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By the late '70s important innovations in teaching methods and content were appearing which foreshadowed the breakdown of the prescribed curriculum and the textbook recitations. There were more faculty lectures in certain fields, and students began to use laboratories in both the physical and biological sciences. A rudimentary chemistry laboratory was equipped in the basement of East College. The Latin department introduced an "honors" program in 1879 and the 1882-83 catalogue announced first- and second-class honors in all departments, requiring additional work beyond the regular course of study. The university also moved in the direction of an elective system in 1879 by permitting some choice among subjects in both the Classical and Philosophical curriculum. Apparently the first departmental club was a chapter of the Indiana Scientific Association which was founded in 1875. Six years later the Social Science and Political Club appeared, choosing for its first topic of discussion the question of women's suffrage.

The fine arts had no place in the early Asbury curriculum, though informal musical organizations made their appearance from time to time. The first formal arrangements for instruction in music and art were made in 1877. The university contracted with Emanuel Marquis, a German immigrant who operated a music store in Greencastle, to furnish instruments and offer lessons in piano and organ. It also engaged a local artist Elizabeth Adelaide Clark, to teach drawing and painting. All these were offered on an individual fee basis. By 1880 a Mozart Society and a college choir had been established. The next year Asbury graduate Minnie Langdon was authorized to teach piano and organ and registered five students. Finally, in June 1882, the trustees voted to establish a Department of Music, which opened the following January under the director of mathematics professor John P. D. John. He was assisted by Professor De Motte, who conducted the orchestra, and by Minnie Langdon and two faculty wives, Ora John and Ella Earp, teaching piano and voice.

The instruction in art offered by Elizabeth Clark had come to an end, but in September 1883, another artist, John Western, was granted permission to use a college room for a class in drawing. By the closing years of the Asbury period its educational program was slowly but surely gaining greater breadth and
                                 flexibility.

Financial troubles continued to beset the university. Having introduced a system of free tuition in 1873, the trustees had nullified the many scholarships that had been sold to finance the institution in earlier years. An increased but still modest student contingency fee of $15 per year, together with income from the small endowment, proved insufficient to meet annual expenses. The depression of the 1870s meant default and decreased interest on railroad and other bonds held by the university. In 1876-77 the annual deficit was over $10,000, and it reached $11,000 in 1883-84. No wonder President Andrus was discouraged enough to resign!

Indiana Asbury came close to going under and might have closed as similar institutions were forced to do at this time, had not a financial savior appeared in the person of New Albany industrialist Washington C. DePauw, president of the board of trustees. After long and complicated negotiations between DePauw and the trustees and officers of the university, he agreed to make a substantial contribution to the institution. In return Indiana Asbury was to be renamed DePauw University and to embark upon an ambitious program of expansion of its facilities and educational programs. By May 1884 Old Asbury had passed into history, though mourned by many of its alumni. In its place arose a new and greater DePauw University, which was to carry on the old traditions while at the same time extending the scope and reach of the much-loved institution.

David Graham Phillips, who attended Indiana Asbury in its closing years, wrote a novel entitled The Cost. Its central character resembled his college roommate, Albert J. Beveridge, who later became a distinguished U.S. senator. In the book, the novelist penned a vivid description of his fellow students at thinly disguised "Battle Field University," which may serve as an appropriate epitaph for the institution:

Most ... came from the farms of that western country, the young men with bodies and brains that were strong but awkward. Almost all were working their way through - as were not a few of the women. They felt that life was a large, serious business impatiently waiting for them to come and attend to it in a large, serious way better than it had ever been attended to before. They studied hard; they practiced oratory and debating. Their talk was of history and philosophy, religion and politics. They slept little; they thought-or tried to think-even more than they talked.

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