thirty years after the publication of Darwin's "Origin of Species'' had
about it a touch of intellectual adventure. We knew, for instance, that
our science teacher had accepted this theory, hut we had a strong suspicion that the teacher of Butler's "Analogy" had not. We chafed at
the meagerness of the college library in this direction, and 1 used to
* bring hack in my handbag books belonging to an advanced brother-in'
law who had studied medicine in Germany and who therefore was
quite emancipated. The first gift I made when I came into possession of
my small estate the year after I left school, was a thousand dollars to
the library of Rockford College, with the stipulation that it be spent
for scientific books. In the long vacations I pressed plants, stuffed
birds, and pounded rocks in some vague belief that I was approximating the new method, and yet when my stepbrother who was becoming
a real scientist, tried to carry me along with him into the merest outskirts of the methods of research, it at once became evident that I had
no aptitude and was unable to follow intelligently Darwin's careful observations on the earthworm. I made an heroic effort, although candor
compels me to state that I never would have finished if I had not been
pulled and pushed by my really ardent companion, who in addition to
a multitude of earthworms and a fine microscope, possessed untiring
tact with one of flagging zeal.
As our boarding-school days neared the end, in the consciousness of
approaching separation we vowed eternal allegiance to our "early
ideals," and promised each other we would "never abandon them
without conscious justification," and we often warned each other of
"the perils of self-tradition."
We believed, in our sublime self-conceit, that the difficulty of life
would lie solely in the direction of losing these precious ideals of ours,
of failing to follow the way to martyrdom and high purpose we had
marked out for ourselves, and we had no notion of the obscure paths of
tolerance, just allowance, and self-blame wherein, if we held our
minds open, we might learn something of the mystery and complexity
of life's purposes.
The year after I had left college I came back, with a classmate, to
receive the degree we had so eagerly anticipated. Two of the graduating class were also ready and four of us were dubbed B. A. on the very
day that Rockford Seminary was declared a college in the midst of tumultuous anticipations. Having had a year outside of college walls in