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 chanced to be in Cambridge during Commencement week, and Mr. Lane invited him to attend the Phi Beta Kappa dinner. He went in his wheeled chair, and to his surprise, consternation almost, for he knew of Harvard mostly by tradition, he found that he was the only person who was surprised at his being placed among the guests at the speakers' table. This was the first of many incidents which made the closing months of his life happier than he had imagined possible. He found himself more than welcomed by people whose names he knew and honoured. As these men and women came to see him, at first through neighbourly sympathy, their respect for his ability rapidly developed to admiration for his bravery and love for one of the sweetest natures this world has ever known.

During the summer at Pigeon Cove, it became evident that the doctors, in fighting to restore the strength to his bones, had drawn too heavily upon the rest of his weakened system. He did not die, because of an unalterable determination to live until he had justified the faith and repaid the kindnesses of his old and new friends. He went to a Boston hospital for observation, and then settled in his bed