with the sable badges of sorrow for a deceased brother. The members had retired, and he, bent over his desk, was closely engaged in writing. Preston Brooks, a representative from South Carolina, with a few companions, entered the room. Coming directly in front of the venerable Senator, while he was yet pinioned by the desk, he struck him a blow on the head with a heavy cane, cutting a fearful gash. In quick succession he repeated the blows until his victim, attempting to rise, wrenched the desk from the floor and fell bleeding and unconscious. Brooks then deliberately picked up the gold head of the shattered cane, thrust it into his pocket and walked off with his companions, one of whom said: "Next time, kill him, Brooks. Come, let's go down and get a drink." That blood, which flowed upon the floor of the sacred forum of the States from the temples of Charles Sumner, was the Nation's first offering at the shrine of Liberty. Mingling with that of the slain innocents in Kansas, and with that of the scourged slave in his dungeon, it, like the blood of Abel, sent up a cry to heaven, to call down vengeance upon the head of the oppressor.

After four years of the greatest suffering in a vain search for health, he returned to his work in Congress. No one was more watchful or labored more incessantly for the 3,000,000 human beings guilty of a skin not colored as our own. Many of the successful principles of the Reconstruction

are due to his untiring efforts. He held that four things should he made sure: equality in civil rights, universal amnesty, universal suffrage and the last, which was not adopted, universal education. Now, after twenty-five years of progress, we have yet to learn what he clearly saw, that no outward change or reform will ever cure social ills.

Charles Sumner, like every true heart which responds to the call of duty, found rest only in the grave. He had for years borne up under a

shattered constitution and weakened health. He said in the Senate on the day previous to his death, "I am tired, tired." Naturally the thought that had engrossed his life was with him in death, and nearly his last words were,-"Don't let my Civil Rights Bill fail." That was the last beautiful link in the golden chain of noble words and deeds which will bind his memory to our hearts forever. As he entered upon the dark river and was about to face the great white throne, he cast back one lingering look, and with his last mortal breath remembered humanity, for whom he had lived: "Don't let my Civil Rights Bill fail."

The old Romans used to bring the images of their departed, arrayed in the robes of office, while some one recounted their noble deeds to inspire the living with new impulse to virtue. So we bring the memory of Charles Sumner. His pure life will be an inspiration to man while time shall last, and wherever on earth a human

heart quivers under the oppressor's lash, it will derive new hope from this fearless defender of humanity. We are inspired to better life by the justice, beauty, love, which rounded out his character. They teach us to live not for self alone, but to live for fellow-man. We are fascinated by his oratory, we admire his scholarship, we honor him as a statesman; but we reverence him because he had in his heart sympathy for the suffering, self-denial to do his duty, and rare courage to face, for truth and conscience's sake, the scowl of friend, the bludgeon of enemy, social tyranny at home and unpopularity abroad.

Among those who passed their lives in public conflict, none have carried to the grave fewer resentments, or less animosity. He lived on plane higher than the politicians of his time. The war-clouds of rebellion had not parted ere, from his hilltop of clearer vision, he hailed the approach of the better day. When Blue and Gray would not only dwell in peace, but combine in declaring freedom and not slavery national; when North and South would unite heart and hand in working out the destiny of the republic. Posterity, to whom he so confidently appealed, will keep ever fresh in their memory his example, beaming with purity, kindness, and love.

INDUSTRIAL FREEDOM.

By Miss E. JEAN NELSON, of De Pauw University.
(Now Mrs. E. Jean Nelson Penfield.)

BIOGRAPHICAL.

Miss E. Jean Nelson was born at Greencastle, Indiana, November 4, 1872, where she lived until her marriage, in December, 1897, to Judge William Warner Penfield. During her college course at De Pauw University she was conspicuous as a leader. For two years she held editorial position upon the college paper (known as "The Bema"), and was always prominent in the literary, social and fraternity life of the college. In May of 1892, while yet a junior, she won the interstate oratorical contest which was held at Minneapolis. After this triumph,- -as indeed it may well be called, for she is the only lady in the history of the I. O. A. who has been awarded a first prize-after graduation, Miss Nelson went to New York city for post-graduate work and to study vocal music. While here she founded the "Musical Aid Guild" for poor students of ability, which was afterwards absorbed by the Metropolitan Conservatory of Music. During this period she also appeared upon the public lecture platform in advocacy of woman suffrage. After her marriage with Judge Penfield, in 1897, she again resumed her work in New York city, and became actively engaged in many sociological movements as well as church and club work. Being an earnest advocate of coeducation, Mrs. Penfield started a college social-service movement among the coeducational colleges of the United States in 1904, which has done much toward fostering the true spirit of education. This work is now being carried on by the Inter-Sorority Conference. Mrs. Penfield was National President of the Kappa Kappa Gamma (fraternity) from 1900 to 1902, and is a prominent member of many women's organizations, including the Sorosis, College Women's Equal Suffrage League, Daughters of American Revolution, and the Daughters of 1812. She is now living in the old colonial homestead at the northern boundary of New York city, which has come down to her husband through many generations.