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Title: Silver Links
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Language: English
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Introductory Note

It is always beautiful to see the young confront the uncertainties of
the future, and look forward with faith to happiness and success. I am
proud of young women who are willing to devote their evenings, when
they must toil for a livelihood through the day, to a course of study
which will secure to them the knowledge of a mechanical art. This
knowledge becomes a treasure which no disaster of fire or flood can
ever destroy, and a source of comfortable income through life. It
makes dependent young women independent, and I congratulate every one
who graduates from this excellent school of instruction with her
well-earned diploma, which is more valuable to her than any legacy of
gold or precious stones.

                                        Martha J Lamb

New York City, April 16, 1892.

Address of Rev. C. S. Harrower, D. D.

_To the Class of '87._

"Ladies of the graduating class,--Ladies and Gentlemen: It seems as
if words were hardly in place to-night, because of the interesting
programme which is before you. I suppose we have no conception of
the exercises prepared for us this evening. I never knew of this
Institution until Mr. Moore told me of it, and I am particularly glad
to be here.

"I have often remarked that our New York life is like the life of one
of our great rivers,--the Hudson. Did you ever live upon its banks
and look away upon its stretch of water to the south or to the north;
count its sails, and its tugs, and its fleets of canal boats and all
its life,--for half an hour fascinated by the beautiful scene; and
then go away to your work, or to your pleasure, for a few hours, and
return and look upon that great stretch of river and see that other
sails had taken the place of those first sails, and other vessels
were coming into view, indicating the marvelous life of that mighty
stream? I did that, year after year, and it seems to me that the
General Society of Mechanics and Tradesmen is like the mighty river
Hudson, doing its work day after day and year after year,--a work
that seems to me to be so useful and inspiring.

"The gentlemen interested in this Society are to be congratulated.
It seems to me that such an Institution as this is among the most
beautiful, among the most stimulating of all institutions that mark
our civilization."

Dr. Harrower then spoke of the serious consequences which often follow
the carelessness of a lawyer, the blunder of a switchman, the neglect
of a servant, or the indolence of a physician, and, in contrast, dwelt
upon the beneficent results attained by close attention to duty,
explaining also how great good arises from even very trifling acts. He
also remarked how strange it is that some people have every chance of
getting on in this world, while others are "mortgaged to begin with,"
and hampered and chained through life.

"But," said he, in conclusion, "it seems to me that this Society is
engaged in a work that is characteristic of the civilization to which
we belong, and is following after our Saviour, the Lord Jesus Christ,
who lived not to serve Himself, but the world. I congratulate you,
young ladies, that when you were put upon your trial it was found that
you had been laboring in the race of life; and to-night you are to
receive the signal token of the skill you have attained, and of the
favor in which you stand in this school."

Salutatory Address


_Class of '87._

In meeting you this evening, gentlemen of the Committee and friends,
we, the members of the Classes in Shorthand and Typewriting,
experience a double pleasure. First, is the satisfaction that we
have accomplished the task which we undertook last October, and the
consciousness that we are about to go forth carrying our diplomas as
proof that the Winter has been well spent, and that we are master of
a very fascinating and important art; and, secondly, we feel the
delightful sensation of being highly complimented at the kindly
interest taken in the Class displayed by those present this evening.

We sincerely hope that the exercises of the evening, and the gratitude
of the teachers and class, feebly expressed through this channel, will
be ample proof to you of our appreciation of the compliment conveyed
by your presence, and trust that we shall continue to receive your
good wishes for our success; that we shall go forth into the business
world making good use of our profession, and worthy of the interest in
our progress displayed by the Committee and friends of this Society,
and of the care and attention bestowed on us by our teachers.

To my classmates, cordial congratulations that we can meet to-night,
and, comparing notes, find that the report for the Winter is goodly
evidence of time well spent; that, in spite of what at first appeared
to be the insurmountable obstacle of the alphabet, we plodded bravely
on to the primer, and from the slowly and carefully drawn outlines of
familiar words, we entered at last into the spirit of our art, and
with pencils tipped, as it were, with electricity, learned to catch
the swiftly flowing words from the lips of the speaker, and to present
them in a tangible form, ready for future reference. So also with
typewriting. Though the unruly instrument at first persisted in
spelling "cat" t-a-c, and always put an interrogation point where a
period ought to be; still, with patient perseverance, cheered by the
inspiring words of our teacher: "I used to do the same thing," and
filled with envy at his display of skill, we took fresh hope, tried
again, and, as we were told we should,--succeeded. The pleasure of the
art of shorthand, more than any other, is not confined alone to the
artist. You all know the important offices in business life which
shorthand fills; of its importance to the press and all departments of
the literary world, it is not necessary to speak. From the eloquent
words of gifted speakers to the eagerly watched for words of the
President's Message; from the business letter in the merchant's office
to the words of the witness on the witness stand; our art fulfills its
important mission of giving to others the pleasure and satisfaction
which are experienced on hearing them.

This evening forty more are added to the list of American writers of
the Isaac Pitman Phonography. It is to be hoped that none of us shall
ever, in any way, be the means of bringing reproach on our art; but
rather that we shall work to make many improvements, that we shall
help to prove its value in the different departments of business into
which it enters, and ere another fifty years shall cause the trumpet
of Jubilee to sound throughout the land, this class of Isaac Pitman
phonographers shall have been the means of bringing to ripe perfection
the system of Phonography.

Valedictory Address


_Class of '87._

     "The Spirit of the Time shall teach me speed," says Shakespeare.

How truly that applies to the present day, when one might say we are
living, as it were, in an age of rapidity, and cannot fail to catch
the infection, for the very air seems filled with it. Competition is
met with on all sides, and, in many branches of toil, "the race _is_
to the swift."

Contrast the world of a hundred years back with the world of to-day.

These people were satisfied to plod along in the good old way which
their fathers had trod before them; content because they knew no
better, and the times demanded no better.

But, think you, would the simple appliances used then, meet the
demands of to-day?

No! decidedly, no! I hear you say. Why, may I ask? Simply because the
necessity makes the demand, and the _necessity_ is the ever-advancing
spirit of to-day, which urges all to attain something that will not
only benefit themselves, and be an incentive to others, but will
enlighten and ennoble the coming generation as well.

But the world has made rapid progress and if we would keep pace with
it, we must call to our aid every known means of saving time and

And not the least among the many methods and inventions for this
purpose is Phonography or shorthand, which is finding a place in
almost every branch of business.

Man's thoughts fly faster than his fingers, and it is only by the
"wingéd words" of Phonography that the hand is enabled to keep pace
with the mind. Almost inseparably connected with shorthand, is the

These two go hand in hand. What a boon they have proved to the busy
merchant, the lawyer and the literary man!

To this end, the General Society of Mechanics and Tradesmen,
recognizing the growing demands for the use of Phonography and
typewriting, added to their already large benevolence a class for the
study of these branches.

And it is to this Society we owe a debt of gratitude which words are
inadequate to express.

Our hearts are full, and "out of the fullness of the heart, the mouth

Especially to the School Committee would we convey our grateful thanks
for the interest you have manifested in the Class; and for the
kindness and consideration with which you have met all our wants,
doing all in your power to facilitate our studies.

We trust that our success in the future may be such as will reflect
credit on this Society.

To our teachers, Mr. Mason and Mr. Spaulding, you who have so well
performed your part, we hardly know how to thank you for your patient
and persistent efforts to fit us for the calling we have chosen.
Taking up this work after the fatigue of the day, with body and brain
already wearied, _your_ task, as well as _ours_, has been a
difficult one.

But you have ever been ready with words of encouragement to help us
over the hard places. Faithful, conscientious, you have gained our
respect and esteem, and we feel that in parting to-night we bid
good-by not only to teachers, but to earnest, helpful friends. And
yet, not a final good-by. For, are we not looking forward to many
pleasant meetings of the "Phonographic Alumnæ Association," when you
have promised to meet with us, and by your presence aid and encourage
us to continue our practice and by united efforts help one another?

For we believe the old maxim is true in this connection as in many
others,--"In union is strength."

Fellow classmates: For seven months we have met and studied together;
and now that the term is over it is with mingled feelings of joy and
regret that we meet to-night for the last time in this place.

Joy that our task is done; that the time to which we have looked
forward has come; for to many it has been a severe strain to continue
to the end. _We_ alone know the difficulties we have had to contend
with; the pleasures given up and the sacrifices made to be present at
the class.

But who shall say it has not fully repaid us? Is not this knowledge we
have gained all the more precious because so dearly obtained?

Some have already begun to reap the reward, others are eagerly looking
forward to the time when they shall be able to put this knowledge into
actual practice.

With what bright anticipations we took up the study of Phonography
last October!

But what a mountain loomed up before us in the shape of the alphabet.
Then the strokes and curves, and circles, how we puzzled our brains
over which was which, and how proud we were when we began to form
words and to air our knowledge of these mystic signs; only to be met
with such questions as these, "How many words can you write a minute?"
or, "Do you think you could take down a sermon?" "Let me dictate this
piece from the newspaper to you," all of which made us feel how
limited was our knowledge and how much we had still to learn.

Then the examinations; how they hung over our heads like dark clouds
threatening us at every turn!

But that is all past and gone, and time, with its never ebbing tide,
has brought us to this parting hour.

What our future will be depends upon our own individual efforts. Let
us remember: "What is worth doing is worth doing well."

In climbing the ladder of fame, let us gain a firm footing on the
bottom round, then, if we fail to reach the top, we will,
nevertheless, command the respect of our fellow beings.

Thoughts on Graduation


_Class of '87._

     At last all the lessons are ended,
       Our pencils and books laid away;
     And gathered to-night in the class-room
       There are many young hearts blithe and gay.
     There are loving congratulations
       From classmate, and teacher, and friend;
     A smile! Then a sigh at the parting,
       And the feeling that this is the end.

     It is pleasant to know we are through, though,
       Yet saddening to know we must part;
     And 'mid the light jest and the laughter,
       Comes a sharp touch of pain in each heart.
     There's a hush in the happy assemblage,
       While a prayer is upraised to the Throne,
     And "We thank Thee, our Father," is uttered,--
       And the minister speaks not alone.

     For the tokens of love and remembrance,
       And kind wishes expressed for our weal,
     We would thank our dear friends and our teachers,
       And voice the affection we feel.
     And we thank Thee for these many blessings;
       Yet most for the blessing that we
     Can, by striving, attain to perfection
       And Thy mercy and tenderness see.

Address of Rev. N. B. Thompson

_To the Class of '88._

I assure you that it is with a great deal of personal pride,
satisfaction and comfort, that I come before you to-night. These are
my girls,--that is, I am the father of this class. Several months ago
when this class was organized, a gentleman, not myself, was invited to
come here and offer prayer, and give the young ladies a few common
sense ideas, such as would benefit them in after life. My friend
failing to come, I was called upon to fill his place, which I did to
the best of my ability, and when I look over this programme and find
that there are more than forty in this class who are to graduate
to-night, I take it upon myself to say that they received some very
sound advice, for they are about to graduate; that is, I have made
forty-four converts, at least, in seven months.

I am very glad to have opened this class, although I have had nothing
to do with the instruction of it, for in that event the graduating
class would not be so large, but I do feel very great pride in being

Were I so disposed, and you very anxious to be tired with a long
address, I could say a great many things touching the real purpose and
idea of these young ladies and their instructors. There was a time in
the history of the world when it was a very grave and serious question
as to just what the position of woman was in society; what God meant
by her creation, what was her place. There are some men who think the
highest ambition of woman is the wash-tub; that when she finds her
vocation there she has fulfilled her mission, and when God has
prepared a place for her in the Kingdom of Heaven, He takes her home,
and gives her a diploma. There are others who have an idea that the
place for woman is a little higher up; that she is to bask in the
sunshine of life--that she is a kind of butterfly. That is an
erroneous idea. I think personally, and I am sure there are not men
enough here to out-number the ladies, that the position of woman in
this life, socially, politically, religiously, or in a mercantile
sense, is right alongside of the best man the world can produce.

I remember, while pastor of a church in an Eastern city, the smartest
man and preacher of that city was a woman. She was a man in every
sense of the word, she had the power of a man and the charms of a
beautiful woman; I was a little jealous of her, because her church was
a little too close to mine and she drew a great many more. She was a
beautiful, godly woman, and took out of me some of the false ideas and
thoughts that I had, relative to the work of woman in the world. So I
have lost all sense of jealousy, and I am perfectly willing to be
deposed by the women, and there is no true man but will give the women
just as good as he wants in his life.

I was thinking, when I took up this programme, there is a certain
society of a secret order that has a motto like this: "By these signs
we conquer." That is a very wide and universal order, but, if I
mistake not, there are forty-four members of a society not as
universally known, its extent is not as large as that order and
society, who are to go out into the world and, "by these signs,
conquer." The latter is just as potent as the former. I told you,
young ladies, some months ago, about a system of shorthand and the
first experience I had in that line. Some of you will remember it.
You will remember I told you about a system of shorthand that I had to
read before it got cold or I could not read it at all.

I want to congratulate you for this delightful evening; I want to
congratulate you in view of the pleasant exercises you are to behold.
I want to congratulate these instructors for the very good and
efficient work they have done during these months. I congratulate you
upon the marvelous work that has been done. You may not all be called
upon to report my sermons; some can report 120 words, some more, some
less. You are going out into the world, some of you immediately, to
begin your life work. Do not feel, because you are a woman, that some
aristocratic specimen of creation--man--looks down upon you. Just hold
your neck as straight and your head as high as he, and I do not know
but you would be par excellence above the man himself; you have an

There is one thing I regret, however, in regard to your special
calling, and it is this: I read advertisements in the papers where
employers advertise for young lady typewriters and stenographers and
it has pained me to see the low rate of wages, oftentimes. Let me put
a bee in your ear. You are in possession of one of the greatest
sciences I know; there is nothing above it in the realm of learning.
Do not for one minute submit yourself, any one of you, to a service
below your worth, for God has implanted in His Word this truth, "Every
laborer is worthy of his hire."

I thank the gentleman who has invited me here. When I become older
than I am now and fail in preaching, I assure you I shall come to this
home of hospitality and kindness, and shall try to take up the art
myself, thereby becoming as efficient as some of you are.

God be with you and in His own time take you home to His abode where
you will not be troubled with taking down the ideas of men.

Salutatory Address


_Class of '88._

Gentlemen of the Committee, and friends, teachers and classmates: With
what unbounded pleasure we greet you this evening; our task is
accomplished, the goal is won. After the labors of the past seven
months, assisted by the kindly interest of the Committee, and
encouraged by the earnest and untiring efforts of our teachers, we
have at last mastered that wonderful art, stenography, which will
enable us to go forth from here, possessing an accomplishment the
benefits of which are many. This art, the outgrowth of one great mind,
that of Mr. Isaac Pitman, is of the utmost importance to the members
of the press, of the legal profession, and the business man, as well
as in all branches of literary work. Ordinarily, we hear words, but
this science enables us to use them; thus they actually assume another
form, as it were, and are deeply impressed on our minds and thus
ineradicably memorized. My classmates, we meet to-night to prove that
patient effort on the part of teacher and pupil has not been in vain;
that our busy Winter has left us rich in knowledge of this noble art,
and that, though oftentimes discouraged in our progress through the
alphabet forward through the intricacies of dots and dashes, hooks
and circles, and outlines dark and light, over these apparently
insurmountable barriers we have reached the height on which our hopes
and our ambitions had been centered during our daily pilgrimage toward
it. So has it been with typewriting. At first we made many mistakes,
such as making an interrogation mark where the period was necessary,
thus questioning Mr. Jones' or Mr. Smith's right to his name
instead of asserting the fact; or striking a letter instead of the
space-board, and vice versa. The result left the astonished beholder
in doubt whether the word produced were a representative of the
Chinese or the Choctaw language. But now we have overcome these
difficulties. Sustained by the kind encouragement of our teacher we
have struggled bravely until we are enabled to write on the machine
readily, and with rapidity, from dictation, and our vernacular can now
be recognized as English, without any difficulty. We sincerely hope
that the exercises of the evening may interest you and may show our
appreciation of the instruction and innumerable benefits which have
been conferred upon us by this Society. We are now prepared to take
our place in the rank and file of the world's army of workers. The
elevating and benevolent influence of stenography and typewriting
in the life of women is becoming more and more recognized. What the
sewing machine is to the needle, shorthand is to the pen, and, in the
great future, the world shall see and acknowledge the vast importance
of this economizer of time and labor.

Yes, another forty of us are ready to use these servants of hand and
pen which the generosity of this Society has placed at our disposal,
and we hope to do so worthily. May we, by our subsequent efforts and
future progress, show that none of us will bring reproach on the noble
art which we have adopted, or on the Institution to which we shall owe
our future success and our chosen profession. Rather let us help to
prove its value in the different branches to which we may be called.

Class Poem


_Class of '88._

 I did not come prepared to make an address here to-night,
 But when I see you all, dear friends, 'tis such a pleasant sight,
   I can't refrain, but feel that I _must_ say a word or two,
   And give a hearty welcome, yes, to every one of you.
 A little band, we gathered here upon this very spot;
 Just eight short months ago it is, since then we cast our lot
   Together for our Winter's work: resolved that we would try
   Our best to win; with hopes and purposes and aims set high,
 We went to work. The opening lecture seemed so clear and plain,
 That we could almost grasp the prize we were so sure to gain.
   First came the alphabet. But we in sad dismay found out
   That was an obstacle indeed that we could scarce surmount.
 At last we thought we had it; yes, were sure we knew it all.
 "You may each one recite it." Hark! it was our teacher's call.
   Just imagine how we did it? You will guess it nearly right.
   And then to say it backward! Were you e'er in such a plight?
 Then we studied till (I mean it) e'en the paper on the wall,
 Each door, and sash, and picture frame, and objects one and all,
   In strokes and angles fairly danced before our very eyes,
   And in our dreams they haunted us in every form and size.

 Next in their turn the vowel sounds,--the symbols, dash and dot,
 With rules and regulations charging us "Forget-me-not."
   Wish you could have heard us sound them. It was amusing, too;
   Seemed like talking Chinese language,--ah, [=a], ee; aw, o, oo.
 Then came the hooks with many crooks to puzzle and perplex;
 They were so very obstinate, and would be sure to vex;
   For while we thought we had them right, they were just turned
   And when we came to read them, we could scarcely make them out.
 The circles didn't seem so hard; for we could then detect
 There were still new things coming that we did the least expect;
   So prepared our minds to meet them and take them as they came;
   At last we'd conquered everyone and knew them all by name.
 But I suppose it is not right to tell tales out of school,
 Our teacher will be saying that it is against the rule;
   I have told you just a few of our trials by the way,
   But it was not all so dreadful, I am very glad to say.
 For we really loved our study; were fascinated, too,
 And of the pleasant memories there linger not a few.
   Well, examination over, then came the "tug of war"
   To apply the various principles that we had learned before.
 And oh! the work we made of it; we tried to run a race
 To see who could write the fastest, and then to keep our place.

   But study and toil are over; at last the race is run,
   And we have gathered here to-night to say, "Our work is done."
 Members of this Society, our friends so kind and true,
 God bless you! 'Tis a grand and noble work you aim to do;
   Accept our heartfelt thanks, for it is all that we can give;
   The knowledge we have gathered here will ever, while we live
 Go with us, as with brighter skies our way in life to cope
 Than in our dreams and fancies we had ever dared to hope.
   And you, our teachers faithful, tried, we will not soon forget
   The many pleasant hours that together we have spent;
 How often by a kindly word you've helped to lead us on,
 When we were nigh discouraged, and totally cast down;
   And by your earnest zeal and aid we have, from day to day,
   Gone onward, and we thank you; it is all that we can say.
 And we classmates, while we truly, yes, earnestly, regret
 To leave the little room up yonder "where the angels met,"
   Can now rejoice together, for it has not been in vain,
   That we've worked hard; yet we have won the prize we
      sought to gain.

Valedictory Address


_Class of '88._


It is a somewhat sad yet pleasant duty which devolves upon me this
evening, that of saying farewell. For, to a class whose members have
studied together for so long as we have and which is found to be so
homogeneous as this class has been, a farewell is always sad. When, in
October last, we entered upon our course of study, we could not look
forward to this hour with any degree of composure, but, day by day, as
time passed on we found ourselves longing for the end, yet dreading
the parting. But, to-night, we derive considerable pleasure from the
fact that we have prepared ourselves for something which will have a
strong influence upon our future lives. This night may be called a
real commencement for many of us who have just left school where we
have learned the ordinary English branches, and are now learning to
apply our former knowledge to earn our living in a way that will prove
both pleasant and profitable.

In retrospect: How hard the first few lessons appeared! We hardly
credited the declaration that a time would come when we should be able
to recite the alphabet backward and forward and in every conceivable
way, but we soon discovered that the subsequent lessons were so much
more difficult than the first, that these seem now to us as very
simple. As our knowledge increased, we discovered also that each
lesson followed so logically upon the previous one, that it made it
much easier to understand. There were hooks to the right of us, and
hooks to the left of us, and with these and circles, medial and final,
approximation and "con" dot, our dreams resembled a kaleidoscope
rather than those of school girls. When traveling on the cars we would
often see a person with a note book and pencil, and experience a
fellow feeling, knowing that they had trod the same path as we were
treading. Occasionally, in going home after a lesson, two of us
comparing notes would find that we, in turn, were objects of interest
to people in the train, and that they gazed with wonder and amusement
upon the strange-looking characters with which our note books were
filled. Then, when it came to our home study, although those whom we
asked to dictate to us did so with great alacrity at first, they soon
found reading the same thing over twenty or thirty times, to say the
least, monotonous. Yet we must say that our friends often put aside
their own preferences, knowing the daily practice was for our good. We
will not dwell upon the loss of pleasures that we have forfeited in
order to be present at the class and to spend the requisite number of
hours at study. But now that we have reached the desired haven, we
feel fully repaid for everything that we have given up, and only
regret that we did not sacrifice more for our beloved study. We would
not however have you think it has been all hard work, and that we
have had _no_ enjoyment. For, have we not had genial companions,
sympathetic teachers and a most watchful Committee, who have tried to
do everything in their power to make our school life both pleasant and
comfortable? We cannot specify all the ways in which they have shown
their interest and kindness to us, yet we would not fail to mention
the fact that we were provided with a new class-room, which combined
the advantages of seclusion, quiet, and all the necessary appliances
for study, with excellent ventilation, and to this was added the
feeling that it was our "very own."

This recital can but feebly show you why the feeling of pleasure is
predominant in our hearts to-night. We cannot feel sad at parting
with our classmates, for, though we shall not meet in this class-room
again, as a class, we do expect to meet together as the alumnæ of
this Institution at our regular weekly gatherings for practice. It is
rather with a feeling of exhilaration that we realize that we have at
length conquered giants that loomed up before us when we began our
study, and that these giants, like those called forth by the magician
of old, have been made to do our bidding.

But now we come to the most painful part of our task, that of bidding
this kind Committee farewell. And, in behalf of the class of '88, we
thank you again for your watchful care over us during the past Winter.
The only way in which we can attempt to repay you for what you have
done for us is by trying to rise in our profession and do something
which, when we say we are graduates of the General Society of
Mechanics and Tradesmen, will cause you to feel proud of us, and in
this way we can slightly show our gratitude to our benefactors. And to
our teachers, who have been the means of our learning this wonderful
art, we say farewell, hoping that they will remember us kindly as
having tried our best to let the studies which they have lodged in our
minds bring forth good fruit. Although you have, no doubt, at times
felt discouraged with the apparent failure of your work, yet we trust
that the results have proved satisfactory, and shown you that we have
tried to do what you have desired us to do, and, in a measure, have
succeeded. We trust also that these results will reflect credit upon
you as our Instructors even more than upon us as the recipients of
your teaching. We do realize that many members of our class will never
meet with us again, and to you we say farewell, with the wish that in
your diverse paths through life you may attain great success in your
chosen profession and always remember that you are still members of
the Class of '88.

Address of President Wm. C. Smith

_In awarding the Diplomas to the Class of '88._

I came here this evening in a particularly happy frame of mind, for
me, because I had been asked to award the diplomas to this class, and
I am always happy when I think I am able to do something to make some
one else happy; but my equanimity was quite disturbed, on arriving, to
be shown a programme in which I was set down as having to make the
closing address, and a little later I broke out into a perspiration on
seeing written in shorthand on the blackboard, that "you should never
speak unless you have something to say." Those words have been burning
before my eyes ever since, and though I have not taken any lessons in
shorthand, I am almost sure I could set that sentence down.

The General Society of Mechanics and Tradesmen is made up of men
who owe what they possess, not to chance, not to gifts of their
forefathers, but to the fruit of honest toil. The Society which they
have fostered for a hundred years owes its standing to the steady
accumulations of these years, not to any sudden speculation or easily
acquired prosperity, and it is with pleasure, therefore, that the
Society devotes its time and means in helping others to help
themselves. We believe in the aristocracy of labor, and we are glad
that we are able to do anything whereby we can help any one to help

I shall not make a lengthy address because it is late; it is warm;
there are diplomas to be given out, and I believe that the young
ladies are anxious to get down stairs where the attraction is greater
than anything I can offer them. Yet there is one thought I would like
to give out, if you will excuse me.

Yesterday I met a gentleman whom I have known for many years, and whom
I never really knew until yesterday. He said to me, "Billy" (he knew
me when I was a boy), "have you half an hour to spare?" First I said,
"No;" but I thought better of it and said, "Yes." "I would like you to
come round and look at my house." As he opened the door of that house
it was to me a revelation; if there is anything else like it in this
country or city, I do not know where it is. It seemed to me I was in
fairyland. Here was a large house and yet so filled that it seemed
small, from the top of the very attic down to the first story, with
articles of vertu and bric-a-brac, with tapestry that had come from
all parts of the globe, with ivories, carved in Japan as nowhere else,
with mosaics from all sections of the world, with beautiful chairs,
with embroidery that had graced the homes of monarchs in the old
country, and on his back porch, and in his yard, were beautiful
flowers hardly seen outside of the tropics.

I need not say to you how surprised I was; I had only known him as a
mechanic, a member of this Society. I spent an hour and a half there I
shall never forget; I asked the privilege of bringing my better half.

But the thought that I wanted to impress was this; in a beautiful
case, surrounded with plate glass, was a full dinner set of the finest
Sevres china. He explained to me that the set was ordered and made
expressly for the second Napoleon when he was in the height of his
glory. I said to him, "Where did you get this? I did not know a full
set of that kind ever got away from royalty." He said it did once
in a while and this was the only one in this country. He had been
explaining to me things I never knew about, and he came back to his
own self and said, "Billy, you know when the great Napoleon and his
court were sipping their soup out of these dishes, I was wielding a
paint brush at $1.50 a day and glad to get it." As I lay trying to go
to sleep last night that single sentence came to me and it seemed
there was a volume in it. It is an American idea that there is no
success which is not attainable by almost any person if we only take
those opportunities afforded us. I want to say one word to the ladies,
and I believe I said something of the same kind to the boys. I often
see it in the papers, I hear it in speeches at trade societies and all
that sort of thing, that there is a great change in America; there is
no longer any chance to rise; and that we are divided into classes,
and that the rich are going to get richer and the poor going to stay
where they are.

I hope every American will disabuse his mind of anything like that;
there never was a time when opportunities were greater than now. We
have got to believe in ourselves and watch the opportunities when they
come to us; success cannot be obtained in a day. We may not have to
build a railroad but we will build something else, perhaps greater.

Young ladies, it is my privilege on behalf of the General Society of
Mechanics and Tradesmen, as its President, to present you with these
diplomas. I do so with pleasure; first, because I feel that it is our
right to give them to you; secondly, because I feel that it is your
right to receive them, for you have earned them. They represent to me
six months of careful, earnest, intelligent study; six months of
devoting yourself to the habit of close application; six months of
forming the habit of industry; habits which, I take it, make the
road to success to any one who expects to succeed in the future. I
congratulate you upon receiving them; they are certificates that carry
with them pleasant memories, and I hope will prove in after years
profitable ones. In behalf of the General Society, it is my pleasure
to thank your teacher; I have witnessed personally his enthusiasm in
his calling, and I am proud to say that I have been here night after
night and have watched the enthusiasm of the class. I have seen them
here sometimes long after the regular school hours, in fact, I had a
mind to say, "You are over-taxing these young ladies." Then I thought
it was a life and death struggle for only six months, and the victory
was worth the struggle.

I have nothing more to say. I will remember the motto given early in
the evening and wish you every success in life which you have obtained
in this school.



_To the Class of '89._

On behalf of my classmates, Gentlemen of the Committee, and friends,
it gives me great pleasure to welcome you here this evening, and we
sincerely hope that in the following short account of our progress
during the eight past months, both in shorthand and typewriting
classes, _you_ may share, to some extent, our satisfaction.

I shall not attempt to portray our initial struggles with the dots and
lines, but rather dwell on the time when, at the rate of a word in
five minutes, we could, with the confidence of beginners, write the
short but expressive sentences:

     The cow eats grass!
     See the dog run!

From this time under the able guidance of our teachers, we steadily
progressed, until our efforts have culminated in the success
gratifying to ourselves, our teachers, and our many friends.

In typewriting our progress has been as encouraging as in Phonography.
From slowly picking out the words: "William Jex quickly caught five
dozen Republicans," a sentence which not only exhausted all the
letters of the alphabet, but in our attempts to decipher which, after
writing, exhausted our ingenuity as well, we passed to the time when
legal documents and business letters could be run off with an ease
which at the beginning seemed almost impossible.

Let us pause a moment to consider the advantages of these two arts:
first and chiefly, they afford us the means of gaining a livelihood in
a way more agreeable than many others; secondly, in the taking of
notes of lectures upon various arts and sciences we become acquainted
with these subjects to an extent which would otherwise require much
special study.

How then can we be otherwise than grateful to those who have placed
these advantages within our reach?

To you, Gentlemen of the School Committee and of the Special
Committee, are our thanks especially due.

Through your kindness in fulfilling our many calls upon your
generosity, you have contributed, in no mean degree, to that end
toward which we have so earnestly striven.

You, my classmates, undoubtedly share in the pleasure felt by our
teachers and the Committee in having passed so successfully through
the work of the past eight months.

Let us reflect for how short a time we have pursued our studies. In
what branch of study, pursued for the same length of time, could the
results attained compare so favorably as in the study of shorthand?

After to-night, over thirty of us, in the different pursuits of a
business life, will make practical use of the knowledge gained during
the past Winter. Let us always strive to uphold the reputation already
gained by the followers of Isaac Pitman.

It has often been said by superficial observers: "O, yes, any one can
write shorthand, but how many stenographers can read what they have

Perhaps there have been grounds for such allegations; but have these
ever taken into consideration the multitudes of stenographers all
over the world who do successfully read their notes?

Look at the voluminous reports of congressional, political and other
speeches, appearing in the daily papers from time to time; to say
nothing of the hundreds of folios of evidence daily reported in our
courts and accurately transcribed.

Do not these sufficiently refute the assertion?

We feel sure the charge will never be brought against any of our
class, to each of whom the writing out of her notes has been made as
essential a point as taking down.

In closing, let me again, in the name of the Class of '89, extend a
cordial welcome to you all, and let us trust, when we have passed from
the immediate influence of these surroundings, and have entered upon
the career for which the studies of the past Winter have been but
preparatory, we shall continue to merit your kind approbation.

Class Poem


_Class of '89._

     Good people all, both old and young,
       Assembled at this time,
     To aid in bringing to a close,
       The Class of eighty-nine;

     We beg you will be lenient
       With our efforts here to-night,
     Ignore all faults, and note the good,--
       This would be but polite.

     This class of ours united here,
       Ere long shall cease to be;
     A thought which strikes a tender chord
       That vibrates mournfully.

     Though truly glad to know our work
       Has met success at last,
     Yet many a very pleasant hour
       In study has been passed.

     And on these hours in concert spent,
       Shall memory fondly dwell,
     When we in divers paths have turned,
       But where, Oh, who can tell?

     Again we'll see that school-room scene,
       Our teacher at the head,
     Again we'll ply our pencils hard,
       As fast the words are read.

     Our teacher's patience oft we've tried,
       And oft have vexed him sore,
     While he strove us expert to make
       In stenographic lore.

     Oh, thanks to you, our faithful friend,
       For kindness you have shown,
     And patience too, with which the seeds
       Of knowledge you have sown.

     And in the work we undertake,
       We'll to the _Mason_ bring
     The credit,--who within our minds
       Has built this wondrous thing.

     Kind benefactors, we extend
       Our gratitude sincere;
     For all the opportunities,
       Enjoyed throughout the year.

     May your good work, crowned with success,
       Its blessings still bestow,
     On many who, through your kind deeds,
       Shall useful women grow.

     A harvest rich of grateful hearts,
       Most surely you shall find;
     Such as is due to those who strive
       To elevate mankind.

     And now farewell to one and all,
       Teacher and classmates, too;
     Hoping that future days may bring,
       Much happiness to you.

A Class History


_Class of '89._

Last Fall sixty girls, accompanied by a trusty guide, started on an
exploring tour through the wilderness of stenography. We had been told
by those who had visited this region, that the way was dark, the road
thorny, and the pleasures but few; but nothing daunted, we set out,
anxious to prove these assertions false.

Like all travelers about to enter upon strange and novel scenes, we
started upon this journey with eager eyes, and minds full of
expectancy. Following closely in the footsteps of our leader, we
approached the enchanted forest. The entrance was guarded by great
trees, which seemed to extend, as far as the eye could see, in one
long avenue, and we were surprised to find, upon coming nearer, that
the forest which at first appeared to be but a heterogeneous mass of
stems, was set out and arranged in the most orderly and symmetrical
manner, and we saw that we should be enabled to find our way about
much more easily than we had at first feared. In accordance with our
guide's directions, we began jotting down in our memory tablets the
names of the different trees, and the peculiarities of each. Certain
kinds occurred so often that we soon became familiar with them, and
long before we turned into new pathways, we had mastered the names
of them all. As we left the main avenue of first principles, we
encountered more trees, but so arranged in brilliant foliage and
curious blossoms that we almost failed to recognize them. We listened
in wonder while our guide unfolded to us the beauty of each bud and
leaf; how patiently he traced every vein of the leaf, and every petal
of the flower, until our eyes, too, were opened to their beauty so
that we could appreciate and discern the difference between them,
notwithstanding that they possessed great similarity. This comparative
sameness caused us no little trouble, however, at first, for ever and
anon, owing to early lack of training in concentration of mind, we
were prone to get them confused, and often mistake one for the other.
Here again the memory tablets were brought into requisition, and it
seemed as though they fairly expanded under the influence of our
pencils, so eager were we to absorb all the knowledge possible. As the
lover of nature, by constant association with the flowers, the trees,
and the shrubs, learns in time the name of each, so we learned, by
loving the study of our strange plants, to recognize them at sight.

But we were not left to wander at our own sweet wills. Having
thoroughly familiarized ourselves with the details and orderly
arrangement of this wonderful forest, and having stopped for awhile to
review our progress, we were led into new paths where, though there
were many obstructions and apparently insurmountable obstacles, we
could at least see the beginning of the end of our journey.

Here, too, sign posts greeted us on many sides, but none were so
alluring as that which bore the legend, "Slow and sure." This accorded
perfectly with our ideas, and we would fain have rested awhile, and
gazed on the comforting words, had not our guide pointed out to us the
necessity for advance, and described the pleasures which were still to
come, which, if we chose that as a perpetual motto, we should never

As if to give emphasis to his words, a little dwarf, whose name was
"Try," met us at this juncture; and by his bright example urged us on
to greater tasks. But alas! there were so many weary hearts waiting
for his cheery countenance that he was forced ere long to leave us.
Scarce had he gone when his enemy, a misshapen gnome, called "I
Forgot," sprang up in our path, and by many devices, sought to undo
the good work of "Try." Finding this impossible, he, too, soon
departed, but his injured lordship, not caring to retire utterly
defeated, left his first cousin, "I Didn't Mean To," to pester and
annoy us throughout our journey.

Ere long the sound of running water attracted our attention, and
eagerly we hastened to bathe our faces in a refreshing stream "which
ran down the side of a hill," only to draw back in terror as we saw
a poor, meek lamb devoured by a ravenous wolf who had come to the
brook-side to drink. Thereafter it seemed as if the wolves had special
designs on the lambs at this season, for whenever our travels led us
near the creek we were forced to be unwilling spectators to these
tragic scenes.

Here and there along the bank we had noticed little pebbles which our
Instructor told us were called, in the language of this country,
"Grammalogues," and some of which, attracted by their uniqueness, we
had gathered. We were obliged to label and memorize each one, until
it seemed as though the tablet would not hold another word, and the
memory pouch would break under the weight of, what seemed to us,
heavy, worthless stones. But after being polished with the emery of
practice, the pebbles grew lighter, and seemed to lose their dull
color, and assume a sparkling brilliancy.

How often since have they appeared as bright jewels in our pathway,
when, with pencil flying over the page, we have fully realized the
fact, that however lenient Old Father Time may seem to be to others,
he has no mercy for stenographers.

After becoming somewhat acquainted with our surroundings that we might
be able fully to realize every snare and pitfall, we were taught to
begin to walk alone. What weak, tottering, childish steps they were.
How often our eyes would wander to the face of our guide, as if to
implore his help. But he, knowing it was for our good, would simply
encourage us instead of rendering the longed for assistance, and we
were thus compelled to walk or fall.

But when the nervous feeling had somewhat worn off, and each step
became more firm, with what expressions of delight we proclaimed the
tidings that we could at least _stand_ alone, and how pleased he
seemed at our successes. And then with watchful care was pointed out
to us the necessity of removing every obstacle from our path so
that our progress should not be retarded. We carefully heeded the
instruction, and as a fallen bough or a moss-covered trunk of some old
"snag" barred our onward march, we brought all our strength to bear
and remove it to a place of safety, so that our weary feet should not
be caused to trip over it again. And truly we _were_ weary, while
the promised land seemed still afar off. How hard the road appeared
can only be realized by those who have trodden it.

A great mountain, like Bunyan's Hill Difficulty, soon rose before us,
and we were told that we must reach its summit, before the view toward
which our eyes had been ever turning would burst upon our sight. Here
we were joined by a crowd of people, some clamoring for land, which
they claimed had been willed to them by those who had long since
joined the great majority; others quibbling over deeds and warranty
deeds, some of which particularly attracted our attention, on
account of their great length and useless verbiage; and others with
complaints and actions at law, until our eyes were opened, and we
realized, as never before, that strife is more prevalent in the world
than peace.

But hard work and that perseverance which we believe is the surest
road to success have at length conquered all obstacles. And now,
having left behind the clamor and the strife, we stand on the summit
of the mountain that has so recently seemed as though it could not be

And here we rest awhile and look backward. The roads with their
winding turns are no longer new, and eyes moisten as we think of the
old but true saying:

     "The path that has once been trod,
       Is never so hard to the feet;
     And the lessons we once have learned,
       Are never so hard to repeat."

We will not be called upon to walk in those paths again, but when we
meet the familiar faces of our companions we will live over in memory
the now seemingly short weeks of our journey.

But let us look also before us. We have penetrated the forest, we have
gathered bright gems, we have climbed the mountain height, and now we
stand ready to cast our boats adrift upon the ocean of life.

In what waters they shall glide we know not, but can only trust that
in that great day of gatherings, all our craft may be moored in the
harbor of peace! These thoughts bring to our minds the well known
words of our beloved poet Longfellow:

     Like unto ships far off at sea,
     Outward or homeward bound are we;
       Before, behind, and all around,
       Floats and swings the horizon's bound,
     Seems at its distant rim to rise
     And climb the crystal wall of the skies,
       And then again to turn and sink,
       As if we could slide from its outer brink.
     Ah, it is not the sea;
       It is not the sea that sinks and shelves,
     But ourselves that rock and rise
       With endless and unweary motion,
     Now touching the very skies,
       Now sinking into the depths of ocean;
     Ah! if our souls but poise and swing,
     Like the compass in its brazen ring,
       Ever level and ever true
       To the toil and the task that we have to do,
     We shall sail securely, and safely reach
     The fortunate isles, on whose shining beach
       The sights we see, the sounds we hear,
       Will be those of joy and not of fear.



_Class of '89._

Bacon has said, "Reading maketh a full man, conference a ready man,
and writing an exact man." Many prominent men of the present age
assert on authority that shorthand makes a valuable man.

The world's advancement has never been so marked and rapid as within
the past century; inventors have, it would seem, almost exhausted
themselves in producing means for improvement; where think you, would
the busy man find himself were it not for the opportunities open at
every hand enabling him to keep in the whirl?

Inventors, and the value of their respective inventions, are fully
appreciated by those who make use of them, but there has been no
greater gift presented than the one by Mr. Isaac Pitman in 1837,
in the shape of Phonography; he, after a few months of hard labor,
reduced the phonetic characters to a simple form such as any
intelligent and ordinarily educated person might, after a proper
amount of application, use to great advantage. The public were not
long in realizing the benefits to be derived, and each year has
seen a steady growth in the number of shorthand readers and writers,
and to-day finds thousands who are successfully using the little
strokes, some following the original system, and others using the
modifications; _all_, however, agreeing as to the true worth of
shorthand as a time saver.

We who started last Autumn, with the determination to master
Phonography and typewriting, knew in part the advantages to be
gained after the top was reached, but we did not know by actual
experience what breakers were ahead in the accomplishment of the work
before us; for the timid ones this very ignorance proved a great
blessing,--conquering one difficulty at a time, with the greater ones
in the shadow, was not as disheartening as having the future in plain

The multitude of crooks, circles and dry rules were taken in turn and
left behind, and after reaching half way the journey, and pausing for
a rest and renewal of courage, we began the pleasanter work of writing
and reading connectedly. At the start were simple stories which
seemed at the time almost silly, then came letters and law matter,
and, as the words in the first lessons kept recurring, we began to
appreciate "The Wolf and the Lamb" and various companions of a similar
nature. Slowly but surely the work has been progressing. Time has
fairly flown away and has brought us together to-night for the parting
as a class.

There has been much bitter with the sweet and many clouds with the
sunshine; social pleasures were necessarily given up and numerous
sacrifices made, to say nothing of the keen disappointment brought
home to each as she recognized, despite her greatest efforts, that
the actual work was far behind what her aspirations had been at the
outset. But through all we have been cheered and encouraged by our
teachers, nor must I omit the occasional well timed lectures,
depressing at the time of delivery, but sending each home with a
fixed idea of doing better, and continuing to the end; added to these
has been the entire novelty of the whole course, always something
new. Like all proverbial Americans, born, it is said, with the
interrogation point at tongue's end, the constant variety made the
journey one immense _Why?_

We are joyous over the prospect of a cessation of hard study, but
regret that the end of our intercourse has come, necessitating the
severing of ties as teachers and those taught, and the farewell as
class friends; but each will carry with her a remembrance of the
Winter spent together with much profit and pleasure to all.

To our kind Instructor through all the intricacies of Phonography, we
are deeply indebted. Within ourselves is the consciousness that had it
not been for his patience and untiring efforts we would have given up
in despair long ago; as also to our Instructress and friend who has
helped us over the road to the success of typewriting are we equally
indebted; to the never flagging energy of both we owe as much as to
the individual effort.

Not the least, if mentioned last, is our gratitude to the School
Committee. To you, gentlemen, we wish to convey our thanks this
evening, both for your generosity, as representatives of the G. S. M.
and T., in supplying funds for the maintenance of this glorious work,
and for the kindly interest displayed during the past Winter. While
regretting our inability to raise the standard higher, we will
endeavor, in future, to reflect such credit upon this school as will
prove our appreciation of past favors.

To you, my dear classmates, those in particular who have not as yet
felt the pecuniary advantages to be derived from this new acquirement,
take courage in the fact that six of our number are reaping the
benefits even thus early. Wait patiently; do not let the work end with
to-night, and become discouraged because of the same old humdrum
duties. Remember that in filling the old post honorably, you are doing
the work assigned by the Master who in His own season will send what
is for your best good. Add to your store of knowledge from day to day,
and be able to say with the poet:

     Each morning sees some task begun,
       Each evening sees its close;
     Something attempted, something done,
       Has earned a night's repose.

Salutatory Address

_To the Class of '90._


What shall we do with our girls? One of our well known daily papers
came to the conclusion some time ago that our girls must be disposed
of in some way, and feeling that it lacked the ability to solve the
problem alone and unaided, sent a request abroad for help in settling
this momentous question.

If we were in China, they would say "drown them." Horace Greeley might
have suggested sending them West to keep house for his "young men."
Many, in answer to the before-mentioned paper's appeal, advocated
making business women of them; while others said: "Teach them to be
good housekeepers."

Now, as all our girls cannot be housekeepers, neither can they be
business women, is it not the best plan where there are two girls in a
family, to teach one how to minister to the wants of the household,
and let the other help to provide the means, wherewith to supply the
necessities of life? We are not all Vanderbilts or Astors.

But whether it be "Yea" or "Nay," woman is making her way in the
world. She has been heard of as making rapid progress in law; and it
was only a short while ago we read of a young lady being admitted to
practice in Pennsylvania. We have doctors without number; one of our
Western towns boasts of a woman for Mayor, and they have aspired to
the Presidency. Much has been said of woman's sphere, but she knows
her own place in life, and if given a little help in the various
directions necessary to reach the place, she will win, and has won for
herself respect and admiration for her courage and independence.

But this is not a Woman's Rights Meeting, nor a sewing circle, in
which the minister has been invited to tea, and where we are making
the poor luckless man suffer for his sex in general, but the
Graduation Exercises of a band of girls who have worked hard for
success, and gained it.

A society of men organized many years ago, instead of sitting with
folded hands lamenting _their_ inability to dispose of "our girls,"
went to work and established a class; placed at its head one of the
best of teachers, and called it the Stenographic and Typewriting Class
of the General Society of Mechanics and Tradesmen. "Now," they said,
"we have opened a way, let us see what the girls can do for and with

In the Fall of 1886 the first class was formed, and since then more
than 100 girls owe their present advantages to this noble institution.

The Class of '90 graduating from here to-night met for the first
lesson on October 1st of last year.

Of our troubles and disappointments, it is not for me to tell, but we
have bravely toiled on, and have at last reached the end we have so
eagerly and anxiously looked forward to, and the feeling that we have
learned something which will help us in more ways than we at present
fully realize, repays us for our perseverance.

To-night we graduate from this school into one compared to which the
trials and disappointments of this course will seem trifles. We go
forth to battle with the world, and if we do not keep up with it,
it will mercilessly leave us far behind. But the Class of '90 is
not going to be laggard. Indeed we hope that when we graduate from
that higher and more exacting school, it will be with the same
satisfactory results with which we leave here, and, like Longfellow's
"Great Men," we may leave

     "Footprints on the sands of time."

There are several benevolent institutions in this city where
Stenography and Typewriting are taught during the day, without expense
to the student. But the girls that need this instruction most are the
working girls, who have only the evenings to themselves, and cannot
afford to take the time to study that which they know would be
beneficial to them. But the General Society of Mechanics and Tradesmen
have recognized their wants, and every girl in this class has
acknowledged that when in the future she has reached that zenith to
which every one aspires, "Prosperity in her chosen calling," she
cannot forget that it was through this Society she was enabled to
reach that height.

And now, dear Friends and Patrons of this school, I, in the name of my
classmates, bid a cordial "welcome" to you all, confident that you who
have sympathized with us during the past eight months will rejoice
with us in our success.

Class Poem


_Class of '90._

     My friends, we all have gathered here,
       To celebrate this night,--
     Th' occasion of a victory gained
       O'er a long and glorious fight.

     Unlike the battlefields of men,
       Where blood flows o'er the plain,
     And eyes must meet the fearful sight
       Of conquered victims slain,

     Our battlefield the school-room was,
       Where we have fought and won;
     A conflict noble in its aim,
       Nine months ago begun.

     Oh! how we hoped and how we feared,
       As day by day slipped past,
     And we kept pressing towards the mark
       We hoped to reach at last.

     Whilst oft discouragement, the imp,
       Would whisper in our breast,
     "'Tis folly to continue on;
       Go, leave it for the rest."

     But "onward, onward," was our cry,
       Though all around looked dim,--
     No cowards we who fear the storm,
       'Twas either "sink or swim."

     And our commander at the head,
       With truly master skill,
     Did spur us on, and teach us how
       Each duty to fulfill.

     Through the maze of outlines, straight and curved,
       Step by step, he led the way,
     Till hooks and circles, large and small,
       At length seemed plain as day.

     To his true service much we owe,
       And each of us, to-night,
     In a vote of earnest, sincere thanks,
       Do heartily unite.

     We meet to part, on this last night,
       Yet shall we fondly ever
     Turn to the happy hours spent
       In Mechanics' Hall together.

     And always shall our hearts respond,
       Ever grateful shall we be,
     For the kindness of the gentlemen
       Of the G. S. M. and T.

     Through them our lives shall brighter grow,
       Through them we shall aspire
     To better, nobler aims in life,
       Leading higher, ever higher.

     And may we from their kindness learn
       A royal truth and grand,--
     If we can others happier make,
       To lend a helping hand.

     And in the journey through this life,
       With heart, head and hand combined
     May we ever strive to do our best
       To elevate mankind.

A History of the Class of '90


One evening, early in the Fall of '89, voices were heard in the
school-room as though many persons were talking at once. Suddenly the
bell rang and the talking ceased. "What does this mean?" you would
have asked, and then, your curiosity getting the better of you, you
would have peeped in. Such a sight! At the front of the room were four
or five rows of young girls, books and pencils in hand, and on the
platform stood a gentleman who was evidently their teacher. What were
they going to do? Why, take their first lesson in stenography, and you
can see from the number of bright and happy faces here to-night, what
that first and each succeeding lesson has done for them. Like little
children just beginning to spell they began with the alphabet, and
step by step, gaining strength and courage, learning everything
thoroughly, till at the end of three months, they had laid a
foundation upon which whatever followed could securely rest; and, when
the mid-winter examination came on (which had all along seemed like a
great wall that was insurmountable), they were able to scale it
without much difficulty.

But you must not think this goal was reached without many mistakes
which were sometimes very disheartening, and sometimes very funny; as
you will think when I tell you for the letter H a tick is sometimes
used; and one girl slanting this tick the wrong way wrote, "Pale, thou
poly king"; and another, who misplaced a vowel, wrote, "I like my live
eel boy." However, these errors only tended to make them more careful,
and when they started the speeding course, it served them a good

At the beginning of this course, they were addressed as "My dear
reader," and told to observe what they were told; then followed some
maxims to be laid to heart, and a little dwarf was introduced whose
name was "Try." This little fellow had a way of making every one try
to do her best, and those who were unable to do very much at first he
encouraged by giving them a helping hand. After a while he left us and
in his place stood a very impudent fellow known by those with whom he
had had dealings as "I Forgot," or "I Didn't Think;" but as soon as we
learned his mission, which you probably have guessed, or perhaps know
from experience, we discharged him and to secure ourselves from his
return, sent the "Careful Dog" after him. Tom's uncle then gave his
opinion on Phonography, but although it had over four hundred words in
it, it did not amount to much as some of the girls got it down in less
than three minutes.

Soon afterward John Smith received a letter from his brother Timothy
Jenkins (this name was given the latter by mistake by one of the
girls), about some place in New York State where they could spend a
very nice vacation. This place had advantages in the way of fishing
and boating, lawn tennis and all the rest; but one of our number, who
evidently thought more of good solid comfort, wrote that there were
"good furniture and bedding."

While thinking still of this delightful resort with all its
acquisitions, the strong arm of the law suddenly came down upon us and
holding out a document to our wondering gaze demanded the name of
same. Then was heard a confusion of voices, every one guessing the
wrong thing, until one, who thought of course she knew, cried out
"Oh, it's a divorce case!" It was no such thing, however; it was a
simple complaint, in which the husband and wife were plaintiffs. We
went through the entire pleadings of this case and when finished, took
up another and another until now we are not lawyers, but some are able
to be stenographers for lawyers, and others amanuenses.



_Class of '90._

In the life of every person there are two important events, birth and
death; the former marking their advent into a state of action, and the
latter their exit from it. The one is universally a time of joy, the
other a time of sorrow. This is true to such an extent that the time
of birth is popularly designated and commemorated as a day of
feasting, the other as a day of mourning. Solomon, however, does not
agree with us in this; he reverses this order and says, "Better is the
day of one's death than the day of one's birth;" and "It is better to
go to the house of mourning than to go to the house of feasting, for
the living will lay it to his heart." Whichever view we take of the
matter this day will be one long remembered by all, for it is both the
day of birth and the day of death.

So with the birth of everything we attempt; its beginning is attended
with a sort of pleasurable excitement and diligence in the pursuit of
the study we have entered upon, which lasts until the novelty begins
to wear off. Then comes the time when we find ourselves falling into a
rut from which, if we do not try hard to keep up our standard, it will
be difficult to extricate ourselves; but, if we summon all our energy
and strive to overcome all impediments and will work hard and adopt
perseverance as our motto, we shall not fail of success in the end.

Our small army enlisted last October determined to fight against all
the obstacles which might present themselves in our journey toward
success; and after passing through the hardest and most tedious part
of our work,--the mastering of the principles,--we found ourselves
confronted by an examination, which loomed up before us like a lofty
and rugged mountain, which we knew we must ascend if we would get that
broad outlook which we must obtain for the work of the remainder of
the term.

Having safely passed that, after a week's recreation, we again
assembled freshly armed to conquer the difficulties of the speeding
course. This proved to be the pleasanter part of our work, and, after
having spent five months with our teacher in this way, and having
passed the final examination, you see here to-night all who have been
victorious in the battle.

We came before our leader total strangers to him and to each other,
and many happy days have we spent since first we saw his face, and
every day has deepened our regard for him for having been so patient
with us. When we have been on the brink of despair, he has consoled us
with the assurance that better times were coming, and that, if we did
not give up but would push ahead and persevere, we would surely

The "unwearied sun" has performed his daily circuit, sometimes
visible, and sometimes hidden by the vapor laden clouds, but right
onward, whether seen or unseen, has he gone, and time, that never
lingers, has rolled on rapidly and in its flight has brought us to
this hour, ere we were aware, and lo! it has already begun to
snap the threads which have held us together for the last eight
months. Our lives have been speeding with the moments into the
never-to-be-forgotten past; but the tie which binds our hearts
in Christian love and fellowship death itself cannot sever.

The seeds of stenography, which were cast into our minds at the
beginning of our lessons, made their appearance as young and tender
shoots when we arrived at the speeding course, and have not only begun
to blossom, but also to bear fruit, inasmuch as eight of our number
are already holding positions as stenographers and typewriters, and we
hope they will soon arrive at full maturity when we have all become
experienced shorthand writers. These little plants need the tenderest
care and most watchful guidance, for, if neglected ere they are larger
grown, and the weeds of careless habits are not rooted out, they will
be a source of great trouble and annoyance in the acquiring of speed.
How important then that they should be wisely directed!

We have now arrived at the completion of our course here in the
capacity of learners; but only to enter an enlarged sphere of action
and there employ what we have here been enabled to acquire. Not only
have we been learning stenography but have been benefited in a number
of other ways; each lesson in its turn had some moral to convey and
some new thought to suggest, which, while teaching us some new form of
work, and suggesting new ideas, all tended to elevate our minds.

To you, dear members of the G. S. M. & T., are we indebted for
enabling us to acquire an honest, well-paying profession, which is
aiding so many young women to improve their condition in life, and
give substantial assistance to those dependent upon them. To our
Instructor are we especially grateful for his thoughtfulness and zeal
in imparting instruction, and the affectionate solicitude which he has
shown for our welfare; nor would we forget the care bestowed upon us
by the Assistant Instructors, who have in many ways supplemented the
instruction which we have received from the Superintendent.

To you, dear classmates, I give my parting word of farewell. Often
have we met together to study our beloved shorthand, often have the
difficulties seemed great enough to overwhelm us; often have our
sympathies been aroused by the need of help in one way or another, and
now, for the last time, we again assemble at this familiar spot. There
can but arise in our breast thoughts of sadness as we take leave of
each other, for never again can we meet as the Class of '90, but while
we regret that this is our last evening together, we must bear in
mind, that

    "A fleeting hour, a month, a year,
    Is all that God permits us here,
    That we may learn to prize more high
    That heavenly home beyond the sky."

Introductory Address


_To the Class of '91._

Ladies and gentlemen, I come to welcome you in the name of the young
ladies of the graduating class. The entertainment this evening, owing
to your presence here which is a source of encouragement to them, will
show you what they have learned and what they have been doing during
the past Winter and Spring, and what we have been doing to help them
in the good cause and vocation which they have chosen. Thomas Carlyle
once asked this question: "What can a woman do?" Well, I think if
Thomas Carlyle was alive to-day and could go through the offices of
the merchants and business men and architects and lawyers of this
city, he would be willing to confess that at least one profession had
been taken possession of by woman. If he could go through the lower
part of this city into any of our offices he would look with wonder
to see a young lady employed as a typewriter and stenographer, as they
almost universally are. In political economy the weakest go to the
wall. Well, it is said that they do, but in this case I think they
have gone to the front. To illustrate that I will tell you a little
experience of my own. Some two or three years ago I went into a
gentleman's office on some business, and made a statement to him. He
said, "Stop! I want that taken down." He called a young man sitting at
the desk and said, "Take this statement down." The stenographer was
about six feet tall, built strong proportionately, and he sat down to
take my statement. One of the first things that struck me was that it
was a pretty light business for a man of his size. The next time I
went into that office, the stenographer was again called to take my
statement, but it was a young lady this time, instead of that great
hulking man. I spoke to my friend about it and he said, "I have a
young lady now and I find she does a great deal better than a man. Her
work is more perfect; more satisfactory." In this case the weakest had
gone to the wall! The stronger intellect had forced the weaker to the

Now, young ladies, I congratulate you on the success you have
attained in the school in your work, and would like to say a few words
to you with regard to your future career. When you go into the
employment of some merchant, banker or lawyer, recollect one thing,
that you are his confidential clerk,--taken into his confidence,--and
what you hear there and write there must not be carried out of his
door. When you go out, leave it behind you, and you will always be
successful. And now, I congratulate you again upon your success here,
and hope for a bright future for you and hope you will be successful
in the vocation which you have chosen.

Salutatory Address


_Class of '91._

It affords me much pleasure to greet you this evening, and, on behalf
of my classmates, to extend to all a sincere and hearty welcome.

No presence is more inspiring than that manifested in the attendance
of friends at such exercises as these. Truly it is a deep source of
gratification to us, for, as we gaze into the many kindly faces before
us, we are conscious that it is unqualified evidence of the loyal
interest taken in our work, and a full appreciation of our past

We welcome you, gentlemen, representatives of the Society of Mechanics
and Tradesmen, for, not only desirous of granting us every opportunity
to acquire a knowledge of stenography, without expense, you go still
further and lend us your presence, which dignifies and adds grace to
this happy occasion. We, in return, express our cordial obligations
for your favors and philanthropy.

We welcome Mr. Mason, our faithful teacher, and give him heartfelt
thanks for his kindness to us as pupils, and the earnest attention he
has shown in conducting the school work. We can truthfully say that
the success of the class in their studies is due solely to the skill
of his instruction.

When we entered upon the inception of our task about eight months
ago, contemplation of such a tedious study as stenography had made
us somewhat apprehensive of successful consequences, and when,
subsequently, we beheld so many curious marks, hooks, loops, spirals
and disjointed straights, then, indeed, did alarm seize upon and
almost terrorize us. How could we accomplish such an arduous
undertaking? We pondered the subject long and well, and, as in all
such matters, a solution was arrived at. You will doubtless not be
surprised when I say it was application--yes, application, with hard,
earnest study as a relative concomitant, which solved the problem.
This was the beginning, an auspicious one, you must admit, because,
having unraveled the chief skein of difficulty, it seemed to imbue
us with increased confidence, and study we did, with intense fervor
and earnestness. Thus it continued. Not a careless and desultory
endeavor, but one of energetic determination and indefatigable zeal.
"_Festina Lente_," as the old Romans were wont to say,--"Make haste
slowly,"--was our motto, as little by little we gained in acquisition.
The curious little dots and dashes which at first seemed so strange
and mysterious, soon lost their mystery and ere long a simple
acquaintance with them had ripened into a desirable familiarity. The
same success attended our efforts at the typewriter. The irregular and
heavy sounds which first greeted the ear of the learner, have lost
their harshness, and in their turn, as nimble fingers lightly touch
the enameled keys, the regularity of the merry ticks, broken only by
the gentle ring of the silvery bell, as the cross-bar passes from side
to side, partakes almost of melody.

Such has been the past, and to-night the conferring of many diplomas
will convince you that our labor has not been in vain. Stenography as
a study is not really difficult. The cardinal requisite is practice.
Leave the rest to time and the result will not be disappointing. Since
those who have studied here this Winter expect to use the knowledge
acquired as a means of subsistence, it is a comforting reflection
that we can thus earn a livelihood in such a satisfactory and
congenial manner, especially when bearing in mind that the majority
of young women, who toil in this great metropolis, are constrained to
pass long and dreary hours at work which is far less lucrative and
much more debilitating and unhealthy. Again, the study of stenography
requires constant and critical attention, thereby strengthening the
mind and doing away with idle day-dreaming. Mental perception is
rendered more acute, as rapid yet steady thinking is continually

So, after all, now that the labors of the term are over, we may indeed
feel satisfied and happy, assured that you are willing to endorse the
satisfaction we feel at this happy outcome.

And now, thanking you for the considerate attention you have accorded
these words of salutation, we trust that our programme will greatly
please you; that at its conclusion you will be happy to offer
heartiest congratulations to the Class of '91.

Address of Rev Chas. S. Harrower, D. D.

_To the Class of '91._

Mr. Chairman, Ladies of the Class of '91 and Friends: I almost feel as
if I were one of the graduates of this institution, I have been here a
number of years now. But one thing that puzzles me is how I should go
to work to report these speeches, and, really, a moment or two ago I
thought the young ladies were engaged in taking down the music. And I
should not be surprised if they after a little while would be able to
take music down stenographically and write it out on the typewriter
and perhaps, by some modification of their skill, evolve it into tune
again. I know that they can talk musically, because we just heard some
beautiful music talked by one of them and I know that she is a
representative of the class.

So I think that after all the only claim I have to representing this
institution is the fact that I have been honored by being associated
with the officers, and the teachers, and the graduates of this school
a number of seasons in succession, and age is my only claim to honor,
for I cannot write stenographically, although I can make some crooked
marks, but I do not believe that anybody else could read them after
they get cold, because I know I cannot myself. I can some of them, but
I mean I cannot read them all. I feel particularly honored to-night
upon being given a place upon the platform. I believe this is the very
first occasion when the Society of Mechanics and Tradesmen have pushed
out from their own ancient hall into the world to give a larger
welcome to their constantly growing and most admirable and enviable
constituents. I was wondering to-night how many of the young men and
of the young women before me here had enjoyed the facilities of this
institution in the times past. I am sure they would have to take a
hall that would hold six or seven hundred people, who would fill it
full just as this place is filled full, and to-night this is just as
full as our old hall over home has been during the past five or six
years. We should fill anything because if our friends know they can
come and get away alive, they will come, but if they think they are
going to sweat nearly to death, and be crushed to death, possibly
there will a great many of them stay away.

I want to congratulate these young ladies. There is one matter that
was referred to in the salutatory this evening,--there is one aspect
of your work and of your success to-night that strikes me. Happy is
the institution that puts a class of fifty young ladies year after
year into the position which those young ladies occupy who have
finished their course, and to-night are to receive their diplomas. Oh,
I do not wonder, after what I know about life in New York City, and
life among women and girls, that your doors are crowded every fall and
that you have two, and three, and four times the applicants for the
facilities and opportunities of the school that you can possibly
accommodate. I do not wonder at it. Why I know a woman 36 years of age
with four children whom she is trying to support, and who works eleven
hours a day for six days of the week, and barely makes an average of
sixty cents a day, and on Saturday night gets six times six or
thirty-six,--$3.60 for her week's toil, and she has been at it till
eleven at night, starting soon after six in the morning. Just think of
a story like that. Oh, girls, I will call you girls; young ladies, if
you had rather be called young ladies, I pray you never forget the
sisters and the mothers who are toiling like this. They were just as
bright girls, and just as brave girls when they were girls as you are
now, and yet life has crowded them down, and I do not know how we are
to lift them up, but, by a tremendous concentration of all of our
consciences and all our powers, which shall make a public sentiment,
that shall look into the sweaters' hells as much as it looks into the
factories, and into the stores, and establishments of men who do not
mean to be cruel or more cruel than you are, and I should be, but who,
in the tussle and competition of life, are led to take part in a
system which is sweating and destroying life which is as brave and
worthy as any of theirs. I wish to create a public opinion which shall
make these exigencies of toil impossible in our modern life. You and I
must do something not only to lift ourselves up, but to help some one
else to climb the ladder to better conditions than otherwise they will
be led to, and I congratulate you that you have climbed the ladder and
have climbed to a better height than that. This institution just helps
you all where your future is secure. Do I say too much? Oh! no,
daughters and sisters, mind, this institution has helped you to the
place where your future is secure. Nothing can take the place of toil.
Nothing can take the place of work. The Emperor Severus, when he lay
dying at the foot of the Grampian Hills in the old town of York, a
stranger who had taken him from the field turned to the men about him,
and making a little address emphasized his last words over and over
again, saying, "Laboramus, laboramus, laboramus!" We must work, we
must work, we must work, he said, and what was true of the Emperor of
Rome cannot be untrue of us; is just as true of all. There is nothing
done without work, work, work. But you will work. You mean to work.
You came here because you were determined to work. You have been
working over hours and overtime. You have been overworked some of you,
just to get the facilities which this institution and this blessed
year of grace can give to you, and you will do it. I know you will be
true. It is not for me to repeat what Mr. Barratt said. I know that he
told the truth when he said that one of the essential things is
fidelity to the confidences which come into your position, through the
relation you sustain to your superiors, your employers and your

I know that that is true. I know, too, another thing, and that is,
that there will be times when you will feel tired-headed and wish you
could rest. Did you ever read about Charles Lamb? You know what
beautiful things Charles Lamb wrote. Some of you have read the jolly
story of how roast pig was discovered by the young Chinaman. You have
read that, and if you ever want a good laugh some time get the essays
of Elia and turn to the paper on roast pig, and read it, and you will
enjoy it immensely. At last Charles Lamb was released from his duties
in the India office, he went home and wrote a letter and said to his
friend,--he was so excited with the fact that now he was free,--he
said, "For £10,000 I would not labor ten years longer in that old
India office. The best thing anybody can do is nothing, and next to
nothing, perhaps, go to work." And he went out to do nothing. He had
nothing more to do. Two years after that he says, "Any work is a
hundred times better than no work at all. The sun looks down on no
forlorner creature than me with nothing to do."

Toil is necessary, labor is necessary for our happiness, as well as
our prosperity. But I do not want you to overwork, and I believe you
do wrong when you do. Just for a little while, while you are getting
this knowledge, you must be willing perhaps to overwork; do not
overwork, do not overstrain yourself. You can break your brains as
easily as you can your back, and every now and then you hear of some
young fellow who breaks his back. Don't break your back, and your
neck, and your brain, and don't forget, just for the sake of getting
ahead a little faster and making a little more money. Remember that
your life and happiness are worth more than a few dollars. I say that
because I know that some of you would be tempted to overwork, but I
want to say alongside of it, another thing that I believe you cannot
forget, and that is this, that there is an element in true life and in
true service which dollars do not pay for. There is an element that is
higher and finer which we usually think of when we think of the
faithful performance of our work, the work allotted to us and the
faithful keeping of business secrets that are intrusted to us. There
is something finer than that. It would be supposed that the men of the
learned profession were the men who work for something beside money.
The doctor must respond to a call no matter whether it comes from the
poorest home, or the richest home. There is something in the
professional relation to society that lifts a man up to a point where
he dare not work simply for money. The minister must go, and it makes
no difference where the call comes from or what time of the night or
day a call comes, and he goes without asking anything about what is to
return to him. The lawyer will stand up in court and take a case and
plead for it, when there is not a single shilling to come into his
hands, because the task is assigned to him. He is a servant of
civilized society. So is the medicine man. And it used to be supposed
that only professional men were the servants of society, in this high
sense that takes them out from a mere consideration of gain. That used
to be supposed. But they will not be able to monopolize this high
idea. The doctors, and lawyers, and ministers in that respect are just
like the rest of you. There is a point for which money cannot be paid
you, nor the lack of money release you, it is the putting of your
heart into your work, the putting of your interest into your work, the
putting of your words into your work, and doing your work not simply
as long as men's eyes are on you, but doing your work faithfully, to
the best of your ability, as long as you receive a man's money and as
long as you hold relations of obligation to him. There is that which
money does not pay for. There is that element of the highest
profession in all services, whether it be a woman with the needle or a
typewriter, or whether it be the stenographer, or whether it be the
mechanic in the house,--if he does his work as he ought to do it he
will put something into it that he does not expect to be paid for. He
will put something into it for which he is to be paid in the improved
condition of life and the benefit that he has done to humanity.
Humanity is to pay him, and not his employer, not in gold but in
goodness, in virtue, in worthy services, he is to get his pay. Put
your heart into your work. Join the learned professions, if you
please, by being not only true and faithful but by being hearty and
conscientious and faithful at every point in your business life.

And now I have said all that I ought to say but I cannot avoid saying
that one word more. You remember when Sir Walter Scott lay dying, he
called his son-in-law to his bedside and said, "I may not have a
minute or two in which to speak to you my dear, be virtuous, be
religious, be a good man. Nothing else will be any comfort to you when
you are lying where I am lying now."

Be virtuous, be religious. Be good women always and bless your
associates. Be faithful in your accomplishments. Be useful in your
services. Be proud of every achievement that you can make, but above
all fear God and in this way live close to the Christ himself who
lived not for what should come to Him, but for the blessing which
should come to the worthy.

A Class History


_Class of '91._

From the time of the creation to the present day, everything that has
ever existed has had a history. Every leaf and tree and blooming
flower, each have theirs; that sky-lark soaring high in the sunny blue
sky has a history, and, as it pours forth a sweet melody, how the air
vibrates with the gladsome song! Even that tiny spray of hare-bells
clinging tenaciously to a cleft in the rugged rocks, over which the
foaming mountain torrent leaps and dashes, has its own little history.
So has the torrent itself. It began away back among the snow-capped
hills, and at first was only a tiny stream, but, joined by other
courses, and swollen with the melting snows and spring rains, it has
become a foaming, dashing mountain stream, plunging headlong over
rocks and forming many a pretty cascade and sparkling waterfall. Now
it runs deeply and swiftly through some dark cañon, and now, emerging
into broad sunlight, and flowing peacefully through green meadows, it
gives refreshment to the ferns and rushes along its banks, and to many
a little songster. So it flows on and on until it reaches the friendly
arms of the sea, outstretched to receive it.

The Class of '91 is no exception to the general rule which governs all
Nature. The history of this class began last October; it is thus just
eight months old. Its diet up to the present time has consisted
chiefly of Phonographic outlines, well seasoned and flavored with
vowels and grammalogues, and served á la Pitman. And, in the words of
Abraham Lincoln, we say, "For those who like that kind of diet, why
it's just the kind of diet they like."

From the time of the commencement of the class, we have been climbing,
climbing, up the steep and rugged paths of Phonography. We began our
ascent from the base, and while traveling up the foot-hills, our guide
explained to us something of the nature of the ascent, and brought us
into contact with some very amusing incidents.

The road for the most part was straight, but as we progressed we found
ourselves following our guide around curves, and sometimes even around
and around in circles. At first we looked about us a good deal,
thought it would not be so very hard climbing after all, and so
gradually accustomed ourselves to it. We found that we could
accomplish more and more each day, and the higher we climbed the more
invigorating grew the air.

One day we had been toiling up a long steep hill which some one
suggested was like the Hill Difficulty. We struggled up its steep
sides, weary and travel-stained, discouraged, but not ready to give
up, and at each step plunging in our mountain canes, which were black,
sharpened at both ends, and labeled "Faber No. 2." Soon we heard a
cheery halloa, and looking up saw a tiny little man standing at the
top of a hill. "That's Mr. Try," said our guide, "he is one of the
best people in this mountain. If any one is in trouble, wearied,
discouraged, and just about to give up, then is the time you may
depend on Try. He comes with words of consolation, and with his bright
cheery talk so convinces his poor broken down fellow-beings of future
success, that they get up and begin to depend on 'Try again.'"

Soon we began to notice signs on the trees along our road. One was,
"Wash tubs and window-sash, vinegar, putty, pails and glass." Another,
"Two boys to let for the Summer." This was interesting, and we
hurried along in hopes of seeing the author of these strange signs,
for our guide told us he was the queerest man in that section of the
country. Soon we came to his house and found it fairly bristling with
signs. Curiosity overcame us and we stopped in and asked for a drink
of water. The object of our curiosity was leaning his elbow on the
mantel. He had long hair and was greatly stooped. We found his wife
very talkative, and when she found out who we were, began to tell us
about the Deed of their Property. "When we were married," she began in
a high nasal voice, "Chauncy's father gave him a clear title to this
place; and after Chauncy's death it is to go back to the old homestead
again." Then she took us through his work-shop where he manufactured
the articles displayed on his signs.

Next we came across another dwarf, just the opposite of Try, our guide
said. He was always up to some sort of mischief, and his greatest
delight was to get other people into trouble. The country people had
long wished to be rid of him but he had a long lease of his house and
he meant to stay there. He was a homely little elf, with bright red
hair, a slight squint in one eye and a wart on his nose. If a lesson
had not been prepared, this fellow, who was called "I Forgot," was
sure to be on hand in time to whisper into the ear of the culprit,
"Say 'I Didn't Think' or 'I Forgot,'" and the minute she opened her
mouth, out it would come and then the wicked elf would "fold his tent
like the Arabs and silently steal away" to parts unknown, with a
fiendish grin on his ugly little face leaving his dejected victim to
receive a well-merited rebuke for carelessness. This dwarf followed us
for many days, but heeding the repeated warnings of our guide, most of
us at length learned to distrust him and turn a deaf ear to his
excuses. Thus we struggled on and on up the steep sides of the
mountain, and at the close of each day, we realized that, "Something
attempted, something done, had gained a night's repose," for us,
although we didn't always get it.

And now we were nearing the end of our journey, our hopes ran high and
we kept our eyes upward toward the summit. The obstacles which had
continually beset our path had been overcome, and we could say like
the Irishman, who, on capturing three prisoners in the late war, was
asked how he secured them: "Indade, sir," replied he with a knowing
wink, "it's meself that surrounded them, sir."

At last we reach our destination in time to just view the sunrise. The
grass is green, the flowers are all in bloom, Spring is here. The
faint gray streaks of the dawn are in the sky and soon the whole East
is suffused with a roseate flush. There is a hush of expectancy in the
air, the breeze is soft, the birds are twittering drowsily in the
tree-tops, and then in a flood of golden splendor "the morning sun
comes peeping over the hills." Instantly all nature is alive, the
birds pour forth their sweet melodies, the drowsy hum of the bees
floats lazily on the air; there is a pleasant rustling among the tall
swaying pines. Dew-drops glisten on the grass, the flowers nod gayly
in the morning breeze, and we feel like singing:

     "When the sun all gloriously comes forth from the ocean,
       Making earth beautiful, chasing shadows away,
     Thus do we offer Thee our prayers and devotions,
       God of the fatherless, guide us, guard us, to-day."

The new day has begun, and we have witnessed one of the finest views
in Nature's kaleidoscope; for what could be more beautiful than the
dawn! So are our lives just at this time. The air is full of hope and
promise; so are we. We are just in the Springtime of our lives; our
hopes, our aims, our aspirations are all as fresh and unsullied as
the morn itself.

Now, in the dewy freshness of the early morning, we see that we are on
a broad table-land, and not on the summit of the mountain as we had
fondly hoped. We notice paths running in all directions,--some go
straight to the top of the mountain, others stop at different places
along the route. Only the future can decide which path each shall
take. We have a grand field of labor before us, in this hill of
knowledge which we have been traversing for the past eight months.
There are still rich and undiscovered resources of knowledge, which,
brought to the light, would make the art a perfect one and us perfect
in it. Now it is time for us to separate. Some of the more ambitious
of us will, by dint of hard and unremitting labor, reach the pinnacle
of our hopes.

Others, less ambitious, will be content to spend their days in the
peaceful valleys of quiet usefulness. But, before we separate, let us
each resolve that we will never, by act or word, do anything which
might reflect discredit on this Association, to the members of which
we owe a debt of gratitude which we can never hope to repay except by
doing our very best, and so bring honor upon those who have done so
much for us and upon the Institution which they uphold.

The Class of '91 is now like the waves of the sea:

     On the bosom of the ocean,
       Dance the wavelet's glittering band;
     With a slow and fairy motion
       Moving onward towards the land;
     But that reached, they burst and sever,
       Bound no more by beauty's spell,
     Thus, we who have toiled together,
       The goal reached, must breathe farewell.

Here endeth the simple annals of the Class of '91.

Class Poem


_Class of '91._

     We extend a hearty welcome
       To you all, both old and young,
     Who have come to aid in sending off
       The Class of '91.

     We beg you will be generous
       In judging us to-night,
     See not the faults nor blunders,
       But keep the good in sight.

     This class you see united here,
       To-night will have to sever,
     But where to go, Ah! who can tell?
       And shall it be forever?

     Here, many a pleasant hour we've spent,
       But now we soon must part,
     And yet the lessons taught us here
       Shall dwell deep in each heart.

     In after years we'll fondly think
       Of pleasant times gone by,
     And when we're treading other paths,
       The memory'll dim each eye.

     Our teachers we have sorely tried
       As any one might see;
     At last they've succeeded in teaching us,
       Typewriting and Stenography.

     Oh, thanks to you, our faithful friends,
       For what you both have done,
     For firm, but kind you've always been,
       And patient with every one.

     These gentlemen deserve our thanks,
       For their goodness to us here,
     Your kindness we shall not forget,
       For many and many a year.

     May fortune on you ever smile,
       And blessings on you flow,
     This, this shall be our prayer for you,
       Wherever you may go.

     For many truly grateful hearts,
       You surely here may find,
     Who fully all your gifts esteem
       To elevate the mind.

     Now, with best wishes to you all,
       On parting we'll not dwell,
     But to our teachers, classmates, friends
       We'll say, farewell, farewell.

Address of Mr. Henry Moore

_To the Class of '91._


Of course, it is not expected that the representatives of the School
Committee will have very much to say. You have listened very
attentively to all that has been already said, and I think that the
ground has been still further covered in what has already been said.
It may not be known to all present that this Society, merging
community of interest at the time when the camp fires of the
Revolution had just burned out, associated themselves together for
mutual protection and for one another's general good. It was to
relieve the unfortunate, the widow and the orphan that brought
together the great mechanic minds of the past, and all a-down the past
century we can find that they have always been ready, always been
anxious, always been willing to lend the hand of kindness and
attention to those whom they found in need, to assist, to protect and
to care for. Robinson, in one of his poems, has said, "Who will break
the bread of sorrow? Who will give the cup of sympathy? Who breathe of
sympathy to those who are suffering, and relieve with the cup of
sympathy the sorrowing ones of earth?" I do not think I have quoted
that exactly, but it has been the motto of this Society ever to
protect those who needed their protection; to care for those who
needed their care and their bounty, and to-night we find the result of
this care and protection, in the graduates of the Class of '90-'91. I
leave this matter with you for reflection. We all know and realize
what it is to be a member of the General Society of Mechanics and
Tradesmen, and I, for one, am thankful to be able to say to you in
hearty welcome and in hearty greeting that the evidences are now
before you of the well-being, and the comfort, and the joy, and the
happiness of the graduates of the Class of '90-'91.



_Class of '91._

     [A]Das ist im Leben haslich eingerichtet,
          Das Bei den Rosen gleich die Dornen stehn;
        Und was das arme Herz auch sehnt und dichtet,
          Zum Schlusse kommt das Voneinandergehen.

[Footnote A:
        'Tis said, alas, that life must have its sorrows,
          That with the roses cruel thorns should grow;
        And though we fondly dream of love's to-morrows,
          Must every heart the grief of parting know.]

The words of the poet are but too true. What rose does not hold up its
pretty, fragrant head, feigning unconsciousness of the thorns hidden
beneath its bright, green leaves? And just so life's joys are with its
sorrows associated. There never was a _perfectly_ happy day, unclouded
as the skies of June, for every pleasure, inasmuch as it must end,
carries with it some sadness--every meeting, the pain of parting.

So to-night the joyous echo of "welcome" is still to be heard,
the fragrance of its roses is yet perceptible, when the solemn
"_Farewell_" rings upon our ears and its thorns pierce our hearts.

Ruskin says, "It is a type of eternal truth that the soul's armor is
never well set to the heart, unless a woman's hand has braced it,
and it is only when she braces it loosely that the honor of manhood
fails." If then, the honor of the world is dependent upon woman, if
she is to be responsible for all war and all peace, happiness or
discontent, it behooves us to consider the greatness, amounting to
almost awe, of the duty imposed upon us. Our task may, perhaps, be
a difficult one, but not if we seize it with an unyielding grasp,
and fight it to the bitter end--"to the last syllable of recorded
time"--if need be.

Our circle of usefulness is constantly widening. The doors of
colleges, and thus those of every profession, have opened to admit us
within their sacred precincts. In all parts of the world our sisters
are successful as musicians, painters, sculptors--Harriet Hosmer, for
example--physicians, professors, stenographers. Many of them are now
on the highest rounds of the ladders from which their lack of superior
education formerly excluded them. This is especially true of
stenography. Yet some one has recently written, that, owing to their
superior tact in arrangement, their neatness, their unobtrusiveness,
their faithfulness, and numerous other excellent qualities, the
demand for women in this capacity is steadily increasing. We find them
filling lucrative positions in banking, commercial and publishing
houses; in brokers' and insurance offices, in law firms, in fact, in
every place where the haste of this nineteenth century requires a
stenographer's speed. Indeed, they have made for themselves, in the
use of the "wingéd words," a name which it is our duty to assist in
more firmly establishing.

In behalf of my classmates, as well as for myself, I wish to thank our
Instructor most cordially for his thorough teaching; for the interest
he awakened in us toward this intricate art, without which we would
have long since been compelled to cry "Vanquished;" for his timely
assistance over the sharp pointed stones and by the brier bushes in
the darkened forest, and for his patience which our forgetfulness so
sorely tried. And, though our words of gratitude may be weak, the
feeling is deep-rooted in our hearts, and through the years to come we
shall carry with us many pleasant memories of the hours spent with
him, and never fail to appreciate his more than kindness.

The neat typewritten exercises, letters and legal documents, which
the members of the typewriting class have at different times shown us,
are an earnest of the work done in that department, and we can have no
doubt that his pupils feel grateful to their teacher.

The School Committee, indeed all the members of the G. S. M. & T.,
have our heartiest thanks for their kindness in enabling so many to
gain a profession, and for the interest they have always manifested in
our welfare.

One word of "Farewell" to my classmates: During the past Winter, while
studying together, many of us have formed strong friendships, which we
hope shall never decay, or have bound more closely those who were
friends before. Several of the more fortunate have already obtained
positions, making profitable use of the treasures received from our
Instructor. But the others need not despair, for if we are faithful
and determined we shall in due time receive our call, and "In quiet
and in confidence shall be our strength," perfection shall be our aim,
and when we have reached the goal, may it be said of us, as Antony
said of Brutus:

     "Nature might stand up and say to all the world,
     'This was a man.'"

In our journey through life, when doubts fall thick and fast around
us, and the lowering sky seems just above our heads, surely these
beautiful words of Goethe will fill us with encouragement:

     "Wouldst thou win desires unbounded?
       Yonder see the glory burn,
     Lightly is our life surrounded,
       Sleep's a shell to scorn and spurn,
     When the crowd sways unbelieving,
       Slow the daring will that warns,
     He is crowned with all achieving
       Who perceives and then performs."


A Prophecy of the Class of '91.


Know All Men By These Presents, that I, having departed this life,
have received permission from Pluto, King of the Shades, to return to
this world and make known to you, less fortunate mortals, your
destiny. While lounging idly on the banks of the "River of Oblivion,"
the sovereign of that sunless region permitted me to read in his "Book
of Life." Listlessly turning over the pages I saw a name in bold
characters: "W. L. Mason, City, County and State of New York." Then
the pages began to turn of their own accord and the names of my former
friends and acquaintances, _inter alia_, presented themselves in rapid

Mary A. Moore and her husband; John Williamson; our well-known
pugilistic friend, John L. Sullivan; a "hen-pecked" Bostonian, and

As I read a dim mist seemed to come from the river, causing the words
to fade; bona fide pictures arose in their stead.

_First._ In the famous city of Kroy Wen, stood a large pagoda, on
which was emblazoned the startling legend: "College of Stenography, W.
L. Mason, President." At this hour the college doors were open and
within could be seen the bulletin of the staff; it was, the President,
the right honorable W. L. Mason, D. D., assisted by his able corps of
instructors, the professors Massie and Shaughnessy, the latter by
their punctuality and the sweet temper of the former, being of the
utmost assistance to him. Et signiture was the course.

     First Term. Lecture on the Principles of Shorthand, together
     with practical lessons in disorder, untidiness, negligence,
     forgetfulness and carelessness, all thoroughly taught in
     three months more or less.

     Second Term. Practice in misapplying all that you have
     learned, with a view to writing as illegibly and slowly as

     Third Term. Literature, the reading of Mother Goose Rhymes in
     shorthand, and the writing of dime novels for the literature
     of the 20th century.

The Right Honorable President, as hereinbefore mentioned, is old and
decrepit, unable to keep order in his classes, and therefore always
carries with him a jumping rope, the handles of which he uses on the
knuckles of his unruly pupils, while the rope itself brings to him
recollections of his youthful days when it was used for the legitimate
purpose for which it was manufactured.

_Second._ Now the panorama changes and shows a lady of medium height,
fair, slight and happy. She walks through one of the crowded streets
of Kroy Wen, handing to the passers by circulars which read as

     "To the People of the City of Kroy Wen,


     "I beg to notify the public that the first issue of my new
     paper,--Wit,--will be ready in two weeks and I hereby
     guarantee to the said public that it will afford amusement,
     entertainment and instruction, with a special column devoted
     to Phonography.

     "In Witness Whereof, I have hereunto set my hand and seal,
     the day and year last above written.

     Signed,                    "C. CELLPUR."

_Third._ A revolution had evidently taken place in England; the
people were clamoring for Constitutional Government. Discussions were
loud and prolonged in the "House of Lords." In the latter, on one of
the front benches, sat the stenographer who had been admonished on
her life to write the turbulent speeches verbatim. She was our dear
friend, Miss Rhythm.

_Fourth._ An imposing publishing house in the city of Not Sob,
which city is noted for its cultured inhabitants. Small boys were
placing on the doors and windows of said publishing house, the same
to remain thereon without hindrance or molestation, large notices
which bore this inscription: "Our most recent publication is a book
written by Miss N. Murphie. It is important as a work of art and is an
authority on all topics of etiquette, especially as regards language.
The cultured inhabitants of Not Sob cannot afford to lose this
opportunity of making themselves more familiar with those refinements
of speech which have long marked them as the most cultured people in
the land."

Then I saw what seemed to be an illegal document purporting to be a
marriage settlement, in which Mrs. Ocean is wisely having her property
settled upon herself, mindful of the time when she learned that
"What's hers is his, and what's his isn't hers."

_Fifth._ A convention of the Woman's Rights Association. The hall is
crowded. Several determined looking women who have already addressed
the meeting are on the platform. The audience is breathlessly awaiting
the appearance of what Edward Everett Hale calls "A Hen's Right Hen."
She is at length presented, her remarks are interspersed with legal
terms; evidently some part of the training has been at the F. S. & T.
C. of the G. S. M. & T. Her talk is upon the uselessness of the male
sex and the applause is loud and enthusiastic. Her face and manner are
very familiar, and looking at the programme I see that the initials of
her name spell H. E. M. P.

_Sixth._ A copy of the "Post and Lightning;" it is yellow with age. It
had probably been handed down from generation to generation as a
precious heirloom. The column containing the marriage notices is
folded outward, and one marked with blue pencil reads:

"Wolf--Lamb. Mr. F. Wolf to Miss M. Lamb, both of the State of Kroy
Wen, May 25th, 912, at the home of the bride."

"The Wolf had devoured the Lamb."



     I beg of you all just a little time
     In which to attend to this dear class of mine.
       Dear Tuesday night girls you should all have a prize,
       And it makes me feel sad, and tears dim my eyes
     When I think that for most of you I have no prize.

     But a dear little "tot" in this class doth belong
     Whose euphonious cognomen is Margaret Armstrong,
       If she will come forward, I gladly will give
       A prize she can cherish as long as she'll live.

     And here is another for Nellie J. Bell,
     Whose sweet resonant tones you all know so well;
       Come hither, dear Nellie, a friend greets you now,
       Here, take this _small_ package and make a large bow,
     While I tell your dear classmates, with smiles all serene,
     That soon you will rival the renowned Lawyer Green.

       Ah! here is another, it seems to be round,
       I wonder for which of the class it is bound.
     It may be intended for some gentle "myth"
     But no, my dear friends, it is meant for Miss Smith,
       Who'll take the world easy wherever she is,--
       Will she take it this evening and smile as she does?

     Here's something else before we pass on
     For our dear kind teacher, Mr. W. L. Mason,
       For oft have I seen the briny tear start
       To his bright kindly eyes, while my classmates so smart
     Were kept _waiting_, while I tried to write like the chart.



In these days of model schools it is difficult to find an innovation
or to advance a theory of improvement which has not already been made;
but it seems to me there is one crying grievance from which all
schools suffer, and which I should like to do my little mite to
redress. My ideal of a school-master is the one in the opera of "Billy
Taylor." His creed is summed up in the quatrain.

     "When a pedagogue, I'd often wish,
         I'd give prizes to the _worst_ boys at school.
     The good boys I would like to swish,
         But alas! I would not break the rule."

Since the pleasant duty of awarding prizes has fallen to my lot, I am
determined to award them according to my theory, and lest my reasons
for bestowing them may not be perfectly clear to all, and the system
of reasoning by which my results are attained appear somewhat
illogical, I will endeavor to explain my reasons.

What, for instance, can be more absurd than the usual way in which the
prize is chosen for the individual obtaining the highest per cent. in
an examination? What, forsooth, is awarded but a collection of
books!!! Yes! To the very person who is supposed to know all that
books contain! It would be much more logical to my thinking to give
the aforesaid set of books to a poor plucked student who would be so
glad to avail himself of a little of their weighty contents.

For, and in consideration of the aforesaid reason, and for other
valuable consideration, I hereby assign, transfer and set over unto
you, my dear Miss Reidy, this little volume. It may seem small, but
believe me therein is comprised a respectable proportion of human
knowledge. It will be your consolation in time of need. In it you will
find every thing a mortal mind may desire. Do you desire wealth? You
will find it described on all that certain lot, piece or parcel of
column 2, situate, lying and being on page 303. Or perhaps happiness
is your aim? That you will find near the southeast corner of page
133, the same being therein described as the State of Enjoyment.

In short, you will have no wish unfulfilled. Go, _read ye_ and be
wise, and however friends may forsake you, be sure this faithful Dict.
will never fail you.

Another striking injustice in the bestowal of prizes is the fact the
teachers get none of them, and who, pray, is more entitled to them? Is
it not the teacher who has crammed and coached the unfortunate
students to the saturation point? Now, in my model school, no such
injustice shall be done, but, what to offer? There's the question. Of
course a teacher's mind is a compendium of all human knowledge,
therefore books would be out of place. So, Mr. Mason, to you I offer
no gaudy volume, but only this little machine, adapted for physical
culture. It is warranted to exercise every one of the blank muscles of
the human body at once; besides cultivating the artistic taste. Note
the graceful curve it describes in the air! Note the harmony of color
in the handles! Take it, dear teacher, to have, to possess, and to
enjoy the same unto yourself, your heirs, executors, administrators,
and assigns forever.

Another striking incongruity is the fact that the best student is
generally a pale, slender girl, or one on which the ravages of disease
have set their mark. To this delicate creature is given a prize of
books which will still further tax her powers. Now, would it not be
wiser to minister to the body diseased and award a prize of this
nature. Will Miss Hilda Busick step this way? Permit me to ask you one
question. _Be you sick?_ That is all I wish to know. _Be you sick?_ If
that be so, dear friend, take this in time. It is warranted to cure
every ill under the sun, and taken internally or externally makes no
difference. Take it, and bless your fortunate star which brought this
to your lot rather than a pile of dusty volumes.

For you, dear Miss Clancy, I was at a loss, but knowing that your
future career will be a busy one, I thought this little engagement
slate might be handy. You see you can hang it up in your office when
you are called away to take down a sermon of Phillips Brooks, or to
report the World's Fair of '92, and the horde of stenographer-hunters
may subscribe their names here and their humble supplication that you
will attend to them on their return. The other side of the slate may
be used in casting up bills.

I quite agree with Miss Sharp that patriotic sentiments ought to be
inculcated, and for this reason I have chosen this little flag of our
country which I beg she will accept; accompanying it is a little
bundle of fire-crackers dear to every patriotic heart. The best way to
appreciate them is to tie them together with their fuming little
projecting frizzles, set fire to the last one and throw them on the
street; the result will astonish you, I am sure.

And now, my dear friends, you have seen the merits of my system, but
it is with pain that I point out its only defect. I give prizes to the
worst ones at school, the only trouble is there are so few "worst"
that the list of prize-winners is naturally small. But I hope you will
acknowledge that its defect is amply compensated for by its other

A Tale of Woe


(_Read on Class Night, Tuesday, June 2, 1891._)

       Listen my friends, and you shall hear
     A _dreadful_ poem which I have here.
     'Tis about the class of '91,
       And a harrowing tale when once begun.
     A tale that will make you all shiver and shake;
     The thought of it now is making me quake.

     'Tis a tale of struggle and grief and woe,
     Of the girls who wrote fast, and the girls who wrote slow,
       Of girls who came early, of girls who came late,
       Of those who had plenty, others, none to dictate.
     Of the girls who held pencils as if they were pills,
     Of others, who held them as if they had chills.
       Of the dear darling girls who did everything (write) right,
       Of other unfortunates weeping all night,
       Oh! indeed, my dear friends, 'twas a terrible sight.

     Of a dear kindly teacher who came every night,
     And who stayed long after the electric light,
       Of the class in a circle the teacher around,
       While he watched every outline, and heard every sound.
     And the five minutes recess to catch the fresh air.
     Of return to the circle and "catching" it there;
       Of the girls who can stand up and read as they'd write.
       Of others who couldn't if they stood up all night;
       Ah! yes indeed, 'twas a pitiful plight.

     Of Complaints and of Answers, of Leases and Deeds;
     Of all kinds of letters for business men's needs;
       Of good sound advice as we all neared the end,
       From our dear kind Instructor, who is "also our friend."
     Of that dread Monday eve which had long been expected;
     Of the papers accepted, and the papers rejected.
       Of this beautiful calm which has followed that night;
       And I'm sure that my teachers and classmates unite
       In thanking Class '90 for this pleasant sight.

Verses Read on Class Night


_June 2, 1891._

     Hail! To our friends, both one and all,
     Hail! To our neighbors, great and small,
     Hail! To the sweet June air and sun,
     Hail! To the Class of '91.

     For the past eight months we've been working,
       Working with might and main,
     To get Phonographic outlines
       Fixed firmly in our brains.

     But now our work is ended,
       Our Winter's work is done;
     Then hip hurrah, hurrah, hurrah,
       For the Class of '91!

     And we smile as we think of the hours
       That we thought so fraught with pain;
     They have gone like the fleeting shadows,
       N'er to return again.

     And now we can sit in our cosy homes,
       And watch the drizzling rain;
     It used to be, "Put up your umbrella
       And don't you miss the train."

     I was seated one night, with book and pen,
       The midnight oil burned low;
     While on the table spread before me lay,
       A legal doc. with verbiage slow.

     When all at once on the still night air,
       Rang a terrible shriek, so wild and shrill,
     It curdled the warm blood in my veins,
       And made my very heart stand still.

     I rushed to the casement, and open it flew
       The pale moon shone in the azure sky,
     And like costly gems, 'neath a cloud of lace,
       Gleamed the stars in the Milky Way.

     And I looked and shuddered,
       For what did I see,
     But Thomas and Maria a lookin' at me,
       Their voices were pitched in the high key of C.

     Classmates, now step to the front,
       And make your bow to the business world,
     We are ready to work for honest hire,
       With our banners all unfurled.

     And now in conclusion we bid you adieu
     And make room for the Class of '92.

     Now give three cheers, and three times three
     For this glorious G. S. M. & T.
     God's blessing be on it forever, we say,
     May it know naught but prosperous days.

Address to the Graduating Class

_On Examination Night._



This is the last night of our course, and since we have studied our
final lesson together, it has occurred to me that this would be a good
opportunity for a little talk with you, as you are about to leave this
school and go out into the world. First of all, I want to tell you, as
I have many times told you before, how very much I have enjoyed my
work in connection with this class during the past Winter. There is a
certain satisfaction in feeling that I have been able to help you to
learn something, and this feeling is increased by remembering that I,
too, have been learning, and that my knowledge of the art of shorthand
has been enlarged by teaching it to you. You, on the other hand, must
keep in mind the fact that you have not learned all there is to be
learned about Phonography. Though you may live many years, and
practice Phonography all your life, you probably never will feel that
you have a perfect knowledge of all the details of the art. This,
however, need not discourage you, but, on the contrary, should fill
you with pleasure to think there is something yet to be learned, and
thus the fascination which the study of Phonography has had for you
during the past few months, can never diminish so long as you have a
desire to advance more and more towards perfection. It is not to be
expected that you will for any length of time remember everything that
I have ever said to you with regard to the advantages of shorthand or
its practical use; but of one thing I feel very sure, and that is that
whatever I have said that is worth anything will at some future time
recur to you when you need it most, and when it will probably be
better understood than it is now.

There is one fact that I wish very strongly to impress upon you,
namely, that you have, by your diligent study of the past Winter,
gained something which is of priceless value to you, and, if used
aright, something which must some day, sooner or later, prove of
particular advantage. This practical knowledge of shorthand which you
now possess is something which cannot be bought or sold; it is
something which you can never wholly forget; it is something which
many persons would give a great deal to obtain; and I therefore charge
you to guard it with care, and treasure it as a talent for the right
use of which you will some day be held accountable. Do not by any
means give up your practice. Even if you cannot continue it regularly,
do not abandon it altogether, but look upon your shorthand as a mine
of intellectual wealth which, if rightly worked, will yield rich

And now, one word more: be diligent, be persevering, be true to
whatever trust is reposed in you; and, if you seek a reward outside of
the natural satisfaction that will come from work well done, remember
the word of One who said, "Thou hast been faithful over a few things,
I will make thee ruler over many things."

With hearty congratulations upon your success, and with the most
cordial wishes for your future prosperity, I bid you God-speed.


Minor changes have been made to correct typesetters' errors;
otherwise, every effort has been made to remain true to the authors'
words and intent.  "[=a]" indicates an a-macron.

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