alled ourselves boys. "You
must not stop in the Hall this time, but come to my home and we will talk
over what Talladega is doing and what we ought to do," he insisted.
Precious days were those, as I now recall them, with this scholarly man,
so instinct with faith, so earnest and hopeful in his work, so happy in
his family, and so full of plans for the time to come. We talked together
of the interests of the institution which, within seventeen years, he had
led on from a normal school to a college. Together we went through the
various classrooms and heard the recitations; the mathematics cultivating
the reasoning powers, the geography giving correct views of the world, the
history widening the vision of it, the astronomy unfolding God's love of
order and truth. We heard together the lessons in language, in ethics, in
mental philosophy, and saw the students taking on strength and character,
whom he had watched from grade to grade, from year to year. Not only in
the theological department, where students were intent upon their calling,
but in the farm work, in the industrial classes, everywhere, and on
everything, was the stamp of earnest Christianity. So, through president
and teachers, the highest ideals had been constantly held before the
students. It was inspiration to me to meet once more the devoted teachers
of the College, and the students, greedy for knowledge and willing to work
for it, on the farm, in the industries, and in whatever way they could
earn enough to help themselves through the year. When the time came for
the "Goodbye," with the hearty invitation "come again," he did not know,
nor I, that before a month should pass I should "come again" to look my
farewell upon my silent friend who could no more welcome me. He had no
word for me but I heard a word, "Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord,
for they rest from their labors and their works do follow them." Surely
the works of this man of God will follow him. The slow procession on that
funeral day moved out of sight, and the next day the usual College work
went on, but the days for Talladega have been sad.

I would that I might extend the invitation to continue and visit a score
of places with schools and churches on this journey, each of which gave to
me its own suggestions. There is the unique and fruitful school at Cotton
Valley, with its record of transformations; there are Selma and Tougaloo,
Jackson, New Orleans, Mobile, Thomasville, Albany, Marsh