How could he relate that? How could any man? How could he find the voice, the eyes? And he with all his wit and philosophy, his experience and tact, was young. He tried-turned, looked, and flinging himself beside the old lady's bed, he buried his face in the pillows and sobbed. Madame Odalise thought. The emotion, the tears had produced their effect. She selected the mildest offering of her mind. "She must return; she must be brought back immediately!" And when in the dim gray dawn of a woman's chamber, with the saints' faces, like latent spirituality, coming out of the twilight, and a far off devotional taper lighting the figure of the crucified One, when a man prays to a woman as if she were God, confesses to her as if she were a priest, bathes her hand with tears as if she were a mother, kisses it as if she were a saint; and when time is pass"Return! Be brought back!" The young ing, and it is a question of confidence in a man was on his feet again, his eyes now dry, young girl's purity of conscience and intenhis voice resonant, enough. "Return! not tion-and so of her security afterward-and while I have life, or she either!" he spoke of this, as if he too were a woman"Do you mean "exclaimed the old and when it is a question of a young girl's lady. awakening in the arms of a parent—or in "Return! I have not touched her I have those of only her affianced husband-and of not looked at her scarcely —" "Ha!" exclaimed Madame Odalise with a voice as resonant as his own. "You dared not!" "Dared not! Yes, I dared not! Not for you, understand! Not for friends, relations, church, government-No, no! For herself! for myself! She came to save"-dashing his hand over his eyes, his voice failing again—“but give her up? Not while there's a breath of life." But that was no way to gain the point! He began now to tremble that she would awake while he was absent, would look for him, would ask, would fear, would tremble. Monsieur Méance had never prayed in his life; perhaps he had had too little to ask for perhaps he obtained it without the asking. Heaven as well as earth, seems favorable to so young, handsome, and attractive a man. But he got upon his knees now, and it is extremely doubtful if he could have prayed to his deity more fervently than he did to the old lady in her night-cap and night camisole, prayed with a simplicity and devotion that she could not have matched, and with a frankness that she had never dared. He told her all, all, bared his heart, until it lay at her feet as bare as her brother's babe, Pieta, had often lain upon her knees. the affiancing and the marriage Monsieur Méance spoke not for himself-he could not have spoken so for himself-any more than the Chevalier could have spoken for himself when he spoke for this same Pieta. But it could not have been entirely the circumstances and surroundings. It must be that Monsieur Méance knew the heart of Madame Odalise before he made the attempt; just as the Chevalier knew it when he made his appeal. And both succeeded; for they knew well the heart of a woman was there, under all the trappings of ecclesiology, was there, as perhaps only Didon, the Chevalier, Monsieur Méance, and God knew. The sleep fulfilled Mela's calculations; the awakening, Monsieur Méance's. Pieta opened her eyes on a rectified situation, on the conventional world which Monsieur Méance had created in the short space of three hours, and literally out of nothing. It was only Monsieur Méance himself who was changed, who was unconventional, or rather most conventional according to his standard. He was still sitting on the ottoman before the fire when she opened her eyes, her eyes of the immaculate conception. Again he knelt in obeisance before her, again he took her hand; but this time there was no restraint—he pressed it to his lips, "Pieta! Pieta!" he said. It seemed And he spoke of Pieta. This time, thus too much, even for him, even for the eloquence kneeling, he could speak of her. After all, that had gained the morning's triumph. But what he said was mainly imagination on his he said it after all, although it took time. part; or what is generally called imagination; When he commenced, Madame Odalise was but men cannot imagine any thing about a there; when he finished, hours afterward, woman's goodness, purity, innocence, unself- she had disappeared, and it was as well. The ishness, bravery, devotion, heart-truthfulness storm? When had there been a storm? CHAPTER XXI. Chaque béte-à-fé eclairé pou n’áme yo. -Creole proverb. Every firefly makes light for its own soul. MASTER MASSIG had left New Orleans, as it turned out, forever. His after career, had he given publicity to it, might have afforded interesting evidence as to the stability of the philosophy in which he trusted. But like all such philosophers, he not only did not offer his career publicly, but took inordinate pains to destroy each chapter of his life as fast as it was finished, thus nullifying any efforts that might have been made to extract from his success the means to success in others. The ship in which he literally took passage so arbitrarily, was engaged in trade on the coast of Africa. The Captain learning of his acquaintance with the human body, at least of Africans, welcomed the intruder with pleasure, engaged him permanently as physician, and was looking forward to a profitable companionship, when the Embuscade touched at St. Domingo. Here Massig disembarked as suddenly as he had embarked, and with as satisfactory a leave-taking. He sailed on the next ship for France. The Captain, for reasons of his own, changed his destination at sea; instead of going first to Brest, he went to Marseilles. Agreeable to his determination of landing at the first port made, Massig turned himself adrift in that city. Walking the streets one day endeavoring to conjure wit and audacity into bread and a night's lodging, he recognized his own name on the sign of a respectable shop. Pursuing the discovery, he unearthed a relation, who, without much difficulty, found his place in the family and acknowledged him. For the gossip about his being sold on the levee and the romance about his mother were untrue, as such gossip usually is. He was in reality the son of a barber, who with his wife had died of yellow fever shortly after landing. The worthy Marseilles tradesman with cordial kindness forced the hospitality of his home upon the young stranger; and after they had become intimate enough to warrant advice, forced that upon him also. This was, to go seriously to work and abandon wit and audacity as a livelihood, suggesting, that he adopt some profession, such as cupping or leeching. of a portion of the good counsel; but, with his usual brilliancy selected the study of medicine, which he had already practiced so extensively on the numerous clientèle furnished by the body of old Mirâcle. Entering the school of Montpelier, he distinguished himself not only by his intelligence, which was to be expected, but by his assiduity and docility. He took his degree with credit, and established himself in Marseilles, as far as possible from the location of his relative. Fortune favored him, in that he found so many of the Marseillais suffering from the chronic complaint that had afflicted old Mirâcle, and their bodies yielded to the treatment practiced upon him, without any perceptible difference of color. Not only the humble but the aristocratic, and what was more to his purpose, the rich Marseillais employed him. His credit spread until it became reputation, and by degrees extended until it reached the ears of a certain royal personage who, most opportunely for Massig, had, of all the maladies that afflict humanity, been elected to groan on the throne, from the same one that the poor old negro had moaned over on his pallet. The celebrated Marseilles physician, Doctor Massig, was sent for. That was the culmination. The son of the barber spent the rest of his life at Court. He concealed so well his origin that no one suspected it; on the contrary, from the qualities of his mind, the nobility always claimed him; and he was not one to disallow such a compliment. The malicious observed that the royal patient did not die until the physician had amassed a fortune and secured a title. He never married. It is related that when admiring ladies, as ladies will do to physicians, worshiped him, wondering how and where he had acquired such superhuman skill and insight, he would answer, "Mirâcle, Madame, Mirâcle.” And this was the reason why the belief was prevalent that Doctor Massig was orthodox and pious, while on the contrary he remained to the end of his life the scoffer he was born, as the epitaph which he composed and requested by testament to be put over his tomb will show: I lived once, who here now dead repose, Massig perceived the wisdom or necessity (The end.) A SYMPOSIUM-WHERE SHOULD A COLLEGE BE LOCATED? IN A COUNTRY TOWN. in the gymnasium, nothing can take the place of exercise in the open air. The freedom of By Prof. Julius H. Seelye, D.D., LL.D., of the fields and woods, the exhilaration of the Amherst College. T HIS question I can best answer by emphasizing the distinction between a college and a university. The method and spirit of a university are those of investigation. Its aim is the enlargement of learning. It does not seek to perfect the worker but it takes the worker, already prepared for his task, and gives him the facilities for the best accomplishment. This fact itself indicates the best location for a university. A university will find a constant stimulus and strength in the energy, the enterprise, and the wealth of a great city. But it is quite otherwise with a college. The method and aim of a college are those of discipline and culture. The college does not attempt investigation for its own sake. sole aim is the perfecting of its students. seeks, above all else, the discipline of those comitted to its care-their discipline in body and mind, in intellect and heart and will. Its It But the most important power in the welltrained mind is its power of concentrationthe power to bring all its resources to bear upon what it undertakes to do. The difficulty with most men is, that their energies are scattered and cannot be collected and set at work at will. To gain complete mastery of one's powers, there needs the most careful training and, unless with intellects exceptionally endowed, this training is best conducted in a certain degree of seclusion. The whirl of a busy life, the excitements of a great city, are not best fitted for this work of a college. By and by, when a person has become well-trained, he can, perhaps, do his best work in a great city. But the influences most favorable for the work of a well-trained mind might be destructive to the process of its training, as the wind which fans to an intenser blaze the well-lighted fire would put it out if permitted to blow upon it in the process of its kindling. The bodily, as well as the mental, training of the student is likely to be better secured in a country town than in a city. Whatever may be the results of the training furnished hills, the constant fascinations of nature in the wondrous variety of a country life, fur- / nish the best and strongest stimulus for joyous and wholesome exercise. In Amherst College, according to statistics kept for the last thirty years, it appears that the average health of a student is likely to increase with each year of his college life. It is well, also, that the moral life of a young student be kept free from the opportunities and incentives to vice furnished by a great city. No spot of perfect purity will yet be found upon the earth and the most secluded country town will have its temptations. But these are likely to differ in prominence and harmfulness as they do in numbers from those in a great city. The passions and propensities of a young man being as they are, I would seek to guide them by the best moral influences in my power. I would carefully seek to instill the principles of purity and uprightness until these should control, if they could not destroy, every vicious impulse, but I should feel much more confident of success if strong temptations could be kept from the young man's way, until his purposes could be strong enough to meet and master them. The In my judgment, the tendency of our educational life will soon demand the separation of the college from the university. method and spirit of these two are so different and they need such different surroundings and adjustments, that the attempt to keep the two together is likely to injure both. The best results are likely to follow the complete separation of the two, giving to the one the scope of the city and confining the other to the seclusion and strength of the country town. By Henry Wade Rogers, LL.D., President of THE answer to that question must very largely depend upon the purpose for which the college is established, and the nature of the work which it proposes to do. A college of law or a college of medicine may well be established in a large city. The students of law will then have the advantages incident to proximity to courts where they can see cases tried by able lawyers, and it will likewise be possible for them to spend a portion of their time in the law offices where they will gain some experience respecting the manner in which cases are prepared for trial and legal business is conducted. And in such a city the students of medicine will have the benefits which come from superior clinical opportunity afforded in large hospitals. Colleges of law and colleges of medicine should be placed in the large cities. The largest law school in Europe is established in Berlin, and the largest medical schools are found, as a rule, in large cities. But I do not wish to be understood as intimating that law and medical colleges cannot flourish except in large cities, for the facts prove the contrary. One of the largest law schools in the United States is in a town of only ten thousand inhabitants, and the success of the medical schools connected with the universities of Tübingen, Bonn, Jena, and Würzburg has been marked. But I take it that the question was intended to apply to colleges of liberal arts, rather than to those designed for professional training. A college which proposes to content itself with doing undergraduate work of an academic nature would best be placed in a small town. It appears that most of the leading and successful colleges are those established in towns or small cities rather than in large ones. Columbia College is an exception to the rule, but the academic department of Columbia College has never flourished to the same degree that its law school has. And so it may be said that in the University of Pennsylvania, the academic department has hardly attained to the same relative degree of prosperity that has attended its medical department. The largest university in the United States, the University of Michigan, is in a town of not more than ten thousand people. Harvard and Yale are in comparatively small cities. Princeton is in a small country town. Ithaca, the seat of Cornell University, is a place of twelve thousand inhabitants. Evanston, the seat of Northwestern University, is a town of the same size. The largest university in Ohio is the one at Oberlin, a town whose population must be less than five thousand. Some of the reasons why a college may best be established in a comparatively small place may now be stated. 1. In such a place the students will best do their work, for there will be less to distract their attention from their books. In a large city the attractions of society, the amusements of the play-house, the pleasures of the concert-hall, and the many things that are continually coming up to interest and attract serve to break in upon studious habits and seriously to interfere with a scholastic life. 2. In a small place, too, the professors can best do their work, and for similar reasons. 3. Again it is possible to live in a small place on less money than would be required to live in a large city. And this is an important consideration for both students and professors. 4. The fact should not be overlooked that in a large city the temptations to dissipation are of necessity many times greater than in a small place. Not only are the temptations more in number, but the possibility of escaping detection is so much greater in a large city, that the fear of being discovered has little or no restraining influence. 5. A college placed in a comparatively small town creates a scholastic atmosphere which is alike helpful to students and to professors. But in a large city this stimulating influence is lost. A college of liberal arts is in my opinion, ideally located when it is established in a small place near a large city. In that way its students may avail themselves of the unquestioned advantages which a large city can offer in its magnificent libraries, museums, and collections of art, and at the same time, in a great degree, be removed from the temptations to which they would be continually exposed if they were within the city itself. President James B. Angell, of the University of Michigan. I UNDERSTAND the question submitted to me to refer to the college, in the strict sense of the term. Professional or technical schools are not under consideration. I am of the opinion that the country town or the small city is a better place for the American college than the large city. The constituency of the college in the large city is almost wholly from that city. This gives a local and narrow spirit to the body of students, and makes membership in the body less instructive and inspiring than life in the college which draws students from many places. Columbia College and the University of Pennsylvania have during their whole existence furnished striking illustrations of this fact. Parents are unwilling to send their boys to a large city for college training, and for reasons which are too obvious to need statement here. cago, and able men have formed their faculties, they have been surpassed in numbers and in influence by not a few colleges of far smaller means in smaller cities or in country towns. There seems no explanation of this except in the fact that the large city is not the best site for the college, whether it be the best or not for professional and technical schools. IN A CITY. By Prof. Hjalmar Hjorth Boyesen, of Columbia College. It seems to me that the difficulties of securing good results from teaching must be greater in the college of a large city than in the college of the town. The student cannot be so imbued with the enthusiasms and in- THERE is a curious confusion in the Amerspirations of constant contact with his fel- ican mind regarding the terms college and lows and his teachers. He goes from the university, and I venture to predict that this class-room to his home, and is almost neces- confusion will last until two classes of instisarily drawn into the engrossing amusements tutions, with distinct and different functions, and excitements of social life, or imbued with shall have been evolved out of the present the mercantile spirit of those who are about chaotic condition. It is a mistake to suphim. Manifold distractions beset him and pose that the terms college and university disturb the temper of scholarly serenity or are synonymous; and when Harvard and divert him fatally from his books. This Yale are designated now as the former and might not be if he were shut up in college now as the latter, it is not so much a misas the student of a French lycée is kept. But use of terms as an indication of the doubt such confinement is impracticable in the which exists in the minds of all as to the American college. proper classification. President Eliot of Harvard is making the very hazardous experiment of transforming the old American college which is a secondary and intermediate institution, corresponding approximately to the French lycée-into a university, in the German sense; that he is trying to lift the old college where boys formerly graduated at fifteen or sixteen out of its old class, which it had outgrown, into a new one, which, as yet, it does not fill. President Low of Columbia, on the other hand, is trying to restore the college to its proper function as an intermediate institution, preparatory to the higher study of the university; and he is superimposing the university as a new structure upon the secure and well-grounded foundation of the college. I have insisted upon this distinction of the terms, because my answer to the query directly depends upon it. A college which, when restored to its proper function, would supply what in France is called secondary instruction to boys between the ages of fourteen and eighteen, ought to be situated in a country town where there are fresh air and fine opportunities for all out-door sports. The studies in such an institution are altogether disciplinary, and require no very elaborate apparatus. It is perfectly proper and in nowise Not the least valuable part of the education of a student is received from this constant and close association with other students in Inspiring intimacies of college life. In the small city or the town the college creates the atmosphere in which the student lives. And there is always something in that atmosphere which not only gives a joy for life to those who have breathed it, but also a certain scholarly spirit that is never quite lost. In the great city the college is comparatively unseen. The atmosphere is that of trade or manufactures or social pleasures. In the town the interest of the student is concentrated in the college, in the large city his interest is divided among many things. Morally, the student is doubtless safer in a town, in which he cannot long hide his misdeeds, if he begins to go astray, than in a large city in which he is pretty sure to escape observation, if he desires to conceal his iniquity. I think it may be said with truth that it yet remains to be demonstrated that an American college can be in an eminent degree successful in a large city, that it can in fact be much more than a local school. Though very large resources have been expended on the colleges in New York, Philadelphia, and Chi |