"I don't mean, however," he added, "to deprecate that which I accomplished by the sub-division into specialties. What I say is rather playful than serious. The next point is the education of women, which I have regarded at a distance, to be sure. But, occasionally visiting Wellesley and the Cambridge Annex, it has been a great delight to me to see how the intellects of the fair sex matched with those of the sterner. I then thought I should say something of the importance of implanting ideas on all the most important subjects at a very early period of life, and I was going to recall my theology which came out of the little primer, and my patriotism which was kindled at the shrine of Dr. Dwight's 'Columbia, Queen of the World.' But all these things I would prefer to leave, and what else I would have said I will defer until the next occasion, I also wish to say here, personally, that it was most unwillingly that I appeared before an audience like this. I felt it was, at my age, more becoming that I should be a listener rather than a speaker." Here he was interrupted by cries of "No! No!" but he shook his head determinedly, saying, "I am speaking seriously now, however difficult it may be to do that. These little verses I have written, and which I am going to read, are really impromptu. They are poorly scrawled, for my hand was unsteady." Then in a clear, strong voice he read: "Teachers of teachers! yours the task, Noblest that noble minds can ask, High up Aonia's murmurous mount To watch, to guard the sacred fount That feeds the stream below. To guide the hurrying flood that fills A thousand silvery, rippling rills In ever widening flow. Rich is the harvest from the fields That bounteous nature kindly yields; But fairer growths enrich the soil Ploughed deep by thought and wearied toil, In learning's broad domain. And where the leaves, the flowers, the fruits, Without your watering at the roots To fill each branching vein? Welcome! the author's firmest friends, Your voice the surest Godspeed lends. Of you the growing mind demands The patient care, the guiding hands Through all the mists of morn. And knowing well the future's need, Your prescient wisdom sows the seed To flower in years unborn." It will be remembered that the last time Doctor Holmes appeared in public to read a poem was on May 28, 1893, when he attended the celebration of the twenty-fifth anniversary of the reorganization of the Boston Young Men's Christian Union. The beautiful hymn he wrote for this occasion is the sweet, simple expression of his own lifelong creed: "Our Father! while our hearts unlearn The creeds that wrong thy name, Still let our hallowed altars burn With faith's undying flame. Not by the lightning's gleam of wrath Our souls thy face shall see, The star of love must light the path That leads to heaven and thee.