The Second Generation
By David Graham Phillips
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!”
![[Buy at Amazon]](../images.amazon.com/images/P/B000GPO09G.01.MZZZZZZZ.gif)