Let us look at the once famous stronghold of New England Orthodoxy, the Andover Theological Seminary, which was chartered on June Nineteenth, Eighteen Hundred Seven, and opened for instruction on September Twenty-eighth, Eighteen Hundred Eight. I think it was about seven years ago that it was transferred to Cambridge and became a part of Harvard University. At that time the school consisted of seven instructors, twelve students and a library of sixty-five thousand books, with an endowment of eight hundred fifty thousand dollars in productive funds and an annual income of thirty-five thousand dollars. It has been said that the highways were scoured every Summer for students, and enticing scholarships held out, but to no avail. No students materialized. Why is this? In my opinion it is the rising generation's dissatisfaction with traditional theology; they have outgrown it. Ingersoll said that once in five years the President of the Seminary summoned his professors before him to make oath that they had learned absolutely nothing during the preceding five years and would not learn anything for the next five years. And that promise was not subject to recall. But even Andover couldn't remain in that condition. In Eighteen Hundred Eighty-six it announced its new system of "progressive orthodoxy." This created a division between the Old School and the New, and marked the beginning of the end of Andover; and after much litigation it consented to be "gathered in" by Harvard or "swallowed," or perhaps they would say "merged." They have now a new building located upon land adjacent to that of Harvard University, and the last account from the "Great Seminary" was that they had twenty-four pupils. The library of the Seminary and that of the Harvard Divinity School have been combined and are housed together in Bartlett Hall. * * * * * The defenders of the Gospel of Christ don't seem to be increasing; on the contrary, there seems to be great depression in matters ecclesiastical these days, even in puritanical New England. It plainly shows that the young men of the present day are not anxious to wear the "Dog-Collar of Christianity," and as far as I've heard no Christian arose to remark that the morals of the "Reverend" Clarence Richeson were contaminated by reading the words of Thomas Paine, Robert Ingersoll, Elbert Hubbard or Lemuel K. Washburn. The Reverend Clarence seemed to be a product of the Christian Bible, and talked to the last of his God and his Bible.