That was, without a doubt, the proudest day in Mrs. Carr's life when she faced the expectant multitude, on the day of the corner-stone ceremonies, and told in simple words, the story of her striving and achievement. It was, in truth, the day most significant in her history.

She could cast her eyes over that plowed field, and in fancy see rising before her, the outlines of the college which she had designed as her monument. The money was all raised; never was Carr-Burdette to rest under the shadow of mortgage, or suspend payments.

Fresh in the minds of her audience were many instances of plans for the selling of lots to erect college buildings,—plans that had resulted in forced sales, spasmodic flickerings of uncertain life, and humiliating defeat. She and her husband had accomplished what well-organized boards and influential committees with fleet financial agents, had not been able to consummate. They had accomplished this, not because Texas felt a great educational want,—a vacuum in the intellectual thermometer,—but in spite of the fact that many Texans believed they had schools a-plenty. This they had accomplished, although misunderstood and misrepresented by different factions; although it was persistently denied that the property belonged to the church; and although the State papers, on more than one occasion, refused to print an advertisement of the enterprise.

Mrs. Carr did not rehearse these difficulties, save in general and mild terms. A record of her sad experiences was placed by her own hand in the dark recess of the corner-stone; but we, who are unable to hide our record in so sacred a receptacle, must be content to lay it before the public eye, with all good-will, and, we trust, all fairness. In her address, that January day of 1894, Mrs. Carr said:

"To sell 250 lots at $200 each and to collect the money, was the work to be accomplished in order to secure the college—a work that demanded enormous courage and indomitable will power and persistence. We struck out the word "fail," and all its derivatives from our vocabulary, and addressed ourselves to the task. We traveled in five different States; and, amid the distraction of the most intense political excitement and under the pressure of the severest financial crisis the country has ever experienced since 1873, we completed the sale of the lots after nearly two long years of labor, worry and anxiety inexpressible. The way has been long and hard, but you have been kind to us and God has been with us. The corner-stone of our life-work is laid to-day; we behold the consummation of our heart's desire, and we feel generous towards all and profoundly grateful to our Heavenly Father for the many and devoted friends that He has given us to cheer us by their kind words and deeds when our burden seemed ofttimes greater than we could bear. The sacrifice that we have made and the trials and humiliations that we have endured are too sacred to be told, even in this paper that shall be hid in the silence and darkness of the corner-stone, whose peace the cyclonic onrush of the Twentieth Century may never disturb. They are known only to our own hearts and to God. But we count them all joy and would endure tenfold more if need be, because we believe that for the Christian girls who shall be educated here from generation to generation there shall work out a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory. We are building, not for ourselves, but for coming generations of girls. This thought has been from the beginning our inspiration and our strength; and it is useless to say that to donate this college to the Church of Christ in Texas for the education of the daughters of the South is the supremest happiness of our united lives. It is the child of our adoption, and to its interests we consecrate the best energies of our remaining years. Of all the glad New Years this is to me the gladdest. The only thing that disturbs the fitness and happiness of the hour is the unavoidable absence in Kentucky of my husband, who has labored so long and so faithfully under circumstances the most painful to "humor his wife (as he expresses it) in helping her to bring to a successful issue the pet scheme of her life." But a gladder time is yet before us—the Jubilee Opening next September, 1894, of the completed college—when it shall be lighted by the faces of happy girls, and when Mr. Carr will participate in person as well as in spirit, and nothing will be lacking to perfect our joy in the crowning work of our lives. And best of all, the years of blessed work that shall follow! Oh, I pray that our Heavenly Father may give us health and strength, and length of days, and that the fruits of our labors may be abundant; so

But was the work now ended? It was only about to begin; all else had been preparation. But how different to work in uncertainty, and to work in confidence!

There were the catalogues to be thought of, and notices in the papers to be judiciously given out, and furniture to be bought, and trees, and shrubbery, and pianos, and charts, and all things else needful to college life. Above all, there is the building itself to be erected.

And, of course, many who have subscribed for lots do not want to pay for them, when paytime comes due,—and are indignant at being held to their bond, and say bitter things, and spread unkind rumors. And some have to be excused from paying interest, else they will pay nothing; and some move away, one knows not whither!

"Mrs. O. A. Carr is in the city," says a daily paper. "Carr-Burdette Christian College at Sherman will open in September. The college has been donated to the Christian churches in the State, but will be open to all denominations. Mr. and Mrs. Carr are doing much for the educational interests of Texas, and their philanthropic devotion to this interest sets an example which we hope will be emulated."

Mrs. Carr clips the foregoing and sends it to the Gospel Advocate, hoping they will reproduce all, or a part, of the "local".

"My dear Sister," says the Gospel Advocate—it is in August of the corner-stone year, "it is our settled policy not to advertise one school more than another. We do not see any reason why we should advertise the Carr-Burdette College any more than the Add Rann College. There are a number of good schools controlled by the brethren, to whom we have never given free advertisement. Yours truly and fraternally—" Very fraternally, without doubt. So Mrs. Carr may be in our city as often as she pleases, and she and her husband do all they can, for a dozen colleges, but we mustn't mention the fact; such is our policy!

John A. Brooks, pastor of the Christian church at Memphis, writes to Mr. and Mrs. Carr: "I am pleased to see that you are about to open a female school in Sherman. I know your education and character are such as to commend you to the public as most competent teachers. Most heartily I wish you both a successful voyage on the sea of life."

This from Palestine, Texas, July 13th, to Mrs. Carr, is a voice from the camp of misconception: "I have read your letter with much interest. I accord to you the purest and best motives in your work, and believe you to be a noble woman. But it is reported, on good authority, that you and Brother Carr are not in sympathy with our work in Texas, the United States and abroad. I shall not enter the lists against you and your work, however—I shall attend to my own business, which will keep me busy enough * * * Fraternally yours—"

That word "Fraternally," which we find closing so many bitter and discourteous letters, seems to be used as a parting blow. They all write "Fraternally"—that stereotyped phrase of a stereotyped brotherhood! But the present biographer feels indeed fraternally toward these indignant and suspicious and mistaken letter-writers, and shall prove it by reproducing none of their letters.

For these writers who were so warmly "fraternal" did not understand, and seemingly would not understand, that the Carrs had deeded the college and the extensive grounds to the Church; that the Carrs furnished the buildings throughout, at their own expense, to present them to the Church fully and beautifully equipped; that the Carrs had insured, and would keep insured, the buildings, not for themselves, but for the Church; that they did not, and never would, receive a penny of money-contributions from anyone; and that this Carr-Burdette College, this monument to Mrs. Carr, was given to the Church as the most priceless gift in her possession, to the cause dearest to her heart.

In the meantime, college-work did not wholly absorb the life of this busy woman. Here comes a letter from the Christian Woman's Board of Missions in Missouri; the state-secretary, at this time, is Mrs. Elizabeth Bantz. Mrs. Bantz writes:

"This year marks the twenty-fifth year of the C. W. B. M. in Missouri—1894. My board has authorized me to issue an historical sketch of the work. We are publishing the faces of many of those who served us officially. We want your picture for this book. Please, my dear sister, send me a half-tone cut, as soon as possible."

Mrs. A. B. Jones of Liberty, Mo., seconds the request: "I have been asked to write an historical sketch of our C. W. B. M. for a book which our state secretary is preparing for our 25th anniversary. We want our state officers from the time of our organization. Will you kindly send a photo, or cut, to Mrs. Bantz at St. Louis? I would be so glad to have a picture of yourself and Brother Carr. Both of you are lovingly remembered by us."

Now that the college is built at last, and Mr. and Mrs. Carr have assumed its management, the story of their lives enters the peaceful channel of daily service together.

A few events of distinction stand out from among the minor affairs of fourteen years. The incessant work in the school room, the canvassing tours during vacations,—involving lectures with the stereopticon,—the correspondence with new pupils, old pupils and prospective pupils, the worrying over misunderstandings and misrepresentations; the struggle against prejudice, and jealousy; the sweet companionship with each other, and with congenial friends—all this is the story of daily living, that does not belong to the world of books.

Let the reader imagine the interlinked events of these fourteen years—the fourteen years that followed the accomplishment of Mrs. Carr's life-work. The honors bestowed upon her and her girls at the Confederate Reunion at New Orleans, and at the World's Fair at St. Louis, may be found fully described in the great daily papers of those days. The mass of printed programs that lie before me tell of brilliant success before the footlights—and hint at long hours of nerve-racking rehearsals. And here are confessions of school-girls who have done wrong, and who ask to be forgiven; and other letters which wound cruelly and do not ask for pardon. But shall we not forgive all? And how can we forgive, if we do not forget?

Upon my table lies documents from disobedient pupils of Carr-Burdette College, ungrateful pupils, narrow-minded pupils, and parents naturally championing the cause of their daughters—in which, all these stand self-accused. Here is one who has discovered how unjust were charges she had made against the Carrs—but not until she had spread those reports to willing ears. And here is one who asks with tears that she may be forgiven; but who laments that the harm she has done can never be overcome.

But what of it all, now! I should not mention these things if it were not for this: that the evil reports live in some minds and, no doubt, are handed down to strangers. Here are the refutations to several such reports, but we push them aside. Can falsehood wound beyond the grave?

Nor would we expose anyone to shame by bringing her name upon the printed page, with quotations of her own rash words. There is no punishment for a malicious nature so terrible as the vengeance of its own malice which reacts upon itself, dwarfing, embittering, deadening the higher capabilities of the soul that harbors it. He who took the snake to his warm hearth to nourish it to life, is not he who suffers from the ingratitude of a friend, but rather he who admits hate to warm it in his own bosom; for it wounds him, first of all.

Fourteen years of labor in the work Mrs. Carr loved best, amid surroundings best adapted to call forth one's greatest capabilities, and then—the last journey. The school year of 1907-8 had opened prosperously. September passed, and in the warmth of its haze, and in the tender blue of its Texan sky, there was no hint that its sister-month would bring the chill of death.

It was on the thirty-first of October that there came the summons of which she had spoken in her dedicatory speech. Not, indeed, as a quarry slave, scourged to his dungeon, did she go to meet that call, but rather as one who had followed her Lord across the seas, who had dwelt with him in many lands, and who was now to abide with Him forever.

He who was left behind, dwells in the lofty halls her wisdom and her love fashioned out of brick and stone. The great work of her life is continued by President O. A. Carr, and when one visits that "College Beautiful," that "College Home," tapestries and statuary, pictures and mosaics, engravings and flowers—all seem instinct with the presence of Mrs. Carr.

One passes through spacious reception-rooms and ample halls, into parlors of refined and exquisite workmanship. Yonder is the winding stairway, with its "Cosy Nook" behind the ferns. Here is the library with its cheerful hearth. Nothing is to be seen to suggest Latin and Geometry! It is, first of all, a home for young ladies.

But when we are shown the mystic way that leads to schoolrooms, we find them stript, as it were, for service. Here is little or no adornment. They are placed before us in stern reality—desk and blackboard and floor—with no pretense that knowledge walks on velvet carpets. In this wing, we find ourselves indeed in a school; and we feel instinctively that if we do not immediately fall to, at some difficult textbook, we have no business here, and should be sent home to our parents.

And that is just what Mrs. Carr would have done for us. Education had always for her, meant something serious, something life-long, something to become an integral part of one's character. First, Carr-Burdette College is to be a home in which young ladies are to be taught conduct and hygiene; but it is a College Home, where study is not play, any more than play is study. We cannot determine where we feel Mrs. Carr's influence stronger—whether in these unadorned schoolrooms, or in the luxurious parlors. Taken together, they typify the extremes of her character. She sought to build in every soul that came under her moulding touch, the firm foundation of eternal truth; and upon this foundation to erect a structure traced with all the beauty of eternal love.