than all the money which has ever been expended for the Navy. Since that day, the Navy has had no stain upon its escutcheon, but has been cherished as your pride and glory. And the American sailor has established a reputation throughout the world,—in peace and in war, in storm and in battle, -for heroism and prowess unsurpassed. He shrinks from no danger, he dreads no foe, and yields to no superior. No shoals are too dangerous, no seas too boisterous, no climate too rigorous for him. The burning sun of the tropics cannot make him effeminate, nor can the eternal winter of the polar seas paralyze his energies. Foster, cherish, develop these characteristics by a generous and paternal government. Excite his emulation and stimulate his ambition by rewards. But, above all, save him, save him from the brutalizing lash, and inspire him with love and confidence for your service and then there is no achievement so arduous, no conflict so desperate, in which his actions will not shed glory upon his country. And when the final struggle comes, as soon it will come, for the empire of the seas, you may rest with entire confidence in the persuasion that victory will be yours.

CLAUDIUS AND CYNTHIA

(Abridged)

By MAURICE THOMPSON, Civil Engineer, Lawyer, Essayist, Novelist, Born in Fairfield, Ind., 1844.

Poet.

Taken from Scribner's Monthly for February, 1879. It is interesting to note in connection with this selection that Mr. Thompson is a skillful archer. The title of one of his books is "The Witchery of Archery."

It was in the mid-splendor of the reign of the Emperor Commodus. Especially desirous of being accounted the best swordsman and the most fearless gladiator of Rome, he still better enjoyed the reputation of being the incomparable archer. This being true, it can well be understood how Claudius, by publicly boasting that he was a better archer

than Commodus, had brought upon himself the calamity of a public execution.

But not even Nero would have thought of bringing the girl to her death for the fault of the lover.

Claudius and his young bride had been arrested together at their wedding-feast, and dragged to separate dungeons to await the Emperor's will. The rumor was abroad that a most startling scene would be enacted in the circus. The result was that all the seats were filled with people eager to witness some harrowing scene of death.

Commodus himself, surrounded by a great number of favorites, sat on a richly cushioned throne about midway one side of the inclosure. All was still, as if the multitude were breathless with expectancy. Presently out from one of the openings Claudius and his young bride-their hands bound behind them—were led forth upon the arena and forced to walk around the entire circumference of the place.

At length the giant circuit was completed, and the two were left standing on the sand about one hundred and twenty feet from the Emperor, who now arose and in a loud voice said:

66

Behold the condemned Claudius, and Cynthia whom he lately took for his wife. They are condemned for the great folly of Claudius, that the Roman people may know that Commodus reigns supreme. The crime for which they are to die is a great one. Claudius has publicly proclaimed that he is a better archer than I, Commodus, am. I am the Emperor and the incomparable archer of Rome: whoever disputes it dies, and his wife dies with him. It is decreed.

The youth, erect and powerful, set his thin lips firmly and kept his eyes looking straight out before him. Many knew him as a trained athlete and especially as an almost unerring archer; they knew him, too, as a brave soldier, a true friend, an honorable citizen. Little time remained for such reflections as might have arisen, for immediately a large cage, containing two fiery-eyed and famished tigers, was brought

into the circus and placed before the victims.

The hungry

beasts were excited to madness by the smell of fresh blood, which had been smeared on the bars of the cage for that purpose. They growled and howled, lapping their fiery tongues and plunging against the door.

Look for a brief moment upon the picture: fifty thousand faces thrust forward gazing; the helpless couple lost to everything but the black horrors of death, quivering from head to foot. Note the spotless beauty and unselfish love of the girl. Mark well the stern power of the young man's face. And now, O, now look at the bounding tigers! See how one leads the other in the awful race to the feast. The girl is nearer than the man. She will feel the claws and fangs first. How wide those red, frothing mouths gape! How the red tongues loll! The sand flies up in a cloud from the armed feet of the leaping brutes.

There came from the place where Commodus stood a clear musical note, such as might have come from the gravest cord of a lyre, if powerfully stricken, closely followed by a keen far-reaching hiss, like the whisper of fate, ending in a heavy blow. The multitude caught breath and stared.

The foremost tiger, while yet in mid-air, curled itself up with a gurgling cry of utter pain, and with blood gushing from its eyes, ears, and mouth, fell heavily down dying. Again the sweet, insinuating twang, the hiss, the stroke.

The second beast fell dead or dying upon the first. This explained all. The Emperor had demonstrated his right to be called the Royal Bowman of the World.

Had the tyrant been content to rest here, all would have been well.

While yet the beasts were struggling with death he gave orders for a shifting of the scenes. He was insatiable.

For the first time during the ordeal the youth's eyes moved. The girl, whose back was turned toward the beasts, was still waiting for the crushing horror of their assault.

A soldier now approached the twain, and, seizing the arm

of each, led them some paces further away from the Emperor, where he stationed them facing each other, and with their sides to Commodus, who was preparing to shoot again.

Before drawing his bow, he cried aloud," Behold, Commodus will pierce the centre of the ear of each!"'

The lovers were gazing into each other's eyes still as statues, as if frozen by the cold fascination of death. Commodus drew his bow with tremendous power, fetching the cord back to his breast, where for a moment it was held without the faintest quiver of a muscle. His eyes were fixed

and cold as steel.

The arrow fairly shrieked through the air, so swift was its flight.

The girl, filled with ineffable pain, flung up her white arms, the rent thongs flying away in the paroxysms of her final struggle. The arrow struck in the sand beyond. Something like a divine smile flashed across her face. Again the bow-string rang, and the arrow leaped away to its thrilling work. What a surge the youth made! The cord leaped from his wrists, and he clasped the falling girl in his embrace.

All eyes saw the arrow hurtling along the sand after its mission was done. Commodus stood like fate, leaning forHis eyes

ward to note the perfectness of his execution. blazed with eager, heartless triumph. "Lead them out, and set them free, and tell it everywhere that Commodus is the incomparable bowman.

And then, when all at once it was discovered that he had not hurt the lovers, but had merely cut in two with his arrows the cords that bound their wrists, a great stir began, and out from a myriad overjoyed and admiring hearts leaped a storm of thanks, while, with the clash and bray of musical instruments, and with voices like the voices of winds and seas, and with a clapping of hands like the rending roar of tempests, the vast audience arose as one person, and applauded the Emperor.

RECEIVING THE MASTER'S DEGREE FROM HARVARD 271

ON RECEIVING THE MASTER'S DEGREE FROM

HARVARD

By BOOKER TALIAFERRO WASHINGTON, Educator; Principal of Tuskegee Normal and Industrial Institute. Born a slave near Hale's

Ford, Va., in 1857 or 1858.

A speech made at Harvard Commencement, June 24, 1896. See Harvard Graduates' Magazine, September, 1896.

It would in some measure relieve embarrassment if I could in even a slight degree feel myself worthy of the great honor which you do me to-day. Why you have called me from the Black Belt of the South, from among my humble people, to share in the honors of this occasion, is not for me to explain; and yet it may not be inappropriate for me to suggest that it seems to me that one of the most vital questions that touch our American life is how to bring the strong, the wealthy, and the learned into helpful touch with the poorest, most ignorant, and humble, and at the same time make the one appreciate the vitalizing, strengthening influence of the other. How shall we make the dwellers in the mansions on yon Beacon Street feel and see the need of the spirits in the lowliest cabin in Alabama cotton-fields or Louisiana sugarbottoms? This problem Harvard University is solving, not by bringing itself down, but by bringing the masses up.

If through me, a humble representative, seven millions of my people in the South might be permitted to send a message to Harvard, -Harvard, that offered up on death's altar Shaw and Russell and Lowell and scores of others that we might have a free and united country,—that message would be, "Tell them that the sacrifice was not in vain. Tell them, by the way of the shop, the field, the skilled hand, habits of thrift and economy, by the way of the industrial school and college, we are coming up. We are crawling up, working up, yea, bursting up,—often through oppression, unjust discrimination, and prejudice; but through them all we are coming up, and, with proper habits, intelligence,