You could hardly have crowded another human into the great hall. From the gowned and decorated dignitaries on the stage to the great orchestra in the upper gallery every square foot of floor space was packed, as the president of the great woman’s college arose to open the commencement exercises. This followed one of the most impressive scenes I have ever witnessed. The great audience had been waiting long beyond the appointed time for starting, when suddenly the orchestra started a slow and stately march and we all rose. A dignified woman in cap and gown, with soft gray hair, marched slowly up the aisle, and following her came long lines of “sweet girl graduates,” as Tennyson puts it. The woman walked to the steps which led to the stage, and standing there reviewed the long lines of girls as they filed silently in and occupied the seats reserved for them. In their black gowns and white bands they seemed, as they were, a trained and steadfast army. As they seated themselves and rose again it seemed like the swelling of a great ocean tide. And following them came men and women who had gained distinction in education or public life. They, too, were in cap and gown, with bands of red, purple, white, green or brown, to designate their college or their studies. The bright sunshine flooded in at the open windows. Outside, the beautiful green college campus stretched away in gently rolling mounds and little valleys. I noticed a robin perched on a tree with his head on one side, calmly viewing the great professor who with the bright red band across his breast was delivering the address. Very likely this wise bird was saying, “You should not be too proud of that dash of red on your gown. There are others! Your red badge is man made. It will not appear on your children, and it may even be taken from you. The red on my breast is a finger-print of Nature, and cannot be removed.”

I know that there are those who would call this impressive service mere pomp and vain parade, yet, to the plain man and woman sitting in the front row of the balcony, it all seemed a noble part of a great proceeding, and a great pride for them. Just where the balcony curved around like a horseshoe this gray-haired couple sat—just like hundreds of other men and women who, in other places, with strange thought in mind, were watching their boys and girls pass out of training into the race of life. The Hope Farm man is supposed to be a farmer, and “as the husband so the wife is.” He worked out as hired man for some years and otherwise qualified for the position, while Mother probably never saw a working farm before she was married. But at any rate there they were—like the hundreds of other plain men and women, while down below them the best work of their lives was coming to fruition. For the daughter was part of that army in cap and gown and was about to receive her certificate of education!

To me one of the most interesting characters in the universe is “the hen with one chicken”! These women with one child of their own! Having added just one volume to the book of life it is their duty and privilege to regard it as a masterpiece. When you come to think of it, what a day, what a moment, that must have been for a woman like Mother. Here was her only child, a girl who, from the cradle, had never given her a moment’s uneasiness or a single lapse of confidence, now standing up big and straight and fine to take her college degree. It had been the dream of Mother’s girlhood to go through this same great college, but that had been denied her. Yet the years had swung around in their relentless march and here was her daughter, big, trained, fine and unspoiled, making noble use of the opportunity which failed to knock at her mother’s door! Many of you women who read this will know that there can be no prouder moment in a woman’s life. Is it any wonder that there was a very suspicious moisture on Mother’s glasses as the minister read the 25th chapter of St. Matthew?

“And I was afraid and went and hid thy talent in the earth.”

Would you not, as she did, have sung with all your power when that great audience rose like a mighty wave to sing “The Star Spangled Banner”? The members of the orchestra stood up to play the tune. As you know, a group of musicians will usually show a large proportion of European faces, but all these markings of foreign blood faded away as they played, and there came upon each countenance the light of what we call Americanism.

But what about “father” at such a time and place? Where does he come in? At a woman’s college he stays out—he is a mere incident, and properly so. If he is wise he will accept the situation. For this big girl marching in line has his shoulders and head; she walks as he does, and people are kind enough to remark, “How much your daughter looks like you!” Now this is no fly in the ointment of Mother’s pride and joy, unless you refer to it too much. Far better take a back seat and let the good lady take full pride in her daughter. I confess that when those 200 girls sat together at the front of the room, all in cap and gown, and most of them with their hair arranged alike, I could not be sure of my own girl until her name was called! My mind was back in the years busy with many memories. More than a full generation ago at an agricultural college I walked up to receive my “certificate.” I remember that I had on some clothes which had been discarded by two other men. I played the part of tailor to clean and press them into service. There were no be-gowned and decorated dignitaries on the platform—just a few farmers, several of them right out of the harvest field. I remember how two of these tired men fell asleep through our class “orations.” I had in my pocket just enough money to get me to a farm where I had agreed to cut corn. And this proud and happy lady beside me! At just about the same time she was graduating from a normal college at the South. She was then a mere slip of a pretty girl, not out of her ’teens, with a plain white dress and a bright ribbon, and no “graduation present” but the bare price of a ticket home. And within a few weeks she was off, giving the acid test to her certificate of education by teaching school in Texas! What a world it all is anyway! The years had ironed out the rather poor scientific farmer and the smart girl teacher into the parents of this young woman who, as we fondly hope, has adopted the good qualities of both sides of the house and cast out the poor ones. A great world, certainly a good world, and probably a wise one!

The orator of the day made an impressive speech. He made a powerful comparison between Croesus, the rich Persian king, and Leonidas, the Greek hero. Then he compared the life of the Emperor Tiberius with that of Jesus. It was a powerful plea for a life of service—for making full use of training and culture. I saw my old friend the robin on his perch outside regarding the orator critically. I take him to be one of these exponents of a “practical” education. Very likely he was saying:

“Very fine! Very fine! ‘Words, my lord, words.’ But if I had a daughter I would want more of housekeeping and practical homemaking in her education. With all your culture and literature you cannot build a house as my daughter can. You cannot tell when it is time to go South, as we can, nor can you defend yourself against enemies as we are able to do. All very fine, no doubt, for human beings, but if birds were educated with any such ideas the race would be extinct in three generations. Reading, writing and housekeeping are the only things that women need to know.”

I have heard human robins talk in just exactly that way, and for many years the world listened to them and believed what they said. Their talk was about like the song of the robin, only not 10 per cent as musical. They were opposed to the “educated” woman, and most of all to the woman’s college. There are still some of these pessimists left. I thought of one in particular as one by one those girls stood up to receive their diplomas—and the robin flew away in disgust. Woman can never again be set aside as a slave or underling or inferior partner of man. She has a right to the best there is in life. Some of those who read this will say, “What will become of farming if our country women get the idea that they are entitled to education and culture, as others are?” Farming will be better off than ever before, because when our women get this idea firmly in mind we shall all proceed to demand the things which will enable us to give opportunity to every country girl.

Of all the wonderful changes in the past 25 years, few have been so remarkable as the growth of opportunity for women. The full ballot is now to be given them, and the war opened many a door of industry. Those doors cannot be shut. They have lost their hinges. A new element is coming into business and political life. I do not think we need new development of science or mechanical skill half as much as we need vision, poetry and the finer imagination. It must be said that while man alone has done wonders in developing material power he has failed to combine it with spiritual power. That is what we need today more than anything else, and I think the finely educated women are to bring it. I was thinking about this all through that great day. Suppose my daughter and the 200 other graduates had all been trained as lawyers, doctors, business women, etc.; would they really benefit the world more than they will now do with broad, strong culture and with minds stored with the best that literature can give them? I doubt it. No matter what they may do hereafter, their lives and their influence will be strong for this sort of training. I can hardly think of any better missionary to go into a country neighborhood to live than one of these hopeful, trained and useful young women. Mother selected the college for her daughter before that young person was out of her cradle. I thought some more practical training would be better, but I never had a chance to argue. I now conclude that Mother was right. She knew what she was doing, and evidently sized up the spirit of her own flesh and blood. If you ask me what I think is the finest thing about a college education I can quickly tell you. It is having a son or daughter go through a great college with credit and come out wholly unspoiled by the process. It seems to me that most people use the college as a trading place in life. They bring away from it knowledge and culture, but they leave behind too much of youth, too much of the plain home life, too much of the simple, homely, kindly things which the world needs and longs for. So that we may all pardon Mother her pride and satisfaction as she looks down upon this big girl in cap and gown and knows that her daughter has mastered the course at a great college and still remains her daughter, with a sane and fine understanding of her relations to the home and to society.

Ideals are what count. One of the most beautiful ceremonies of this commencement was the placing of the laurel chain. The senior class, dressed in white, marched to the grave where lies the founder of the college, carrying a great chain or wreath of laurel. While the students sang, these seniors draped the laurel around the little fence which enclosed the grave. It was as if the youngest daughter of the college had come to pay reverence to the founder. A beautiful ceremony, and after it was over I went back and copied the inscription on one side of the little monument. I have seen nothing finer as a message to educated youth.

“There is nothing in the universe that I fear but that I shall not know all my duty or shall fail to do it.”