There is a difference between the eleven o’clock lecture about life, science and philosophy, full of wit and wisdom, and the planning and toiling for a dinner in which something will scorch or spoil, and concerning which peevish and fault finding words are sure to be spoken by one or more who ought to be, but are not, considerate and sympathetic.

There is a difference between a two o’clock afternoon concert of gifted voices, stringed instruments, and organs, and an aching head and quivering nerves, where rest is refused you, and the hard, straining, dragging work must go on, whether you like or loathe it.

There is a difference between the four o’clock “specialties,” full of help and instruction, and the insipid, fashionable call that wastes your time, disturbs your conscience, and makes you wish “society” to the dogs.

There is a difference between the precious five o’clock Round-Table or vesper hour, with its free conversations (like a family chat) about simple things connected with our beloved Circle, with its broad thoughts, its sweet friendships, its holy prayers, its soothing and uplifting “Day is dying in the West,” when the sunlight seems like a veritable revelation of the Shekinah, and the air is vibrant with divinest sympathies—there is a difference between the Chautauqua five o’clock and the average five o’clock at home, in field, in street, in shop.

There is a difference between a Chautauqua evening of lectures, songs, burlesque, boat ride, camp-fire, reception, illuminated fleet and gorgeous fireworks, and the weariness of a routine life evening—the physical energy gone, the children out of sorts, misunderstandings in home, neighborhood or church, the prospect of a sleepless night, and of an enervating and irritating to-morrow.

A difference, to be sure, but then remember that these every-days should be glorified by the Chautauqua days. And remember that they test the sentiments enkindled and resolutions formed in the pleasurable excitements, devotional services, splendid processions and great audiences of the more favored season.

Fellow-students, let the charm of the Chautauqua days be felt through all the intervening days. By strong resolve put high thoughts, tender sympathies, devout aspirations, unwearying patience, into the most unsentimental, uncomfortable and vexatious experiences and emergencies of home and business life, and thus diminish the difference in real value between Chautauqua and other days.


BISHOP WARREN TO THE CLASS OF 1884.