58 On the Campus 



President David Alexander Wallace, this he remem- 

 bers well ! 



Since that happy day in June six and forty years have 

 passed. Time upon fair young faces that rise in memory 

 from that far summer day has laid his gentle but trans- 

 forming hand. All is memory now; the physical form 

 and semblance long has passed. Each bowed that day 

 was it in condescension? as his name was called; for 

 one moment above our young heads the hands of the 

 great president were stretched out in final benediction; 

 and then we strode away, each to a destiny all un- 

 dreamed, unknown to mortal ken. Out into the dark we 

 stepped on that June day, out into the darkness, each on 

 his unknown way; but we knew it not. The sun was 

 shining and the day was fair ; but the way how had we 

 not been startled could we have foreseen that way ! 



Forty and six years have passed. Each has found his 

 way, his destiny, in some part, now revealed. Already 

 many sleep; the mission of life's busy day fulfilled, 

 whether in the early morning, whether at mid-day, 

 whether in the evening light, where some of us still lin- 

 ger amid the ungarnered harvest, watching where the 

 slanting shadows lengthen. But from first to last, through 

 all these years, not one of us has failed to cherish as his 

 ideal, potent and precious, the pattern of manhood here 

 revealed, while Wallace, Young, Hutchinson, Wilson, and 

 Black ministered in full devotion of life's self-sacrifice 

 before the flaming altar of eternal truth. Here and now 

 permit me to lay before that altar the belated tribute of 

 my sincere appreciation. 



That high ministry has wholly passed to other hands. 



