. . .There is neither East nor West, Border, nor
Breed, nor Birth,
When two strong men stand face to face, tho' they
come from the ends of the earth!
KIPLING

IT happened by mere chance that the September day on which
Professor Vincent Burgess, A.B., from Boston, first entered
Sunrise College as instructor in Greek, was the same day on
which Vic Burleigh, overgrown country boy from a Kansas claim
out beyond the Walnut River, signed up with the secretary of
the College Board and paid the entrance fee for his freshman year.
And further, by chance, it happened that the two young men
had first met at the gateway to the campus, one coming from
the East and the other from the West, and having exchanged
the courtesies of stranger greeting, they had walked,
side by side, up the long avenue to the foot of the slope.
Together, they had climbed the broad flight of steps leading
up to the imposing doorway of Sunrise, with the great letter S
carved in stone relief above it; and, after pausing a moment
to take in the matchless wonder of the landscape over which
old Sunrise keeps watch, the college portal had swung open,
and the two had entered at the same time.

Inside the doorway the Professor and the country boy were impressed,
though in differing degrees, with the massive beauty of the rotunda over
which the stained glass of the dome hangs a halo of mellow radiance.
Involuntarily they lifted their eyes toward this crown of light
and saw far above them, wrought in dainty coloring, the design