Viewed in certain lights, time and space are small
matters. Nearly forty years have gone by since the
last student passed out from Old St. Thomas' Semin-
ary, and yet its form, shape, spirit and life have not
dimmed perceptibly in the recollection of those who
were its inmates, and the home-like grasp that it took
upon their nature has not loosened in the jar of the
rolling wheels of time. Far and near, the oldstudents
share the same more than kindly feelings for the old
place, and each one of them could voice his tribute
from his distance with the same force as if he were pre-
sent at the gates. So, at this distant day and place,
it is mine to say what all have felt at every moment
since Old St. Thomas' bade them adieu and blessed
them for higher labors.
   I first saw St. Thomas' Seminary in its active, busy
days, while its glory was still around it like a halo,
and its hope for a long and vigorous life was strong
and bright. I last saw it less than a ruin, but its
honor was unstained, and its memory was held in
benediction. Desolation reigned around it, and si-
lence and sadness brooded over it, yet the echo of the
old-time free and happy life came from it, and the per-
fume of a thousand loves was wafted back to it from
as many hearts that beat with pleasant and grateful
remembrance. In that moment came the thought and
inspiration to write something, and this tribute is the
fruit of that visit.