[Editor's Note: The following text is presented here in complete form, as it originally appeared in print. Only in the case of obvious spelling and other typographical errors have corrections to the original printed text been made.]
One of the subjects with which every American college student should be at least fairly familiar is the history of the institution of which he was for a longer or shorter period a part. The young man or young woman must be exceptionally lacking in the feeling or reverence, of that sentiment which the ancient Romans called pietas, who can tread the same ground, go in and out through the same doors, engage in the same rivalries with ten, twenty or more generations of student-predecessors who have gone forth to make their impress upon their fellow citizens, and yet fails to realize that he has enjoyed a special privilege and entered into a goodly heritage. There is hardly one ex-student in a hundred who has not become a more potent moral force in the world because of such a privilege. If he remained long enough to obtain a degree he will carry with him through the remainder of his life the evidence of an achievement that distinguishes him from the great mass of the citizens of his generation. Although undergraduate life is not without its asperities, they are soon forgotten or but faintly remembered in later life. The most serious wounds inflicted are lacerated feelings, and they quickly heal "without leaving a trace." In American colleges the most dangerous weapons used are the contents of the dictionary, and they draw no blood. In order to make it comparatively easy for Dickinsonians and others who may be interested to acquire knowledge of the career of one of the older American colleges, the following sketch has been written sine ira et studio by
|CHARLES WILLIAM SUPER|
Independence Day, 1923.