Page:Samuel F. Batchelder - Bits of Harvard History (1924).pdf/62

 its walls. Although the most beautiful and distinctive of all the earlier edifices, no fluttering bevies of sightseers visit it in the long June days. Although erected under peculiarly interesting and unusual circumstances, no fond traditions cluster about it, as about its neighbors. The very names of its skilled designer and its honest builder are forgotten. Its expected place in the life of the College has been usurped by a larger, newer, and unspeakably uglier structure hard by. Its historical claims as the first Medical School have been eclipsed by its huge and splendid successor miles away.

Even its purpose as a memorial has been obscured by the shadows of the flying years. Who deciphers to-day its proud heraldic bearings, or gives a thought to the long-dead Governor of the Bank of England, sleeping beside his pious consort in a green English churchyard? Close to its ivy-covered walls stands the gaunt trunk of the far-famed “Class Day Tree,” once the monarch of the village, now a bleached and naked spar briefly up-tossed on the waves of time. The sundial lately placed before its western portal is another fitting companion; for all three bear silent witness to an immutable law. Without, the turf is rising around its plinth, so that its floor is almost below the ground level. Within, its plaster is stained and its woodwork defaced. Should it