I had spoken with enthusiasm, yes, even with deep emotion and I expected, if not a warm, at least a sympathetic reception of my address. But only a faint and very cold applause followed my remarks. I had the impression that not one fourth of the young men present had found it worth their while to show their approval of my lecture, and that the applause of even these few had been an act of courtesy rather than a spontaneous outburst of feeling. The chilly reception was such a great disappointment to me that I could not rally courage enough to leave my chair and pass through the students as they were leaving the hall.
I busied myself at the little desk before me until everybody had gone with the exception of the gentleman who had arrested my attention when I entered the room. He remained at the door evidently waiting for me.
“You belong to the college?” I asked, to hide my embarrassment.
“Indeed I do”, he answered with a light smile, that challenged another question.
“I suppose I have the pleasure of meeting one of my colleagues”, I continued. “My name is West”.
“Until about a month ago I was Professor Forest, your predecessor in teaching the history of the nineteenth century; to-day I am one of the janitors and my chief has been good enough to recommend this room to my care.”
I had during the last few days seen and heard so many new and strange things, that I was prepared to be surprised at nothing, however astounding.
But the information, that to a professor of history was assigned the duty of cleaning the rooms, where he had once lectured, sounded so incredible and opened such an unpleasing prospect for my own career, that I could not conceal my amazement.
“And what has caused this singular change of position”, I inquired.
“In comparing the lot of humanity in 1900 and 2000 I came to conclusions very different from yours”, responded Mr. Forest.