The American college is a religious institution and agency. Historically it had its origin in the Christian church. The religious atmosphere of its beginning has continued in succeeding decades and centuries. The State University is as religious as the commonwealth of which it is a part ---no more no less. In institutions of both types, the privately endowed and the publicly supported, the religion prevailing is a large and free form of the Christian faith. The sectarian note is at present less outspoken than in the early time, and the reality of religious belief still continues.

The prevailing type of religion is one which is represented in Micah's sententious interpretation of doing justice, loving mercy, and walking humbly with God. Micah's interpretation is continued in Christ's two great commandments and in the Beatitudes of his Sermon on the Mount. It is a type which does not invite pious or frequent exhortation but lays emphasis on doing right, and inspires a feeling of abhorrence of that which is not honorable and square.

It has been affirmed that these student soldiers, possessing a sense of reality, were more religious than they thought themselves to be. They believed in goodness which, someway, they did not quite associate with God. Whether they knew, or did not know, of Matthew Arnold's definition of God, they someway believed in a power not themselves which made for righteousness. They were in a sense pantheists. But their pantheism was of a very personal kind. One cannot say that they were "God-intoxicated." But one can say that they found the soul of goodness within themselves which was reënforced in its strivings and struggles by the spirit of goodness without. In fact, the spirit of badness, which was manifest to eye, to ear, and to heart, may itself have given emphasis to the beneficent soul within their own bosoms.

This type of religion was especially pervasive. The thoughts of students on the campus and in camp were turned Godward. Face to face with what are called the eternal realities, each man sought to adjust himself to the realities in feeling, in reflection, and in choice. The endeavor for self-adjustment was not as active or as timely for the soldier student on the campus or in the camp as for the student soldier on the firing line; but for both the eternal motive was insistent and vital. Perhaps the strongest note in this endeavor was the note of unconscious self-sacrifice. The men gave themselves freely, largely, exultantly. So complete was the exultation that the sacrifice was not at all interpreted in terms of sacrifice. The college student in his reflectiveness desired to help humanity, to enlarge and to enrich the agencies of human betterment, to preserve ideals in a world sordid and mean, to ennoble and to make lasting a high civilization. In the securing of these lofty purposes he was willing to share in the last and supreme act of devotion.

The work which the college did in the cause of religion was usually done through the Young Men's Christian Association and the Knights of Columbus. Of course, chaplains commissioned by the government were in the service and not a few of them won great results. But the chaplain not infrequently stood for individualism, and individualism in this war did not have the opportunity for usefulness which it possessed in former wars. Yet not a few clergymen gave a personal service of unspeakable worth.

The chaplain in both the American and English armies seems to have had a job, perhaps no harder than other wars offer, but it was surrounded by conditions which were especially trying. Writing of the English chaplains, the author of "A Private in the Guards" has said:

"They could not preach the Sermon on the Mount because they thought loving your enemies contrary to the spirit of the war. They could not inveigh against lust because the medical officer was of opinion that Nature's needs must be satisfied. They could not attack bad language because it was accepted as manly. They could not attack drunkenness because it was the men's relaxation, and a good drinker was considered a good fighter. What was there for a poor padre to say to the men?"(32)

But, despite these limitations, the value of personal character in the army as manifest in the chaplain was of primary worth. If he represented the best qualities of manhood, virile and sympathetic, kind without softness, laborious and sacrificing, determined to help every man, fearing no peril and accepting no favor, he was a force at once commanding and persuasive. But if he were cowardly and selfish, the soldiers had no respect for him, and gave no responsive hearing to his words. His advice did not command their regard, and his character received merited contempt. Yet be it said comprehensively that the American, like the English chaplain, deserves the better interpretation which Mr. Graham gives of the English:

"I met whilst I was in France some ten or twelve chaplains. They all had pleasant personalities, and it was a relief to converse with them after the rough-and-ready wit of the men. I saw them from a different angle from that in which they were seen by the officers. What struck me most about them was the extraordinary way they seemed to make their minds fit to the official demands made upon opinion. They always rapidly absorbed the official point of view about the war, and often the officers' point of view as well."(33)

It was, however, the Young Men's Christian Association which, through service religious and social, secured the best results. The college contributed of its students, of its professors as well as of its graduates, to this enrollment. The "hut" became a unique place in every camp, both at home and abroad. This hut to the soldier stood for his home. It gave not only shelter, but also recreation, friendliness, comfort. It represented an ideal, realized to the soldier, of human well being. It also helped to maintain morale as well as to give happiness. The work was established as a large human work. Whatever related to the welfare of the soldier as an individual or of the group was regarded as its function. It was recreational service in the largest sense. It consisted in managing a canteen, or a camp post, in selling cigarettes, chocolate, and whatever might minister to the soldier's happiness, in talking to wounded men in hospital, in writing letters for those who could not write, in recommending books to those who were indifferent, in arranging boxing bouts for exercise and for fun, in getting instruments for a brass band and in organizing the players. Such work did not supplement sermons, yet, the sermons were not neglected. The traditionally religious side of the service might seem to be neglected, but the religious impulse was consciously, or unconsciously, at the base of the life of many student soldiers.

There arose toward the close of the war criticism.

The criticism of the Young Men's Christian Association touched both personnel and method. First: Unworthy men were selected as secretaries or field executives. Second: The work was commercialized, or was not made properly Christian. In its commercial relation goods were sold, it was charged, at a higher price than the costs warranted. The answer to these criticisms was made, that in an enrollment of executives numbering several thousand men, it was to be expected that some would be found either incompetent or dishonest, or both. The second charge, of a lack of the religious element, was met by the interpretation that the conditions did not allow, or did not at least provide for, religious presentations. One chaplain said to me that the charge could not have been made if the word "Christian" had been struck out of the corporate name. In all these diverse services college men held a large share. College teachers of French became teachers to American soldiers. College graduates of all callings became executives and undergraduates helped in many and diverse fields.(34)

Perhaps the most distinctive work, religious or, semi-religious, done by the colleges through their students was found in the contribution of money made for the relief of prisoners of war, for men in the armies, and for the wounded in the war zones. Over a million dollars was given by the students and officers of the American colleges for this beautiful and unique purpose. The amount contributed by different colleges is significant and impressive. Northwestern University, $12,000; University of Chicago, $15,427; University of Illinois, $27,563; Purdue University, $18,960; Iowa State College, $23,000; University of Michigan, $23,000; University of Minnesota, $27,500; University of Nebraska, $21,057; Ohio State University, $17,407; Western Reserve University, $12,961; University of Wisconsin, $21,000. The money thus raised was called a Friendship Fund. It was spent, as I have said, in aiding prisoners and in promoting the efficiency of all the causes in which the students were interested. The worth of the service thus rendered overseas was great; the worth of the work done for the givers themselves was even greater. Above all else it proved the unity of the hearts of all students with each other, and the unity of their hearts with all men in distress.

The training given to the Young Men's Christian Association workers was entrusted in certain cases to members of the college faculties. Members of the Princeton faculty, in the spring of 1918, served as teachers for one hundred and fifty men who were about to go abroad. Courses in conversational French were perhaps the most common, but also the teaching took on a larger relationship, being concerned with French life, ideals, manners and customs. In this service the teachers of Romance in all colleges of America felt a deep interest. Not a few of them volunteered themselves, but also they promoted the going of their students. Through addresses and through their writings they quickened the interest of thoughtful men in the service to be rendered by colleges through the Y. M. C. A. in France, in England, and wherever was found the American soldier.

In the broad interpretation of religion, it is also to be said that the American college, through the same Association and by other methods, did much in the promotion of the moral purity of the life of the American soldier. Without doubt the American Army was the cleanest of all armies. Toward this result not only the religious and the ethical impulse was directed, but also medical science and medical coöperation. The peril of venereal disease was constantly impressed upon soldiers; and in official and unofficial ways the duty of clean-mindedness and of clean living were enforced.(35) Another special form of religious and social work was found in the ambulance field service. This service, beginning before the formal entrance of the United States into the war, enrolled not far from two thousand men. These students went straight from their class-rooms to Flanders Fields and Vosges Mountains. Toward this number Harvard sent more than three hundred; Yale and Princeton about two hundred men each. It was the service of the good Samaritan rendered under perils far more perilous by day and by night, near front-line trenches and in shell-swept areas, than the good Samaritan ever dreamed of.

Service of the same glorious type was given by the men of Oxford and of other British Universities. Writing near the close of the year 1916, an Oxford lecturer said:

"It is two years now since they began to go over to Belgium and the occupied territories of France; and there, setting themselves between the hammer and the anvil, among suspicion and surveillance, in unremitting toil and with patient organization, they labored to relieve the destitute and to visit the needy in their affliction. Such work became, as it seemed, a part of their Oxford course; and each new student who came from America, after staying a little while, crossed over, as if in duty bound, for his term of service on the other side. As time went on new doors were opened and new duties were undertaken. When the bombardment of Verdun was fiercest, and the sleet of iron and fire drove with the deadliest intensity against its walls, the American Ambulance was there, and American students were with the ambulance of their country. Turning chauffeurs and mechanics --- chauffeurs and mechanics of an infinite resource and sagacity--- they drove thousands of the wounded soldiers of France, along icebound, slippery roads, from the field of battle to their haven of rest; and if their cars broke down, as American cars would sometimes do, they set them triumphantly to rights by the roadside, and in a few hours were driving quietly forward again to their base. Nor were their goings and doings only in Belgium and in France; they went even farther afield, and there were some who, seeking the farthest bounds of the far-flung battle line, went out to find ways of service and ministration in India, or in Africa, or in Mesopotamia."(36)

The general effect of war and its circumstance on the religious beliefs and practice of college men was at least sixfold.

First: the war served to exalt the student's and the graduate's sense of patriotism and of humanitarianism into a religion, or,- --to change the point of view, --- it served to incarnate the chief expression of his religion in his love for country and for man. If religion be defined as the relation which man holds to God, the college man's religion in the course of the war soon passed out of this definition into a faith in and a loyalty to his country and to all men.

Second: Such a religion was therefore essentially an ethical system and interpretation of the relation of men to each other. The soldier student believed, and practiced, not only that he should love his neighbor as himself, but even more than himself. He should be prepared, and be glad, to die for his neighbor. The willingness to die for one's neighbor has, of course, tens of thousands of illustrations, and, what is perhaps more important, the willingness to endure pain, dreaded more than death itself, has hundreds of thousands of illustrations. These examples are equally common among college men and among those who dwell without academic walls. An English chaplain tells of his entering a dugout just taken from the Germans and of finding himself stifled with the foul air. He said something sympathetic to the man who lay on a bed of clay beside him. The man's answer was, "'This! This is paradise to what we've been through before we took the ridge.'" Continuing, Dr. Kelman says, "Add to this the constant call to face atrocious danger, and the pain of wounds while they lay untended on the field. Then remember the thousands who have gone with open eyes to certain death, to hold an outpost or to save a company; and the many instances of officers and men who have thrown themselves upon live bombs that they might save their neighbors by the sacrifice of their own lives, or in other ways have deliberately given their lives for others."(37)

Third: The third effect lay in what may be said to be the realm of the imagination. Yet this imagination was rather a force than a field of the college man's religion. It stood for the intellectual way in which religion made its appeal. It lay in the sense that one is living a great life, doing a great work, inspired by a great motive, measuring up to the greatest possibilities within his bosom. It is keeping step with one's fellow soldier in life's march. It is the sense of music in one's soul. It is the meaning of the lump in the throat.

Fourth: But while this sense of imagination was a method of interpretation of the student's relation to God, this religion was also to him a deep and ever increasing sense of loyalty. The gospel of sincerity, of truthfulness to the fact, was dear to him. He detested sham, pretense, counterfeit. He hated the false as the devil holy water. His hatred was colored through and through with scorn and contempt. This sense of reality caused him to turn with confidence to the men who as clergymen, as priests, or as Christian Association secretaries called out his belief in their integrity and honesty. This sense of reality touched both his assent to truth and his friendship for the individual.

Fifth: This same sense of reality inevitably resulted in a simplicity of religious beliefs. The college man's creed was short. The Fatherhood of God was its first, and chief, article, and perhaps its last also and this article had phrases which possibly belonged quite as much to the heart as to the reason. It was interpreted in the terms of the emotions and sentiments quite as often, and always as deeply, as in terms of the intellect. It recognized, often unconsciously, Pascal's truth that the heart has its reasons of which the reason knows not.

Sixth: Such a simple creed, of course, led to an elimination of the great sectarian divisions which now afflict the church. Not only were the minor Protestant distinctions wiped out, but also the Jewish, the Roman Catholic and the Protestant faiths were in certain foundations united. Over the grave of a brave soldier, the rabbi, the priest and the minister offered a common prayer to one God. The elemental and fundamental realities, the suffering and the fellowship of life and of death, joined men together in religious faith and act.

Literature, as a force and form of life, has its fount and origin in the college, and it is continued by the academic tradition. The literature of the war has already taken on several forms,---history, essay, letters, poetry. Of course, these writings are only the beginning of interpretations which will go on for unnumbered centuries. But, at the present moment, the poetry, which the war inspired, is probably the most significant contribution of a literary kind, made by the graduate or student. For, in all definitions of poetry, feeling and imagination are the true constants, and feeling and imagination are most dominant, in the heart and mind of youth, and possibly most completely dominant in the heart and mind of the youth of the academic plane trees. Yet it should at once be said that the contribution, made by American college students and graduates to the poetry of the war, is slight. Compared with the contribution made by the graduates of British universities, it is small in amount and meager in quality.

An examination of the larger share of all poems written by college men of both nations necessitates the conclusion that they do not represent the full tide of English song. The reason is perhaps evident enough for the American paucity.

Although, in a real human sense, the war was America's from August, 1914,--- in a technical, governmental sense, it was not America's until almost three years after. The period of America's participation was brief. The war was also three thousand miles away. It was farther away from the majority of the American people and of most college men than three thousand miles of distance would intimate. For remoteness in relationship added to remoteness in distance. It was not until the declaration of war was made that the academic flags were unfurled or the college bugle sounded. Therefore the poet was dumb, as the government seemed to some numb.

The English poetry of the war, coming from either Oxford or Cambridge, from Scottish or Midland University, was unlike the typical war songs. It had none of the martial glory of the "Charge of the Light Brigade." It was likewise remote from Campbell's "Songs of Battle," "The Battle of the Baltic," "Napoleon and the British Sailor," and "The Power of Russia." Such were not the themes of which the Oxford poet dreamed. The English verse of the war was rather moral than martial, rather psychological than patriotic, rather human than national or even international. It was indeed concerned with the divine quite as much as with the human.

The poem of both the American and the British student was the poetry of the inner life. It was what the philosophers call subjective. It might be named romantic, in case one substitutes man for nature in the usual definition. It was an aspiration, like Gothic architecture. Little, or none, of the completeness of the classical type did it have. Many of these verses are like the Hebrew Psalms, poems of the personal life, of character, of struggle. of resignation, of victory. They remind one of George Herbert's precious verse. The typical poem was concerned with righteousness and honor, with endurance of heart and will, with hopefulness in darkness and in days of despair, with the glory of sacrifice, with the broodingness of mystery, with the belief that the unseen is the eternal and that the unseen means the right, with sympathy for the sorrowing and with exultation for the glorified, with hatred of despotism and with the beauty of the new republic of man, with the heroism of our common humanity, with the majesty of concerted and coöperative obedience, with patience in the dies irae, with the constant presence of the dead and of their imperishable life.

Illustrations of these sentiments are more easily found in English than in American verse. Captain Charles Hamilton Sorley, who died in October, 1915, at the age of twenty years, cries out:

And let me stand so and defy them all.
The martyr's exultation leaps in me,
And I am joyous, joyous! "(38)

Captain Richard Dennys, who was killed at the Somme, exclaims:

"My day was happy --- and perchance
The coming night is full of stars."(39)

Rifleman S. Donald Cox, in his song "To my Mother," says:

"If I should fall, grieve not that one so weak and poor as I should die, but say

'I too had a son;
He died for England's sake!"(40)

Lieutenant Mackintosh, of the Seaforth Highlanders, before his death in action, in November, 1917, writes:

"If I die to-morrow
I shall go happily.
With the flush of battle on my face
I shall walk with an eager pace
The road I cannot see."(41)

Such examples could be continued to the number of almost three score of those who fell singing. If Germany had her Körner, friend of Goethe and Schiller, student at Leipsic, whose last poem was written the very day of his last battle --- a song to his bride, his sword, who, at less than twenty-two years of age, fell fighting for the cause of liberty, England and America had their singing sons who died also on the field of honor. Their years were few. Their poems were also few. But the great experience brought into vivid, and often powerful, expression what would have required many years of the daily round and common task to effect.

Of all the English singers, the poems of Thomas Hardy and of Rupert Brooke perhaps give the richest promise of lastingness. Rupert Brooke's five sonnets go down the deepest and reach up the highest. I cannot deny myself the right of quoting the familiar and ever moving lines entitled, "The Soldier": --

If I should die, think only this of me:
   That there's some corner of a foreign field
That is forever England. There shall be
   In that rich earth a richer dust concealed;
A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware,
   Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam,
A body of England's, breathing English air,
   Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home.

And think, this heart, all evil shed away,
   A pulse in the eternal mind, no less
      Gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given;
Her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day;
   And laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness,
      In hearts at peace, under an English heaven.(42)

With Rupert Brooke, I associate an American, a son of Harvard, Alan Seeger.

Brooke and Seeger were alike in age, alike in general educational condition, although one came from the American and the other from the English Cambridge, alike in a desire to know and to feel experience, alike in that to each life was a cup which each willed to drink, both to its fullness and to its depths, alike in binding to themselves friendships, not with hoops of steel, but with willowy bands of mutual love, alike in wide travel, and alike in romantic vision and power and promise. They were also alike in coming into and in giving up life, within a few months of each other, in its early years, while still the victory was seen only by the eye of faith. Of the two, the Englishman is undoubtedly the greater. An assured place he holds in the gallery of song. But Seeger is also sure of a lasting place, even if not so high. His "I have a Rendezvous with Death" and his "Ode in Memory of the American Volunteers Fallen for France" are to endure as bronze. I wish to write out "I have a Rendezvous with Death," as standing for the most moving poem written by an American college graduate who served as a soldier.

I have a rendezvous with Death
At some disputed barricade,
When Spring comes back with rustling shade
And apple-blossoms fill the air ---
I have a rendezvous with Death
When Spring brings back blue days and fair.

It may be he shall take my hand
And lead me into his dark land,
And close my eyes and quench my breath---
It may be I shall pass him still.
I have a rendezvous with Death
On some scarred slope of battered hill,
When Spring comes round again this year
And the first meadow-flowers appear.

God knows 'twere better to be deep
Pillowed in silk and scented down,
Where Love throbs out in blissful sleep,
Pulse nigh to pulse, and breath to breath,
Where hushed awakenings are dear.
But I've a rendezvous with Death
At midnight in some naming town,
When Spring trips north again this year,
And I to my pledged word am true,
I shall not fail that rendezvous.(43)

It must not, however, be inferred that all the poetry of college soldiers, or of soldiers of any type, was of the heroic couplet only. All experiences of the camp, of the march, of the mess, of the drill, came into view. Some of the resulting verses were witty, some were humorous, some were profane --- sinlessly and properly profane! Yet the quantity of happy verse was small, and its general quality was that of doggerel. Perhaps the most popular of all such verse was a burlesque of Kipling's "Gunga Din" which, under the title of "Hunk o' Tin," was dear to soldiers both at home and overseas.(44) The simple truth is that life and death, suffering and shock, and all experiences, actual or imagined, were altogether too common and too somber to invite the light touch. I have sought among many pages of verse to find examples of quickened pleasure and merriment in the writer. One of the few, which I do venture to quote, seems to bear in its spirit the ring of some of Kipling's lines. Kipling ever appeals to the soldier's soul. It has the title of "The Song of the Dead Ambulance Men."

We're sick of your harps and your haloes, of your well-kept heavenly things,
Of your roads without even a shell-hole (we'll be damned if we'll use your wings).
We're sick and tired of smoking when cigarettes flow so free
That we throw the butts half-burnt beside your Pearly Sea.
We know that we died like heroes for the lives of the men who fell,
But that's no smitten reason why we have to grow fat as hell!
Say, give us the ghost of an ambulance and let us drive away
Somewhere, where there's an angel-fight, and there, by the Lord, we'll stay.(45)

These numerous quotations may tend to give the impression that it was only the college men who fell fighting who wrote great odes. No impression could be further from the fact. Though the toll of singers was heart-breaking --- some fifty in number, of American and of English birth ---yet there were singers who were not able to wear khaki, or, if they wore it, who did not fall, whose voices will last for the decades or the centuries. The psychological imagination may interpret war quite as deeply in the college yard and lawn as in the trench, or in the hospital. The only question is whether the writer does possess the imagination of a poet. The actual participation in the battle, if adding to the historic impressiveness of the scene, may yet serve to congest and to stifle the imagination. In order to discover war poems which were not written with the point of the sword dipped in the blood of the writer, one need not go beyond Tennyson's "Ode on the Death of the Duke of Wellington," or Whitman's "Drum Taps."

Neither the Englishman nor the American singer stood on the firing line.

These poems, and numberless others which might be gathered up, are, on the whole, as was said at the beginning of this chapter, poems of the inner life. They are essentially studies of the soul. Being studies of the soul, they are impressively alike. They are sung in many meters and to many tunes. But they do serve to illustrate Shelley's remark when he speaks of "That great poem which all poets, like the coöperating thoughts of one great mind, have built up since the beginning of the world."

Seeger, Brooke, and their fellow singers, like Keats, Shelley, and Byron, died young. In few years, and brief, they experienced much and lived deeply. They had passion and thought and reflection. Both of them had vision, vision of the heart, as well as of the poetic imagination.

What Brooke or Seeger would have produced had they lived to the age of forty, or of fifty, is as vain as to ask to what heights Keats would have soared had he lived to twice his score and six years. One recalls that the life of Tennyson and of Browning began in or near the first, and closed in or near the last, decade of the nineteenth century. One does not forget either that Pope, of a wholly unlike order, had attained, in his three decades, a secure place in English poesy. But Brooke belonged to an order of singers of the inner life which is as capable of as endless a development and of as diverse attainment as are the depths and variations of the human soul. One must be content in reverently and sorrowfully thinking with one greater than either the young American or the young English singer, "For Lycidas is dead, dead ere his prime."

Without doubt the Commemoration Ode of Tames Russell Lowell still remains as the most quickening of all war poems written in America. Bold would be the prophet who should declare that as great an ode would be inspired to commemorate the world war. Standing next to it, though at a distance, is a sonnet of a friend and disciple of Lowell, Woodberry:--

"I pray for peace; yet peace is but a prayer.
   How many wars have been in my brief years!
   All races and all faiths, both hemispheres,
My eyes have seen embattled everywhere
The wide earth through; yet do I not despair
   Of peace, that slowly through far ages nears,
   Though not to me the golden morn appears;
My faith is perfect in time's issue fair.

For man doth build on an eternal scale,
   And his ideals are framed of hope deferred;
The millennium came not; yet Christ did not fail,
   Though ever unaccomplished is His word;
Him Prince of Peace, though unenthroned, we hail,
   Supreme when in all bosoms He be heard."(46)

The poet is he who sees into the inmost heart of things. The history of the war in its realities, in its dismays, in its despairs and distresses, in its heroisms and victories, in its partings and sorrows, in its glories and exultations, will ever find imperishable symbols and tokens in the poems of college men. They are a moving interpretation of the experiences of the nations and of all men.

"Across the calm, clear sky of God
A great white glory gleams.
The young men find the altar-stairs
Of world-rapt hopes and dreams.
The Beast shall crumble into dust,
The blood-stained crown will fall
Before the shining armies
Of the Lord, the God of All."(47)

As the war was an international war, so the relations of American colleges to other nations and to their educational forces became significant. These relations assumed several forms. Among these forms was a study of the language and literature of different peoples and especially of France, the reception by the colleges of academic commissions from these countries; the offering and the acceptance of hospitality to American teachers in foreign capitols; the transfer of college education under American conditions to the camps in France; and the entrance of American student soldiers into British and French universities. It was a unique record of diverse experiences, of gracious courtesies and of forceful efficiency.

Early in the great conflict the antagonistic feeling of the American college toward Germany became manifest. The forcefulness of the command or the wisdom of the counsel of the president to maintain neutrality was not sufficiently strong to prevent most colleges from indicating their sympathy with the cause of the Allies. The pro-German expressions were far less numerous and less compelling than the great number of American teachers educated in Berlin, Leipsic and Munich would have given ground for expecting. As the war advanced, however, the antagonism became more ardent; and at the time of America's entrance, the German cause found few friends in American institutions of the higher education.

The international relation took on in a striking degree the linguistic form. In a special way it at once came to be related to the abolition of German as a study in the public schools and colleges. On one side the demand was strong and insistent that all association with the language and the literature of a people commonly believed to be so inhuman and bestial should cease. This demand was heard in such vigorous paragraphs as these:

"The sound of the German language or the sight of a printed page in German, reminds us of the murder of a million helpless old men, unarmed men, women and children; the driving of about 100,000 young French, Belgian and Polish women into compulsory prostitution for Germany's soldiers; ... the destruction of many hospital and relief ships, and the crucifixion of Canadian soldier prisoners.

"Henceforth in all English speaking countries, the German language will be a handicap to every person who uses it. In America, in England and all British dependencies, the German language now is a dead language! All those who speak it or read it will in self-defense conceal that fact. Never again will it be needed anywhere in the Western Hemisphere, save as a reference language. German 'science' now is just as loathsome as German militarism. What is more, it will long remain so."(48)

Under such emotional excitement many cities and towns eliminated German from their course of study. In Wisconsin the number of schools offering studies in German fell from two hundred and eighty-five to forty-eight. The colleges, however, were not moved, under emotional stress to action so drastic. Yet, the colleges did find that the students, taking the matter into their own hands, were cutting out German from their list of electives. Institutions excused about one-half of their professors of German, having little teaching for them to give, and the number of students of German fell in some colleges to a tenth of the former enrollment.

But councils saner and safer came to prevail in most colleges and universities in the autumn of the year in which the armistice was signed. It was remembered and remarked that industrial relations would finally be reëstablished with Germany and that a knowledge of the language would aid in such reestablishment. It was pointed out that the technical and scientific writings of Germany were valuable. It was argued that the history of Germany and its philology shed light on English history and research. It was, of course, declared that Goethe and Schiller are universal interpreters. The persuasiveness of the arguments received emphasis from the extent to which German was studied in the schools of England and of France. The number of schools studying the language in England in the year 1918 was practically equivalent to the number studying it in the year 1911. France likewise was pursuing a wiser policy than was pursued in the schools in certain American states and capitols. The antagonism to everything German that was manifested in France in the first months of the war had largely passed away by the year 1916. The Minister of Public Instruction under the influence of normal popular opinion was able to say that from one-fourth to one-third of all pupils enrolled in French schools were studying the language, which two years before had been tabooed. It was argued by the Ministerial Commission in a report made to the Ministry of War, that France should not be ignorant of the German language. Every manifestation of her activities should be watched. Her veneer of innocent goodness naturally demanded special insight of the watchmen. The wisest method and strongest force for securing such knowledge lay in a knowledge of the German tongue.

Yet, though the study of the German language was declining in American colleges, as well as the force of German arms in France, the language of France itself was advancing, as well as the French arms, in the autumn of 1918. If the number of German students was divided by four or a larger figure, the number of French students was multiplied also by at least four. The teachers of the Romance languages in seventeen American universities addressed a letter to other co-workers in the country, in which in moving paragraphs it was said:

"The heart and the mind of America are turning, as never before, to France. To us the signs of this new interest appear in the increased enrollments in French reported by many schools and colleges. It is for us to guide and develop this interest, to make it intelligent, to satisfy it, to give it permanence.

"If we have taught willingly before, we should teach now with a whole-hearted enthusiasm. We are the interpreters of France to America. Let us, in comment and in choice of books, select for emphasis just those elements of French life and French thought that our own country most needs: resolute clearness, keen analysis, respect for the idea, open-mindedness, reference to universal standards, the acquisition of liberty through discipline.

"In our linguistic courses there is need for the confirmation and the extension of new purposes and new methods. In years past the main object of our work, both secondary and collegiate, was to enable the student to understand printed French. Recently the rights of spoken French have received increasing recognition. Now, as a result of the war, those rights are evident. For there is now, and there will be in the time of peace, a mingling of the two peoples, the French and the American, such as there has never been before. Of those whom we teach many will have cause to go to France, many will welcome Frenchmen here. Our former pupils as a whole, have not received a speaking knowledge of French; and those among them who are facing service abroad are painfully conscious of the lack. The students in our enlarging classes to-day want spoken French, and they are entitled to have the want supplied.

"In the Italian courses there is need for the same change in linguistic plan, and for similar discrimination in critical emphasis. We may well seek the broad vision of life from the mount of the centuries, the patience, the delight in fine intellectual achievement, the scrutiny of fundamental truth, that mark the compatriots of Dante. And the service of the interpreter is even more necessary in this case, for Italy, past and present, is still unduly unfamiliar to our countrymen.

"The greatest immediate values of the study of Spanish seem to lie in the possibility of developing an intelligent acquaintance and a sound mutual respect between the Spanish-speaking republics and our own."(49)

A service coöperative between French homes and schools and American institutions was found in a delegation of French girls assigned to American colleges. Through the Association of American Colleges, it was arranged for about one hundred and fifty French girls to become American students. In advance of their departing from their own shores, they had accepted a grant of free scholarships,---instruction, board and rooms,--- in some seventy-five institutions. Of this method of international coöperation, Professor Cestre, Exchange Professor in Harvard University, has said:

"Nothing can touch the heart of the French nation more deeply than the steps taken by the Association of American Colleges to open scholarships in American Girls' Colleges to one hundred French women students. There is such warm-heartedness in the offer that the French will see in it one of the readiest and most significant proofs of America's friendship toward France. Such sanguine response of a whole country's feeling to the behavior of another country was never recorded in history. Indeed, there is something changed in the world when for the oldtime indifference or aloofness between nations one sees substituted such enthusiastic loving-kindness as thus manifested by America toward France. A firm and durable basis for international amity and peace is definitely planted when so noble expressions of idealistic admiration and so liberal movement of collective generosity are possible. I say it emphatically in the name of my countrymen: as the men of France were rewarded for their sacrifice when President Wilson declared that the restoration of Alsace-Lorraine to France was a question of right in which the whole world was interested, so the women of France are repaid for their unflinching devotion and steadfastness under the greatest strain in the history of nations by this moving and chivalrous purpose of America.

"Some of these French girls will be led by their altered circumstances, or tempted by the hold this American life will lay on them, or induced by the appeal of apostleship, to stay in this country as teachers of French in schools and colleges. They will be the permanent, living witnesses of the shameful treatment inflicted by Germany on her neighbors, and also the token-bearers and the thanks-givers testifying to the generous friendship of America and to the undying gratefulness of France. They will supply, to some extent, the need of good French teachers in this country after the war, preventing (let us devoutly hope) the greatest evil which might befall American education, namely, that the teaching of French, out of misplaced, good-natured slackness, should be passed over to the Germans, male or female, turned idle by the discrediting of German classics by American children. How many of such German teachers know French? And in what spirit would they interpret la douce France, even if they sincerely tried to do justice to her humane civilization and gentle sociability?"

It should be added that the high hopes thus entertained have been realized by the presence of these young women in American colleges. They have fitted well into the social and academic life. If they have received much, they have also given much. Their presence has brought a foreign world near to the isolated American student. This international transmigration is one of the happiest of the minor elements in current international scholastic history. The first delegation was followed by a second and smaller one, and with equally satisfactory results.

The international relations took on also the reception of educational commissions from Great Britain and from France. The most important of these commissions was the British University Mission which visited American colleges in the autumn of 1918. Its members represented the older universities, the newer universities of the Midlands and the University of London. The Chairman was Doctor Arthur E. Shipley, Master of Christ's College and Vice-Chancellor of Cambridge University. He wrote soon after the conclusion of the service: --

"For more than sixty days we went up and down this vast country, traveling many thousands of miles and seeing so many universities and colleges and so many presidents and professors that those amongst us who had not hitherto had the privilege of visiting the United States formed the idea that all its cities are university cities and that all the inhabitants are professors, an idea very awful to contemplate!"(50)

The results directly flowing from the presence of this Mission were, if not of commanding importance, at least informing and inspiring. It was proved that there exists a certain fundamental fellowship between British and American universities. Friendliness and coöperation were constant keynotes. Through the addresses of the members of the Mission and many personal conferences, hundreds of students were informed of the opportunities for graduate study found in England, and be it said the members of the Mission became acquainted with the activities of the higher education in the new world.

The impression made by the Mission on American thought and feeling, in the opinion of American educators, was of the highest value. Doctor Capen, of the Bureau of Education, said:

"A result, which ought to be of great benefit to American education, is the presentation of the view that intellectual achievement cannot properly be measured by mechanical devices."(51)

Professor Kirsopp Lake (Lincoln, '91) now of Harvard University wrote, in a similar spirit: "Will the powers that be at Oxford remember with sufficient vividness that in education, as in other things, machinery is less important than the object for which it is designed?"(52)

Professor Schelling, of the University of Pennsylvania, affirmed: "The war must bring many changes, to our universities as elsewhere. If among many other things, it shall bring us into closer bonds of educational and intellectual union with those who speak our tongue, are ruled by laws descended from the same laws which govern us, vitalized by the same love of liberty and of free institutions which sustain us, we can assuredly count these things as momentous gains."(53)

The Chairman of the Mission, Vice-Chancellor Shipley, later said: "The American people are determined to have education, and from experience of thirty-two years of America I have come to the conclusion that Americans generally get what they set out for. What they mean by education is not in all cases clear to themselves. They are apt to be a little uncritical and apt to be a little influenced by long and uncommon words. From Massachusetts to Texas and from Minneapolis to Charlottesville we have found the same high hopes of the power of education in developing the best qualities of the young.

"However, the instructions of the British Government to us were to do what we could to bring the two Anglo-Saxon nations together, and the most effective way of doing this seems to be by means of the young. We hope to exchange both persons and. ideas. "(1) With regard to the persons, we hope that a certain number of students will come from Great Britain to the United States, just as a limited number of American students now come to Great Britain under the Rhodes Trustees. With regard to students, and here I may speak for myself, I think that we should not exchange students with rare exceptions, until they have graduated. It is the young A. B. in my opinion who would most benefit by visiting another country, and I think it is unfortunate to take a man away from his own university until he has completed his course. (2) I would emphasize the fact here that man includes woman. (3) I think the students should be selected not by a competitive examination but by some such board as used to select the King Edward VII German scholars and which now selects the members of the Egyptian and Soudanese Government service. (4) The student when selected should have absolute liberty of choice as to the university or professor he wishes to study at or under. He should not be confined, as is the case with Rhodes Scholars, to one university."(54)

The members of the Mission and the professors and presidents in American colleges agreed in the primary element that the exchange of students and of teachers, between the universities of the two branches of the English-speaking race, should be heartily promoted. For this purpose, all wise and proper machinery should be set up.

Aside from the personalities of this Mission and of other commissions, messages of various sorts were frequently exchanged between the universities of the New and of the Old World which are illustrative of a most important increase of fellowship. The Rector of the University of Athens, for instance, addressed the universities of America with reference to the damages wrought by the Bulgarians in Eastern Macedonia. He wrote:

"Incendiarism, slavery, wholesale deportations, torments and excesses of all sorts, these are the means used by the Bulgar --- in order to exterminate Hellenism, a behavior worthy of hordes, such as appeared in the darkest times of history."

The students, too, of the colleges of the Yugo-Slavs, addressed a letter to their fellow students in the United States, in which they said:--

"All the Yugo-Slavs are convinced that the deadly struggle in which they are engaged in conjunction with their grand Allies will result in a just and lasting peace, and bring them to that which they are justly entitled, viz:--- the unity and independence of their nation.

"The Yugo-Slavs are proud to number among their Allies the great American democracy, and we, representing the Yugo-Slav students, as well as those fighting in the Servian Army as those who are enrolled against their will in the armies of the enemy or who are languishing in German or Hungarian prisons, address to you, dear fellow students, our cordial and affectionate greetings."(55)

It is also worthy of note that the nefarious letter addressed by the ninety-three professors in the German universities to their colleagues of other nations, in the first months of the war, awoke the severest condemnation in American college halls. The lack of logic in this communication made a deep impression upon both the reason and the heart of American teachers. The presumptuousness indicated in the simple declarations of the infamous document seemed to be one of the surest evidences of the subordination of the professorial to the military authorities. It was one of the hardest blows ever inflicted upon the belief current among American teachers, that the German university system stood for freedom of teaching. As President Butler of Columbia University said: "That appeal was an unmixed mass of untruths, and the stain which it placed upon the intellectual and moral integrity of German scholars and men of science will forever remain one of the most deplorable and discouraging events of the war which German militarism and Prussian autocracy forced upon the peaceful and liberty-loving nations of the world."(56)

This letter, after a year following the declaration of the armistice, was made the subject of a half-apologetic note by several of its signers. It was confessed that pressure was exerted by the German government to secure its issue and that professors were urged by their colleagues to append their names. Both despite and because of these confessions, it still remains one of the dark and sinister blots on the German university system.

But this species of unreasonable and impetuous propaganda was only a microcosm of the principles and methods which German universities and professors had been following for more than forty years. In the preaching and teaching of the older academic and imperial gospel, great professors like Mommsen, Droyser, Sybel and Treitschke were far-resounding voices and potent personalities. They helped to make history as well as to write it. They worked both with the chancellories and with the general staff. They were apologists for the Ems dispatch. Professor Delbruck pronounced on that dispatch a benediction ---"Blessed be the hand that traced those lines."

They represented the height and depth of Chauvinism. From his chair in the University of Berlin Treitschke spoke not only to the thousands of vigorous, virile and volatile students, but also through them to the whole German people. He was an apt pupil of the great Frederick's teaching. A world dominion won by military power was the comprehensive and consummate text. Such was the foreign and home Gospel which was designed to unite and to Prussianize all Germany. The voice was indeed the voice of Treitschke, but the Gospel was the Gospel of Frederick the Great. The state was the real commander and personality. That the end justifies the means, that the stronger should triumph over the weak, that the small nations should yield to the large, that material force, and not conscience, rules and should rule mankind: --- these were among the beatitudes of the academic gospel. The state first made the university and then the university helped to make the state,--- the state universal, omnipotent, omnipresent.

Among the unique and the more important of international relations was that foundation which became known as the American University Union. Established in Paris in the midsummer of 1917, it had for its purpose, "To meet the needs of American university and college men and their friends who were in Europe for military or other service in the cause of the Allies." Its more specific purpose was:

"1. To provide at moderate cost a home with the privilege of a simple club for American college men and their friends passing through Paris or on furlough: the privilege to include information bureau, writing and newspaper room, library, dining-room, bed-rooms, baths, social features, opportunities for physical recreation, entertainments, medical advice, etc.

"2. To provide a headquarters for the various bureaus already established or to be established in France by representative American universities, colleges and technical schools.

"3. To coöperate with these bureaus when established, and in their absence to aid institutions, parents, or friends, in securing information about college men in all forms of war service, reporting on casualties, visiting the sick and wounded, giving advice, serving as a means of communication with them, etc."

About one hundred and fifty American colleges were formally enrolled; and no less than thirty-five thousand men registered at its offices. Its headquarters was established in the Royal Palace Hotel. Branches were afterwards opened in London and in Rome. The Union proved to be not only a social club, but also an organization for war relief. It served as an important bond of union between the United States and the Allies. Its usefulness did not cease with the ending of hostilities. It is still, under somewhat changed conditions, serving the college men of the United States residing abroad.

Of the international academic activities and relations of the American Expeditionary Forces the American University in France was perhaps the first in importance as it was the last in time. This educational service was at its beginning under the charge of the Young Men's Christian Association. It had for its special executives, Professor John Erskine of Columbia University, Dr. Frank E. Spaulding, Superintendent of the Cleveland public schools, and Dr. Kenyon L. Butterfield, President of the Massachusetts Agricultural College. It was a foundation designed to give a higher education to American soldiers, serving in France who had been made free from certain military duties. It was placed in Beaune, Côte d'Or. One reason for the choice of this location lay in the fact that hospital buildings, already erected, were unoccupied, and were sufficient to serve some eight thousand students and teachers. The University was administered by military authority, Colonel Ira L. Reeves, formerly President of Norwich University, Vermont, being made president.

The University was composed of as many and as different departments as a College of Agriculture, a College of Arts, a College of Business, a College of Education, a College of Engineering, a College of Journalism, a College of Law, a College of Letters, a College of the Medical Sciences, a College of Music, a College of Science, an Art Training Center at Bellevue, the Farm School of Allerey, and the Division and Post Schools at Beaune.

The teachers, numbering about one thousand, were drawn from the army and from the list of civilians, and were usually graduates of American schools and universities. The courses of instruction offered were those usually found in American academic curricula.

The students were likewise of diverse origins. They represented the usual scholastic training required for admission to the Freshman year of the ordinary college. Not a few of them had already been college students. They numbered about ten thousand, and the number credited to each state ran from seven --- who claimed Nevada as their place of residence --- to seven hundred seventy-one --- who came from Pennsylvania. Seven hundred sixty-six were from the state of New York, and seven hundred and twelve from Illinois. The State of Ohio contributed four hundred eighty men, Texas four hundred fifty-two, Michigan three hundred fifty-nine, Minnesota three hundred forty-nine, Indiana three hundred seventy-seven, every state in the Union being represented.

The Farm School at Allerey proved to be the most attractive, in which twenty-three hundred were enrolled, although in the more formal School of Agriculture, about seven hundred were registered. Following closely the Farm School was the College of Business, in which a number slightly below two thousand were matriculated. The College of Letters registered about a thousand, the College of Sciences, six hundred forty, the College of Engineering, six hundred sixteen, the College of Law, one hundred fifty-nine, and the College of Journalism, one hundred thirty-eight.

Dr. Kenyon L. Butterfield, an Educational Director, has written, regarding the worth of this service:

"I am satisfied that its work was of very great value indeed. It had to be built hurriedly; it had to utilize material at hand; it had to adapt itself to unusual and changing conditions ---but it 'worked.' Men were reached intellectually and spiritually. Technical information, knowledge of foreign conditions and languages, and great incentives were flower and fruit of the educational effort. It was all very much worth while, and particularly because it was being done for American young men. It was a joy to work with them, to see them at close range, to realize their capacity for leadership."(57)

Significant details of the work of American students at Beaune and in the universities of France have been given me by another member of the Educational Commission, Dr. Frank E. Spaulding. He has said:

". . . I think the most significant and the most valuable part of the result of this work in the French universities will be found not in what was actually learned in the classroom, not in the results which we look for in the classroom, although they were indeed very considerable and significant, but the most valuable result will indeed be found in the association of these intelligent, educated, chosen, selected young men, with the French students and with the people of the French communities where these universities were located. Without exception, the citizens of these French university towns gave great thought and constant care to make the life of our American students pleasant and agreeable and profitable.

"As was to be expected, the American students developed very quickly many of the characteristic activities of the American university and college. I think that, without exception, every group of American students at once began to issue some kind of college paper. In two or three instances, at least, they entered into an arrangement with some local paper whereby they published one edition a week at least, in coöperation with the local authorities. For instance, the first paper of that kind that I recall seeing was published at the University of Montpelier. In fact most of the four-page sheet was American one side entirely, which was the front page --- the reverse was French, also a front page. There was a similar publication at Dijon. I presume there may have been others, with the characteristic types of American journalism, including advertising and everything else. Such things as that entered into the spirit in which they did anything. It was, I think, of great value and made a lasting impression both on the American students and the French people concerned. There was also a system of personal exchanges among these men. Each American student was yoked up with some French student for the sake of the language, and intimate intercourse and association."

American soldier students, moreover, to the number of more than two thousand, were also enrolled in the universities of England, Scotland, Wales and Ireland. They came from each of the states, Pennsylvania furnishing the largest number, one hundred seventy-six; New York, one hundred fifty-nine; Illinois, one hundred twenty-six; and Ohio, one hundred twenty-four. In more than three hundred American colleges, these men had previously been enrolled. Though they were scattered in a dozen different universities, the Student Detachment maintained a good degree of unified academic life. Inter-university visits, correspondence, and, in particular, a journal, "The American Soldier Student," served to join together these men in a foreign land. The paper, quite similar to the weekly paper published in hundreds of American colleges, in its number of June 25th, 1918, summed up the impressions, of three or more months, of British education:

"No academic world," it is stated, "ever flung open its doors with greater hospitality than did this island one . . . . The great outstanding fact is that, in spite of the effects of the war upon faculty and fabric, the British institutions absorbed over two thousand American students as well as great numbers of Colonials in the third term of the academic year, and did it in a manner that will make it stand long as a high-water mark of academic hospitality. . . But we did not confine our studies to books, or our steps to the limits of, our college. Even before we had time to explore our college town we were sought out by friends of the Entente, and civilian hospitality vied with the academic. . . . To a greater or less extent all of us availed ourselves of the countless opportunities afforded to enter into the life of our respective communities. We were not put off with one or two large formal affairs, we were taken into the home, and we were made to feel at home. Soon we began to go further afield. We made the whole kingdom our campus. We were scattered from Cambridge to Galway, and Bristol to Aberdeen; in England, Scotland, Wales, and Ireland: Most all of us visited the other fellow's diggings, and took in every place of interest on the way. Never perhaps in the history of the world has a body of students traveled so much in a limited period of time as we did. We made the so-called 'wandering students' of the Middle Ages look like hermits. Stratford-on-Avon, Loch Lomond, the Wye Valley, Blarney, and the Lakes of Killarney; is there any one who has not visited most if not all of these? And these are only the beginning of a long list which takes us to every corner of the two main islands and to some of the smaller ones. We were to be found in the tin, coal, and iron mines in Cornwall, Wales, and the Midlands; in the great textile, and iron and steel industries of Manchester, Sheffield, Leeds, and Birmingham; in the shipyards on the Clyde; at the stock farms in Scotland, and on Jersey and Guernsey,---but the list is endless. We met all kinds of people, rich and poor, educated and uneducated, and everywhere we were welcomed with a warmth such as we would give our own. Most of us have told one another that we have learned a lot and unlearned a lot more about the British. We have learned that they and we have fundamentally the same outlook on life, the same aims and the same ideals. Altogether we found them much more like ourselves than we had thought. This suggests a way in which we can do a little to show our appreciation of a hospitality that we cannot repay. Now that we have had our earlier impressions of the British modified and rectified, let every one of us see to it that those with whom we come in contact at home benefit by our experiences here."

The final word was a word of duty and of quickening for themselves returning to their homes and their colleges.

"Returning to our homes in all corners of the Union, we can be a power in the realm of Anglo-American relationships if we help our neighbors to see and understand the British people as we do now. If we do this, the interesting educational experiment we are now completing will have proved to be a success, even if not a single one of us ever 'cracked a book.'"(58)

Apparently the impression which was made by the American students at Oxford was in turn pleasant and grateful. They entered with earnestness into all sides of the Oxford life, teaching, athletic, personal. They seemed rather more eager to know the teachers than to know the subjects taught. The courses they took represented variety rather than consistency, and these courses were determined largely by the interest which the lecturer, or teacher, himself awakened. Oxford idling --- be it ever so profitable --- apparently had less attractiveness for them than it has for the regular Oxford man. Out of the condition, every student apparently, by his own confession, received a good deal of intellectual quickening. This quickening was in no small part colored by a personal relationship, a relationship which, by the testimony of Oxford dons, was pleasant to them also.

In numbers of slight, but in significance, of great, value is a fact connected with the American Rhodes Scholars of Oxford. Since the inauguration of this symbol of English speaking fellowship in 1904 four hundred men have gone from the American states and colleges to Oxford. Of this number about three hundred were enrolled in the service, and twelve of this number died.

In the international relationships of the American college, it is never to be forgotten that, after all, scholarship is one of the comprehensive and enduring bonds of internationalism. An American teacher, Professor William Henry Hulme of Western Reserve University in an address, given to the Modern Language Association of America, in the year 1916 said:

"In a practical way, scholarship has performed wonders in the matter of drawing nations closer together during the last one hundred years. The studies of history, philology, philosophy and science have in that time all ceased to be national ---have become international. How much have history and philology done, working along ethnical, anthropological lines, to familiarize people everywhere with the close kinship of nations in language, laws, political and social institutions, as well as in racial qualities, character, and temperament! And the sciences of biology and geology have revealed the marvelous unity and harmony that exists among all the creatures and objects of animate and inanimate nature. The names of many of the famous scholars of the past have become in the international sense household words. The Grimm brothers not only created the science of comparative grammar, but they opened a great new world of folk-lore and fable, in which millions and millions of children from every part of the story-loving universe have dreamed and reveled for almost a century and will continue to do so to the end of time. The study of ancient and mediæval mythology from the comparative point of view has under the guidance of such scholars as Müllendorf, Meyer, and Bugge laid students in every part of the world under the greatest obligations. The debt of the world to the epoch-making discoveries in the field of science which Charles Darwin made and described is incalculable. The names and fame of those inspiring teachers and eminent scholars, Paul Meyer and Gaston Paris, have reached and helped students of mediæval literature in every corner of the globe."(59)

The personal international relation,- --and after all the personal is more important than the literary,--- is well intimated in a tribute paid to the oldest American college by a patient in the 22nd General Hospital of France. The oldest American college provided supplies to the sisters and doctors of that hospital.