will have been secured.

The spirit of its management is to make it distinctly a library to be used, and not a mere storehouse for books. The students have ready access to all the books, and every opportunity is given to enable them to become acquainted with the important works dealing with the subjects they are studying.

In 1897 an admirable building was erected, the gift of the late Mr. Henry B. Eldred, to be the centre of the social life of the students. In this building the Young Men's Christian Association of the college holds its meetings.

The college curriculum is an elective system. This is so ordered that the student must choose among three general courses, namely, a course including both classical languages, one including French and German, or one including Latin and advanced science. Each of these courses is based upon a core of required subjects given in the Freshman and Sophomore years. system is to give the student a wide field of choice, yet on the other hand to introduce a general plan into his selection, and to prevent the omission of a few subjects that should be included in every liberal education. This element of conservatism, accompanying a willingness to have the student consult his own preferences, seems to be the true solution of the present curriculum problems of our colleges. It is pleasing indeed to find that students are in general making good choice of subjects, and are thus proving to be on the whole competent to choose for themselves. Certainly in Adelbert College there appears to be a desire on the part of the student body to gain that broad general culture that alone constitutes a well-educated man. Specialization comes soon enough at the best, the danger is of its coming too soon. That period of life when, according to psychology, our interests in science, art, and letters are being formed, and in general may alone be formed, is the time in which no one may neglect any great field of culture without probably losing all interest in it for life. If in time we must become professional machines and specialists, surely the college should endeavor to be not

The result of this elective

merely a preparation for this narrow field, but above all a means of conferring upon us and saving for us those wide interests in life that alone make life worth the living. The college that forgets this, its nobler work, is untrue to the cause of man's welfare. The curriculum and spirit of Adelbert seem to stand firmly for this principle.

The college, and the same may be said of the entire University, has a large corps of instructors for its students; especially is this seen to be so when we compare the number of the one to that of the other. This average is one instructor to less than every eight students.

Adelbert has among its alumni many names of which it is proud. On the list of these are twenty-six judges; one associate justice of the United States Supreme Court, W. B. Woods; two generals; three governors, Harvey of Wisconsin, Swift of Minnesota, and Hoadley of Ohio; two United States senators; eleven State senators; five members of Congress; many professors, three of whom are now members of the faculty of Yale College. Professors Ladd, Seymour, and Palmer, one of the Union Theological Seminary, Professor McGiffert, and one of Columbia School of Mines, the late Professor Newberry, the great natural scientist and author; one United States minister; one college president; and many lawyers, physicians, and ministers of high standing in their respective callings.

But we should not forget that we live in a day of high specialization, where the individual seems lost in the corporate whole. Here the great body of a college's alumni are to be found, and it is here that we would find them. The American college has the sacred office of making not only the future leaders of the American people, but also that manhood which forms the very backbone of our civilization. It is by what a college does to form the manhood of the nation that we shall judge it. May it therefore ever be, as it has been in the past, the ideal of Western Reserve to make true, capable, and noble-minded men and women. On such our country and our homes, our happiness, our prosperity, and our freedom depend. WALTER T. MARVIN,

ADELBERT COLLEGE.

lars! "The First Crossing of Greenland” tells the history of that journey, and was the book which won Nansen world-wide fame.

Upon Nansen's return he was made curator of the Museum of Comparative Anatomy in Christiania. He travelled on the Continent, lectured on his Greenland expedition, and met with enthusiastic welcome everywhere, He also lectured in Great Britain. On November 14, 1892, he gave one of his famous addresses before the Royal Geographical Society of Great Britain, on «< How can the North Polar Region be Crossed?" The most intense excitement was evidenced on this occasion. Nares, Allen, McClintock, Inglefield, Richards, and Hooker, were among the audience. They wondered what the young Norwegian had to say about the subject so near their hearts. "The hall was densely crowded, and the enthusiasm inspired by his personality and achievements was communicated to the entire audience, who expressed it, after the delivery of his address, by unbounded applause."

Two years previous to this, Nansen submitted his plans before the Christiania Geographical Society. He spoke frankly, eloquently, exaggerating nothing, promising nothing, yet hoping all. Certain things were necessary. He told what they were. In 1890 Nansen began making preparations. The Storthing had prom ised to help him. The "Fram," built by Mr. Colin Archer of Laurvik, a Norwegian seaport, was launched from there in Nansen's birth-month, October, and was christened by Fra Nansen. She was the strongest boat of her kind ever built.

After eight years of careful and thoughtful planning, Nansen's dream was about to be realized. He was not content to start on his journey until the debts incurred in the preparations had all been paid. They amounted to $120,000. Much of the necessary funds was supplied by the Storthing, by friends, and by the Norwegian National Assembly. Referring to the money supplied by the Government, Dr. Nansen said: "My countrymen are poor, but they have been most generous to me. If I had made the expedition an international affair, I could have obtained much money very quickly. I even had money offered. But I was anxious to make the expedition a national one. I thoroughly believe in my power to ac

complish my object, and is it not natural that I should wish to give my countrymen the first thought and the honor accruing to a triumphant expedition? Our success will be due to their generous enterprise."

On the day of the departure Christiania experienced an excitement whose intenseness will, perhaps, never be equalled. The little harbor was a mass of boats of every description, filled with shouting, waving, wildly enthusiastic Norwegians. Thousands of people were gathered on the shores. At the hour of noon, when Nansen was supposed to board the "Fram" -which, by the way, lay peacefully at anchor amid all the excitement - the harbor suddenly became silent. The moment held a meaning too deep for outward expression. "Suddenly all eyes were directed towards a tiny petroleum launch which came speeding towards the 'Fram.' There were two occupants: in the bow stood a sailor, boat-hook in hand; in the stern sat Dr. Nansen. A few moments later, when the launch dashed alongside the Fram,' and Dr. Nansen, looking haggard and half-dazed, climbed upon his vessel, there was a dead silence among the spectators; no voice was raised to greet or cheer him. A more impressive tribute than this sympathetic silence could not have been rendered. Even a momentary contemplation of Dr. Nansen's probable feelings at the moment of his embarkation must have impressed the coldest observer. The heart-rending farewell with his wife's tearful voice still echoing in his ears; the almost overwhelming responsibility of the whole expedition; of the twelve men who place their lives entirely in his charge; of his own reputation, which is, doubtless, far dearer to him than life-all these serious and harrowing thoughts must have been present in Dr. Nansen's mind at that moment, and he stood the test with characteristic calmness."

On the morning of the 24th, Dr. Nansen sent this telegram to the London "Times":

expressed during these long years. A reporter of the "Lokalanzeiger » interviewed the explorer's wife, and in answer to his request for her frank opinion regarding Dr. Nansen's success, she said:

"I am stormed with telegrams and letters, but to tell the truth, I understand nothing about these difficult questions. I leave it to the geographers and men of science, and I don't like speaking about it. Only this much can I tell you. I believe in my husband's return, but not now (this was in March '96, when Nansen was expected back); it is too soon. Besides, the statements are so vague. There is nothing positive and decided in them."

Fra Nansen's prophecy came true: Nansen did not return when he was expected; he did not arrive at Norway until September 1896-six months later.

Mr. Bains, hearing of the reported return, left England immediately for Christiania, and was among the first to greet Nansen. "The landing of Dr. Nansen at Christiania is now a matter of history," wrote he, "and very few words will suffice concerning it. The Fram' was met by a flotilla of seventy passenger steamers and a small squadron of the navy, which escorted the paintless Fram' up the fjord amidst the booming of the guns and the deafening hurrahs of the usually sober Norsemen. . . . Dr. Nansen and his comrades were rowed in small boats by the boys of the training ship Christiania,' to the ship-bridge, where the explorers were welcomed by the representatives of the city amidst the deafening cheers of the vast multitude."

Nansen's next work was the writing and publishing of his experiences. His literary charm has already been commented upon. He is, above all, perfectly scientific in his expression. He is, next, gifted with a strong mentality, which, coupled with a poetic and eloquent imagination, makes his work appeal to the æsthetic as well as to the scientific mind.

A Balzacian flavor perfumes the life of Ole Bull. He is the guest of the Faubourg St.-Germain; he wins Paris at a soirée given by the Duke of Riario; he breakfasts with the Duke of Montebello; Malibran first hates then pets him; Italy goes mad over him; he is the honored guest at Holland House; - the wit and aristocracy of England pay tribute to his geniusTom Moore sings and composes Irish bal

lads for him. Garlands, flowers, encores, tears, embraces, golden florins, are his daily need. Again, he is censured, robbed, deceived; he lives in a little hole in some soldiers' barracks, with a black crust for breakfast, a dish of soup for dinner - and hope for lunch. He is the object of his friends' charity, he lies ill of brain fever at the lodgings of good Madame Villeminot. Madame has a young granddaughter, "a beautiful maiden, Alexandrine Felicie Villeminot, an orphan." It is the beginning of a romance which flowers some years later, and Mademoiselle becomes Fra Bull. Poetesses sing to him in rhyming melodies, and Ole responds with a caprizzi. He lived, loved, rejoiced, suffered, died. he transformed all Nordland into a delicious melody. It was his magnificat in life, his Ad te, Domine, tevavi, in death, and his imperishable gift to eternity.

But

Ole Bornemann Bull was born February 5, 1810, at Bergen. His fathers before him were music-lovers, his own home a rendezvous for musical people. Little Bull, Paganini-mad, his young soul torn with its unuttered tone-burden, fought for his rights; he would be a musician, he would not be a lawyer; he would own a violin, and he did, when he was a very small boy, with a great love in his heart for the bright red treasure. He tells of its first night in his possession: "I could not sleep for thinking of my new violin. When I heard father and mother breathing deep. I rose softly and lighted a candle, and in my night-clothes went on tiptoe to open the case and take one little peep. The violin was so red, and the pretty pearl screws did smile at me so! I pinched the strings just a little with my fingers. It smiled at me ever more and more. I took up the bow and looked at it: it said to me it would be pleasant to try it across the strings. So I did try it, just a very, very little; and it did sing to me so sweetly! Then I crept farther away from the bedroom. At first I played very softly and made very little noise. But presently I began a capriccio which I liked very much; and it went even louder and louder; and I forgot that it was midnight and that everybody was asleep. Presently I heard something go crack! and the next minute I felt my father's whip across my shoulders. My little red violin dropped on the floor and was broken. I wept much for it, but it did no good. They had a doctor

to it next day, but it never recovered its health."

This story was told Mrs. Lydia Maria Child by Ole Bull when he was in America. Its naiveté reveals the simplicity and quiet humor of the musician. However, the violin was replaced, Ole Bull continued on the way nature intended he should; and after exhausting the knowledge of one teacher after another, resigning from the University, where he lead the orchestra, living a Bohemian existence for three months at Göttingen with some students, trying his hand at duelling, and enjoying his Wanderjahre as most young men-artists do, Ole Bull became anxious to begin a serious student-life and to perfect himself in the art which he knew was his life-work. He gave several concerts in Norway, made five hundred dollars, and the next year (1831) proceeded to Paris. He stayed away seven years the years in which he suffered and rejoiced, yet made his reputation.

Paris, he found, was indifferent to him. "A passer-by might stop a moment and ask: Who lives here? He plays well.' A grisette might open her window across the street and look at 'le pauvre jeune homme la," but such praise was not remunerative, and the young Norseman grew poorer and more discouraged each day. At that time Malibran was singing at the Opera. She was the rage of Paris. Bull, lean, and hollow-eyed, haunted the home of the gallery gods, and “drank in those tones with his whole soul." At last, in his extremity, Bull thought not unkindly of the Seine; there was an inviting coolness and freshness in its rippling waters. Many have thought so. Just at this moment an episode, à la Balzac, occurred. A mysterious personage appeared at the lodgings of Madame Charon, where Bull lived: this personage "had black, rough hair, his complexion was olive, his eyes black, large, and penetrating; his expression was cynical, but refined; his conversation cold but ironical; his figure thin and wasted; in short, he looked quite a Mephistopheles." He knew, apparently, of Bull's needs. "Listen," said he, to the Norseman. "I know you are in want; but follow my advice; you must try your luck at play. . . . You must manage to get five francs; then go to-night between ten and eleven o'clock, not earlier, to Frascati's in the Boulevard Montmartre. Mount the stairs, ring the bell and give your hat

boldly to the liveried servant; enter the hall, go straight to the table, put your five francs on the red, and let it remain there.»

Ole Bull did as he was told. Luck was with him; a shimmering heap of goldeight hundred francs-lay before him. He stood silent, regarding his little fortune when suddenly, from amid the crowd surrounding the table, a delicate hand, gleaming with diamonds, glided over the pile; but the iron hand of the Norwegian grasped the little white one. A woman's shriek was heard; several voices called out, 'à la porte, à la porte!' But a man near Ole Bull, in a calm clear voice that seemed to command all in the room, said: ‹Madame, leave this gold alone!' and to Ole Bull, Monsieur, take your money, if you please.' It was his strange friend, who, as he afterward learned, was none other than Vidocq, the famous Parisian chief of police."

The violinist enjoyed his good fortune for a while, was reduced to want again, and went to Italy on a concert tour. Italy embraced him. Her first musicians congratulated him. He became De Beriot's rival and Malibran acknowledged it: "he has a much sweeter tone than you, De Beriot," was her confession. From Italy the successful violinist returned to Paris. His reputation gave him entrée to the Grand Opera, hitherto closed to him. "Ole Bull was now in the eyes of the world the great genius, the perfect artist." The next step was to England. In the meantime he had married the "beautiful young orphan, Mademoiselle Villeminot.» The following years were simply a succession of triumphs: Ole Bull conquered England, Russia, Germany, Finland, America, as he had France and Italy. He earned a large fortune, gave much of it to charity, lost as much again in lawsuits, and after establishing a theatre at Bergen, where Björnson and Ibsen were the recipients of his kindness, Ole Bull went to America. He purchased 120,000 acres of uncultivated land in Potter County, Penn., and established a colony, Oleana. This was abandoned, however, and the emigrant musician moved to New York, where another enterprise failed. A happy summer in his old home followed, a return to America, and then the final journey to Norway, where he died.

This last voyage was taken with a party of friends in 1880. On the journey Ole