Letters
"Times Have Changed"
To THE EDITOR:
To tiptoe into Rollins Chapel is a startling experience for one who participated in the cattle rushes which were standard procedure during the early years of this century.
Accepting the invitation extended by the numerous bells, I ventured into Rollins Chapel last week in a casual manner. Although the service had not started, I found thirty men bowed in earnest prayer. The hush of devotion put me on my toes as I sought a seat. A student read some of the high spots of Job. There was more prayer. Then the thirty voices did a magnificent job on "A Mighty Fortress Is Our God" - and I can remember a Sunday night when both the student body and college choir pooped out on that one!
But this is not the only contrast. In the spring of 1908 Karl Skinner, the D.C.A. secretary, woke me up one Sunday morning to get me to come to a meeting that afternoon with a delegation from Hartford Theological Seminary who were on the prowl for prospective students. As a personal favor, and to maintain the good name of the College, Karl urged me to come and at least act like a prospective preacher! Up to that time I had not given the ministry serious consideration.
Today it is reported that there are over sixty pre-theological students on the campus. When I asked Harland Lewis, minister of the White Church, to verify this rumor, he replied, "I haven't kept score on the matter, but candidates for the ministry are popping up all over the place!"
Times have changed!
Mt. Vernon, N. Y.
Harold, Rugg '06
To THE EDITOR:
After reading the notice in your April issue of the passing of Prof. Harold G. Rugg '06, it seemed as if necessity were laid upon me to write a word of tribute for a classmate who was as humble as he was honest, as patient as he was persevering, as generous as he was gallant. He was an honor student, a loyal alumnus, a practical teacher, and a painstaking librarian. When he found a freshman whom he could help, he became his friend for life. He was at home with authors and books; he had a knowledge of nature and of the world; he had a love for men and for God.
Harold was quite a traveler. I met him in such far-separated places as the Plains of Abraham and the Mission San Xavier. He loved the Land of the Midnight Sun, the rugged peaks of Switzerland, the azalea-crowned gardens of Charlestown, the ever-popular winter resorts of Florida, and the glaciers of Alaska. He assisted at our wedding in Connecticut, and nearly 50 years later was a delightful visitor in our home in California. When we lived in Springfield, he was wont to stop for a visit on his way to a Phi Beta Kappa convention, or for a trip to the hot sulphur baths of New Mexico, where he found some relief for his arthritis.
Harold was not an athlete, but he enjoyed a tense football game between the Crimson and the Green. He was not a politician, but he loved good government and high-minded legislators. He was not a runner on the track, but he ran his race of life worthily, having finished his course valiantly, having kept the faith courageously, and having won a right to the crown of life. God rest his soul in peace and contentment.
Whittier, Calif.
