. Y. U.), A. M., (Amherst) 1891, Beirut, Syria, via London. John Summerfield Brayton, Jr , LL. B., (Harv.) 1891, Fall River, Mass. William Lewis Brewster, LL. B., (Colum.) 1891, Worcester Block, Portland, Oregon. Charles Albert Breck, Andover Theol. Sem., Andover, Mass. *Samuel Cony Brooks. Walter Ellingwood Bun ten, Sinclairville, N. Y. Irving Arthur Burnap, B D., (Hartf.) 1892, Monterey, Mass. Fred Leslie Chapman, B. D., (McCormick), A. M., (Amherst) 1891, 1 1 17 Woman's Temple, Chicago, 111. William Bradford Child, care Macmillan & Co., 66 Fifth Ave., New York City. Sidney Avery Clark, M. D., (Harv.), A. M., (Amherst) 1891, 124 Main St., Northampton, Mass. William Paine Clarke, B. D., (Hartf.) 1891, Samokove, Bulgaria. Zelotes Wood Coombs, 32 Richards St., Worcester, Mass. George Hiram Corey, 128 Greene Ave., Brooklyn, N. Y. George Cornwell, B. D., (Union) 1891, Chefoo, Shantung Province, China. James Romeyn Danf or th, Jr., B. D., (Yale), A. M., (Amherst) 1891, Mystic, Conn. William Elliott Davidson, Neligh, Neb. Arthur Vining Davis, 116 Water St., Pittsburgh, Pa. Horace William Dickerman, 270 Wabash Ave., Chicago. Charles Henry Edwards, Amherst, Mass. James Ewing, M. D., (Coll. P. & S.) 1891, A. M., (Amherst) 1892, Roosevelt Hospital, New York City. James Alexander Fairley, box 114, Peoria, 111. Edward Franklin Gage, M. D., (Harv.), A. M., (Amherst) 1893, Perkins St., Winthrop Beach, Mass. Frank Lewis Garfield, B. D., (Yale) 1892, Feeding Hills, Mass. Lincoln Baker Goodrich, B. D., (Yale) 1893, Bound Brook, N. J. William David Goodwin, 120 Elizabeth St., Pittsfield, Mass. William Bates Greenough, LL. B., (U. of S. C.) 1890, A. M., (Amherst) 1891, 61 Westminister St., Providence, R. I. Shattuck Osgood Hartwell, 506 So. Burdick St., Kalamazoo, Mich. Robert Worthington Hastings, M. D., A. M., (Harv.) 1893, City Hospital, Boston, Mass. Arthur Marston Heard, Arkansas City, Kas. Eleazer Osborn Hopkins, So. Hadley, Mass. Augustus Seymour Houghton, 265 Broadway, New York City. Clarence Sherrill Houghton, 265 Broadway, New York City. Ellery Channing Huntington, University of Nashville, Nashville, Tenn Frederic Smith Hyde, 700 Park Ave. , New York City. George Merriam Hyde, B. D., (Yale) 1891, A. M., (Amherst) 1892, Hampshire Arms, Minneapolis, Minn. Albert Henry Jackson, 24 W. Seneca St., Buffalo, N. Y. Fred Bryce Jewett, M. D., (Harv.) 1891, 190 W. Springfield St., Boston, Mass. Lucius Ethan Judson, Jr., LL. B., (Colum.) 1891, 310 Chamber of Commerce Building, Duluth, Minn. David Lyman Kebbe, B. D., (Yale), A. M., (Amherst) 1891, South- wick, Mass. Wallace Minot Leonard, 1012 Walnut St., Philadelphia, Pa. 6 Louis Watson McLennan, Afton, Iowa. Edward Lester Marsh, B. D., (Yale) 1891, Yarmouth, Mass. William Dwight Marsh, Amherst, Mass. Charles Ward Marshall, Holliston, Mass. John Hamilton Miller, 626 Greenup St., Covington, Ky. Warren Joseph Moulton, B. D., (Yale), A. M., (Amherst) 1893, Yale Divinity School, New Haven, Conn. William Bradbury Noyes, M. D , (Coll. P. and S.) 1891, Montclair, N. J. John Elliott Oldham, 70 State St., Boston, Mass. Arthur Decatur Osborne, 123 Washington Ave., Chelsea, Mass. Marion Maynard Palmer, Delhi, New York. *Allen Woodbury Parsons. William Foster Peirce, A. M., (Amherst) 1892, Kenyon College, Gambler, Ohio. Willson Hamilton Perine, American Bank Building, Kansas City, Mo. Paul Chrysostom Phillips, 222 Bowery, New York City. Arthur Henry Pierce, A. M., (Harv.) 1892, 5 Felton St., Cambridge, Mass. William Morton Prest, A. M., (Amherst) 1891, LL. B., (Bos. Univ.) 1892, 62 Devonshire St., Boston, Mass. Frank Ellsworth Ramsdell, B. D., (Andover) i8gi, Gardner, Mass. Leonard Burbank Richards, B. D., (Phil. Epis. Sem.) 1891, Totten- ville, Staten Island, N. Y. James Gilbert Riggs, A. M., (Amherst) 1893, Watertown, N. Y. Albert Bradford Ripley, 612 Fifth Ave., New York City. John Belcher Rogers, College Park, Cal. Robert Harvey Sessions, 1616 Arapahoe St., Denver, Colo. George Newton Seymour, Elgin, Neb. Clifton Lucien Sherman, "Hartford Courant," Hartford, Conn. Walter Fisher Skeele, 228 Ernest and Cranmer Building, Denver, Colo. John Edwin Smith, 10 Ashland St., Worcester, Mass. Willard Payson Smith, LL. B., (Colum.) 1891, no Franklin St., Buffalo, N. Y. Arthur French Stearns, 747 Equitable Building, Denver, Colo. George Palmer Steele, Painesville, Ohio. Charles Sullivan, Room 505, Ashland Block, Chicago, 111. George Sanborn Tenney, 2 W. 56th St., New York City. Garret William Thompson, A. M., (Amherst) 1891, 1931 Chestnut ♦Deceased. St., Philadelphia, Pa. Edward Breck Vaill, Ferguson Block, Pittsburgh, Pa. Clyde Weber Votaw, B. D., (Yale) 1891, A. M., (Amherst) 1892, 391 55th St., Chicago, 111. Edward Hardenbergh Waldo, M. E., (Cornell) 1890, 24 West St., New York City. Samuel Dexter Warriner, B. S., E. M., (Lehigh) 1890, Lehigh Valley Coal Co., Wilkesbarre, Pa. Elbridge Cutler Whiting, B. D., (Yale) 1891, 3310 Chicago Ave., Minneapolis, Minn. Charles Barrows Wilbar, 78 Cohannet St., Taunton, Mass. Henry Lawrence Wilkinson, care Harvey Fisk & Sons, 28 Nassau St., New York City. Herbert Pekin Woodin, B. D., (Yale) 1893, Curtisville, Mass. John Button Wright, 904 Lexington Ave., New York City. SPECIAL STUDENTS. Harold H. Jacobs, 603 So. High St., Akron, Ohio. Charles Beebe Raymond, care Goodrich Hard Rubber Co., Akron, O. Wallace Rollin Montague, 208 So. Front St., La Crosse, Wis. NON-GRADUATES. Addison Allen, LL. B., (Colum.) 1889, Mills Building, New York City. Leonard Woolsey Bacon, Jr. John Noble Blair, Mich. Univ. '88, 102 Broadway, New York City. Charles Crombie Bruce, A. C. '75, B. D., (Andover) 1878, Somer- ville, Mass. George Moseley Brockway, Lyme, Conn. Ernest Goodell Carleton, A. C. '89, M. D., (Coll. P. and 8.) 1892, Gouverneur Hospital, New York City. James Lee Doolittle, Ballston, New York. Wm. Esty, A. C. '89, A. M., (Amherst) 1893, Amherst, Mass. Henry Seth Fish, care Cushing, Olmsted & Snow, 74 Summer St., Boston, Mass. Homer Gard, "The Democrat," Hamilton, Ohio. Edwin Putnam Gleason, Maynard, Mass. Albert Payson Goodwin, 354 Washington Boulevard, Chicago, 111. Harold Russell Griffith, Yale '88, 32 Nassau St., New York City. John Haynes, Johns Hopkins Univ., Baltimore, Md. Arthur Mitchell Little, Yale '89, B. D., (Yale) 1891, TakomaPark, D. C. George Arthur Merritt, Amherst, Mass. George Henry Newman, Colfax, Wash. Charles Benjamin Niblock, Chicago, 111. Frederic Holmes Paine, Yale '88, High School, New Haven, Conn. Albert Hale Plumb, Jr., A. C. '91, 15 Oakley Road, London, N. *Pierrepont Isham Prentice. George Harris Rogers, A. C. '90, Holbrook, Mass. Arthur Byron Russell. Charles T. Sempers. Harry Elmer Small, A. C. '90, B. D,, (Yale) 1893, No. Guilford, Conn. Malcolm Joseph Sullivan. Albert Duff Tillery. Porter Tracy, New Orleans, La. Franke Abijah Warfield. William Franklin White, B. D., (Hartf.) 1890, Trumbull, Conn ""Deceased. CLASS OFFICERS— For the Course. FRESHMAN YEAR. L. B. Goodrich, F. E. Ramsdell, F. L. Garfield, - L. E. Judson, E. C. Whiting, - W. M. Prest, E. C. Huntington, SOPHOMORE YEAR. L. B. Goodrich, G. P. Steele, F. L. Garfield, H. L. Wilkinson, J. H. Miller, W. M. Prest, - E. C. Huntington, F. L. Chapman, L. B. Goodrich, G. P. Steele, F. L. Garfield, H. L. Wilkinson, Porter Tracy, W. M. Prest, E C. Hutington, L. B. Goodrich, G. S. Tenney, F. L. Garfield, - H. L. Wilkinson; Charles Sullivan, S. O. Hartwell, J. H. Miller, A. S. Bard, S. D. Warriner, P. C. Phillips, A. V. Davis, G. N. Seymour, W. E. Bunten, - L. E. Judson, F. S. Hyde, W. M. Prest. E. C. Huntington, H. H. Jacobs, JUNIOR YEAR. SENIOR CLASS. President Vice-President Secretary Treasurer Historian - Gym. Capt Vice-Gym. Capt President. Vice-President. Secretary. Treasurer. Historian. Gym. Capt. Vice-Gym. Capt. Toast Master. President. Vice-President. Secretary. Treasurer. Historian. Gym. Capt. Vice-Gym. Capt. President. Vice-President. - Secretary. Treasurer. - Class Orator. - Class Poet. - Grove Orator. Grove Poet. Ivy Orator. Ivy Poet. Toast Master. Prophet. Prophet on Prophet. Historian. Choragus. Marshal. Gym. Capt. Vice-Gym. Capt. CLASS DAY PARTS. IVY ORATION. PRACTICAL IDEAL-WORSHIP. S. D. WARRINER. The ideal faculty is the gift of spiritual discern- ment. It is the ability to detect hidden truths and possibilities, and to convert them, when practically applied, into the experiences of actual life. The inspira- tion of all true ambition, progress, and reform, to it is due whatever tends to exalt life above the level of a dull, conventional common-place. That a person cannot transcend his ideals is an undoubted philosophical truth, for no culture and improvement can come by chance nor by any so-called natural development. Like can only produce its like. A desert cannot naturally evolve a cultured field, nor chaos a beautiful world. There must be in every case, first, an ideal conception — a design, an aspiration, an effort to realize it, or there can be no creation, no actual experience of increased progress, truth or beauty. Such a conception developed into a reality of life is what we may call practical ideal-worship. Except in the develop- ment of a lofty ideal, there can be no real success in human life. It must have a mark set before, to the attainment of which it is ever pressing forward. It must have a theory of success, the truth and reality of which it seeks to prove and illustrate in its own example and experience. Otherwise, it is merely material and sensuous. Except a person's ideals be higher than the common and actual, his view of life is narrowed and limited within the horizon of material interests. The 13 reformer is necessarily an idealist, not, however, in the exclusion and neglect of actual necessities, but in the culture and development of higher aspirations and sympathies. What is true of the individual is true also of the nation. It must have an ideal conception of its mission and destiny, or it can never attain greatness and stability. Its progress continues only so long as its life is inspired with a higher ideal of culture and freedom than has yet been realized. The profound philosophy and exquisite art of ancient Athens, as personified in its ideal concep- tion of Athenae, were developed through her inspiration. What its people deemed she was, they sought themselves to become; what she loved they cultured and cherished, and this practical ideal-worship awakened the aspira- tions, and enkindled the enthusiasm and devotion that gave to their otherwise insignificant city its imperishable renown. So, too, since her day, other nations one by one have come forward to contribute their quotas to the world's culture, and as their ideals have been, so have been their achievements. The ideal of our own nation represents a limitless possibility of personal culture and development. Yet we have to-day reached a crisis in our history, in which it may well be questioned whether the ideals of the past, which have hitherto inspired our efforts, are the ideals of the future, and are such as to insure our continued prosperity. Face to face with poverty and distress the early settler worked out the social problems of life. In his struggle for material necessities he still kept in view his spiritual ideals. But to-day these are in a great measure forgotten, in an all-absorbing devotion to material interests and comforts. Business and technics have permeated every department of thought. Restless enterprise, improved methods, and eager competition 14 mark an era of vigorous industrial growth. But has American character developed equally with American business culture? What are the practical ideals of the day by which we may forecast our future ? We find every thought and action weighed in the balance of utility, our tastes and habits, education, even religion, formed in the mould of materialism. The world over, "Yankee" and "Yankeeism" typify American character. Asa Siamese prince and philosopher has said, "Amer- ica has failed in the perception of real wisdom and the discernment of what constitutes the highest civilization." To an age which can appreciate nothing but from its so-called practical standpoint, poetry and the pro- ducts of the imagination appeal in vain. Philosophy is well-nigh forgotten. Literature, music and art are devoid of originality, and illustrate only a frivolous fancy, a gross and revolting realism. Religion is fast becoming an elaborate and sensational ritualism. Science is sup- planting Christianity, and a conservative scepticism sneers at the ideals of lofty enthusiasm and faith as mere superstition or blind credulity. When we behold in public life "instead of character, a studied exclusion of character; in every legislative measure passed the results of lobbying and fraud; nar- row and jealous partisanship without independence or individual integrity; office a means only of pecuniary profit; business a wild and reckless dissipation," we may not wonder that by the light of history are revealed disease and decay in our political and social life. Surely we have cause for evil forbodings when the national ideals of liberty and culture, of simplicity and economy are for- gotten, when the highest success is measured in dollars, when social and religious freedom has no higher signifi- cance than unbridled license, and in pursuit of some selfish aim, the instincts and obligations of duty and honor, nay, even friendship and humanity, are stifled. 15 It was no idle saying of Emerson that we, as Americans, best represent the hope of the future. Dis- satisfaction with the shallowness of past and present culture is giving broader impulses to modern thought and action. In the growing desire for temperance, in the earnest desire for reform, in the spread of Christian missions, we see a response to a spirit higher than that of material interest. Yet these higher privileges incur higher duties. If in America is presented the world's greatest opportunity, there is imposed upon every indi- vidual the highest personal responsibility. A high standard of popular culture, a spirit of practical ideal- worship, identified with its political and social life, are essential to its greatness and stability. But, if we have these lofty conceptions associated with the rights and privileges we enjoy, we are also subject to a correspond- ing danger of seeking to satisfy these ideals in the petty materialism of every-day life. The outcome of a cultured imagination, the product of the loftiest type of religious faith, can such ideals be an active force when we sink imagination and culture in a blind devotion to trade, and seek to supplant religion with sanctimony and cant? The Ideal carried into practical life is what we need to-day; not the conception of merely fanciful and impos- sible things, but the prophet's eye to discern the pos- sibilities of human nature, and the spirit and purpose to realize them in our religious, political and social life. We need a finer culture, stronger and purer inspirations, awakened sympathies with higher truths, and a greater enthusiasm and devotion in their attainment. As a great sculptor catches a fleeting day-dream of heavenly beauty and imprisons it in stone, so may our loftiest ideals of social and personal culture become incarnate in visible forms and crystallize into the practical realities and ex- periences of a perfect national life. i6 IVY ODE. James Alexander Fairley. Air — "Integer Vitae." Strong, calm, enduring, constant revelation, Bearing aloft its heaven-born inspiratioD, Emblem of strength and noble aspiration The church serenely stands. Close clinging to its walls for safe protection, The timid ivy follows their direction. Finds there a shelter of its own selection, A refuge from the storm. Brothers are we, close-bound by one emotion, Clinging to Amherst with a fond devotion. Strong may she stand amid the world's commotion, Honored by Eighty-eight. 17 CLASS ORATION. THE PROBLEM PAST AND PRESENT. CHARLES SULLIVAN. It is a historical fact that in every form of society the instrumentalities for human development are acquired first by the few ; and then on the part of the race there begins a ceaseless struggle to turn the special blessings of the few into the common blessings of all. From the earliest time an oligarchy has had almost exclusive possession of the means of social and political progress. At first the man of martial prowess had at will the service of his fellows. To the military chieftain the world was tributary, for his thralls watched his flocks and herds upon the hills ; his serfs tilled his broad domain and countless minions ministered to his minutest wants, while his retinue of warriors fought and died upon the battle field to bring him power and glory. To his castle came the singers, poets and philosophers of the time, making of it in comparative language a center of social and intellectual culture. But to the bondman of the soil all this was unknown. He knew nothing of the luxury of the great, or if he had heard of it he was taught to believe that it was not for him. He was born to serve; the rich man lived to rule. This belief was so ingrained in the world's thinking that the powerful minority claimed the obedience and service of the ignorant and degraded majority as their born right, and as the result of generations of slavery, the peasantry seemed convinced that they were, in fact, an inferior order of beings. i8 But though the mass of mankind was thus bound in seemingly hopeless servitude to the few, yet there was still abroad among the common people a longing instinctive, though unexpressed, for greater freedom of thought and action, and for a larger appropriation of the instruments for human progress, the possession of which made the difference between the lord and his vassal, and the use of which always differentiates the man of civilized life from the savage. This longing was but the incipient consciousness of the real goal of history. Ask the helot upon the plains of Greece, the bondman of the Middle Ages and the proletarian of modern times for the highest prize within the reach of his ambition, and what, think you, would be the response ? To be chieftain of the principality, to be lord of the castle, to be landlord, capitalist, or man of education. These answers are identical, and they are correct. They are the legitimate expression of the profoundest need of man — the need of power. Viewing the world's past from this distance we must say that the gratification of this need has been the ever present problem in the historical development of the human race. The wish of the Grecian helot and the feudal serf which the laws of their time forbade them to express on pain of death, but which the modern laborer in the name of justice and intelligence boldly demands his right to gratify, when interpreted in the light of to-day is : How may the conditions of human life be so changed that the cry of aspiration, heard alike at the forge and plough, in the coal mine and peasant's hovel, in the pulpit and on the bench, in the school and palace, may not pass unheeded in the case of the meanest bondman any more than in that of the king ? How may the blessings of political education, of civil liberty, of commerce and invention, become the common property of all men ? This must 19 be regarded as the perpetual human problem. The older civilization failed to furnish the conditions for its solution. Condemnation came upon despotism with its personal slavery and feudalism with its industrial serfdom because as social systems they necessitated the subjection of the mass of mankind to the selfish aggrandizement of the few and thus rendered unsolvable the human problem. And its solution became a possi- bility only when the final knell of feudalism and oligarchic despotism was rung in the French Revolution. It was then that kings and princes were finally taught that power is no sinecure, and as soon as governments thoroughly learned this lesson the era of modern political and social development began. And what has modern civilization contributed toward the realization of the goal of human history? The political sovereignty of each, and the social equality of all before the law we have made established facts. We have boldly proclaimed the inalienable right of every man to life, liberty and the pursuit of his well-being. We have tried to make the common man feel his dignity and appreciate the possibilities of his life. We have tried to create a public sentiment which would force every man not only to acquire the elements of an education, but also to fit himself for companionship with kings, priests, poets, and philosophers. And that this may be done we have established free schools and free institutions where the son of the meanest peasant may appropriate the treasures of science, literature and philosophy. We have also changed the basis of the world's industries. Selfishness has given way to self- interest. Industrial activity to-day is not inspired by the exclusive purpose of satisf3dng the needs of a favored class but the whole social body. Mills are built, railways constructed, and the various schemes of business and invention are carried on to bring a comfortable existence and the chance of material and social improvement within the reach of the lowest citizen. The spirit of democracy which seems to have taken up its permanent abode on the earth, aided by the railway, telegraph and telephone, has banded mankind together in one common interest, so that a wrong to the most contemptible citizen makes the civilized world demand redress. But notwithstanding the fact that even thus far modern civilization has more than realized the wish of the ancient serf, and has crowned every man with a political power, and an opportunity for the culture of mind and manners far surpassing that possessed by the ancient kings, still, paradoxical as it may seem, the discontent of the lower classes never was so furious as to-day. And why? Because without apparently just reason their normal needs outrun their means of gratifying them. By our political theories, by our public press, by our system of education, in brief by the general diffusion of the spirit of social and mental culture, we have inspired the modern laborer with a desire for a larger share in the material benefits of an advancing civiliza- tion, but we have failed to furnish him an opportunity of succeeding under our industrial system. And, consequently, as the onward march of civilization overthrew slavery and serfdom, because as social systems they conflicted with the realization of the highest developments of the race, so human progress in our day has reached the point where our industrial system is brought to trial on a similar charge. This is the social problem, and inasmuch as it is the passing phase of the ever present human problem — the solution of which would be the legitimate gratification of the rational needs of all mankind — it becomes the vital question of to-day. Its peaceable settlement, gentlemen, lies with the rich and educated class. They are the natural leaders in social progress to-day, for they inherit in a more or less modified form the social powers of the feudal kings. But the fact that conservatism finds in education and wealth its natural allies, seems an almost insurmount- able barrier to progress. Why was the French Revolution so bloody? Simply because a nobility once established to lead the people along the pathway of national greatness, but subsequently degenerating into a set of social vampires sucking their existence out of the life blood of the toiling poor, nevertheless still tenaciously clung to their special privileges on the mere basis of custom. Thus well supplied with the luxuries as well as the necessaries of life, and fearful that a change may be for the worse, the rich and intelligent class come to regard the established order as sacred and inviolable. And consequently in their opinion the most damaging criticism that can be passed on any proposed social reform is that of impracticability. However necessary as an act of justice the proposed policy may be, still if in conflict with existing institutions it must be abandoned and its friends denounced as public enemies. The most common and effective argument against the abolitionists was that the accomplishment of their purpose would of necessity be the radical destruction of an established industrial and social system. But did such reasoning avail against them? In this age institutions, social, political and religious, must stand or fall on their merits, and their friends can base no rightful claim to their continued existence on their origin or their antiquity. This is the spirit in which our industrial system must be tried. Only thus can we hope to avoid revolutions, and make rightful use of the possibilities of modern civilization, and preserve unshaken the stability of democratic institutions ; only thus can v^^e hope to contribute somewhat toward making a great and power- ful people doers of righteousness and lovers of justice and peace. 23 CLASS POEM. THE INNER LIGHT. SHATTUCK O. HARTWELL. Not mine to chant the ivy's praise Or sing in lighter strain Such roUickings in college days As ne'er shall come again. But here the harder task I find — To speak, before we part, The surging thought of every mind, The feeling of each heart As now, between the Old and New We stand, reluctant yet. To change the narrow for a broader view. The old life to forget; Half-eager still to cast away The trammels of the Past, At once to enter on the active day Whose dawning comes so fast. Thought, mem'ry, hope, are all confused to-day, Now surging toward the past, returning still With onward rush beneath hope's stronger sway. With deeper feeling and more purposed will To fairer castles imaged in the light Which gleams upon the path of future years And in the glory of its lustre bright, O'ercomes all sadness and all gloomy fears. Beneath the passing touch of mingled thought. The chords of feeling all, alike, resound ; Yet 'mid them all the deepest, clearest, not That of memory, but that of hope, is found. 24 May we not catch from out this mingled strain An undertone of truth inspiring all? Finds in its harmony the deep refrain Which on attentive ears may gently fall, Breathing a message that perhaps may teach Some fitting lesson if a simple one, A word that soon or late must come to each Who now finds pleasure past and life begun. The morning flush is rising Far o'er the eastern hill ; But yet beneath the heavens The earth is hushed and still. The city's streets deserted Are silent as the dead, Save for the muffled echo Of some lone watchman's tread, As through the lonely pathways He hurries swiftly on. Impatient of the silence. The darkness and the gloom. The life that through those courses A few short hours before, Was beating like the billows That smite a rocky shore. Lies now all hushed and silent In the semblance of death. The light has gone that urged it on. And night's cold, blasting breath Has overcome the vigor Of every struggling soul. But now the eastern landscape Receives the onward roll 25 Of the broad waves of sunlight That flood the glowing east, And, pressing ever onward, Eager to gain the west. Fill all the wond'rous heavens With the radiance of day, Such wealth of God's pure sunlight As, it seems, should last alway. As when, in days of battle. The clarion call "To arms !" Wakes every man to action, Each sleepy watch alarms ; Thus the purple glow of morning Calls all men to the fray ; And with eager force and vigor, We enter a new day. The light that comes from beyond us. The planet that shines above, Rouses again to action ; To deeds of glory and love. From home, be it hovel or palace. At the magic call of light, Forth from the open doorways That are open toward that Light, Again through its mighty channels Courses the city's life ; Ready again to enter The daily labor and strife ; Some stirred by motives of pleasure. Some sordidly seeking gain. While others will strive to lessen The burden of guilt and pain That weighs down their fellow-mortals ; But all, for good or ill. Filled with new hope and purpose, Seeking with stronger will , 26 The aims for which they have battled Perhaps for weary years. The new light makes them forgetful — The future has no tears. Thus the crowded pent-up thousands Press toward the shop and mart, And pouring outward through the streets, Seek the great city's heart And the light that shines above us Illumines still the goal Of our actions, thoughts, ambitions ; It is solace enough for each soul Until the shadows lengthen. Then, as they grow apace And the dreary darkness settles Again over Nature's face. Amid the gathering twilight The soul must seek perforce Some other inspiration, Light from some other source. And, as the western hilltops Receive the Sun to rest, Again to sleep in their bosom, To lie on Nature's breast — Back from the heart of the city With wearied, pulsing flow, Comes the ebbing stream of human life. Homeward the thousands go. And the doors that in the morning Opened outward toward the light Are turned again on their hinges To welcome them from the night. But now they open inward And reveal another light That falls with tender radiance Upon our tired sight. 27 It gleams with pleasant welcome, Speaks peace and comfort and rest ; And the spirit tried by life's turmoil, Feels this the light that is best. "In youth all doors are open outward," says the sage. But as the years fast-flying bring old age, And with the passing days Ambition ceases now to raise Our hopes on high, the tired heart, Weary of struggling for the paltry part Which it may gain Of honor, riches, fame, Turns inward on itself and finds there the clear light That proves the greatest blessing given to our sight. We stand upon the threshold of the parting ways ; Our eager eyes already catch the rays That shine from where the strife Of the world's power and action is most rife. The distant clamor faintly strikes our ears Yet wakes within us neither doubts nor fears ; But stirs instead the hope That we with life may cope, And in the midst of labor and of toil may find Some active outlet for the eager mind. Youth has slight room for memory in its breast. "Forward" its motto and its type Unrest. Impatient to be free. To leave behind restraints that here have bound Through years that seem to us one weary round Whose present use we cannot see And future good still less descry — Ambition urges, and with eager cry We seek ourselves to sunder from a useless past. And come in contact with the world at last! High aims and high desires fill us all. We wait, impatient for the battle's call, Scorning a dull repose ; 28 Ready to meet the mighty foes That never cease to fight Those who would battle for the true and right. And though we recognize in part That this intensity and strength of heart Receive their inspiration from our college days, The backward glance is short. We may not stop to praise. Amherst! enshrined among the circling hills, Whose chastened beauty all the valley fills, Perhaps we may not now Place fitting chaplets on thy noble brow. For us the doors are opening outward, and the light That gleams from far upon our dazzled sight, Eclipses half the beauty and the grace That shine upon us from thy lovely face. Thy gray-head sons who now return, reveal Toward thee a stronger sentiment than we can feel. But, Classmates, if I read aright the simple tale Which I have tried to speak, we shall not fail As fleeting years over our heads shall roll, To look within the chambers of the soul. And catch the radiance there That shines surpassing fair ; The light which brings us solace and relief When outward suns are dimmed by time and grief. That shines more bright as distant shadows lengthen, And after weary toil, gleams forth our hearts to strengthen. Then, when through doors that open inward, we retrace The path of years and seek again the place Where first that light was nurtured, we shall see Amherst! our purest thoughts turn back to thee! Worship again thy rugged hills. Drink deep the vital air that fills With inspiration and with earnest life! And as for truth's sake now we seek the strife, Then shall we know in full thy faith and might Who kept us ever pointed toward the right. 29 Classmates of Eighty-eight, how e'er our ways may sever, Returning oft, in thought returning ever, May we our gifts to Amherst consecrate! Whether to us the impartial hand of fate Give fame, or wealth, or, better, such success As comes when steadfast manliness Works on unconscious of its power. When hope seems dead and storm clouds darkly lower, May we be able to return again And say to Amherst, "Thou hast made us men!" 30 GROVE ORATION. JOHN H. MILLER. Ladies and Gentlemen: — You are assembled here to-day to witness one of the most notable events of the present century. You are the favored few, selected from among the whole race of man, to whom it is given to attend the last gathering and to hear the final farewell of the class of '88. One day more and the brilliance of the beacon that for four years has brightened the path of progress for the civilized world will cease, and, separated into many tongues of flame, will be carried to far distant places. Would I were gifted with the silver tongue ot Demosthenes or the many brass tongues of the College Chimes, that I might impress the irreverent among you with a due sense of the influence exerted upon civilization by the aggregation of physical courage and intellectual ability now seated so unpreten- tiously on the ground before you. Leave off, for a moment, the attempt to fathom the depths of character concealed by that modest expression of conscious worth you see in so many faces ; disregard even the patronizing air so inevitable in a truly great man, and review briefly the progress of the world in the past four years. In all departments of life the world has advanced with prodigious strides. In religion, thought was never so free nor creeds so broad as at present. In science, discoveries have been pushed to the greatest extent, and their results been embodied in every sort of contrivance to contribute to man's ease and convenience, so that to-day the world knows more, and knows better how to 31 use its knowledge than ever before. The peace of nations has been preserved, and international intercourse been increased. The manufacturer realizes the greatest profits, and the farmer, by labor-saving implements, compels even inanimate nature to contribute to his wants to an unprecedented extent. The press enjoys the greatest freedom, and the Waterbury watch goes faster than ever before. Within four years two great political parties have changed places and the progress of the nation continued undisturbed. The United States Senate has advanced, hand in hand with the College Senate, to a place of the highest dignity among the legislative bodies of the globe. In brief, the world has grown better in every way. (We freely give credit for the foregoing beautiful passage to the Philosophy Department.) Although native modesty compels me to recognize the possibility of some other cause for much of this progress, yet more than all other influences combined, I hold to be the energy and genius now collected for your benefit within this circle of seats. Judge then, ye unbelievers,, how ominous must sound the farewells that announce the discontinuance of such an influence, and the resignation of such an important charge as the progress of the world to other and untried hands. But he who imagines it to be the duty of the Grove Orator to force such serious thoughts upon you would convict himself of ignorance more deplorable even than that of the Sophomore lemonade committee at the liquor trial. No, you have already heard enough of burning eloquence and well-balanced periods from the two orators of the day, who, doubtless, have settled or exploded affairs of great importance. The multitude of speakers of yesterday also showed how the habit of weekly debates, if persisted in, will "play fast and 32 loose" with the nerves. These make up the substantial part of the feast. But in accordance with a custom dating from that little spread given to "a few of the boys, don't ye know," by Cana of Galilee, the final course of the feast is to be served without any further remark as to its comparative merits. This will not consist exclusively of unrestrained ebullitions of original wit, nor of the "euphuistic affectations" of the English Literature Department, although a few of its "delectable titillations," and a slight touch of "sycophantic sarcasm" have been judiciously introduced. Old subscribers will easily recognize the original sparkle of those gems of wit — the police force and fire department ; but, we regret to state, the completion of the Central Massachusetts R. R. has deprived us of much that has been fruitful in other years. If every burst of hilarity is not instantly appre- ciated, buy the Student Extra ; with each copy is furnished a beautiful incandescent lamp with the aid of which the point of every joke will be plainly visible. The illumination of the jokes taken from Punch, however, is not guaranteed. You are welcome, every one, to this farewell "feast of reason." And let none ask wherefore, for he would be "seeking a reason for reason, which would be the absurdity of seeking for precisely what he already has." (This fine specimen of accurate thought and cultivated English style is taken direct from Hickok and Seelye's Moral Science, revised and enlarged by Bunten.) After inflicting upon you a selection of such a character, I feel the most acceptable apology I can offer is the sentiment expressed in the one word — Farewell. Gentlemen of the Faculty: — It is only within recent years that any have dared to address you in this place. Why such should be the case it is hard to say. 33 Your addresses to us on many occasions have been by no means ambiguous. Many a one among us has in his possession a collection of short addresses, each announc- ing that his term-bill, due sometime in the uncertain past — is yet unpaid. Some, perhaps, have a lingering memory even of personal addresses, delivered on occasions when the recitation did not indicate that death-like grip on the subject characteristic of an uncompromising pursuit of truth. A few, assisted by the Loisette Memory s5'-stem, can dimly recall an address in which a mysterious mob of house-breakers were characterized in scathing periods, as "cowards, falsifiers and mean," and were given to understand that only the overflowing benevolence of the speaker's heart prevented the use of more appropriate epithets. We can forgive all your uncomplimentary addresses, and — it may be — remember for some time a few of your many wise sayings. For four years we have listened, beaming with a regulation Apthorp smile, to your Latin and Greek moralizing, and laughed at your octogenarian jokes, those laughing loudest being rewarded with good marks. The chairs in a certain lower room in Williston Hall bear scars that will never be effaced, in witness of our triumphant passage through the Chemistry Depart- ment. We sympathize with you in your mistakes, we have made them ourselves. We realize as well as yourselves the immense benefit that would accrue to the College if a few members of your august body were finally relegated to the curiosity shelves of Appleton Cabinet. Yet we are convinced we have materially aided in your development in the four years of our association. And if we have accomplished this much, our course has not been entirely in vain. Commending you to the future mercies of a class whose evil influence is well predicted in that unbridled and licentious 34 pablication, the '8g Olio, we pronounce with many regrets, the word — Farewell. Town-Fathers: — The extent of our obligations to you will be shown by your ledger accounts, with far more exactness than by any words of mine. We have supported you and your families by the sweat of our brow, and have entertained you, free of charge, with sparkling pleasantries, pyrotechnic displays and mid- night serenades. We have consumed barrels of kerosene devising new plans for your amusement, and have passed many a sleepless night in their execution. But in your stolid indifference you have never appreciated us. All our endeavors to cultivate in you an admiration for the art of town decoration have been lost. Even our dignified class president, a talented artist of the realistic school, has attracted small notice. You will look upon our departure with tearless eyes, and in your ingratitude and fickleness of affection you will accept promissory notes from other hands and with Phoenix-like hope, you will even expect, perhaps, to be paid. For your coarse understanding and unrefined judgment, our place will be sufficiently filled by succeeding classes. But in spite of your base ingratitude, we wish you well for the future. You have lost much valuable time and more bad temper, trying to agree about a cemetery ; but don't be discouraged ; it is a grave question and could not have been settled all at once. Get a large one when at last you decide, and there will be no trouble filling it, if many of your younger fellow-citizens continue as uniformly insulting as they have been in the past. When a student shows you a "Co-op." ticket, multiply the amount of his purchase by four so as to give him a fair discount and secure his future trade, he expects it ; he has paid a dollar for it. The military ardor of Company K should be restrained, lest the 35 Aggies lose heart and despair of ever attaining that martial bearing and extreme redness of nose. We hope that some day you will come to realize how valuable has been our advice and how great your neglected oppor- tunities. We bequeath to you the College Band, now in all \hQ full-blown vigor of youth; and hope, when you are leaving town to avoid some future "Open Air Concert," your hearts may fill with regretful tenderness, mindful of the day we departed with the word — Farewell. Gentlemen of '89: — To you who will endure the cold of another polar winter in these "classic shades," we would address many words of advice and warning. But it would be useless. By experience alone you may learn to carry the weight of dignity which it becomes your lot to support. Be courageous. Do not quail before the soporific logic and the bright sparkling thought of the College pulpit. Do not despair of comprehending that obscure doctrine, that "A power that makes treaties is a treaty-making power." If you do not shrink from the cipher dispatch, the fairy windows and the vanishing point you will see Spencer, Huxley, Tyndall, one by one, not only driven to the wall, but flung over it, and will hear the sickening thud as they drop on the other side. But be not too courageous. Follow the experience of four years and don't bet on the ball team, unless you have discovered the combination that opens the sub- Treasury vaults. Better save your money and build another fence to meet the increasing demand. To you also we say — Farewell. Classmates: — For four years we have stuck together like postage stamps on a hot day. Yet who could have imagined the great change that has taken place in so short a time. Who could have suspected that the tall 36 giant from the prairies of Iowa would become our "obelisk" first baseman? Or that the bearded Anarchist from the woods of Maine, would become a naturalized citizen, and prance over the pedals and stops of the College organ with such fairy grace? Yet great as is the change it has all been wrought in the four shortest years of our lives, now coming to a close. Many and sad are the thoughts that must arise when we know that for the last time we have heard, echoing about the campus, the resonant tones of "Babbum cum cantu," the "Zodiac-bull." For the last time we have seen " Harry and Chawley" joyfully starting on the "seven-mile ride" behind one of "Paige's record- breakers." Yet, sad though it be, our farewell must be said. Many of us are to keep up the Amherst reputation of furnishing the world with ministers. Let them not assume the inevitable ministerial air too soon, for we have known their wicked ways in College and might "give it away." Let them do all their preaching and "Rammy-fying" in the pulpit. Those that go as mis- sionaries must not be too forward about passing the collection-box, for the cannibals, I have heard, are very particular about these small things. Undoubtedly a few of those who try will become physicians. Let them not neglect the doctrine of the Organic Unity of Mankind. There is no principle that will make a patient die easier and quicker than this. The lawyers in futuro have all heard that there is "plenty of room at the top;" but their experience will show them that the most room is at the bottom, nevertheless. The incipient journalists will do well to make a study of the Amherst Record ; the sarcasm of its editorial 37 columns is unexcelled and for chaste invective its criticisms of College affairs are without a rival. To those considering the pawn -broker business we would say "Don't." It is too much of a nervous strain ; and you would never succeed in competition with our affable Fourth-platoon captain. Let those who are "going into business" seek some quiet position where the salary varies directly as the inclination to loaf and inversely as the square of the time employed. But away with thoughts of the future, and bid a last farewell to the Chapel, where contracts are made and broken. A last farewell to Walker Hall, whose golden dolphin and stony-hearted gargoyles have grinned in derision at the victims of many an intellectual contest within those walls. A last farewell to Williston Hall, where the noxious gases of science are mingled with the "pure forms" of Art. A last farewell to the Gym., where a small purple and white flag has for four years told its story of victory. A last farewell to College Hall, the only remaining relic of the glacial period. Beneath its roof some of us will receive ^^ magna cum laude,"" one or two "summa cum laude'^ but many will have to be content with ''sine cum lauded With that occasion will close the period of our association with each other — a period of mutual aid and development — a period of harmony and good feeling. With that occasion will begin the serious problems of life — about which we have heard so much and know so little. But while we have been talking together, we have arrived at the place where the way divides. How many paths are there! Hardly a one among them will be traveled in company with any of our present comrades. Most of us must journey alone. A lusty farewell, then, 38 to him whose path lies over the mountain, an earnest hand-shake to the one who must journey by the valley, hearty wishes to the few who will win fame and honor, and cheering words to the man}^, who, alas, must main- tain an unequal struggle. Comrades all, farewell ; and may our paths not be so steep and rugged but that they may meet again before the journey ends. 39 GROVE POEM. ALBERT SPRAGUE BARD. Ladies and Gentlemen: — not to be partial, Gentlemen — Ladies: — the stronger, more martial Sex ought not be after the girls all the time, Injustice like that in the fair sex were crime. Dear Friends, could you see me inside, 'twould appear I'm as sorry as you are to see myself here ; 'Tis to me, as to you, the severest of blows ; Why I'm here, only Heaven — and the Senior Class, knows. The election was close ; it seems proper to you Does it not, that the poem should be as close, too? I was pleased at election ; that is, at the first, And called it an honor ; but soon I reversed My decision and called it an onerous work ; And I'm sure that the choice was a fraud ; and that shirk Of a fellow — the other man up for the place, Who came in ahead although left in the race — Stuffed the ballot-box, not for himself, and he won Though he lost. Yet there was a recoil to his gun ; For the very next vote (other schemers take warning) Made him Poet of Ivy ; you heard him this morning. The Oration de Ivy, the Poem de-Vine The Oration called Grove and this treeixs^ of mine Are all plant to show you (you can't but descry it) Our mind-food tends toward vegetarian diet. It is meat thus to feed you no boarding house leather. So some tongue is the only flesh served this warm weather. I've read in the Scriptures — some of you may have read it There too, 'twas the Wise-Man that said it — Even herbs will make fairly respectable fare If, happily, plenty of love, too, is there. If it's true — and the Wives-man should know — at the least 40 Amherst, 1888. Class Secretary. (Dear S:r:=^ I have received the '88 Class