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 himself.

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