ealth; and that is on the grave of a non-collegiate man, whose inscription is in English.
But we noticed that at the end of the tombstone of the Rev. Samuel Appleton, after all the sonorous Latin the climax came in those superb words from the English Vulgate: They that be wise shall shine as the brightness of the firmament.
And they that turn many to righteousness as the stars forever and ever.
I have dwelt upon this churchyard because it is perfectly certain that every Cambridge boy in 1830 drew from it as distinct a sense of an historic past and of the dignity of letters as any English boy receives when he glances downward, while waiting for the Temple Church in London to open its doors, and sees beneath his feet the name of Oliver Goldsmith.
Through its influence we naturally thought of the academical virtues — dignity, learning, the power of leadership — as being the great achievement of life, while all else was secondary.
On the other hand, the empty diamond-shaped cavitie