Our Commencement week happened to coincide with “military week” in Nashville, for which great preparation had been made, and the city was gaily decorated with the national colors, and crowded with people. We had feared the effect of the excitement on the school, but found no cause for anxiety. Our pupils were too much absorbed in their work to be drawn away by the attractions of the parade ground, and our audiences seemed not to be much increased or diminished by the event. The class admitted to college on Monday evening numbers eight, three of whom are children of professors in the university. Among the essays and orations of the evening, were pleas to imaginary millionaires in the audience for a gymnasium, a conservatory of music and other improvements. Thus the incoming classes are seeing needs and making demands which the university has no means of meeting.
On Tuesday there drove up to the door of Livingstone Hall a furniture wagon, from which was unloaded a suspicious-looking rectangular box addressed to Prof. A. K. Spence. Strange that through the law of association so much of harmony can be suggested by so simple a geometrical form. Curious eyes watched the opening, and saw with delight on lifting the top a handsome Steinway square grand piano. It was carried into the chapel and placed upon the platform. Rumor said it was a gift, but nothing further could be learned until Commencement day.
In the midst of the exercises of the higher normal graduation on Wednesday evening, Secretary Woodworth entered and took a retired seat on the platform. His health was so far restored as to enable him to travel, though not in time to reach us before Sunday. The alumni address, which formed part of the programme of the evening, was given by Prof. McPherron. After this Secretary Woodworth was called out from his retirement and spoke for a few minutes. The list of alumni was read, the present work of each stated and the announcement made that steps had already been taken by the alumni to raise gradually a sufficient sum to endow a professorship in the university.
The last great day, Thursday, was as perfect as clear skies and fresh, dustless air could make it. A large audience of both white and colored people assembled early. The young men marched to Jubilee Hall, and a procession was there formed to return to the chapel. The British flag was draped over the platform on this birthday of England’s queen, and the room was bright with terraces of flowering plants. The seven young people who appeared as candidates for a degree represent many years of work on the part of student and teacher; the average length of time spent in the institution by members of the class is seven years. The one young lady took for her theme, the great field of work opening before and among the girls of the South and the necessary training for that work. Spoken from her standpoint her words were full of solemn meaning. After the graduates had finished their part, we listened eagerly to the address of Dr. Washington Gladden on the causes of poverty, ignorance and vice—the threefold evil against which we are fighting.
When the final piece of music had been sung, Prof. Spence asked permission to say a few words, and after some rapid wheeling of pianos to certain places on the platform, announced that Mrs. General Fisk had presented the new piano for the chapel of Livingstone Hall. Its companion was given by the same lady some years ago for the parlors of Jubilee Hall. Mention was made of the many other gifts of Mrs. Fisk, and a vote of gratitude for her kindness was heartily given by the entire audience. To afford an opportunity to hear both pianos together, Mendelssohn’s wedding march was played as a quartet.
A prominent Southern gentleman of Nashville, himself a former slaveholder, was present for the first time with other invited guests at the alumni dinner, and spoke warmly, cordially and strongly for our work. The most encouraging comment that I have heard on the exercises of the week was made by a former student, who was present: “It seems to me that every Commencement is better than the last.” So may it continue to be while Fisk University stands.
TALLADEGA COLLEGE.
BY REV. C. L. WOODWORTH, D.D.
Talladega, in Eastern Central Alabama, is a bright village of a thousand people, lying high up among the hills, away from the malaria which lurks in the valleys below. The air is soft and bracing, the water pure and sweet, and the whole region eminently beautiful. Here Talladega College was founded in 1867. The college is beautiful for situation, and in this respect would contest the palm with any institution we have, except possibly, Fisk at Nashville. Encircled on all sides by green mountain ranges, lying far up among the hills, it is one of the most inviting and salubrious spots in the State, and must have been foreordained as the site of a college.
The institution is well equipped for work. Stone Hall, Swayne Hall, Graves Hall, and Foster Hall are solid and comely, and have accommodated more than 298 students the present year. And of the campus, on which Swayne Hall sits, shaded with superb water oaks, it must be said we know of nothing finer in the South. Connected with the college is a farm of some 200 acres, mostly cultivated by the young men. Here they learn the art, as well as the science of farming, and here the supplies for the students’ table are principally raised.