The hopes thus expressed so earnestly by Dr. McCorckle, we on this day, ninety years from the delivery of his noble discourse fully realize. We see around us eight stately buildings, from which have issued five thousand students, in long procession, dispersing over this broad Southern land to take their places among its strongest and wisest and best leaders, in peace and in war. The great institution thus inaugurated has supplied with mental nourishment our fathers and grand-fathers, sheds its lustrous influence on us to-day, and will be an educational luminary to all the ages which are to follow.
The Old East was designed to be no ephemeral structure. The foundation is a stone wall three feet thick. The mortar is of two measures of lime to one of sand. The sleepers are 3 by 10 inches and are only 14 inches apart. The timbers are of the best heart, the bricks carefully made on the University grounds and burnt hard as the imperishable rocks. The lime was burnt likewise on our own land from shells brought by boat from Wilmington to Fayetteville and thence hauled by wagon. Among the donations of this period I find 50 bushels of shells by Richard Bennehan, grand-father, as the royal charters say, "of our well-beloved cousin and trusted counsellor," Paul C. Cameron.
The Old East continued in its primitive condition until 1824, when its roof was adorned by another story nearer to the skies. At the same time the Old West was built of a corresponding size. In 1848 the length of both was extended towards the north so as to admit new Society Halls and Libraries. I remember well the ceremonies of the inauguration of the new Hall, of which I was a member. I violate no confidence in describing them, because by general consent the seal of secrecy was removed. The Professor of Rhetoric, a graduate of the class of 1818, still surviving, the venerable Bishop Green, of the Episcopal diocese of Mississippi, a classmate of President Polk, of Rev Dr. Morrison, now living, the first President of Davidson College, and of our good old friend, Gen. Mallett, of New York, opened the exercises with prayer. A young lawyer of the class of 1841, now regarded as one of the most cultured members of that profession our State has produced, who, notwithstanding he has attained the honor of being the second law officer of a country of 50,000,000 people, has not lost a particle of his early love for the University, Gen. Phillips, delivered an address, which for appropriateness and literary ability, I have never heard surpassed and seldom equalled.
The first President of the Society in 1795 was still living, the venerable James Mebane, who had occupied the high office of Speaker of the Senate. His father, Alexander Mebane, one of the early members of Congress under the constitution of 1789, had been one of our early Trustees, was one of the committee who selected the site of the University and assisted in laying the corner stone. As James Mebane had a distinguished father, so he had a distinguished son, likewise Speaker of the Senate, one of the best of men, Giles Mebane, of Caswell. I had the eminent honor of sitting by the side of this noble father of the Dialectic Society, and presiding jointly with him over its deliberations. I wish that I could produce the words of wisdom which fell from his lips on that night. The oil portrait over the President's chair in the Dialectic Hall is a perfectly faithful image of the President of 1795. He was of stately figure, tall and ponderous. His bearing was like Washington's, grave and dignified, always courteous, but repelling familiarity. He was seated on an elevated platform. In front were officers of the Society. I recall Thomas Settle, the Vice President, who showed then the powers which have made him so eminent since, once a Judge of the Supreme Court of
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