On that last great day of the war, the day of the celebration of victory in Paris, the 14th of July, 1919, which was also Bastille Day, a large, deep casket was placed beneath the Arch of Triumph. It was in commemoration of the fallen. On the surface was an austere figure of winged Victory bearing a palm branch. By day and by night a noble guard of honor watched the memorial. Past its side there filed for hours out of the great line of march, a procession of those families who had lost a member. These mourners clothed in black might possibly have seemed to see lying at the bottom of the casket, the face of husband, son, brother. Each family that had made the supreme sacrifice of a member was allowed to throw into the cenotaph a single flower. Soon the huge casket was filled with memorial blossoms. France gave up more than a million and three hundred thousand of her sons in the consummate struggle.

By the last summary the United States had given up less than eighty thousand. The figures on July 14th, 1919, were as follows:(61)

Of these numbers less than ten per cent. were college men. Although the casualty list will increase for years to come, yet it is safe to say that about six thousand, five hundred of the hundred and seventy thousand of college men who enlisted died in the service.

The list that follows includes teachers, graduates, and former students. It does not include, be it said, the members of the Students' Army Training Corps. The percentage, therefore, of those who have lost their lives in the service is about four. This percentage is practically identical with the percentage of the men who fell, who were members of the Expeditionary Force.

The tables which follow are composed of reports made in most cases from statements furnished by the institutions themselves. Necessarily they are imperfect. Every week changes the facts. Men will continue to die from the effect of the war for years to come. Reports, too, of men who died months or even years ago are delayed in reaching their colleges. But the statements are the fullest that can now be offered, and substantially the changes to be made in them in the future will not fundamentally alter the present compilations.

These facts are most significant. They enlighten the understanding as well as move the heart. But the comparative relation of the number of the fallen to the number of the enlisted becomes mightily more significant. Let me give some examples:

New York University, from all its departments, gave 1,476 men, graduates and students, of whom 3 died, or 2.4 per cent.

The University of Rochester enrolled 653 graduates and students in the service, of whom 11 died, or 1.68 per cent.

Columbia University sent between 8,000 and 9,000 into the service, of whom 188, or more, did not return, or 2.08 per cent.

Syracuse University gave 2,400 to the service, of whom 90 died, or 3.8 per cent.

Union University, from its undergraduate department, enrolled 876, graduates and students, in the service, of whom 26, died, or 3.08 per cent.

Hamilton College sent 761 into the service, of whom 13 did not return, or 1.7 per cent.

Fordham University, from its undergraduate department graduates and students, gave 493, and from its professional departments, 1001, of whom 60' did not return, or 4 per cent.

Williams College sent 2,229 into the service, of whom 49 did not return, or 2.2 per cent.

Massachusetts Agricultural College gave 1,330 to the service, of whom 50 died, or 3.75 per cent.

Worcester Polytechnic Institute sent 673 into the service, of whom 16 died, or 2.38 per cent.

Harvard University sent 9,009 men into the service, of whom 322 died, or 3.6. per cent.

Lafayette College enrolled 1,056 men, graduates and students, and 9 faculty members, in the service, of whom 32 did not return, or 3.09 per cent.

Pennsylvania College (not University) sent 285 into the service, of whom 12 died, or 4.2 per cent.

The University of Pittsburgh, from its undergraduate and professional departments, enrolled 2,559, graduates and students, and from its faculty members, 167, of whom 63 have fallen, or 2.3 per cent.

Swarthmore College, from its undergraduate department, sent 286 graduates and students into the service, of whom 3 died, or 1 per cent.

Dickinson College, from both its undergraduate department and professional classes sent out 558 graduates and students, of whom 16 died, or 2.85 per cent.

Franklin and Marshall College, from it graduates and students enrolled 345 men, of whom 13 died, or 3.8 per cent.

Ohio Wesleyan University, from its undergraduate department, sent 460 graduates and students into the service, of whom 16 have fallen, or 3.5 per cent.

Miami University, from its undergraduate department, gave 575 to the service, of whom 7 died, or 1.2 per cent.

Trinity College (Connecticut), from its undergraduate department, gave 523 graduates and students to the service, of whom 20 died, or 3.8 per cent.

Wesleyan University (Connecticut), sent 1,291 men into the service, of whom 27 have fallen, or 2.1 per cent.

Yale University, from its graduates and students, sent 7,000 into the service, of whom 220 died, or 3.1 per cent.

Princeton University, from all departments, enrolled 6,050, graduates and students, in the service, of whom 147 did not return, or 2.4 per cent.

Rutgers College gave 854 to the service, of whom 23 did not return, or 2.7 per cent.

Johns Hopkins University, from all its departments, sent 1,255 into the service, of whom 24 died, or 1.9 per cent.

St. John's College (Maryland) enrolled 400, of whom 24 made the supreme sacrifice, or 6 per cent.

The University of Michigan gave over 10,000, graduates and students, from its undergraduate and professional departments, and 200 from its faculties, of whom 222 did not return, or 2.2 per cent.

Michigan Agricultural College, from its undergraduate department, enrolled 730 graduates and students, of whom 25 did not return, or 3.4 per cent.

Kalamazoo College gave 212 men to the service, of whom 9 died, or 4.2 per cent.

Alma College enrolled 177 in the service, of whom 9 did not return, or 5.08 per cent.

Hope College enrolled 120 in the service, of whom 1 died, or .8 per cent.

The University of Illinois gave 4,993 graduates and students to the service, of whom 167 died, or 3.34 per cent.

Illinois Wesleyan University, from its undergraduate department gave 91, and from its professional departments gave 80, graduates and students, to the service, of whom 11 died, or 6.4 per cent.

Lake Forest College, from its undergraduate department, sent 115 graduates and students into the service, of whom 1 did not return, or. 8 per cent.

Dartmouth College, from its undergraduate department gave about 1,200 graduates and students to the-service, of whom 90 did not return, or 7.5 per cent.

Rhode Island State College, from its undergraduate department, enrolled 146, of whom 8: died, or 5.5 per cent.

Brown University sent 2,048 into the service, of whom 42 did not return, or 2 per cent.

Purdue University, from its undergraduate department, gave 2,639 graduates and students to the service, of whom 54 did not return, or 2 per cent.

Leland Stanford Jr. University, from its undergraduate department, gave 1,300 graduates and students to the service, of whom 59 died, or 4.5 per cent.

The University of California, from all its departments, enrolled 4,037 graduates and students, and from its faculties, 121, in the service, of whom 98 did not return, or 2.35 per cent.

St. Louis University, from its undergraduate department, enrolled 1,330, from its professional departments, 1,170, and from its faculty members, 77, of whom 39 did not return, or 1.5 per cent.

Lawrence College, from its undergraduate department enrolled 305 members, graduates and students, in the service, of whom 11 died, or 3.6 per cent.

The University of Washington, including members from the undergraduate and professional departments, graduates and students, and from the faculty, enrolled 2,238 in the service, of whom 37 did not return, or 2.6 per cent.

The University of Virginia, including undergraduate and professional departments, enrolled 2,875 in the service, of whom 66 died, or 2.3 per cent.

Fisk University (colored), from all its departments, gave 145 to the service, of whom 7 did not return, or 4.55 per cent.

The University of Georgia, from all its departments, gave 1,693 to the service, of whom 42 died, or 2.5 per cent.

Bowdoin College, from its undergraduate and medical departments, enrolled 1,215 in the service, of whom 29 did not return, or 2.4 per cent.

The University of North Dakota, from its undergraduate department and professional departments, gave 826 graduates and students, and from its faculties, 35, of whom 33 died, or 3.8 per cent.

These records and proportions are both significant and moving, and possibly more moving to the heart than to the mind. For, one ever remembers, in tenderness and gratitude, as President Faunce, of Brown University, has said in reference to the fallen of his own University:

"These young men were dear to their own households, but hardly less dear to Alma Mater. Some of them were leaders on the campus in former days. They sang the old songs and played the old games and dreamed of a long, bright future. Sooner than any thought have their dreams come true. Their faces vanish, but their souls are marching on.

"'Taps' has sounded for them; 'reveille' for us. Heaver helping us, we will be worthy of our unseen comrades."(62)

Upon the fallen and upon the survivors, many honors and decorations were bestowed. The record for the University of California is representative:---

"Six countries awarded decorations to Californians who served in various capacities and places during the war. Fourteen of these men were recipients of two decorations; one received three.

"The most prized decoration, the Distinguished Service Cross, awarded for conspicuous bravery, was given to eleven men. Three others received the Distinguished Service Medal, given for highly valuable services.

"Other decorations and honors awarded are: -- France; Legion of Honor, 7; Croix de Guerre, 36; Médaille Santé, 1: Belgium; Order of the Crown, 9; Order of the Cross, 5: British decorations, 3: Italian decorations, 5: Servian, 1."(63)

If one were to attempt to make mention of special cases of bravery, these pages would become too numerous. And yet I cannot refrain from quoting certain instances which, precious and moving in themselves, are still only illustrative.

A member of the Class of 1915 in the University of California was awarded the Croix de Guerre and D. S. C. "for extraordinary heroism in action near the Meuse River. When the company on his left was checked by heavy machine gun fire he led a platoon forward and surrounded a large number of the enemy, capturing 155 prisoners and seventeen machine guns. Pushing on, he took the town of Mim St. Georges and many machine gun positions. Although painfully wounded he refused to be evacuated and remained with his men for two days until he was ordered to the rear."

Another member, of the class of 1916, was cited "for bravery and coolheadedness in bringing his plane safely to earth after it had caught fire at 3,000 m. altitude and making a good landing in a strange field and extinguishing the fire without help."

A member of the following class was awarded D. S. C. "for displaying conspicuous leadership. He led his platoon against an enemy battery while it was in action. Through his skillful maneuvering forty-two prisoners, ten pieces of artillery and five machine guns were captured."

A member of the class of 1918 was awarded the Croix de Guerre with palms by France at the battle of the Meuse, "for extraordinary heroism in action." He "displayed the highest qualities of courage and leadership in leading his platoon through to its objective wider a heavy barrage of machine-gun and artillery fire without flank support. He held his objective under murderous artillery and machine-gun fire until relieved."(64)

The percentage of American college men who gave up their lives in the Civil War is much larger than the proportion of those who made the great sacrifice in the present. In round numbers, Harvard sent 9,000 into the war, of whom about 322 died, or 3.6 per cent. To the Civil War she gave 1,232 men, of whom 138 died, or 11.2 per cent. To the Civil War also, Yale sent 832 men into the Northern service, of whom 100 died, or 12 per cent. Of the colleges of the South sending men into the Civil War, the University of Virginia and the University of North Carolina stand forth preëminent. No less than 200 students of the University of Virginia gave up their lives defending their State. Of the University of North Carolina, 312 died, which was about 40 per cent. of the graduates for the forty years preceding the attack on Ft. Sumter. It would probably be fair to say that the percentage of the number of college students, graduates and teachers losing their lives in the Civil War was four times greater than the percentage of the number losing their lives in the World War.

Of course, the reason is not far to seek. The Civil War occupied four years. The Civil War made a more mighty appeal to the colleges of the North than did the present war, and the appeal made to the colleges of the South in the great civil struggle was of incomparable intensity.

Inspiring and thrilling as was the record made by American college men in the present war, it was yet not so great as that made by the colleges of the Allies. The universities of Canada sent forth a far greater proportion of their sons than did the colleges and universities of the nation south of the line. The University of Toronto, for instance, contributed about 5,400 men from students' bench and professors' chair, of whom 604 gave up their lives, or somewhat more than 10 per cent. McGill University, at Montreal, offered a like record.

The entrance of the graduates and undergraduates of the English universities was at least as moving as the enlistment of the American college men. The English came into the war earlier by almost three years; and the war to them meant a richer sacrifice, almost as much more sacrificial as the English Cambridge is nearer to the Marne than is the American city on the Charles. The great human motives, however, were alike, influencing and inspiring both bodies of academic youth. The conditions of simplicity, of quietness, of naturalness, of high resolve, of spiritual exultation, and of honor mark both sets of students. A sense of humanity, of patriotism, and the instinct of doing one's duty were alike present. As with a garment, that Anglo-Saxon sense of duty clothed the American student and the English. Nelson's call has entered the academic cloister. Of this condition no worthier interpreter could be found than the Master of Magdalene at Cambridge, who writing of the enrollment of Cambridge men said:

"What I would make clear, above everything, is the extreme simplicity of it all. It is just the steady setting of a great current of emotion in one direction. It is not a question of argument or motive or excitement, or even of indignation; it is not even a conscious sense of duty or honor. It is something stronger and finer than all these, a passion of citizenship and humanity, which, so far from growing dim and faint in long peace and prosperity, seems to have been nurtured into a freshness and spontaneity which no imagination could have foreseen. Englishmen are often accused of individualism and an almost fantastic personal independence; it is all true, so far as the smaller things of life are concerned. But the war has revealed that when once a national need stands out, there is no sacrifice, no endurance, no loss which the Englishman is not prepared to face; and not to persuade himself into it, or to trample upon one part of his nature, but to mingle with the stream, to flow with it, and to find in this prodigious unity the satisfaction of his best hopes and desires." (65)

In a similar spirit, Sir Herbert Warren, the President of Magdalen, Oxford, wrote:

"No city in England is more changed by the War than Oxford. None speaks its effect more eloquently than this fair, mournful witness. It is with the eloquence of her sad, mute self, but the figures given below of the Oxford 'Roll of Service' are also eloquent. Eleven thousand old Oxford men have passed into the service of their country. Over 1,400 have already fallen; 100 more are missing ---1,500 in all, among them many of the best scholars, the finest athletes, the leaders of their years. But this does not bring home the absolute devastation and desolation of what may be called actual living Oxford as she was before the War. There should be well over 3,000 undergraduates at this moment in residence. In June, 1914, every college was full to overflowing. Step into any one to-day! If it is full at all, it is full of young soldiers in khaki! When they are out it is empty. The remnant of undergraduates, the invalid, the crippled, the neutrals, make absolutely no show at all. They can hardly be discovered. Colleges which before the War contained 150 now contain half a dozen. Emptiness, silence reign everywhere. The younger teachers are gone too."(66)

A similar record is the history of the Scotch universities of St. Andrews, Glasgow, Aberdeen and Edinburgh. St. Andrews, the oldest and the smallest of the quartette, sent 55 members of its staff enrolled, 498 graduates and former students, and 258 undergraduates, or a total of 811 into the service. Of this number 117 fell.

Glasgow, the second in age gave no less than 3,363 of students and graduates to the naval and military service, of whom no less than 2,650 held commissions. Of this number, 525 were killed or died of their wounds. The number of the missing exceeded 600.

A similar report belonged to the University of Aberdeen. 2,786 members and alumni were engaged in all branches of the service, of which 295 did not return.

The Roll of Honor of the University of Edinburgh was yet more conspicuous, although no more worthy. The total enrollment was 5,162, of whom 649 died.

The list of honors that belonged to each of these universities is long, distinguished, thrilling. In Edinburgh it included 500 names, in Aberdeen, more than 300, in St. Andrews more than 100. And in Glasgow, more than 600. The Scotch universities, always the home of patriotism, have never more gloriously proved their valor.

The newer Midland universities manifested the same spirit of patriotic devotion. The number of the students was in some instances reduced to one-fourth of the usual enrollment. They especially devoted themselves to scientific research, and of many kinds. Professors of chemistry and of mining, of course, made important contributions. Electrical engineers were engaged on wireless telegraphy and telephone equipment. Pathological professors were busy in hospitals. Individual universities made unique offerings. The coal, gas and fuel industry departments of Leeds were assigned to the duty of testing high explosives and of analyzing coal tar. The leather industry department gave attention to the leather equipment of the forces. The engineers tested metals in aeroplane spars and gave instruction in elementary machine work for munition workers. The textile industry department examined army cloth and aeroplane fabrics. And the color chemistry department took an active part in scientific research respecting the making of dyes. Each university of the Midlands mobilized every force for the winning of the war. Never was there an experience in their history which commandeered so completely all faculties and every facility.

But perhaps a yet more moving presentation is found in the contribution made by French students and teachers. No less than 259 professors of literature, science, medicine and law of the University of Paris or of the provincial universities gave up their lives, and the number of teachers, schoolmasters and professors in the various schools and colleges of France, who sacrificed all for their beautiful land reaches the great total of 6,000. The University of Paris writes 635 names on its roll of honor. The story of the student patriot and of the patriot student touches the depths of the grateful heart. The greatness of the offering becomes the more impressive when it is remembered that at the beginning of the year 1914 the number of students in the French Universities was only 42,000.

The record of the college men in the war of all nations is a record which thrills. I would not say it is a record more glorious than that of non-college men, but it is certainly at least as glorious. Hundreds of them have been cited for heroism. Each individual instance bears its own form of bravery, bu all are alike in certain great respects. Alike are the records in contempt of danger; alike in the endurance of pain; alike in the force of will overcoming physical weakness; alike in showing poise and calmness when the temptation was to lose one's head and one's nerves; alike in risking life to save a comrade; alike in supporting the morale of the line when it was in danger of breaking; alike in throwing away leave tickets and returning to the charge; alike, when one was wounded in leg or thigh, hopping and crawling, delivering messages. It was the brain as well as the heart and the will that did the duty of the hour and of the day. The record belongs alike to the air, to the sea, and to the land. It belongs quite as much to the wounded who recovered, as to the wounded and the dead. It really belongs quite as much and essentially to the college men who wanted to go overseas and over the top, and were not able, as to those who did venture and sacrificed all.

The mood in which all was borne was such as becometh the gentleman. The college man fought at Cambrai and Château Thierry, and with determination, discrimination, and exultation. He bore his wounds in hospital wards with a stoic patience which does not belong to impulsive youth. He wore his crown of thorns, as one has said, as if it were cap and bells. He was at once careless and serious, frivolous and religious, living in the full for to-day, and not forgetting the forthcoming to-morrow; free from hate for his enemy, but determined to punish him for all his ill doings, serving his native land, yet remembering he was a soldier of humanity; true to the human brotherhood, yet not forgetting the divine Father.

It is a ghostly procession, too, which the pious imagination beholds. The dead college men go marching by. It is a motley, young, silent throng. Some wear the scholar's gown and the student's cap, some the track, and some the rowing, uniform, but all do wear the khaki. All are watchful and strong, resolute and happy. Hope shines on their foreheads. A smile breaks on their faces, and a sense of freedom swings along in their march. With a lithe step and strong stride, they move steadily up their via sacra, keeping time to songs which seem half college and half patriotic. They have gone west, but their sun of remembrance shall never set in the college halls where once they walked, and on the walls of which, their names, cut in bronze, shall be held in lasting love.

"They gave their manly youth away for country and for God."
"The dead do not die
Who fall in the cause that angels uphold;
For the Right will be Right while the stars sail the sky."

The three commencements which fell in the American war period were each of unique impressiveness. They also showed fundamental differences in emphasis as in time. In the commencement of the year 1917, less than three months after the declaration of war, the martial note could be plainly heard, and it was heard quite as much in the voice of prophecy as of affirmation, quite as much as an expression of hope or of fear as of achievement. In the commencement of 1918 a different spirit prevailed.

Strength, determination, assurance, the glory of sacrifice, the value of duty, the absolute certainty of fighting the war unto victory, were the key-notes of address and oration. In the commencement of 1919 a still further change was seen and heard. Victory had been won. America was in tears, and was also glad and grateful.

The commencements of 1918 and of 1919 were impressive in the depleted classes that came up for their degrees. In one college at least, Hobart, in 1918, no commencement was held. In even the Civil War period the usual commencement had been observed, but in 1918 only three members of the senior class remained and barely thirty-five students of the whole, though small, enrollment. In 1918 Brown University gave only fifty-one degrees to men; Princeton only sixty-five; Yale only three hundred to all graduates rather than the usual number of eight hundred; Amherst sixty-four; and Harvard eight hundred and nineteen of which two hundred and forty-seven represented the Bachelor degree. Harvard also gave three hundred and twenty-one certificates or qualified degrees to men who had entered the military and naval service of the United States or of the Allies. In 1919 Dartmouth conferred one hundred and seventy-five degrees, and thirteen men of the class had fallen in the service. Bates conferred one hundred degrees on both men and women, the University of Vermont one hundred and seven, also on both men and women, Bowdoin sixty-seven and several certificates of honor to men who were still in the service in France. Cornell in 1919 conferred only three hundred and thirty-three degrees, the smallest number for many years.

The academic festivities too witnessed a curtailment commensurate with the lessened numbers. The customary functions were abridged or united. Simplicity prevailed. Unnecessary expense was avoided. Spreads were few and guests also were few. Graduates' reunions were not held or were held in a very sober manner. Many alumni did not lend themselves to festivities in which their hearts could not be gay. Hilarity lessened. One purpose was to save money and to give the money thus saved to the Red Cross or other war activities.

In all festivities formal and informal, however lessened, certain key-notes were struck, in Baccalaureate sermon and Presidential address, and in the speeches of representative students and alumni. Chief among these notes were loyalty to the nation, leadership, vision, public service, the uses of victory won or to be won, respect for the humanistic classics, faith in the future, the world's reconstruction. Not unfamiliar are such sentiments to commencement audiences, but the war being fought or the war having been won, gave, to these topics peculiar emphasis. Graduation offered unique opportunities for their application. Occasionally a voice was heard proclaiming that there were other causes in the world besides the war, or its origin, conduct and results. But these dissentient intimations were both few and rather inaudible.

Mr. Herbert Hoover at the Harvard commencement of 1917, having received a degree, said: "The Belgian relief was not my labor; it was the labor of two hundred American university men . . . . This army of civilians is an army of specialists, and they can be officered only by the men from their own ranks --- from the commercial body of the nation who have knowledge and experience in all of the multitudinous branches of their production and labor; and in this officership from the industrial ranks is the security of democracy. These men must have authority and power to act. We give power to direct, and even that of life and death over our citizens, to the officers of our regular army. These powers have the restraint only of law and public opinion. Is it more wrong to give the right to direct the use of property to the officers of this civilian army, subject also to law and public opinion? Has this country descended to a level of materialism that leads it to force its sons to the trenches and to demand immunity for its property? If we are to cling to luxury and profit, our sons and the sons of the allies will die in vain."(67) At the same college the President of the Alumni Association in the commencement of the following year, Dr. George A. Gordon said: "The war that fills our minds today is the war of the preservation of humanity. Nothing less is at stake than the integrity of the moral life of the race, the moral fellowship of mankind, the reality of justice among men and nations, the right of all peoples, great and small, to express in freedom their individual genius, upon that portion of the earth's surface which they call their own; a portion of the earth made beautiful by family life, the mystic influence of an extended ancestry, and the hallowing power of an immemorial fellowship in toil, in joy, and in hope.

"When faith between man and man, nation and nation ceases, faith between man and the Infinite ceases or remains only as a withered and sickening hypocrisy. The origins of our Christian civilization are in a moral league with the Eternal, supported, made sincere and availing, by a moral league among human beings. Our highest possessions, and our best hopes for mankind are the fruit of this double fundamental faith.

"Here our country claims our utmost homage; she is indeed illustrious in the character that she has won. If she had thought meanly of herself she could have evaded this war. If she had been willing to make a league with death and a covenant with hell, she might have added to her wealth and ease. She would not, she could not play the rôle of betrayer to the humanity of man. At her own cost, and for no vulgar gain, she has gone forth the soldier of humanity. Therefore, she stands before the world with clean hands and a pure heart."(68)

At the commencement of Yale in 1918, President Hadley, speaking to the Alumni on What War Had Done for Yale, said: "The war has thus far proved on the whole a source of strength rather than weakness to the college. For the first time in many years it has had a dominant motive that it could set before its students; a motive which, in spite of frequent difficulties and occasional backslidings, took hold of the student body as a whole.

"We have always spoken of Yale as a place devoted to public service. We have tried to make public service the distinctive idea and purpose of Yale education. Now for the first time we have been able to give this word 'public service' a concrete meaning which the students understand. The uniform of the Army or Navy which they wear is a visible symbol of the purpose for which they come. The Yale student of to-day is no longer here to have a good time. He is here to prepare himself for something --- Army, Navy, engineers; or if disqualified from all these, for helping to win the war at home. This gives to academic study the zeal and spirit which was formerly reserved for professional study. Trigonometry has a new meaning when it serves as a basis for practical work in navigation or for firing data. Many a man who is unable to appreciate mathematics for its own sake becomes surprisingly proficient when he finds that it will enable him to hit his enemy at three miles' distance. What is true of mathematics is true of French and is true of history. Each study gains new life when it prepares a man to take part in war problems.

"Not only do the students feel that they are engaged in a work of preparation; they have gone far enough to see that they have accomplished something. They no longer have to take the word of their instructors that the curriculum of the Yale Field Artillery School, or the somewhat more elastic course of the Yale Naval Training Unit, will prepare them for service. They have visible signs before them that it does prepare them. Seventy line commissions in the Navy out of seventy-one men sent up by Yale is a visible and tangible object lesson to those who stay at home as to the direct connection between what they do here and what they will be able to do hereafterward. The readiness of the Government to take all our artillerists, of every age, into Government camps is perhaps an even clearer object lesson, because it comes directly home to each boy, whether he is of draft age or not, and shows him that the Government needs men who understand trigonometry even more than men who know the manual of arms."(69)

At the commencement of the University of Michigan, Dean Keppel of Columbia, serving as Third Assistant Secretary of War, said:

"What have we learned? In the first place, we have learned that as a nation, we possess the power to see a big job through, and we possess it because we have the qualities of youth ---enthusiasm, learning, capacity, energy, elasticity, initiative---the pioneering spirit. We have the shortcomings of youth also--- impatience, superficiality, improvidence, cocksureness --- but when the test came we strengthened our virtues and to a large extent overcame our failings.

"In the second place, we have learned that to see the job through we need all of the nation, men and women, not merely the professional arms and the mysterious powers of finance --- we need all of every one. We need them not as individuals, but as a team and we have learned that we can develop team play.

"Our easiest jobs were the raising of our men and our money; our hardest, the molding of the whole into an organic unity.

"We should never again face a great national crisis with nearly one-third of our men of military age unfit for hard physical work. We need campaigns of physical education and social hygiene, and we need to apply the lesson in human salvage which the army has learned during the war.

"In the third place, we have learned that to accomplish a good result, we need the leadership of those who know, and who know vividly and constructively. Our experience has shown that in certain fields, finance, science, manufacturing in quantity production, welfare work, we had a supply of those who knew. In other fields, in intimate knowledge of foreign conditions and foreign languages, for example, we had not. At first we didn't know where our leaders were, and in many cases we began by following false prophets.

"The vital importance of a thorough knowledge of where the man we need is to be found can be shown by an example: A code message from Germany, directing the dismantling of the German ships which lay in our American ports, was intercepted. If we had known that there was a professor of English in the University of Chicago, who in the pursuit of his mediæval researches had developed the power of reading ciphers almost at sight, that cable from Germany could have been promptly deciphered, the sabotage forestalled, and something like six months in the use of these ships for the transport of troops and munitions could have been gained.

"The fourth lesson of which I wish to speak is that a high aim and ideal is what counts most of all, and what lifts the individual up from selfishness and sloth. What bound the country together and made the transformation which still seems miraculous, was the noble national aim, the complete dedication to the task before us, the utter absence of any selfish or selfseeking factor in the whole enterprise. The conduct of our soldiers, their submission to a discipline to which most of them were completely unused was, I think, in a large measure due to this recognition."(70)

At the Commencement of Cornell University of 1919, Ex-Governor Charles E. Hughes said:

"With the world in ferment, we are appraising the steadying and conserving influences and we look to the university for something more than the discharge of its primary, and distinctive function in instruction. What aid may we expect to counteract the destructive aims of those who would wreck free government and enthrone the tyranny of class hatred? Democracy cannot be saved by arms, our victory has preserved the opportunity to have democracy. But it remains for the testing days of peace to determine whether democracy itself can be preserved. The success of the endeavor must be the result of many coöperating forces, preëminent among which will be the sentiment and convictions of men trained in the higher institutions of learning.

"The battle of free government is never completely won. It is an age-long struggle against foes without and more insidious and dangerous foes within. Now, with tyrants overthrown and autocracy destroyed in its last citadel, we must fight anew. Where in democracy should we look for the champions of the fundamental principles of liberty, if not in the students of history ---to those who have pondered over the long contests for equal rights?"(71)

These lengthy extracts and many others which might be added voice the general and highest sentiments of the human soul. They are the sentiments of youth and of age, of the one who believes in America first, and the one who believes in the Allies first. They. touch the deepest elements of humanity and they ascend to the utmost limits of the imagination of man.

Among the significant elements of the commencements and especially of that of 1919, were the honorary degrees given to those who were engaged in the war or in service connected with the war. Vermont gave to Admiral Mayo the degree of LL.D. in 1919, and Bates the same degree to Major General Hersey. Princeton, Yale and other colleges gave to Davidson, President of the Red Cross, the degree of LL.D. Holy Cross College of Worcester gave to William Mulligan, Director of the Knights of Columbus War Activities, also an LL.D. In the commencement of that year also, Rear Admiral Sims received an LL.D. from both Yale and Harvard. The University of Pennsylvania conferred on Brigadier General Atterbury, the degree of LL.D. in 1919.

In this same relationship also is heard the keynote of internationalism. For both Oxford and Cambridge conferred on General Pershing a degree in 1919, and Oxford gave a D.C.L. to Herbert Hoover in the same year. Lord Reading received an LL.D. at several American universities. Columbia gave an LL.D. to Secretary Lansing in 1918, and Wisconsin gave one to Marcel Knecht of the French High Commission in recognition of his work in promoting friendly relations and mutual understanding between the people of the United States and his own nation. Amherst in 1918 gave the degree of LL.D. to Lieutenant General, Sir James Wilcox, the Governor of Bermuda.

It may also be said that Brown University, at its one hundred and fiftieth annual commencement, took away the degree which had been previously conferred upon Ambassador Bernsdorff. The vote annulling the honor declared that while he was Ambassador of the Imperial German Government to the United States, and while the two nations were still at peace, he was guilty of conduct unworthy of a gentleman and a diplomat.

Certain degrees that might be called war degrees were also conferred upon students who had entered the national service from the college and had not returned. These degrees took various forms and were based upon different foundations. It may in general be said that the degree of Bachelor of Arts and the degree of Bachelor of Science were conferred upon students of several colleges who had finished at least three of the four years of college residence. The custom begun in American colleges in the Spanish-American War to substitute in a formal way, service in the Army or Navy for academic study was thus continued and ennobled. The feeling was common throughout every commencement in every college, that no recognition could be too honorable for those who had laid aside the academic gown and had put on the uniform. The following examples are representative :---

At Knox College, those who were in war service during the first semester, and who returned and completed satisfactorily courses of not less than fifteen hours each week in the second semester, received credit for one year's work. Those who left in the second semester of their Junior year received their degrees the following year upon completing fifteen hours. Trinity shortened the Easter vacation, placed Commencement later than usual, rushed the classes a little faster than usual, and endeavored to graduate with a year's credit those who returned to college during the winter term, after national service. Johns Hopkins gave a full year's credit to those who returned from the service in the middle of the year. Union College, by starting new courses and by admitting men to classes for which they were perhaps not altogether qualified, attempted to make it possible for men to get a year of credit for two terms' work.

To write of the enduring effects of the war on the colleges and the universities is to lay aside in part the function of the historian and to assume, in an equal degree, the function of the prophet. But, if one were to await the full knowledge of the enduring effects of any cause or force, in order to write its history, no history would be written. At the present time, however, certain effects, which apparently are to continue, have become more or less manifest.

One effect which is not occurring, be it first said, relates to the seriousness of the depletion of the forces of educated American manhood. The number of college men killed is small as compared to the losses suffered by the universities of Great Britain and of France. Neither is the American loss at all comparable to the losses suffered by the Southern States in the Civil War. For fifty years, the share of the Southern people in the development of American society was unworthy of their earlier history. The natural leaders in the later decades of the nineteenth century, while these decades were passing, were resting in their graves. No similar condition will prevail in the whole United States in the middle decades of the twentieth century.

In a further prefatory way, it should be said that two temporary results became manifest when the colleges opened their doors for the first complete postwar year of 1919-1920. The Freshmen, who entered in September of that year, came up with a less adequate fitness than the beginning classes of preceding years. For the necessities which the war laid on high school and academic students had sent them out from their classrooms onto the farms as ploughmen and vine dressers in the foregoing spring months. They had thus been allowed to shorten their preparatory years of study in order to raise grain for the nations. They had also suffered an interruption of their senior year by reason of the influenza of the autumn of 1918. These two conditions affected the colleges themselves no less than the high schools. The men of the first complete year following the war found the doing of their college work difficult by reason of inadequate preparation and impaired physical vigor,--- and this work was not on the whole well done.

This scholastic effect had relationship to the morale of students reëntering college: students, in the year following the war, were less studious. Their studies made a less strong appeal to them, and the appeal was less strongly answered. For, while they were engaged in service over-seas, they were called upon to be obedient soldiers. Their wishes were not consulted. Their duties were diverse and compelling. Their wills and their bodies performed the chief functions of daily discipline. Their intellects had small share in the concerns of the camp. The return to the college, therefore, was a return from affairs volitional and physical to affairs intellectual. The return was not an easy one to make. The transfer of interest from obedient doing to critical, consistent, and continuous thinking was difficult. The result, in consequence, was general unrest, emotional dissatisfaction, and mental dissipation. The right to complain against the national, and to be rebellious against the college, government was recognized as almost a duty! But, as the college months passed, these elements became less evident, and in the progress of the year, they were found to be vanishing.

An effect, also, which may not be permanent, but which will certainly continue for at least several years, is found in the vast increase of students. The increase is general, covering all colleges. It represents an enlargement of numbers of about one-third.

The cause of the increase was fourfold. One cause was that many boys and girls had been delayed in coming to college. The war interrupted the achievement of their educational purposes. They were now able to begin to realize an aim for their education which would have been realized in the normal processes, two or three years earlier.

A second cause lay in the fact that money was more abundant. Prices had vastly increased. But the college fees had, in certain colleges, not at all increased, and in others seldom more than twenty-five per cent. In relation to other values, the cost of education was and is the lowest of all utilities. It is the only instance in modern life in which one is receiving many fold more than the expenditure.

The third reason of the increase lay in the great service which the colleges rendered in the war. This service touched every interest of modern life. The loyalty of students and graduates, a mighty sense of unity and fellowship, the outpouring of vast enthusiasms, devotion to duty, represent the normal results of academic training. These results have had a moving influence upon the community. The younger boys and girls wanted to enter into such a life.

The fourth cause was found in the fact that men's minds had been impressed with the worthiness of things intellectual and spiritual. They had learned that these are the eternal values. They had also learned that the things seen are material and that these things are temporal. They were eager in their idealism to possess the enduring values.

A further result, rather circumstantial than essential, which gave and gives lasting assurance to the friends of higher education, was found in the new evidence offered by the war of the worthiness of the American university and college. The Middle Ages gave to the modern world, either as original or mediating forces, three institutions:--- the Empire, the Papacy, and the University. The Empire was finally dissolved by Napoleon. The Papacy endures, yet shorn of much of its political power and prestige. The University alone comes forth, with each succeeding decade, with power increased and prestige augmented. The university has not only proved to be humanistic, but, what is far more important, human. It is patriotic and interpatriotic, national and international. Its teachers are not remote from human concerns. They are easily responsive to all human ideals. Its students are kindled, by simple words and deeds, unto flaming devotions.

The war also gave a higher appreciation of that simple but fundamental element, the value of physical health. The returned soldier student returned carrying a more vigorous body. His manlier bearing, his fuller chest, his larger and harder muscles, his clearer eye, his greater robustness, proved, as these qualities themselves manifested, his firm and usually firmer health. These results were the normal effects of regular life, lived under proper discipline in the open. These results were, according to the military commander, necessary causes and forces for the carrying forward of the normal movements of warfare. The hospital is not a tool of aggressive conflict. The soldier learned that about one-third of all drafted men were rejected by reason of physical deformities or deficiencies. He learned also the unspeakable peril and penalties of venereal disease. Out of all these diverse conditions and causes, the student, coming from the ranks, came to the college bearing in his body an illustration of the value of health which gave silent and impressive lessons to all his associates.

Closely associated with the resulting appreciation of the value of good health was the element of military training in the colleges. Many college officers and college students who were engaged in the service in France, and college graduates who did or who did not go over-seas, have, as a result of the training of and in and for the war, come to hold opinions opposed to military training as a constituent part of the college course. It was and is recognized by all that military training in the college may represent a certain coöperative citizenship. It also represents obedience, which is the first duty of the soldier and, in certain respects, the first duty of the student. It stands also for the control of appetites and the curbing of passion. It does, or should, mean the eliminating or the curing of obscure physical weaknesses and the promotion of physical strength. Properly pursued, it might help to form permanent habits of good physical exercise. It also embodies the progressive element in such exercise; for military training passes on from the simple to the less simple, from the less simple to the complex, and from the complex to the more complex.

But also it has been recognized that military training in the college is not usually interesting. To the Freshmen it may have some fascination. It is new and pulsates with a touch of the world of vision and of glory. But, as the months or the years pass, its interest vanishes. The students of one college petitioned, for a military training course to be introduced. Within less than twelve months, not less than seventy-five per cent. of the enrollment petitioned for its abolition. Most students are rebellious against accepting it as a required academic course. In its lack of interest, it is not so recreative as it should be, and whatever recreation it does possess is rather of a stilted and mechanical form, without imagination or a sense of fun. It has also been proved that it is difficult to fit it into the other elements of the curriculum. Evidence is not lacking that it does not adjust itself so well to the physical and other needs of the student as a more diversified form of exercise. Variations from its standards are few and infrequent. The attempts, therefore, made to establish the Reserve Officers' Training Corps in the colleges have not met with a general degree of success. The spirit of rebelliousness to it is not quite so marked as the spirit of opposition to the more ordinary type of military training. But the rebelliousness is still marked. It has come to be felt by many college officers that the best preparation for the service of a soldier consists in giving him a strong, vigorous body, facile and forceful, united with a strong, vigorous mind, also facile and forceful. Such a body and such a mind united in one person, distinguished military officers say, can be formed, in the course of a brief time, into the stuff for a good soldier, and even into first-rate material for service as an officer.

A further effect was manifest in the greater seriousness pervading the ranks of students. The play element was lessened. Silly self-indulgence was curbed. The religious service of the college chapel commanded fuller attendance, closer attention, and an attitude of deeper worship. Snap courses became less popular. Studies that serve well in life's struggles were more generally elected. Teachers who inspire and quicken were more constantly sought. The presence of the soldier, wounded or unwounded, contributed to this result. The man on crutches, with a happy face peering up and out between the bars, and the man who had been gassed, with a face worn, thin, pale, greatly added to this feeling of seriousness.

This feeling of seriousness arose in part from a broader and more intimate knowledge of the European world. To the men who had been in Europe in the wartime, history was made more vital. America is a new country, and Americans do not possess the long and rich historic background. Their conditions necessitate such ignorance. Living for months, or years, in France serves to impress upon a man of the new world, the significance of a long historic yesterday. The present American conditions also became through foreign residence more visible and more impressive. Problems, national, international, individual, were seen more clearly in their outlines and content. Under such conditions, the returned soldier student inevitably became more serious in thought and feeling.

This academic effect had relation to a further result. It was the result of the acceptance on the part of the students of a deeper responsibility for the community. The college man came to know that he should assume,---always, of course, in humility,---the spirit of leadership of the community. His power of insight into conditions is keener and broader, his appreciation of the worth of the forces of the commonwealth is more adequate, and his ability to apply these forces is greater, than belong to the ordinary membership. Such conditions were especially strong in the years following the war.

The enhanced appreciation, which the community gained, of the higher education was also the result of a deeper appreciation of themselves by the colleges. Colleges are always responsive to the feelings and judgments of the community to a degree which neither the college nor the community realizes. The colleges learned, through the war, that the education they offer is worthy of humanity, that the disciplined mind which they create by a formal training is the most effective force in the world, and that the rich and full-orbed character which they foster is the best product of civilization. The war, directly or indirectly, increased the stipends of the college teacher. But this result was of no worth in comparison with the ennobled self-confidence, always humble and seldom arrogant, which the American university and college came to possess.

A further effect concerns the permanent condition of the humanities as a subject of study. It is the social humanities which have become more securely established in the academic curriculum. The antique humanities have suffered a constant elimination. The natural and physical sciences, despite the high and useful function they filled in the war, have not gained in subsequent popularity or influence. The philosophical and psychological courses, notwithstanding the value of psychology in the waging of the war and in removing certain resulting distress, have likewise not secured a more commanding following. But the studies, called social, dealing with men in relation to each other,---- history, economics, government, political science, sociology,--- have been lifted to places higher and broader in the academic order. The students elected, and still elect, such courses more fully; and to teachers of such courses students were, and are, inclined to pay a more loyal loyalty. The reason is not far to seek. In the war men learned that the relations of men to each other are the chief relations. If men are enemies, enemies should be intelligently understood. Opposing points of view should be examined, and the grounds of antagonism carefully weighed. If men are friends and co-workers,--- political, commercial, industrial,--- their mutual rights and duties, activities and conditions, should be recognized and considered. At all events, men are citizens, and all relations to one's nation are of compelling significance. Moreover, each nation bears relationships to other nations, and therefore the facts of international history, the doctrine of exchanges, financial and of commodities, diplomatic and consular arrangements and adjustments, are all quickening influences upon the academic mind. The student vision, therefore, has come to see beyond the college walls, even if one stands on their top. The students have come to feel the world's throbs and interests, and these interests influence them to select those subjects of study which touch, more and most directly, upon those interests.

Of course, such directness of topic and immediacy of method involve a certain intellectual loss. The loss is a lessened sense of intellectual relationships. The loss means a thinner background, a shallower reflectiveness, a narrower perspective and outlook. The loss is a loss in culture, in appreciation of general values, in depths and richness of thinking and feeling. But, along with the loss runs a gain, a gain in directness and in efficiency, in pursuit of ends, an efficiency which, in a world of service and in a lifetime whose working period is so brief, is of unspeakable preciousness.

I also believe that the war gave to the university student and teacher a deeper desire to use his learning and his lecturing for the public welfare. A stronger and deeper altruistic note was heard in the academic song. Of course universities have always been devoted to the service of their nations, be the government of a particular nation monarchical or democratic. In the Middle Ages, kings found their ministers of state and their diplomats among the university-trained graduates. The newer democratic communities have usually called to their offices,---legislative, executive, judicial,--- men of academic training. The modern record is of a significance even more commanding than the mediæval. The American student and teacher, therefore, have become impressed in a peculiar way with the duty they owe to the mind and the movements of their own generation outside of academic gateways. The obligation of the stronger to help the weaker, the value of unity of thought, of feeling, of action, the appreciation of individual and corporate sympathy, the worth of loyalty to great ideas, the missionary motive as applied to intellectual forces, have become common sentiments of mighty motive and movement. The student assents to the truth of Huxley's remark, "So far as we possess the power of bettering things, it is our permanent duty to use it, and to train all our intellect and energy for this supreme service to our kind."

Institutions change slowly. That mediæval and modern institution, the university, with the church, is the most conservative of all the great foundations made by the mind of man. The students of the twentieth century in the American institution are singularly akin to the students of the fifteenth century in Oxford and Leipsic. But, although changing slowly, and by slight degrees, the academic mind does change. The results I have noted are already beginning to affect the body of the students and the movements of academic life. It now seems probable that these results will endure among the students of many following generations.

In the funeral oration which Thucydides puts into the mouth of Pericles, at the close of the first year of the Peloponnesian war, the great statesman and orator says:

"For the whole earth is the sepulchre of famous men; not only are they commemorated by columns and inscriptions in their own country, but in foreign lands there dwells also an unwritten memorial of them, graven not on stone but in the hearts of men."(72)

The sentiments expressed in Greece, twenty-three hundred years and more ago, are felt likewise in America in the year 1920. The whole earth is filled with memorials of our college boys. But, in addition, it is fitting, natural, and almost commanding to the soul, that individual memorials be raised.

Commemorative accounts, events, tokens, tablets, medals, foundations, buildings are a normal and natural consequence of noble achievements. The founding of a memorial in recognition of great deeds is almost instinctive to man. The desire seems to belong to the early impulses of the race, as is witnessed in the cairns on the lonely mountain peak where a hero did a brave deed. Civilization has not eliminated this primitive instinct, but has rather seemed to augment and to discipline it.

An academic memorial, like every other, should appeal to the sense of idealism in humanity. It should touch the imagination, move the sense of the poetic, and incarnate in the visible and the tangible the highest aspirations of the human spirit. It should create a certain solidity of thrilling impulses, which it should elevate and broaden and deepen. Every noble feeling should bestirred by its vision or recollection. It should be a permanent festival of the dead. It should with ever increasing force appeal to the eternal and the universal in the human soul. In it the elements of a materialistic utility should be given little or no place. It may help man to do his daily work more thoroughly, to bear his anxiety more calmly, to fulfill life's functions more completely. But these results it wins by its appeal to the highest and the lordliest and the divine in his being. A worthy memorial is still the sky and the star and the far-off sun in man's character and life. It is still the token, the evidence, the proof of the eternally free spirit in man as the child of the universal and the everlasting.

Such should be the characteristics of every memorial. In particular a college memorial should possess them in fullest degree. For it is for such ideals that the college youth died. These ideals are the highest. They embody not simply a national purpose, but rather one international, and not simply an international one, but rather that power which underlies humanity, Divinity.

Memorials have, for more than two thousand years, taken on a great variety of forms. Pericles rebuilt parts of Athens as a memorial of the Persian Wars. The city of Alexandria forever commemorates a world-conqueror. St. Sophia, Constantinople, still stands a token of the victory of the cross. Throughout the Middle Ages abbeys were founded as memorials, and likewise in the Renaissance period, colleges and schools. Within the last hundred years, Waterloo Bridge and the Nelson Column of London bear their own commemorative purpose.

Among other great memorials in material form are the Taj Mahal, the Arch of Triumph in Paris, Trajan's Arch, the Victor Emmanuel pile in Rome, the Washington Monument on the banks of the Potomac, and the Robert Gould Shaw tablet on Boston Common. Similar forms in marble or stone or bronze, college memorials might fittingly assume. Of these memorials the Robert Gould Shaw bronze has the dearest meaning to the heart of the college youth. It is in a sense a college emblem. If only such a tablet could be set up on every college campus! But a like memorial, though of quite unlike esthetic conception or execution, might have a quickening meaning. For throughout the villages of many an American state, on common, or on public square is erected a simple figure in granite of the American soldier of the Civil War. His clothes do not fit him. The expression of his face is stolid. His poise is neither civil nor military. On the foundation stone or on the sides of the column are cut his name and the names of his fallen comrades. Gettysburg, Antietam, Fredericksburg are also inscribed. Despite its lacks and incongruities, it is always moving to the mind and the heart of the beholder. Such a figure set up in bronze or marble in college halls or on college grounds is a fitting memorial.

Buildings may also form a memorial likewise fitting. But in academic buildings imagination should ever be given full freedom. To the college men fallen in the Civil War are erected several memorials of this type. Conspicuous among them are the Memorial Hall at Chapel Hill, of the University of North Carolina, the Memorial Hall at Bowdoin, and the memorial part of a great hall at Harvard. Buildings are sure to be built in scores of colleges, commemorative of the men fallen in the Great War.

Gateways form also a most fitting type. They largely eliminate by their very condition, the element of materialistic utility. Already several college classes have considered the building of such a memorial to their unreturning members and in appreciation of the service of all of their members.

Three outstanding athletic captains of Yale lost their lives in the war. It has been proposed to associate their names with the Bowl, and other athletic structures. Such association is more fitting than a superficial interpretation might suggest. For the men, trained in the academic sports, through that very training, were made more efficient in the war. Discipline, intellectual and ethical, power of initiative, team-work, are the qualities alike valuable in the sports, in the service and in life. But beyond and above such physical forms, commemorative foundations in gifts of funds or of libraries have peculiar significance. Professorships, scholarships, lectureships, each devoted to the purposes held dear by those who died, are fitting. They touch the imagination. They serve by their teaching to elevate the mind, to purify the heart, to give a sense of grandeur and sublimity to man's highest choices. They also endure, as the college itself is among the most enduring of the creations of man.

Buildings may crumble and must, but the immaterial foundation standeth sure. Already such memorial foundations are being laid.

A Harvard man, of the class of 1919, who was mortally wounded in 1918, has been commemorated by a scholarship founded by his family in Trinity College, Cambridge, which is to be held by an American student nominated by the President and Fellows of Harvard. A scholarship also in his honor has been established at Harvard which is to be awarded to a student from France. Another father has given a scholarship in memory of his son, William H. Meeker, of the class of 1917 of Harvard, killed in France, and has also given his son's library to the Harvard Crimson. The gift of the library is carrying out one of the last wishes of the boy, that if anything should happen to him while in France, his library should be given to the college in which he had been enrolled. The University of Toronto has raised a large sum for commemorative scholarships. Princeton has already founded ten such scholarships. Similar memorials have been established in other colleges and will continue to be founded for the next decade.

Beneath the material form and the immaterial of memorials may lie certain natural associations. A row or a group of trees illustrates and embodies such a commemoration. New Hampshire College at Durham has planted a grove of trees in honor of eighteen of her graduates who fell.

Many memorials, as these paragraphs intimate, have been established by the parents of the dead student soldiers. Their foundation will yet go on for generations. Be it said that the mothers and fathers have borne, and still bear, and will continue to bear, their griefs with a sense of bravery equal to that of their fallen sons. They have learned the lesson which Professor Poulton, of Oxford, learned in the death of his son, Ronald, that "to be weakened by grief is the poorest tribute to our dear ones, and that it might be so is the thought that would have pained them most. ‘At the time of Ronald's death I was numb with despair until, in a few days, this thought arose in my mind, and since then the comfort of it has never failed me; if any there be who have not yet found it, I am sure it will never fail them.'"(73)

A distinct form of memorial for the living, as well as for the dead, was created by Williams College. It consisted of what is known as "The Williams Medal." The obverse of the bronze shows "a line of steel-helmeted doughboys, rifles in hand, with bayonets fixed, about to go over the top." The reverse is an imaginary portrait of the founder of the college, Colonel Ephraim Williams, on horseback, wearing the uniform of a continental officer. The legend, "For humanity 1918," appears on the obverse side, and the legend, "E Liberalitate E Williams Armigeri 1793," is on the upper circumference of the reverse. Wesleyan University and Union have also given similar tokens to their sons.

These and other forms, college memorials are to take on in the next years. Whatever special shape they assume they will embody the spirit which stirred the soul of the soldier student who went forth prepared to die. The spirit has been movingly set forth in many a poem and noble paragraph. But in no verse written by college man for college man has the spirit been more fittingly embodied than the verses which Lieutenant White wrote of his Bowdoin friend, Forbes Rickard, Jr., who was killed in action in the summer of 1918.

"For firelight, and true books and candle-glow,
And dear imagination that can find
Behind the present and the passing hour
The plan of One who has the will to grow
Upon the frailest stock, the fairest flower
And let it wither in a wintry wind;

"For that warm friendliness of soul's embrace
When man meets man and knows him for a friend;
For all the little signs which must betray
Man's loyalty to love ---for all the grace
Of Beauty which adorned his dawning day.
He battled with clean heart until the end.

"For these he fought ---for love of life he died,
A willing sacrifice to that High Faith
Which bade him gird the young man's armor on
And fling the shining truth at those who lied --
Boasting that Power was Right ---that that new dawn
Which reddened in the sky was but a wraith.

"He is a part of all he fought to save --
And he has lent his soul to every breeze
That cools the brow of Vision --- seeing folk,
And passing, sings of Hope, 'Be strong, be brave,
The new day dawns behind the tyrant's cloak ----
Lo, Freedom rises from the misty seas!"(74)