concentrate it. "We should write a motto over our gates, Pauca fideliter, a
few things faithfully."
James Blake, the new Mayor of Worcester and therefore a member of the
board, invited the guests to the collation. Afterwards the whole assembly
reconvened for the afternoon session. Again there were speeches, this time
by Alexander H. Bullock, Governor of the State and citizen of Worcester,
Thomas A. Thacher, professor of Latin at Yale, the Reverend Seth Sweetser,
the Honorable Emory Washburn from Harvard, who had been so
instrumental in founding the school, George F. Hoar, who in this year became
a member of the United States Congress, Judge Henry Chapin, and William P.
Atkinson of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology.
Judge Chapin moved an adjournment but became so interested in his own
speech that he talked on and on, ignoring his own motion. It was he who
told the only joke of the day; even that was feeble fare. His story referred to
the old superstition that when a new child is born, it becomes the possessor
of a soul of someone who dies at that same moment. Judge Chapin went on
to say that he knew one man so stingy that when he was born, nobody died.
It was not much to lighten a whole day of ponderous eloquence, but it
helped. Shortly afterwards, George Hoar finished the speechmaking and
Judge Chapin stood up again, this time to thank the people for bringing so
much good food.
It was already dusk as the carriages grumbled down the muddy driveway.
The two buildings stood stark and still on the bare hill now stripped of all its
trees. Charles Thompson, fortified by only one young teacher, a part-time
artist, and his sister-in-law, must have felt he had fallen heir to a strange
legacy.
The fathers and godfathers and advisers had had their say and now had
gone away, leaving what they hoped were adequate provisions and
instruction to last the winter.
Now the test would come.
There was nothing to do but pick up after the company, then get on with
the homework for tomorrow's classes.