There is the same strenuous watching, with the help of spies and stool-pigeons, over the religious life of the university. Judge Gary was brought there last summer, to preach his piety to the students, who have chapel every morning, and “are expected to attend regularly the Sabbath church service of the denomination to which they belong.” The chancellor received a protest from some minister, whose daughter had learned something about evolution, and he announced to the faculty: “You men are hired to teach your subject; don’t try to teach theology.” Then, observing a cold silence from this group of scientists, he added: “I don’t expect you to change your opinions, but do, for God’s sake, be as pious as you can!” The old rascal is decidedly cynical among his intimates, fond of telling smutty stories, and willing even to joke about the educational game. His professor of psychology came to him, telling him about the wonderful new intelligence tests which some universities were using in place of examinations. “Fine!” said the chancellor. “We’ll use them, but don’t let them affect admissions. We want to give everybody a cheap education. Tell them it’s a good one, and they won’t know the difference.” Confronted by the usual trouble of raising funds, he let himself be persuaded to try an appeal for small donations from a large number of the alumni; but the results did not equal the cost of the circulars, and the chancellor remarked at a faculty meeting: “I never went fishing for small fish with a net; I went out and stuck my harpoon into a whale.” In the days of his prime our vicegerent of Heaven was really a whale of a whaler; but he met with one great disappointment, which appears to have wrecked his career. He spent twenty years cultivating the president of the Standard Oil Company. He chiseled off the label of one of his buildings, the College of Liberal Arts, and labeled it the John Dustin Archbold College. He got Archbold to give him a stadium and a gymnasium, also a mansion to live in; but he hoped for more than that, and for ten years he whispered to his faculty: “Be careful now, behave yourselves, we have a great endowment coming.” But Archbold died and left him nothing, and all the family could be got to put up was half a million dollars.