as they did when we were
boys,--when our grandfathers were boys. Let not the rash hand of
innovation violate their sanctities, for the cement that knits these
walls is no vulgar mortar, but is tempered with associations and
memories which are stronger than the parts they bind together!

We meet on this auspicious morning forgetting all our lesser
differences. As we enter these consecrated precincts, the livery of our
special tribe in creed and in politics is taken from us at the door, and
we put on the court dress of our gracious Queen's own ordering, the
academic robe, such as we wore in those bygone years scattered along the
seven last decades. We are not forgetful of the honors which our fellow
students have won since they received their college "parts,"--their
orations, dissertations, disquisitions, colloquies, and Greek dialogs.
But to-day we have no rank; we are all first scholars. The hero in his
laurels sits next to the divine rustling in the dry garlands of his
doctorate. The poet in his crown of bays, the critic, in his wreath of
ivy, clasp each other's hands, members of the same happy family. This is
the birthday feast for every one of us whose forehead has been sprinkled
from the font inscribed "_Christo et Ecclesioe_." We have no badges but
our diplomas, no distinctions but our years of graduation. This is the
republic carried into the university; all of us are born equal into this
great fraternity.

Welcome, then, welcome, all of you, dear brothers, to this our joyous
meeting! We must, we will call it joyous, tho it comes with many
saddening thoughts. Our last triennial meeting was a festival in a
double sense, for the same day that brought us together at our family
gathering gave a new head to our ancient household of the university. As
I look to-day in vain for his stately presence and kindly smile, I am
reminded of the touching words spoken by an early president of the
university in the remembrance of a loss not unlike our own. It was at
the commencement exercises of the year 1678 that the Reverend President
Urian Oakes thus mourned for his friend Thomas Shepard, the minister of
Charlestown, an overseer of the college: "_Dici non potest quam me
perorantem, in comitiis, conspectus ejus, multo jucundissimus, recrearit
et refecerit. At non comparet hodie Shepardus in his comitiis; oculos
huc illuc torqueo; quocumque tamen inciderint, Platonem meum intanta
virorum illustrium frequentia requirunt; nusquam a