vocate sound and wise education, and prove anew devotion to the country and its flag, symbolizing the best aspirations of humanity.'

The university was for a larger part of the period from 1870 to 1895 without an active president. Through the efforts of the Norwich University Alumni Association of Boston, in 1896, sufficient funds were raised to secure the services of an active head for the university; and a year or two since Commander Allan D. Brown, LL. D., United States Navy (retired), was secured for the position, and has since been engaged in looking after the varied interests of the institution. President Brown is using his best efforts to make the university what it deserves to be, one of our leading institutions of learning. He is a man of mature years and scholarly attainments, and well fitted to fill the position which he holds. His service in the navy covers a period of twentyfive years, including sea service, torpedo station service, and as instructor and head of the department of astronomy, surveying and navigation at the United States Naval Academy. For four years he was stationed at Washington, D. C., as superintendent of the Naval Observatory, and on completion of his duties there he commanded the Kearsarge on an expedition to South American waters. Thus equipped he is proving himself a worthy successor to Partridge, Ransom and Bourns of the olden times.

Associated with President Brown are Colonel John B. Johnson, A. M., C. E. (who succeeded General Jack man), professor of mathematics and engineering; Major Charles C. Brill, professor in the department of natural sciences; Herbert R. Roberts, A. M., professor in the department of languages; Henry W. Hovey, captain Twenty-fourth Infantry, United States Army, commandant and professor of military science and tactics; Frank A. Balch, A. B., professor in the department of history. These are assisted by an able corps of instruct

ors. Major General Oliver O. Howard, United States Army, and Hon. Frank Plumley deliver courses of lectures on military history, international and constitutional law.

The curriculum at the present time, in the academic department, embraces four courses: civil engineering, arts, chemistry, and a course in science and literature. The military course is as follows: exercises, drills or lectures daily throughout the four years, including setting up drill; manual of arms; school of the company; bayonet exercises; manual of the sword; artillery drill; rifle practice; battalion drill; signalling; lectures on military engineering; military science and art of war; customs of the service, and camping.

The cadets are at all times under military discipline, and strict observance of military customs is required. They are detailed as adjutant, officer of the day, guard, etc., in their turn, are instructed in making out military reports and trained in the duties incident to field and garrison. Cadet officers are appointed in accordance with their relative academic and military standing. The cadets are required to wear uniform when on duty, this uniform consisting of a blouse of the pattern worn by officers of the United States Army, dark blue trousers with light red stripe, black cravat, standing collar. United States regulation forage cap, boots or high shoes of black leather, and overcoat of black or dark blue, ulster cut. The daily routine of duty is reveille at six in the morning, followed by police call and inspection of quarters; breakfast; drill; prayers; study and recitation hours; dinner; afternoon roll call; study and recitation hours; supper; retreat; study hours; taps (lights out), 10 P. M.

That the spirit of gallantry, sometimes almost rampant on Norwich Plain, went with the institution to Northfield is indicated from a newspaper clipping of May, 1883, which runs as follows:

"To make a potato patch out of a part of the Norwich University parade ground is undertaken by Perley B- a prominent citizen of Northfield, who asserts a claim to a corner of the grounds on account of work done when the buildings were erected in 1866. The cadets set out a hun-dred or more trees a few weeks since, some of which interfered, as he thought, with his potato plants, and which he pulled up. The next morning B- -'s newly planted potatoes were found on top of the ground, the patch thoroughly harrowed, the trees replaced and the field seeded to grass and rolled. Bwas hanged in effigy the other night from a tree on the Common and buried on Saturday, with grave (?) ceremonies and muffled drum."

B. Carr, '97, United States Artillery; Lieutenant Frederick M. Barstow, '78, First United States Volunteer Engineers; Lieutenant Charles E. Walker, '97, United States Volunteer Signal Corps; Lieutenant Fred T. Austin, '88, adjutant Fifth Massachusetts Regiment, and many others.

That the recent graduates are as patriotic as those in earlier days is shown from the fact that over ninety per cent of the graduates since 1880 volunteered to serve in any capacity in the Spanish-American War. The president of the Norwich University Alumni Association of Boston offered Governor Wolcott a regiment officered by Norwich University graduates, and received the personal thanks of the governor and the assurance that it would be accepted if there was a further call for troops. Although the war was of short duration, not a few Northfield graduates were in the service. Conspicuous among them were Commander George A. Converse, '63, who commanded the Montgomery; Commander George P. Colvocoresses, '67, who is with Dewey's fleet at Manila; Lieutenant Edward M. Peters, '80, of the New Jersey Naval Militia; Lieutenant Hiram I. Bearss, '97, United States Marine Corps; Major Henry B. Hersey, '85. who was serving as adjutant general of New Mexico before the beginning of hostilities, became major of the First United States Volunteer Cavalry, and commanded the same during part of the campaign in Cuba; Captain Frank L. Howe, '80, First Vermont Regiment; Captain Charles W. Meade, '81, First Montana Regiment (now at Manila); Captain Charles S. Carleton, '96, First Maine Regiment; Lieutenant Edward A. Shuttleworth, '91, United States Army; Lieutenant W.

Not a few of the sons of Norwich University have also distinguished themselves in the civil walks of life. In this list are found the names of Gideon Welles, '27, secretary of the navy; Horatio Seymour, '28, war governor of New York; William A. Beach, '28, eminent New York lawyer; Isaac T. Smith, '30, His Siamese Majesty's consul general at New York; Alonzo A. Miner, '34, eminent Boston divine; Jonathan Tarbell, '39. chief justice of the Supreme Court of Mississippi; Caleb Lyon, '40, member of Congress and governor of Idaho; Alvan E. Bovay, '41, the founder of the Republican party; William L. Lee, '42, eminent lawyer and jurist; Otis S. Tenney, '45, eminent Kentucky lawyer; William Pitt Kellogg, '48, governor of Louisiana and United States senator; William Henry Greenwood, '52, eminent civil engineer; John V. Standish, '55, president Lombard University; Charles Morton, '60, civil engineer; Henry E. Alvord, '63, expert, Dairy Department, United States government; Edward D. Adams, '64, banker and railroad projector; Burleigh F. Spaulding, '77, member of Congress from North Dakota; Malverd A. Howe, '82, civil engineer and author; and George R. Miner, '85, editor.

The Legislature of the state of Vermont in 1870 authorized the enlistment of the corps of cadets into companies of infantry and a section of artillery. The professor of military science was made, er officio, commander of the organization, and the other officers, upon his recommendation, are commissioned from the corps by the governor. The corps is in camp for at least three weeks each year, and is thoroughly instructed in camp and

outpost duties, and is annually inspected by both the United States. government and state officers.

By recent legislation, Norwich University is recognized as The Military College of the State of Vermont, and is given a Board of Visitors and an annuity of $6,000. This special recognition and assistance were given the institution in view of the fact that Admiral Dewey has recently expressed his high regard for the institution and said that Vermont could not express in any more fitting way whatever regard it might feel for him, than to substantially aid the university where his military training was so effectively begun.

As Admiral Dewey has expressed his preference as to what public recognition, if any, he is to receive for the great service he has rendered his country, a movement is on foot to raise sufficient funds to erect a build

ing, which the institution is much in need of, to be known as Dewey Hall. The matter is being taken up by the various alumni associations, and not only the past cadets and native Vermonters, but the public as well, will have an opportunity to contribute something towards a memorial to the "Hero of Manila." Contributions to this fund will not only aid in honoring Dewey, but will help to carry on that system of education which so well fits young men for the highest duties of both peace and war. Amid her new surroundings and these reassurances of public approbation, long may she stand among the invigorating green hills of old Vermont, true to the teachings of her founder and the exponent of the "American idea in education." May taps never sound her requiem and may reveille ever herald her increasing glory and prosperity.

W'

C

was so dark, and then wonder ceased. After a while she found the same thought again in her mind. Another blank now followed, touched

ever and anon into faint consciousness of weariness or of pain or of contact with the bed on which she lay or with the arms, the hands, the body, of some person. She always knew when the person touching her was her mother. For a long time it did not occur to her to speak, but at last she cried out, "Is it dark all the time now?"

She was sure that she had called aloud, sure she had uttered these words; but she heard no sound and, trembling, she spoke again, "What makes it dark all the time?"

She spoke in German, for her mother and she had never acquired the habit of speaking the English language to each other. She felt her lips and tongue move; but again she heard no sound. She shivered in great fright, and put her fingers to her lips. They were really there where she could find them! They moved They moved under her touch. She clutched her throat and felt it quiver. She opened her eyes wide and stared into the awful darkness. She felt the bed tremble under her and became aware of the pressure of a human body against hers. She knew that her mother had come to her, and knew nothing more until she found herself thinking that she was dreaming, dreaming of darkness and of silence and of hands that came from nowhere and noiselessly ministered to her. The belief that she was dreaming was at

She noticed after a while that if she did the thing which she would once have called speaking, hands were sure to come to her in some loving tendance; and yet this experience at first, instead of clearing her mind or making her certain whether she were awake or asleep, alive or dead, mad or sane, a real soul or one playing at being, did but serve to increase her mental bewilderment. She had little, if any, thought of time while she lay in just this state, her mind wavering from doubt to doubt of her own consciousness or of the actuality of any world outside the dark and silent cloud which wrapped her like a garment; but finally her heart grew more active. She began not only to feel comforted when the touches came that she recognized as her mother's, but to yearn for them whenever for a little while they had not dropped upon her from the empty black space around her. This yearning grew to be a pain, and pain made her think that she must be alive, though held in the bondage of a dream; and so she struggled to break from the dream.

"Mutter, mutter." She twisted her body in her effort to speak, "Mother, mother. I want to see you; I want to hear you. Wake me up! Wake me up!"

Then she felt the motherly arms close frantically around her, and draw her up from the pillows against a sustaining bosom and rock her back and forth in a great sorrowful embrace. Christine put up her hand and felt of her mother's neck and chin and lips. and cheeks. She shook with the sobbing of the body that supported hers. She was always sure afterwards that in this moment, though everything

had been then as dark and silent and incomprehensible as ever, she was really awake. All other certainties for a long time still hovered in her weak and weary consciousness as if about to take flight and leave her to the old dream of life.

"Something really did happen then; it really did," she kept saying to herself whenever she felt her brain tottering over the abyss which always yawned near her in the darkness and the silence. Holding on to this conviction that she had once been awake, she came slowly to notice when she had actually slept, and then to perceive that her body answered to the movements of her will, and she began also to note when she was hungry and when she was fed. The observation of these simple phenomena roused her mental faculties to other work. She remembered that such spaces of time as she now perceived to pass between her sleeping and her eating had once meant something, something very important. Finally she found the words "day" and "night" floating in her mind like white lilies on the surface of a black pool.

remembered

When she at last rather vaguely, but still with some assurance, that it was a fact and not a fancy which she recalled, that the words "day" and "night" had formerly had a significance which they no longer possessed, the thought occurred to her that the great change which troubled her must be in herself and not wholly in that outer world which had become a mysterious cloud to her. Turning this thought feebly about in her brain, she recollected that she had once been well and had been taken sick. In a way which she never quite understood, there came next the conviction that this awful change, whatever it was, had taken place during her sickness. She knew at last what was the matter. She knew that there had been a time when she could see and hear, and that now she could not see and she could not hear.

She did not think much for a long period after she arrived at this knowledge. The struggle to get to it had exhausted her. She suffered pas

sively, often feeling her tears trickle down her face before she was fully aware that she was suffering. Slowly her attention became again largely and peacefully absorbed in the physical facts of her life. It was as if her mind played childish games with her body, trying to learn what rights of ownership it still held over limbs and flesh. She liked to rub her hands together and to stroke her own hair. As she grew stronger, it pleased her to note the movements which her mother made about her, and to try to guess their purpose and aid in their fulfilment. She felt that she was very clever one day, because she had so quickly perceived that her mother wanted to get her out of bed. She helped put on her garments herself, and finally stood a moment with tingling feet upon the floor. Something came from behind against her and she instinctively sat down on it. It was a chair-yes, certainly it was a chair. She remembered perfectly what chairs were like; but she had not thought of them for a long time. She laughed, and her mother's kiss fell like an answer soft and sweet upon her forehead. She thought, "She really hears me!" and she laughed again although she heard nothing herself.

She had before this accepted it as a fact that her efforts at speech, futile as they were so far as her own senses were concerned, still did produce an impression on the people near her; but she had accepted it without reasoning out its cause. Now that she was better able to think than she had been, she came, after much pondering, . to the conclusion that whatever had deprived her of sight and hearing had left her the power to utter articulate sounds. Her consciousness of her necessary relation to the world or of her most immediate interest therein was not however complete, and as she grew daily stronger, the gaps in her