CHAPTER XVI

THE FAREWELL COMMENCEMENT


Commencement exercises this year were very interesting; more than
ordinarily so. There were twenty-two graduates in the classical course,
and twenty-seven seniors in the theological class. There were four
hundred and sixty students in all. This was a much larger number than in
any preceding year. Nothing had occurred during the year to mar the peace
of the institution. Sixteen professors, clothed in their official
garments, with the president, occupied the platform, which was profusely
decorated with plants and cut flowers, while an immense American flag
floated over the president's table. But, somehow, there was a feeling of
sadness pervading the whole program; probably no one could have told what
caused it.

The four addresses, delivered by as many graduates, were of a high
order--vivacious, brilliant, and one or two of them quite exhilarating
and fine. Yet there was prevalent something like the feeling of a funeral
occasion--a feeling which follows the loss of a friend. But no one was
dead. Even the applause at the end of any well-given number was gentle
and subdued. The president and Professor McLaren presented the diplomas.
After the graduating classes were again seated the president arose to
deliver his annual address.

This was Bishop Albertson's thirtieth time during his presidential
career. How changed since he delivered the first address to seventeen