Stanford University - Quad Yearbook (Palo Alto, CA)

Page 11 text:

r- r r MOTHY HOPKINS was born in Augusta, Me., March 2, 1859. He came to California in 1862 and was educated in the public schools of Sacramento and in the Urban Academy of San Francisco, where he was prepared for Harvard University. In 1881 he entered the service of the Central Pacific Railway as division superintendent, being promoted in 1883 to the position of treasurer of the Central and Southern Pacific Railways, a position he held for nine years. He is one of the board of trustees of Leland Stanford Junior University, as originally appointed by the founders in 1884. Mr. Hopkins was married in 1882 to Miss Mary Kellogg Chrittenden of San Francisco. Mr. and Mrs. Hopkins have been numbered among the staunchest supporters of the University and of its founders. At the very beginning of the University’s work in 1891, Mr. Hopkins built and equipped the Hopkins Seaside Laboratory, at Pacific Grove, on Monterey Bay, one of the most valuable and successful of marine biological stations. At the same time he presented to the University his valuable railway library of 15,000 bound volumes and pamphlets, one of the most complete in existence. He also made large gifts to the library and museum of biology and has maintained a series of publications of results of original research, the Bulletins of the Hopkins Seaside Laboratory now comprising twenty numbers. During the dark years of the University’s history, from 1893 to 898, when its future was clouded by wanton litigation, Mr. Hopkins was always ready with efficient help in many lines, but of the sort which is not made a matter of record, his left hand not knowing the works of his right. Mr. and Mrs. Hopkins have long been enrolled on the list of those beloved by every Stanford student. They are among our first and oldest friends, and it is written that “After all, old friends are best.” 9

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E come this way to learn to work and live. On your smooth brows even now the fret of haste. New-welcomed, ever fearful lest ye waste A precious hour our mother hath to give. Yet stay a little: lift your eyes and look. There stretch the mellow walls, sun-steeped in gold — Beyond, the splendid purple of the hills. I know where in cool woodland ways untold. Unsought,— soft calls the quail, and the thrush fills Each silver space with love-notes manifold. Dearer and better than the lore of book An idle hour under southern skies — A dream of deep content in some deep nook: This is the best of life: oh, then be wise! --M. S. 8

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'O the Board of Editors and others, whose assistance we appreciate and wish to acknowledge, the merit of this book — if it possesses any — is largely due.