The exaggerated importance which this age has attributed to mere intellectual cultivation has, amongst other results, produced what may be called over‐education—an excessive activity of brain, which threatens to enfeeble the physical health of modern peoples by abnormally developing the nervous system. I have referred to these dangers, not for the purpose of insisting on them, but rather that I might have an opportunity to say that they are not to be greatly dreaded by us. The church gives us fixed principles of faith, certain rules of conduct, which will prevent the love of literature from taking from us that deep and practical seriousness of mind which is inseparable from the true Christian character, whilst she guides us with an eye that sees the light of heaven through the dark mazes of philosophy; and the fear of over‐education should certainly not trouble us. The educated Catholics of this country seem to be fast sinking to a low level of mediocrity, above which no man has the power or the courage to raise his head. Where are the men, lay or clerical, who give promise of becoming worthy to be the successors of Kenrick, of England, of Hughes, or of Brownson? And yet never was there an age or country in which men of might, able to do battle for the truth, were more needed. If we sink out of the intellectual life of the American people, we shall be passed by and forgotten. Permit me, then, young gentlemen, before concluding this hastily‐written address, to exhort you to be ambitious, not of success, but of excellence, which is its own reward. He who is worthy to succeed can despise success. After the noble resolve to be true to God, to one’s self, and to one’s fellowman, I know of no higher aim in life than to grow in intellectual strength. Older men than you might say that my words smack something too much of the savor of youth, which is “a bubble blown up with breath, whose wit is weakness.” But with you, enthusiasm, I am sure, need not plead for pardon. Even to have dreamed of deeds of high emprise and noble endeavor, of victories won on the foughten field, is something; and to the young should belong hope, which is not only the charm of life, but also its strength. Without the living hope of something better, man falls back upon himself, in impotence, like a bird whose wing is clipt. He who wishes to do much must hope for still more.