were brought the bases of the University Nine, and in the cool of the morning, and in the shade of the evening, many were the happy hits, and the home runs, which won the encore of a delighted audience. Hither, too, came the players on instruments, the violin, the guitar, the flute, the cornet, the triangle and the bones; and in that hour when

there went up on the evening air sweet melodies, that sometimes awakened "thoughts from hiding places ten years deep." Hither came to us in our isolation, the North Star, laden with packages for the brave men, who were far away from home, fighting for their country. How we blessed the little hands that shaped the crullers and made the pies, and the kind hearts of fair maidens, in whom an appreciation of the heroic is never wanting. Nor were these patriots forgetful of the pious trainers of their youth. Often, in the relief from fatigue duty, they would recount their virtues and drink their health with merry song.

Thus passed those two long weeks away, when the company, after having distinguished itself for the terror which it had inspired throughout the surrounding country, was ordered home. With sadness they packed up their fiddles and music books, their fishing rods and herbariums, and returned to the bosoms of the families from which they had been so long separated.

To the future historian, whose duty it shall be to analyze the motives which led to such self-sacrifice, nothing but the most unselfish devotion to the interests of the country will be apparent. What else could induce men absorbed in literary pursuits to forego, in the heat of summer, the subtilties of logic, the intricacies of mathematics, the familiar talks of Thucydides and

Demosthenes and Socrates and Plato, for clambakes, and surfbathing, and fishing, in a locality more beautiful than the Utopia of More and of Southey. Posterity alone will do them justice. For, true it is, that not one of these veterans of a bloodless campaign escaped the rigid examinations from which he so gloriously fled; while the story of unrequited patriotism may be read in the diminished rank of many a diligent student, as it stands on the records of the Register.

About this time, a full length portrait of Major General Burnside, painted by Emanuel Leutze, of New York, was presented to the University by some of the citizens of Providence. Honorable J. R. Bartlett, Secretary of State, was mainly instrumental in securing this gift to the college. It represents the General in the act of directing the famous charge of his troops at the Stone Bridge, at Antietam. This portrait, with others of the fine collection in possession of the University, now adorns the walls of Rhode Island Hall.

The ninety-ninth annual Commencement of the University, which occurred September 7, 1863, brought together its Alumni and undergraduates under circumstances most gratifying. The victories, which, since the last annual festival, our armies had achieved at Antietam, at Vicksburg and at Gettysburg, had lifted the darkness that then hung over us, and had flooded the hearts of all with the light of a new and brighter day.

George William Curtis, of New York, opened the literary exercises of the week, with an oration before the Philermenian and United Brothers Societies, on Tuesday afternoon, September 6. He announced as his theme, The Way of Peace.

Peace of a certain kind, he said, is always possible. The American colonies had only to submit to taxation without representation, and there would have been no war. If an assassin enters your house at night, to murder your wife and children,

you have only to lie quietly in bed, and there will be no trouble. Where the system of government does not tend to freedom and equality, there can be no peace. Our fathers went to Bunker Hill to keep the peace. Had their faith failed them, the Bell of Lexington would not have rung through all history like the morning hymn of liberty; and if the fathers' faith failed now in the hearts of their children, every victory they won we would lose, and great as was their glory, our shame would be greater.

The way of permanent peace could be found only in three ways: either by compromise, disunion, or by the war pushed to its natural results.

Was compromise peace? No, merely defeat and surrender. The speaker showed that the day of compromise had passed; that the questions at issue touched the fundamental principles of government; that compromise was impracticable, because the rebellious chiefs understand that this is a contest for a vital principle, and because they are unwilling to reünite themselves to a people whose character and habits would presently compel them to reconstruct a reconstruction. They would say to us, "You propose to relinquish rights, traditions, etc. It is impossible; we tried under the old Union and failed. You are not able to do what you think you are."

The orator next argued that disunion could not bring peace. He alluded to the difficulty of securing national boundaries, the immense amount of territory we should be called upon to relinquish, the great interior boundary line to be maintained and defended, the impossibility of yielding the mouth of the Mississippi to a foreign power, and the inevitable difficulties which would arise in the case of slaves seeking freedom over our border. For these, and many other reasons, aptly illustrated and eloquently urged, disunion could not secure peace.

The third course was to push the war to its natural results, as the only method of securing a permanent peace. The safety of

the country demands a prompt and vigorous support of the administration, and especially in its emancipation policy, which alone will prevent the rebels from retiring from the unequal conflict, only to resume it when their strength is renewed. By every principle of patriotism, and by every obligation of our holy religion, said the speaker, in conclusion, the lover of freedom, and of humanity, is called to persevere in this glorious work.

Among the speakers at the dinner, which followed the addresses of the graduating class, on Wednesday, was Brigadier General, afterwards Major General, John M. Thayer, of the class of 1841. General Thayer had served under General Grant from the commencement of the war, and was fresh from the scenes of the recent victories of his chief. The worth of General Grant had been recognized long before in the valley of the Mississippiit was now the confession of a loyal people, and General Thayer met the wishes of his college friends, when he placed before them the leading traits in the character of the man, who was destined to lead the armies of the country to ultimate victory.

Speaking of General Grant, he said: No better commander, or soldier, ever took the field. He is as modest as he is determined, as honest as he is brave. He has the unlimited confidence of his officers and men, and let me say that his army, (and I claim nothing for that army above the other armies of the Union), is imbued with but one spirit, and one determination, viz. to crush this infamous rebellion. And I say to you, and I think it no idle boast, that whatever that army with General Grant undertakes, it will accomplish. General Grant is a man of most inflexible determination, of unconquerable energy, and, better than all in a commander, of good practical common sense.

The celebrated campaign of the University Cadets at the West Passage, near the close of the previous term, by no means exhausted the military ardor of the students. The opening of a

new collegiate year found the company in a flourishing condition. Its ranks, diminished by the withdrawal of the members of the late graduating class, were swelled by recruits from the entering class. Lapham, its new commander, moreover, was an accomplished officer, having served in the field as Lieutenant, Adjutant, and Captain. Under his instruction, the company made rapid improvement, both in drill and in general discipline. At the October training of the militia, the Cadets presented so creditable an appearance, that they were detailed to serve as camp guard. This was the last public appearance of the company. The State Militia was disbanded not long after, and Company I, on delivering up its arms and equipments, closed a brief but memorable

career.

The class of 1864 held their Class-Day Festival June 9. General Grant, having just fought the battles of the Wilderness, Spottsylvania, and Cold Harbor, was then resting his army, preparatory to a movement to the south side of the James River. The Class Orator, Mr. Charles T. Lazell, chose for his theme, "The Power of History in Life." In the last sentence of the quotation that follows, Mr. Lazell breathed a thought then fondly cherished in many a northern home, but realized only when another year had given us the victories of Petersburg and Appomattox Court House. "It was not possible," said the orator, speaking of the inspiration that may be derived from the contemplation of human agency in history, "that men from the old Bay State, marching on the 19th of April to the defence of that city which bears the name of him who led our fathers through the Revolution, should not feel the inspiration of that first battle of the Revolution, fought on their own soil eighty-six years before. How much of the spirit of '76 must have been in the hearts of those who, on the return of that day which marks the year '76, followed their victorious leader into the fortifications which had so long resisted