THE VOL. XXV OCTOBER, 1917 No. 1 OUR NEW PRESIDENT We of THE MONTHLY BOARD do not often speak with the tongues of men, almost never with those of angels, yet we hate the sounding brass and the tinkling cymbal so bitterly that we dare hope ourselves to be in such charity with all the world, as is compatible with the degree of soul possessed by a corporation that prints but does not publish, and has never had anything to hope or fear from advertising. Yet even we are sometimes conscious of what contemporaries of Edwards on the Will used to call great dryness of spirit in the midst of privilege. We shall not attempt analysis of this experience: it is bad enough to have it, and it is so common that we should have the darkest suspicions of anyone who denied acquaintance with it. Our liveliest gratitude attends the times and the persons who rescue us from it when it threatens, our deepest loyalty is given to those who, whether they were born above it, or have lived it through and down, infect us with their own joy in right feeling, while they show brave responsiveness to the good at the heart of things. Such a day was September twentieth, when the eightieth birthday of our beloved President Emeritus fell upon the first day of our college session and upon the fateful occasion of our introduction to our new President. The scholar, William Allan Neilson, was known to us by his work, the teacher by his reputation and the report of his pupils, the man was as mysterious as a surd quantity-and we were impatient, after a particularly unchastened fashion. For we have been used to Heads, we prefer to have them, and we are attached to our habit of taking them as a matter of course. So we were looking forward with resignation to a term of years, possibly, of months, anyway, spent in acquiring skill in the social science of reciprocal investigation. But our fears and our plans were |