CHAPTER XXVIII.
THE DEAD THAT LIVE On the green oval within and opposite the entrance to the main campus of the great university there is the colossal statue of a master workman.
The sculptor has done well.

He does not merely show you the physical man--the mass, the strength, of bone and sinew and muscle; he reveals the man within--the big, courageous soul.

Strangers often think this statue a personation of the force which in a few brief generations has erected from a wilderness our vast and splendid America.

And it is that; but to Arthur and Adelaide, standing before it in a June twilight, long after the events above chronicled, it is their father--Hiram.
"How alive he seems," says his daughter.
And his son answers: "How alive he _is_!".