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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3b3bac4 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #68750 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/68750) diff --git a/old/68750-0.txt b/old/68750-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 04b708e..0000000 --- a/old/68750-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,10391 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Through the school, by Al Priddy - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Through the school - The experiences of a mill boy in securing an education - -Author: Al Priddy - -Illustrators: Frank T. Merrill - Wladyslaw T. Benda - -Release Date: August 14, 2022 [eBook #68750] - -Language: English - -Produced by: David E. Brown and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team - at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images - generously made available by The Internet Archive/American - Libraries.) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THROUGH THE SCHOOL *** - - - - - -THROUGH THE SCHOOL - - - - -[Illustration: I APPEARED BEFORE THE PRESIDENT CONSIDERABLY UNNERVED] - - - - - THROUGH THE - SCHOOL - - _THE EXPERIENCES OF A MILL BOY - IN SECURING AN EDUCATION_ - - BY - AL PRIDDY - _Author of: Through the Mill: The Life of a Mill Boy_ - - [Illustration] - - THE PILGRIM PRESS - BOSTON NEW YORK CHICAGO - - - - - COPYRIGHT, 1912 - BY LUTHER H. CARY - - Published, September, 1912 - - - THE·PLIMPTON·PRESS - [W · D · O] - NORWOOD·MASS·U·S·A - - - - - - TO - W. H. S. - - _In the same terms and pictures I would employ were - I in the cheer of his parson’s study giving - my experiences by word of mouth._ - - - - -_Preface_ - - -These forty chapters of absolutely real autobiography are intended to -give the reader faith in American education and to reconstruct the -human struggles and tests of character which attend the progress of the -poor but ambitious lads through a formal education for life. - - - - -_Contents_ - - - CHAPTER I PAGE - - _Fifteen Dollars and Sixty-five Cents Worth of International - Travel. An Inspiring Reception in Front of Chief Pungo - Memorial Hall_ 3 - - - CHAPTER II - - _I Help a Real Poet to Sing his Hymn. My First Chance and - How I Succeeded with it_ 24 - - - CHAPTER III - - _Thropper’s Puff Tie. Sounds That Passed in the Night. The - Possible Advantages of Speaking Tubes. The Scroll of Divine - History. The Meditations of a Saint. How Thropper Lost his - Pious Reputation_ 36 - - - CHAPTER IV - - _Thundering Gymnastics. How to Keep on the Good Side of the - Young Women with Scriptural Quotations. The Establishment - of Friendship. Carrying Water for Beauty. How Music may - be Something More than Music. The Wonderful, Austere M an - that Thropper led me to_ 44 - - - CHAPTER V - - _Pungo Hall’s Occupants: Estes Who Planned to Take a Tent and - Plant it in the Midst of The World’s Sin; of The Little Man - Who Fled from the Chidings of a ‘D.D.’: of Calloused Hands - and Showing How “Pa” Borden was Beaten by the Grass - Widower with The Long Hair_ 58 - - - CHAPTER VI - - _A Financial Pessimism Taken in Hand by Thropper and Shown - in its Real Light. A Turkish Rug that Smoked. A Poet in - Search of Kerosene. The Wonderful Antics of an Ironing-Board. - Economy at a Tub and Three Waiting for it After Brock’s - Bath. The Chemical Reduction of a Cauldron of Tomatoes into - Something Sweet_ 67 - - - CHAPTER VII - - _An Academic Ride in Five Carriages at Once. A Business Appeal - Mixed in with the Order of Creation. How We Got Lost in a - Discussion. Whether it is Best for a Man to Marry his First - Love. A Sleuth-Dean. A Queen’s Birthday Supper with an - Athletic Conclusion. Jerry Birch Stands up for Albion. How - we Tamed him_ 80 - - - CHAPTER VIII - - _The Doctrinal Temper of the University, and Thropper’s Talk - about it. Introduces the Select Board of the Pharisees. A - Prayer-meeting Monopoly Combated by Independants. Jason - on my Track and How it Came out_ 89 - - - CHAPTER IX - - _My Trip into the Magic World of the Past. How Appreciation is - sometimes Worth More than Money. Jason and his Coterie on - Scent of Terrible Heresies. How God Takes Care of His Orators. - How a Big Soul can go through Annoyances_ 102 - - - CHAPTER X - - _The Magnitude of a Postage Stamp. Showing how Desperate the - Thirst for Money made me. Brock’s Rosy Nose and its - Possibilities as a Fireplace. How Brock thought he was - Fooling me and the Other Way About. The Barrow that Became - our Enemy and how Brock Revenged himself on it_ 109 - - - CHAPTER XI - - _How I Competed with Patrick Henry and was made Aware of a - Waste of the Eighth Letter of the Alphabet. How I Condensed - all my Studies into an Oration. How the Populace Greeted - my Rehearsal. Striking the Top Pitch_ 119 - - - CHAPTER XII - - _The Personnel of “The Clamorous Eight” and other Social - Matters. The “Blepoes” and The “Boulomaies” Invite me into - Fellowship with a Protest from Jason. Epics and Lyrics of - Love. “Pa” Borden Speaks for the Benedicts on a Momentous - Matter. How the Magic Tree Lured Some Unfaithful Ones from - their Sworn Duty_ 126 - - - CHAPTER XIII - - _How One Dollar and a Half Secured “The Devil in Society.” - The Medicine Chest which Became a Tract Depository under the - Teachings of a New Creed. How I Stuck to Orthodoxy_ 135 - - - CHAPTER XIV - - _A Chapter Depicting how Strife Existed Between the - Pro-Gymnasiums and the Anti-Gymnasiums and Showing how - baseball, Debates and an Epidemic Determined Matters This Way - and That_ 140 - - - CHAPTER XV - - _A Ph.D. in a Clay Ditch and the Futility of it. A Can of Beans - at the Conclusion of a Morbid Meditation. How Thropper and - I Played David and Jonathan_ 145 - - - CHAPTER XVI - - _Visions, Hysteria, Dogma, and Poor Lessons to the Front when - the Revivalists Arrived. How Natural it Sounded when - “Bird” Thurlow Asked a Flippant Question_ 151 - - - CHAPTER XVII - - _My Presidential Pose and its Central Place in “The Record.” - A Wistful Glance and Some Practical Plans towards Eastern - Education. How the Little Sparrow Brought my Class Colors - as I Gave the Class “Oration.” Ends in a Fight_ 157 - - - CHAPTER XVIII - - _Thropper Unfolds Something Better than Canned Foods. A Lesson - with the Flat Iron. Thropper Proposes that I Chaperone - Horses_ 162 - - - CHAPTER XIX - - _A Chapter Which Has to do with a Series of Exciting Affairs - that Occurred between the West and the East, and Which are - Better to Read about than to Endure_ 171 - - - CHAPTER XX - - _My Aunt Millie’s Interpretation of Education. The Right Sort - of an Adviser Gets Hold of me_ 188 - - - CHAPTER XXI - - _Over the Sea to a New Educational Chance. How I Revenged - Myself on the Hungry Days. The Cloistered Serenity of the - New Place_ 197 - - - CHAPTER XXII - - _Stoves with Traditions, Domestic Habits, and Greek, “Boys - Will be Boys”_ 204 - - - CHAPTER XXIII - - _A Plot Which had for its End the Raising up of a Discouraged, - Young Preacher_ 208 - - - CHAPTER XXIV - - _Burner, a Searcher After Truth. How a May-Pole Subdued a Tribe - of Little Savages_ 219 - - - CHAPTER XXV - - _At the Heart of Human Nature. A Confidential Walk with a - Dollar Bill at the End of it. A Philosophical Observation - from the Stage-Driver_ 226 - - - CHAPTER XXVI - - _The Strange Adventure of Burner into Nothing, and How my Own - Mind Got into Trouble, and How my Faith was Strengthened - under the Chapel Window_ 235 - - - CHAPTER XXVII - - _The Wonderful Summer on the Pleasure Island_ 243 - - - CHAPTER XXVIII - - _How a Parsonage Suggests a Wife. The Convincing Revelations of - a Phrenologist Who Examined The Students’ Bumps_ 248 - - - CHAPTER XXIX - - _It Devolves upon me to Entertain a Guest. The Sentimental - Consequences Which Ensued_ 256 - - - CHAPTER XXX - - _A Heretic Hunter. The Orthodoxy of the Seminary Admirably - Defended. I Contract a Fashionable Disease, and also Receive - a Very Unsettling Letter_ 263 - - - CHAPTER XXXI - - _How Some of the Joys of Friendship Came to me in the Tower - Room. The Orator in the White Vest. How Soon I Lost my - Diploma_ 269 - - - CHAPTER XXXII - - _How, Though I was Ready for Service, I was Forestalled by a - New Trouble, and the very Interesting Plan Which Came Out - of it_ 276 - - - CHAPTER XXXIII - - _Of a Village where Locomotive Whistles Sounded like Lingering - Music: of the Esthetic Possibilities in a College Catalogue: - of a Journey over the Hills to the College where we find, - besides a Wonderful Array of Structures, a Large Room and the - Junior with his Barnful of Furniture_ 282 - - - CHAPTER XXXIV - - _My Wife Packs me off to College. The Senior and I Stop at a - Rock for a Drink, Meet the Advance Guard of Students, Plunge - into a Bedlam, and Witness the Labors of the Freshmen. The - Finger-study of Quarles and my Apology Given to the Retired - Medical Man who was Specializing in Hens_ 292 - - - CHAPTER XXXV - - _Hot-Popovers and a Cold Watch in the Station. The Sleigh-load - of Talent_ 315 - - - CHAPTER XXXVI - - _A Chapter of Sentiment and Literary Atmosphere, Including the - Account of Sanderson, the Procrastinator. How Two Prize Checks - Were Spent. A Parish of Talent_ 323 - - - CHAPTER XXXVII - - _Tieresias, the Blind Prophet, and Squeem, the Student in the - Back-waters of College Life. A Night of Grim Fate_ 348 - - - CHAPTER XXXVIII - - _A Chapter in which a Hero Does a Thing to his Credit_ 359 - - - CHAPTER XXXIX - - _The Lost Parrot. Academic Burlesque. The Nervousness of the - Final Minute. A Religious Outcropping in a Non-Pious Heart_ 379 - - - CHAPTER XL - - _In Which the Account Comes to a Conclusion in the Life of a - Relative. Martin Quotes Spanish, and has the_ LAST WORD 387 - - - - -_Illustrations_ - - - I APPEARED BEFORE THE PRESIDENT CONSIDERABLY - UNNERVED _Frontispiece_ - - FACING - PAGE - - JASON, THE POET, LOOKED IN 76 - - EVANGELICAL UNIVERSITY WAS TREATED TO ITS FIRST MATCH GAME 142 - - SAY, HOW MUCH YO’ WANT FO’ DAT WATCH? 184 - - SO ARM IN ARM THE BLIND STUDENT AND I WALKED 350 - - - - -THROUGH THE SCHOOL - - - - -THROUGH THE SCHOOL - -[Illustration] - - - - -_Chapter I. Fifteen Dollars and Sixty-five Cents Worth of International -Travel. An Inspiring Reception in Front of Chief Pungo Memorial Hall_ - - -It was like taking off an old, worn, unadorning suit of clothes as -the Boston Express whirled me away from the City of Mills. It hummed -with me over the streets on which I had walked to and from work as a -mill boy. It darted me past the rows of tenements where sordid and -sinful memories lingered. “Thank God! Thank God!” Out and away from -it all. Away from the hum, the bee-like, monotonous hum of the mill -machines that overpower the nerves and dull the spirit of the workers! -Away from the bells and blaring fog whistles that disturb the sleep -of tired, weary, discouraged toilers; the bells and whistles that -sometimes mean the jubilant clamor of the mills over their moaning, -rebellious workers. Past the pale faces that waited at the crossings -for the train to pass; faces whose eyes gleamed with an instant’s wish -that the train had them in it, too! Yes, I was the chosen from among -over twenty thousand workers that day. I was actually on my way to -seek an education! There, for proof that it was no dream, was my long -green ticket with its dozen coupons in my hands! There was my brand new -suit-case! How lucky I was! Think of the fellows who had better mental -furnishing than I, who had even money in the bank, parents who were -urging them to strive for an education, friends who would loan them -money, and yet, they were going to the mill at that very moment, and -would go tomorrow, and the day after, because they were afraid to make -the break! Then I thought: “Well, they would have made the break long -ago if they had lived with an aunt and uncle who wasted their money -on drink. That would frighten them into it. There’s some good in evil -after all. I shouldn’t be on this train today if my foster parents had -been kinder, more considerate! I guess it’d be a good thing if a few -of the other mill fellows, who are ambitious, had something like it to -frighten them off. It’s probably the only way they’ll go out and make -their chance!” - -Then the vision of the country-side, painted in the glories of Autumn, -the flashing views of cranberry bogs, crowded with sun-bonneted -pickers, called my mind to the new joys of existence. Here I was, out -in the world at last! Not the romp of a holiday, with the mill room for -_next_ morning, not a vacation of two days with a return at the end of -it; but the beginning of an education, a start towards a profession, a -great big chance at last to “make something of myself!” - -“Here,” I said to the train boy, as he was about to pass me, “give me a -packet of that there gum--the peppermint sort.” That train boy didn’t -know, as I paid him the five cents by giving him a dollar bill to -change, that the purchase was the greatest luxury I should have on that -trip of fifteen hundred miles. - -While working in the mill, I had never been able to afford a trip to -Boston, so when I arrived in the station, and realized that I was even -going beyond it, on my first excursion, I said to myself, “Boston is -only the first, small step in your travel!” The next coupon on my long -ticket paid my fare from the South Station to the North--in a CAB -WITH A UNIFORMED DRIVER!! It was the first time I had been in a cab, -except at a funeral. I was pleased when the driver took me through the -main streets; glad when he had to move cautiously through congested -traffic, because people could see me, as I sat nonchalantly in the cab. -I took care to see that the blinds were up as far as possible. - -In the North Station, when the cab driver had taken me to the train, -the car that I was to travel on, to Montreal, was marked off from its -fellows by its salmon color. Awed, impressed, I went groping through -the dim car until I found a vacant seat into which I comfortably -arranged myself. But as the train pulled out, I studied my railroad -map, and, on discovering that the Green Mountains would be on the -opposite side of the railroad, I made haste to change my seat, so that -I might insure myself a view of them; for I had never seen a mountain -in my life. - -That ride of twelve hours, on an express, did not tire me one bit. I -was before the world with a starved, hungry mind and starved, hungry -eyes. I kept my eyes glued on the out-of-doors. Yes, I watched both -sides of the car at once. I listened for the comments around me and -if anything of interest was mentioned I bobbed up my head to look. -I watched the time-table for the stations so that I might know when -the train passed from one state to another I was actually passing -through whole states--five of them in all! Five states of the United -States of America! There were few details that I did not observe. I -watched the farms, the villages, the back yards of cities; watched the -flying trees, the colors of soil, the crops that were being reaped, -the winding roads, and the vehicles that waited for us at the country -crossings. - -At noon we were lumbering through the streets of Manchester, N.H., past -the long canal which flows like a sluggish moat along the dismal wall -of the mill. Crowds of workers were waiting for us at the crossings; -watching us with looks of envy, I thought. I threw up my window, leaned -back in my seat, and ostentatiously chewed gum with a smug, proud look, -with which I hoped to show the mill boys how unconcerned I was about -being a passenger on a Montreal Express! - -It was not until we had cleared the big cotton factory towns and cities -of New England that I felt entirely like an adventurer, however. Only -by the time the cities had been left, the big cities, and the small -towns were succeeded by country villages, and the country villages -by vast wildernesses of woods and uncultivated fields, did I feel -satisfied. Then I knew that if a train wreck should end my journeying, -I could settle down on some farm. I should not have to go back into the -mill. - -By watching my time-table carefully, I knew when to look for the -mountains; but long before we reached the place appointed for the -vision, my heart was leaping with expectation. We had reached the -hilly country, and every high knoll served me for a mountain. But -on and on and on, past soaring foothills, went the train until what -seemed a slate-colored storm-cloud, a thin veil of atmosphere, caught -my attention. Then, as the train turned a bend, the foothills dropped -away, and there, like a majestic dream, higher than anything on earth -before imagined, were the mountains! - -Following the delight of the mountains, I had to think of our approach -into another country. We were actually going to leave the United -States and enter Canada! Immediately the English blood stirred within -me. I was actually entering the domains of the Queen. Just over the -border, the train stopped at a little village for water. I spoke to -the brakeman “Please, mister,” I said, “how long will we stop?” “Eight -minutes altogether,” he replied; “eight sure.” “Are we really in Canada -now?” I ventured. “Yep,” he said with decision, “this is Canada, sure -enough.” “Then I’m going to get off, for a couple of minutes,” I said. -I didn’t explain to him the motive I had in getting off. It was to put -the soles of my shoes on FOREIGN SOIL! Unfortunately there had been a -generous rain that had mixed with the dirt of the village road, so that -when I sought to step on Canadian earth I was called upon to wallow in -Canadian mud, and that I would not do. “Never mind,” I consoled myself -with. “This board walk is a Canadian board walk and will do.” So I ran -a hundred yards into the village along the board walk and came back to -the train satisfied. I had stepped on Queen Victoria’s territory, come -what might. - -When the darkness shut out the view, even then I did not keep my eyes -from the windows. I did not know what sights I should get a view of -even in the darkness. But all I saw of towns were lights, like stars, -followed by masses of inky night. Then we stopped at a Canadian city -station. I pushed up the window, and heard the great French chatter -that went on outside. Not a word of English could I pick out, neither -did I want to hear such a word. It would have spoiled all. At last I -was in a new country, among a people who spoke a different language -from my own! I was a real traveler at last! - -At ten o’clock the lights of Montreal, strings of stars, flashed by -the windows. Three miles away from the station the passengers became -restless. Some of them stood up and waited during all that time. At -last the brakeman called out with finality, a downward deflection of -the last syllable, as if that ended his day, “Mon-tree-AL!” - -There my ticket told me I should have to change. The next stage of my -journey would take me along the border of Canada as far as Detroit; an -all-night journey. - -During the hour that I had to wait in Montreal, I went on a thrilling, -timid sight-seeing. I recollect to have seen a couple of dim-lit -business streets, silent, ghostly, a couple of buildings which must -have been structures of importance in daylight, and a sign which could -be read because it was directly in the glare of an arc light, “National -Bank.” Having seen so much, and satisfied my provincial soul on so -spare a meal, I went back to get on my new train. - -I found myself in a most comfortable car. The seat was well padded, -the back was high enough to serve for a pillow, and there was no one -in the seat in front. So I turned over that seat, took off my coat and -hat, unlaced my shoes and put them on one side, leaned back with a sigh -of content, ready for a night’s rest when--the conductor came down the -aisle, looked at my ticket, and said, “This is a first-class car and -you have a second class ticket. The next car ahead, sir!” - -I slung my coat over my arm, picked up my shoes and suit-case and went -into the car ahead. It was a Tourist Sleeping car and was filled, -largely, with a medley of Europeans. Europeans, too, with peasant -manners, with peasant dirt and peasant breath. There was odor of garlic -mixed with odor of stale rye bread, as some ate lunches. There was odor -of unwashed clothes mixed with odor of sour milk. Double seats, leather -padded, had been pushed together into berths, while overhead shelves -had been let down for upper berths, with thin pads of mattress for the -colonists to find rest upon. The aisles were littered with paper, fruit -remnants, broken cigarette stubs, empty bottles, and expectoration. The -air was vapid, like a drunkard’s breath. I waded through it all to the -lower end of the car where there seemed to be an oasis of cleanliness -and order. Here, though, were men sprawled out in unpoetic postures of -sleep. At the lowest end, even the train boy had left his basket of -fruit and soda on one side, while he lay for the night, crumpled up, -snorting like a pig. - -I looked around and up for a place to sleep. There on one of the high -shelves, I saw a young fellow sitting up, eating a sandwich. He saw me -looking in his direction. “Hello, fellow,” he greeted cheerily, “you’re -English, aren’t you, fellow?” I replied that I was and that I was -wanting a place to sleep for the night. He said, “These places are for -two. Get a leg up and bunk with me.” He reached down his hand, braced -me as I stood on the edge of a lower berth, and then I found myself in -the bed with my benefactor. - -He sat there in his shirt, ready for bed, with a large basket of -sandwiches in front of him. There were more sandwiches together in that -one basket than I have ever seen piled up on the counter of any lunch -room. - -“You aren’t a train boy, are you?” I asked. “Oh, no,” said the young -fellow, “that’s my lunch. I got a week’s go on the trains yet, so -I brought enough to eat for that time. I’m going to college away -out West. Have one,” he broke in and pointed to the basket. I had -no scruples in assisting at the reduction of such a mountain of -sandwiches, for I imagined that a company of soldiers could have -subsisted on them for three days. I ate my fill, and the young fellow -watched me with evident delight. “I’m going out to college, too,” I -explained. “We’re birds of a feather, eh?” “What college?” he asked. -“Evangelical University,” I replied. “It’s easy to get through there -because expenses are moderate. I don’t think I’ll have a chance to get -in right away,” I explained. “You see, I haven’t written them that I’m -coming or asked for a chance even. I can get out there and get some -kind of work, and when everything’s arranged, get into the University. -A friend told me about it.” - -“Why didn’t you go back with some one?” asked my friend. “Well, you -see,” I answered, “I couldn’t afford to go the way the others go. -It costs twenty-four dollars and this route only costs me fifteen -dollars and sixty-five cents.” “Oh,” said the young fellow. “When you -do enter the University what class will you join?” “I’ll have to join -the beginners with common school branches,” I said. “Then I’ll work -up into the Academic course to prepare for college, then go through -college, you see.” “Oh, yes,” he said, “I see.” He then asked me -to help myself to another sandwich. “You’ve got nerve, anyway,” he -commented. “It’ll be a long pull, won’t it, to do what you plan? How -old are you?” “Oh, around twenty,” I answered. “I wish, for your sake,” -said the young man, “that you were through with it; this education -business takes a lot out of a fellow. It’s a fight right from the -start if you don’t have any money. I’m a sophomore in college. By the -way, you haven’t told me your name, fellow. Mine’s Harlan M. N. I. -Droughtwell. Plenty of initials because my folks wanted to please both -branches of the family. In full, I am Harlan Micknell Norman Ingraham -Droughtwell.” “And I,” I replied, “am just Al Priddy. No middle name. I -suppose, though, that really I am Albert, but it ain’t used much.” - -Harlan put the basket aside, after having put over the bread a damp -towel and closed the cover. Then he told me to turn in near him. So -we both gave ourselves into the keeping of the engineer and slept -profoundly above the odors, the litter, the droning aliens:--two youths -college bound. - -I was first up, in the morning. Harlan, on opening his eyes, proposed -that I “dive in” and he pointed to the sandwiches. First of all I -wanted to wash my face. I did so at the drinking tank. I looked around. -There was a stirring among the aliens; just a stirring. Some were -turning over, yawning and giving guttural explosions of sleepy comment. -Mothers were feeding hungry, lively babies; but at my end everything -was profoundly still. The train boy’s basket was still where I had seen -it the night before with the fruit exposed to the air. The boy himself -was a tousled, sleepy, uninspiring bundle of blue and white. I looked -at my berth-mate, the sandwich man, and noted that he combed his hair -from the side. Immediately I was conscious that I combed mine down the -middle, and I recollected that my aunt Millie had always said that -I looked like a masher with it in that way. So I took out my pocket -comb and changed the style of my hair-dressing, while Harlan, entirely -unconscious of having wielded so powerful an influence over a fellow, -sat in his berth and struggled with his clothes. - -All through the morning we traveled; over high trestles, through deep -cuts, skirting tobacco fields, whirling through little settlements -until at last we were rolled to the deck of a massive iron ferry and, -still in the cars, were taken across the lake and landed at Detroit. -Meanwhile, I had parted company with Harlan, who had told me to “keep -right at it,” meaning thereby, a college education. - -Transfer after transfer was made for another night and a day, each -time the trains seemed to get slower, to stop more at stations, while -the cities grew less frequent. Friday turned into Saturday, Saturday -into Sunday, and by Sunday, too, we plunged into an overpowering odor -of gas. “Is the lamp leaking?” I asked the trainman mournfully. “It’s -terrible. It must be leaking. It makes me seasick.” The man laughed. -“Oh, you’re in the gas belt,” he said. “It’s in the air. You will get -used to it. I can’t smell it at all, though at first it smells like -being right in a gas house, doesn’t it?” - -The gas tinged everything; food and drink. I felt like going to sleep -to lose the sense of it. But deeper and deeper into it the train -plunged, without mercy. “If you’ve got a piece of silver about you,” -said the trainman, “a watch-chain or anything of gold or silver, this -air will turn it black soon enough. But you’ll get used to it,” he -added comfortingly enough. “I shall have to,” I complained, gloomily. -“It tastes as if all the gas works in the world had exploded about -here.” - -Finally I was nearing Groat’s Crossing, the seat of Evangelical -University. The train deposited me at a station within twelve miles -of it, where I should have to take an accommodation four hours later. -There was nothing to see in the place where I waited, but glaring -brick buildings and houses on stilts. So I waited around the hot, -splintered platform, seated now on a truck, watching a group of young -men reading sections of a Sunday paper, or walking miserably up and -down wishing for the train, for the gas had gotten into my system, and -I felt lonesome, miserable. I might have gone to sleep in the waiting -room, but the seats were spoiled for beds by having iron arm rests at -intervals of two feet. I tried to thread myself through these, at full -length, but could not. There was nothing to do, but stand around and -taste gas, until the Groat’s Crossing train came. - -With great joy I watched the accommodation come into the station. Only -twelve more miles between me and Evangelical University! The end of -three days’ travel. Three days from the cotton mills! In that thought I -renewed my spirit. Soon I should at least be NEAR a college! - -College! For me! It was the anticipation of a first watch twenty times -intensified. I, go to college! Look back in the genealogies of the -Priddys, rooted back in Britain’s centuries, and lay your finger on -a single member of it who ever went beyond the secondary school! And -there was the brakeman calling, inconsequently, “Groat’s Crossing!” - -I half stumbled from that car, thanking God that He had allowed me this -sweet day. Here I was on the platform at last. There was no one about. -A Sabbath quiet lingered over everything. The black splinters on the -platform went like knife blades between the soles of my worn shoes. - -Groat’s was a very small station. Some sort of a village lay behind -it. I asked a man on the street corner if this was where Evangelical -University could be found. He pointed away from the village in the -direction of a rutted, clay road bordered by a line of houses on stilts -which ended in a pasture fence made from dry stumps interlocked. “The -place’s up thar!” mumbled the man as he moved the morsel of tobacco -from one cheek to the other. “You’ll run smack inter it ef yo’ keeps -ergoin’.” “How far about?” I asked. “Uh, ’bout a mile or mo’, I guess.” - -The fumes of gas half choked me. They drowned out the perfumes from -decaying leaves which lay thick on the streets. It was a land given -over to gas, evidently, for instead of cows grazing in the flat -pastures, latticed derricks towered over oil and gas wells. In place -of the twitter of Fall songsters reaching me from the trees along -the roadside, came the mournful creaking of oil pumps and the gasps -and barks from the sputtering engines. A well had just been shot. A -crowd of spectators stood at the base of a derrick whose latticework -glistened with the black baptism of oil, and the dead grass on which -the spectators stood was soaked by a tarry iridescence; the thick, -black, greasy mess which had spouted up from the torn heart of the -underworld. - -I walked along a board walk which gave me a level path over little -brooks, open culverts, house drains, and masses of surface gas mains. -It took me up a slight grade in a lonesome part of the road where were -neither houses nor trees. I stood on the crest of the hill looking -ahead for the University. It stood on the open plain ahead of me, in -full sight, Evangelical University! - -I had never seen a college before. I had feasted my imagination on -photographs of the world’s leading universities: Cambridge, Oxford, -Edinburgh, and Harvard. I had revelled in the Tom Brown type of -literature which has for its background armorial gateways, ivy-clothed -turrets in which sparrows twitter all the day; which showed myriads of -mullioned windows peeping shyly through the branches of sedate, century -oaks; which showed grassy-carpeted lawns, yew gardens, swans breasting -placid, rose-fringed lakes, lakes girded by pebbled paths whereon -walked pale, lanky scholars in board caps and mourning gowns, walking -with bulky tomes of Latin on their palms in serene meditation! - -And there the reality of a college, Evangelical University, spread -itself for my contemplation, a heart-choked contemplation, because -that view shattered a lifetime’s romance! It brought to mind a group of -tenements surrounding a big square, brick grammar school. The buildings -stood open to the glare of the sun, for there were no tall trees for -shade. The smaller houses, little cheaply constructed cottages, stood -on cedar posts and were so fragile that the first tempest might readily -twist them from their anchorages and carry them tumbling down the -fields like empty hat-boxes. - -After the armorial-gatewayed universities of my dreams had completely -melted away, and the reality in its Puritan, pioneer severity -challenged me, I took a firm hold on my slate-colored baggage and -strode rapidly on towards my goal. - -“What do you want for ninety dollars a year?” I argued with myself. -“It’s your chance, and that’s enough.” - -I soon came to a newly plowed road which led to the first of the -university buildings. The hot sun had not been thirsty enough to suck -all the rain which had fallen on the new road in the last storm. The -clayey earth had mixed with it and formed a broth which waited for the -first unwary foot to slip from the springy board walk, which led over -it. - -Directly ahead, I saw a salmon-colored, clapboarded building squat and -frail like an evangelist’s tabernacle, over which I read on a sign the -following explanatory inscription: - - “CHIEF PUNGO HALL, 1889. - BORN IN AFRICA. DIED HERE 1885.” - -With but a mere glance at this Memorial Dormitory, I had need next to -press my teeth over my under lip, stiffen my gait, bulge out my chest, -and perform all the other affectations of courage, for in front of -Pungo Hall stood a group of well-dressed young men, all looking at me! -The heart of the horseman who dashed in the charge of the Six Hundred -was a stouter one in feeling than mine when I charged on those lolling -young men. My kneecaps vibrated like a cello string. My finger nerves -leaped one over the other. My heart pumped double quantity of blood to -my cheeks. The board walk dropped from under my shoes and I walked on a -tipping cloud. - -One of the students, in response to my waiting and my embarrassment, -which must have been as clear to him as an electric advertisement over -a skyscraper, advanced and asked if he could be of any service to me, -saying that his name was Thropper, James Thropper. - -Now, during the long, three days’ journey, I had spent much thought -in preparation of the introduction of myself to the University upon -arrival. I had succeeded in framing an introduction which had both the -qualities of completeness and brevity. I had rehearsed it, mentally, in -many hypothetical contingencies, so that I might let them see that I -knew, definitely, what I had come for. But among all the contingencies -I had invented not one of them had resembled the one in which I found -myself: making my business known to a student. I had thought of meeting -with a gowned don or a “bursar”--whatever he was--because I was -saturated with Tom Brown. But I managed to explode my introduction to -the student, with all its brevity, in all its boyish completeness. - -“My name is Al Priddy. I have come from the mills. I have not been to -school beyond common fractions. I am nineteen years old. I am willing -to learn. I heard of this place from a friend. He said there was a -chance. I have only three dollars. I am willing to work. If you think -I can’t be taken in, right off, I shall be happy to live near here, so -that when I have earned more money I can begin!” - -James Thropper picked up my slate-colored suit-case and led me before -the group of students, without comment. Then, after he had introduced -me to them all, as “Brother Priddy,” he signalled to a tall, moustached -German. “Come here, Brock.” The German came to one side, and Thropper -repeated, though not so completely nor with equal brevity, the tale I -had unfolded. - -“You’ve come to just the right place, Brother Priddy,” said Brock. “We -have plenty of students here who arrive without much money or much -education. It’s a splendid place for getting a start, isn’t it, Brother -Thropper?” - -Thropper said, “It’s been a blessing to many a struggler.” - -“But is there room?” I asked. “I could wait. It will be nice to live so -near a college and join it--later,” I tremblingly ventured. “I didn’t -come with the expectation of beginning studies right off, I thought I -might go to work in the glass factory a while and then when I’d--” - -“That would be a waste of time,” said Brock. “I think you’ll be able to -start right away.” - -“Excuse me--are--are you a professor--sir?” I enquired. - -“No,” laughed Brock, “just a theologue, that’s all. I started late, you -see.” Then he explained: “You’ll not be able to do any business here -on Sunday. The President will see you the first thing in the morning; -but you needn’t fear. There’s no turning of you off when you’ve come so -far. Just remember that, Brother Priddy. Meanwhile, I think I might be -able to place you at a job that will pay your board.” - -With a wild leap of the heart, I gasped, thrilled, - -“Oh, if you only could!” - -“I’m head waiter in the dining-room,” he explained, “we have a place -not filled yet. I’ll see you later about it. Better take him in with -you,” he announced, turning to Thropper. “Yours is a double room. -That’s where the President would put him, anyhow.” - -“My, the gas does smell!” I announced, merely to say something as -Thropper led me into the dimness of Pungo Hall. “Doesn’t it spoil the -food, when it soaks in it?” - -Thropper laughed. - -“You won’t mind it, after a while. You’ll get so that you won’t notice -it. Here’s the room, ‘9’. Come in, Priddy!” - -I heard the scraping of a key against the lock, a frosty light overhead -showed me where the transom was swung at an angle. Finally there came -a click as the key snapped back the bolt, Thropper threw back the -door and ushered me in my college room, a double room within a narrow -compass of a few feet something. I swept a pair of greedy eyes over -this, the first substantial step in my educational ambition. - - - - -_Chapter II. I Help a Real Poet to Sing his Hymn. My First Chance and -How I Succeeded with it_ - - -The double bed had two depressions plainly visible on the mattress -where two previous occupants had maintained their respective sleeping -rights. The double quilt, patterned after a gaudy Chinese puzzle, sank -into the depressions of its own, warm weight. - -“The best thing about that quilt,” explained Thropper, “is that when -my eyes get weary with study or tired from writing, I look at the -combinations of colors, and my eyes are rested. It’s great for that. By -the way, I’ll call you Al if you’ll call me Jim,” he suggested. - -That bed occupied the major portion of the floor. Its edge left just a -narrow alley between it and two kitchen tables that were covered with -black oil-cloth. One of the tables--farthest from the window, in the -dim light,--was bare of books, and Jim said that it would be mine. The -other had about a dozen text books on it, some scraps of paper, and an -open Bible, marked with purple and red ink where Jim told me he was -busy emphasizing all the texts that he might preach sermons from--some -day. - -The chair allotted me was a plain kitchen affair, as hard as a -tombstone; but Jim’s was fearfully and wonderfully stuffed. There it -stood like a parody on a fluffy Morris, library chair. It was a kitchen -chair grotesquely stuffed and upholstered within a faded, torn, and -highly colored bed comforter. When Jim noted that I took an interest in -it, he said, - -“Padding made quite a difference in that chair, Al. It’s real -comfortable, though there isn’t much seat left; it’s so thickly padded. -I was out in the fields one day, and near the fence I picked up a -sheep’s skin of thick wool. I thought then that I could make good use -of it, so I brought it back, left it on the clothes-line at the back of -the building to let the air sweeten it, for it was pretty strong; then -I came to the conclusion that I could use it to stuff the chair--real -wool, you know. The comforter was left in the back room by a fellow and -I used that, too. It’s a real comfortable chair; almost makes you fall -asleep when you sit in it.” - -“You didn’t manage to sweeten _all_ of the wool, did you, Jim?” I asked -dubiously as I noted the dank odor that came from the chair; an odor -that was reminiscent of a junk shop after a rain. - -“Why,” replied Jim, in good humor, “I don’t notice it a bit. I think it -must be your imagination.” - -“Well,” I concluded, ungraciously, “probably it’s like the gas. You’ve -got used to it.” - -Between the gas stove and the wash stand stood a galvanized water pail, -three-quarters filled and with a fuzzy growth on its oily surface. - -“That ain’t drinking water, is it?” I asked in alarm. - -“No,” laughed Jim. “That’s in case of fire. I ought to have changed -that water two weeks ago, but I guess I’m getting lazy.” - -By this time I had my coat off and had accepted Jim’s invitation to -wash the train dust off my face. - -For this purpose I scraped around in the soap dish until I had secured -two thin wafers of soap, one a transparent reminder of perfumed toilet -soap, the other a dull yellow, and odorous with naphtha, which I -recognized as the remnant of a powerful disinfecting and wash-day soap; -used by my Aunt to drive black oil from overalls. I had to rub these -two antagonistic wafers together to make sufficient lather for washing. -Then, too, I had to hurry my toilet, for the flowered wash bowl had a -yellow crack on its under side, through which the water dripped rapidly -while I washed. - -Jim said, - -“Until you get some, Al, you must use my towel.” He took it down from -the wire behind the stove and let me have it, with the remark: - -“There’s a dry corner, there near the fringe.” - -The window was open, and while I was busy brushing the dust from my -clothes, a gust of wind came in and I heard a rip on the wall followed -by an exclamation from Jim, - -“There it goes again! The wall will be going next!” - -On examination I found that the wall paper, with its highly -conventionalized lotus leaves, had lost its grip on the wall behind -the gas stove and had uncovered a great area of plastered wall. Jim -produced some tacks, and using a flat-iron for a hammer managed to -return the paper to its place and to keep it anchored there through a -liberal use of tacks. - -He apologized, when he came down to the floor, - -“All this is miserable enough, Al, and I don’t blame you for thinking -so.” - -“Uh,” I retorted, “I ain’t grumbling. Beggars can’t be choosers. -Besides, I don’t see what more the college can do for ninety dollars a -year, board, room, and teaching.” - -“‘Tuition’ you ought to say,” corrected Jim. “I’m glad you’ve got the -right spirit about this place, Al. You’re right, we can’t expect any -more for ninety dollars! I don’t see how they can do for us what they -can. It’s worth a mighty lot for you and me to get a chance, and if -education should cost more, where would you and I be?” - -“That’s just what I think!” I replied with spirit. “It is just the -chance we want. Here I am, with only three dollars to begin on and a -poor foundation for study in the bargain. What other place is there -where I could be given a start on such easy terms?” - -“A lot of fellows come here,” commented Jim, “who don’t look at the -matter in that way--and they soon leave and don’t have any chance at -all. I know you’ll appreciate the hard scrabble to get the education. -Besides, poor buildings, poverty-stricken rooms, cheap board, and -limited privileges ought to make us get the most out of our studies. -That’s something.” - -“But suppose they don’t let me begin?” I gasped; for up to this time I -had not let a doubt of my acceptance at Evangelical University mar the -afternoon. - -“I don’t think they’ll let a fellow like you go begging, Al,” responded -Jim. “You might as well count yourself one of us, right off.” - -Just then, out in the upper end of the corridor, went up a high, -lisping, effeminate voice, calling, - -“Oh, Brother Thropper; Brother Thropper!” - -Jim went to the door and replied, - -“All right, Jason!” Then he turned to me and whispered, - -“Hardwick is one of the smartest fellows in the University. He’s a -poet, too. He’s got a hymn set to music in this book,” and he waved a -much worn, manila paper covered Gospel hymn book. “It’s very popular; -sung in many of the big revivals!” - -With a throb of excitement I waited for the advent of this real poet. -I had seen men who had called themselves poets in the mill; but their -productions were local in theme, personal in lines, unpoetic in metre -and never reached a further fame than insertion in the “Original Line” -column of the papers. But I was now to view a real poet; one whose -words were sung in churches. I was thoroughly subdued when I heard the -poet’s fingers searching for the knob, outside. - -He was all that the comic papers and the actors suggest for poets. -There was not a bit of the world about his aspect. In reaching for the -dwelling places of the muses he had lengthened out until his head, -covered with a thick cluster of curls, roamed through the higher levels -of the atmosphere. He had to incline his head in order to get through -the doorway. His face had a poetic paleness and his lips were pulled -out as if he were on the verge of inspired speech. He wore a clerical -vest and all his clothes were of a very spiritual black. He carried a -mandolin. - -I was formally introduced and on my part, in acknowledging the -introduction, I agreed that I was “right glad to know” Mr. Hardwick. - -The poet had come to rehearse some hymns with Jim. The latter produced -his guitar; both musicians sat on the edge of the bed before a -nickel-plated music stand, the Gospel hymn book was put in place, and -to the strumming of the instruments, the vocalists sang some revival -hymns with such effect as to produce from me the comment, “My, that -sounds fine!” - -Then, growing bold through intimacy, I said, - -“I wonder, Mr. Hardwick, if you will sing that song you wrote, please?” - -The poet said that he would be pleased to sing it as a trio, and asked -me, when he had found the place, if I could join in with the bass. I -thought I could. - -So the three of us, I between the two musicians, sat on the edge of the -bed and sang the lilting reiterations of the hymn, - - “There’s a welcome home, - There’s a welcome home, - There’s a welcome home, - For you and me.” - -We were interrupted by the ringing of a bell, on the University tower, -which, I learned, was the call to the Sunday afternoon preaching -service. As my roommate was trying to urge me to attend, and while I -was protesting that my clothes were not good enough, the head waiter -came into the room and said, - -“Priddy, I’m going to give you a try as a waiter at supper. Don’t go -to the preaching service. I will try to rig you up with an apron and -jacket.” - -Oh, what inspiration those words had in them! It meant that the -University was already willing to give me a chance to show what I could -do. I should not have to get work in the glass factory. I should not -have to wait before I could enroll myself in the University. My chance -had come. I cried for joy; tears of which I was not ashamed, even -though Brock, the head waiter, saw them. - -“I’m only poor, and a big blunderer, without any manners,” I protested, -“but if you give me a chance, I’ll do my utmost.” - -At five o’clock Brock came into the room carrying on his arm a -well-starched waiter’s jacket and a patched white apron. - -“I had these on the side,” he announced. “They are worth forty cents. -You may pay for them when you are able. Don’t be worrying about the -matter. Be over at the dining-room at quarter past five.” - -After that I moved as if in the midst of a grand dream. Was I actually -in a dormitory, at a college? Was it true that in a quarter of an hour -I should be trying to wait on a group of real students? - -The dining-hall was a squat wooden bungalow with a great many windows -in it. The front hall floor bent under my weight as I crossed it. I -unlatched one of the double doors and viewed the roomful of tables with -the dull reflector lamps hanging above them. White jacketed students -were busy with plates and plated silver cutlery. Brock, himself in -glorious white, came down the room with a word of greeting. I was -introduced to the student-waiters, was told that I was on trial only, -and that I should be carefully watched, as there were many trained -waiters among the students who coveted the position. Brock indicated -two tables near the door, the farthest away from the kitchen of all the -tables. - -“You will wait on them,” he said. “There will be ten to a table. When -they come in, before the blessing, they will stand behind their chairs. -You must go around, find out what they want to drink; hot water, tea or -cold water, then you must go to the other end of the room, get one of -the trays and fill it with twenty cups. Then you must get them served -just as soon as you can. You will find plenty of chores to do when they -are seated.” - -With a wild, thumping heart, and with a maximum of terror, I heard -the first of the students enter the outer hall. Brock stood at the -opposite end of the room, near the slides that connected with the -kitchen, his finger on a Sunday-school bell. The students, well-dressed -young men and women, swept past me, crowded me, stared at me, stood -at my tables; went to the different parts of the room chattering, -bantering, laughing, and accosting one another familiarly with such -abandon and effect that I felt like an intruder. No one spoke to me. -The young men and women at my two tables commented about something in a -low murmur. They cast doubting looks toward me. - -For a minute I was in a panic, then, because I was tall, I could see -Brock’s eyes telling me to do something. I went through the crowded -aisles, around my tables, saying to each person, in a trembling, very -English way, - -“Will you ’ave ’ot, cold water, or tea, please?” - -I received eighteen orders for hot water and tea and two orders for -cold water. I came out from the ordeal of having addressed so many -students and went perspiring to the upper end of the room where the -urns and trays were. I put the weighty cups and the thick glasses on -a tray the size of an ordinary five o’clock tea table, filled them by -twisting the tray under the spigots of the urns, and with the weighty -load raised as high as my long arms could exalt it, pushed my way -nervously down the aisle, past the students whose backs were turned to -me, and conscious that all the inquisitive and critical eyes in the -world were watching me to see how I should manage. I was very fortunate -in being able to squirm my way to the lower end of the room and to -reach the vicinity of my own tables without accident. It helped me, -too, to hear the students singing a hymn. It took their minds off me, -the green mill boy trying to wait on college tables! Thus encouraged, I -tried a bold thing, which I saw the other waiters doing. As there were -no stand tables to rest our trays upon, while steadying mine against my -body as it lay on the palm of my hand, I took off a cup of hot water -from the lowered tray, and tried to reach the cup around the waist of -the young woman who had called for hot water. The balance would have -been maintained had not the person next to me suddenly drawn back, -jolted the tray from my hand, and sent the hot liquids streaming down -the skirts and shoes of those in the vicinity. There followed, too, -the crash and thump as the heavy cups clattered to the floor. The two -glasses splintered into bits, and while the students were sitting down, -I found myself growing more and more conspicuous until the seated -throng looked up from every part of the room, to see me furiously red, -with tears gathering, and with untold chagrin over the mishap. - -I waited, among the ruin, for Brock to come to me, get me by the scruff -of the neck, hurl me outside to say, - -“Get back to the mill. What right have you to pretend to know how to -act among cultured people? You’re too green!” - -I _imagined_, too, that the students at my table must be delegating one -of their number to go to the head waiter to say, - -“We don’t want that clumsy person bothering with us. He’s spoiled a -couple of fine dresses and made a regular bothersome mess. Throw him -out! Send him back to where he came from!” - -But I had mistaken the temper of Evangelical University. Brock -came down, and with great kindness patted me on the back and said, -encouragingly, - -“Don’t let a thing like that bother you, Priddy. I know how they crowd. -Cheer up, old fellow.” - -Then the student who had jolted the tray bent back and said, - -“It was all my fault, Brock. He wasn’t to blame a bit. It was downright -careless of me. I’m sorry.” - -Then, after he had assisted me in bringing the hot water and other -drinkables to the tables, Brock took pains to introduce me to the -twenty young men and women, saying, - -“Mr. Priddy, I hope, will see that you do not go hungry as much as you -might!” - -I walked on air after that; for the head waiter had called me, “Mr. -Priddy!” - - - - -_Chapter III. Thropper’s Puff Tie. Sounds That Passed in the Night. The -Possible Advantages of Speaking Tubes. The Scroll of Divine History. -The Meditations of a Saint. How Thropper Lost his Pious Reputation_ - - -Shortly after my return from the dining-hall, Thropper thundered into -the room, in his impetuous way, jerked his arms out of his coat, tore -at his collar and lifted up the lid of his tin-covered trunk with every -evidence of excitement. - -“What’s the matter--Jim?” I asked, from my seat near the window. - -“Got a date on, that’s what,” he answered, half smothered in his trunk. -“Miss Ebberd’s going--church--with me. Lucky--duck, that’s what! Going -down the board walk to--New Light revival! Say,” he interrupted, -holding up for my inspection a black, puff tie, with an opal stone -nesting in the midst of its folds, “How would this go with a choker -collar, Priddy?” - -“Put it on first, Thropper,” I suggested. - -He fastened it around his high choker collar: a collar whose pointed -fronts might have been successfully used by Spanish Inquisitors to make -heretics look up continually unless they wished to have holes punctured -under their chins. - -“The reason I wear this tie,” said Thropper, confidentially, “is -because it blocks up my shirt bosom; hides it and saves washing, of -course. You’ve got to get on to all those sort of tricks when you work -your way through school, you’ll find, Priddy. Now, how do I look, eh?” - -I thought him a very attractive Lothario indeed, although I did not -venture so far with an expression of opinion. I merely said, - -“You look slick!” - -As he was leaving the room, Thropper suddenly turned and in a very -apologetic tone said, - -“I had planned, Priddy, to stay with you tonight, but you see how it -is, don’t you, old fellow?” - -“Why, certainly,” I agreed. “I wouldn’t like to have you miss this -chance for anything, Thropper. Go ahead and good luck!” - -“Thanks,” he said. “You can lock the door when you go to bed if I’m not -back. You must be tired!” - -“Yes, I am tired, Thropper. I’ll sit by the window--and think. Good -luck to you!” - -He was gone. As his feet echoed in the bare hall, I heard him humming, -like a happy lover, - - “There’ll be no dark valley!” - -The evening shadows were gathering outside, as I sat near the window, -looking out. From the village centre came the drawn out stroke of -a church bell. Then the campus was alive with sounds. The whole -University seemed astir. Some one raised up a window in the second -story, over my head, and a quiet, vibrant voice called, “Hey, Brother -Merritt?” The man in the next room stopped his strumming on a guitar, -lifted up his window and replied, “What?” “Going to the service -tonight, Brother Merritt?” To which my neighbor answered, “No, I’m -afraid I can’t. I’m tired.” A door in the next house burst open and -a trio of young women gathered on the porch. “That’s only the first -bell,” said one. “We shan’t have to hurry.” “I’m glad of that,” replied -another, “for the board walk is just simply terrible in places: full -of holes that we might trip in if we had to run.” Then their pattering -footfalls could be heard growing dimmer and dimmer in the distance -on the board walk. Little groups of young men hummed hymns as they, -too, passed Pungo Hall on their way to the revival. Others laughed -and argued. I heard the fragment of one discussion in which three -earnest-toned young men were indulging: “Saint Paul did make a failure -in that Mar’s Hill speech!” said one, loudly. “It all depends on what -you mean by ‘failure,’” replied his antagonist; “true, the Greeks might -not have been strongly enthusiastic at the time, but it seems to me -that God would use that speech for--No!” The argument was swallowed up -in the twilight and the distance. A group of young women swept by the -gloom which hung like a mystic veil between me and them. I heard only -one sentence of their conversation, “Fried potatoes--ugh!” They were -succeeded by a procession of late starters who slipped by shrouded -in the gloom, a happy, familiar, shadowy procession ignorant of the -lonesome lad who sat back of a window and envied them their evening’s -excursion. The last of the footsteps died down on the board walk, as -if the last of my generation had left me to occupy the world alone. -But the stars came out for friendliness, ruling over the silences of -the campus and rendering it more silent. The tolls of the church bell -announced the beginning of the service. When the double stroke had been -given for a last warning, the silence was about me once more. Suddenly -the troubled cry of a sheep from the back pasture broke out on the -night, a plaintive bleat as if a dog or some prowling beast of prey had -been scented. Then, through an open window in the next house, I heard -the voice of a girl as it read something, followed by a deeper voice -which said, “Oh, yum, I’ve been dozing, Grace!” That was followed by -a hand which drew apart the curtains, and soon two girls’ heads were -outlined against the golden glow in the room, and one remarked, “Oh, -what a stupid night!” I hurriedly dodged my head into the room, drew -down the window shade and lighted the flaring, hissing blaze of gas. - -The whole room was cheapened when the powerful gas light shone on it. -The crowded space, filled with the tawdry effects of my roommate and -myself: the rack of dusty photographs of people I had never seen, -the stuffed chair, the bed quilt, the water bucket; all those things -oppressed me. I turned off the light and threw myself on the bed -determined not to undress till Thropper’s return. I felt the need -of Thropper. It seemed to me that he would cheer me, hearten me, be -a companion. I began to speculate about Thropper in a dreamy sort -of way. Overhead, some one began to walk back and forth, back and -forth, monotonously, humming a tune unknown to me. I listened for the -melody hoping to discover that it would be something with which I was -familiar, so that I could hum it too. But it was suddenly interrupted -by a terrific yawn. Then the man upstairs said, “Oh, Oh-h-h!” and I -heard the clatter as a pair of shoes fell on the floor. The man was -going to bed. I began to wonder who it was that had been walking and -singing and going to bed over my head. I also speculated on the social -value of a speaking tube which should connect our rooms. Then a long, -long silence, broken at last by a clatter in the hallway and at last -Thropper’s cheery voice, - -“Well, you couldn’t wait to undress, eh, Priddy?” - -“Oh,” I mumbled, “got back?” - -“Yes,” he laughed. “Isn’t it time?” - -“What time is it?” - -“Nearly ten.” - -“I must have been asleep, Thropper. The sounds sent me off.” - -“You were homesick, I’ll bet,” he laughed. “That’s a fine description -of it.” - -“It wouldn’t be surprising, would it?” I asked. - -“Not a bit,” he said, “but you just wait till you get to know the folks -about here, and you’ll get over that.” - -“Did you have a good service, Thropper?” - -“Oh, fair,” he replied. “Fair. Miss Ebberds didn’t particularly like -the sermon.” - -“But she enjoyed the walk to and from it,” I laughed. - -“Well,” he said earnestly, “I know I did.” - -While he was preparing himself for bed, he said, - -“When I went out I forgot to tell you about the Scroll. You might have -had a good time with it. Have you ever seen one?” - -“Scroll?” - -“Yes.” - -“What is it?” - -Thropper plunged into the heart of his trunk again, and this time -extracted a black, leather case. He opened the front, turned a knob -and unfolded a scriptural panorama of chromo pictures, depicting the -thrilling events which took place in Eden, first of all, and then -continuing through the murder of Abel to the Flood. - -“I was agent for this last summer,” said Thropper. “Look through it, -Priddy, it’s quite interesting.” - -The Scroll had unfolded to Sinai accompanied by a running comment by -Thropper, which, itself, was a panorama of the exciting adventures of a -Scroll agent, when he heaved a sigh and said, - -“Oh, um!” - -I looked up in time to see him throw himself on his knees at the -bed-side, to bend his head in a cup made by his hands, for his evening -prayer. - -The Scroll brought before me the Tabernacle, the Temple, the victory -of David over the Giant in the midst of a profound silence. Thropper -was still engaged in his devotions as devoutly, as deeply, as any -Augustinian monk. The panorama of the Divine Plan unfolded the -adventures which befell the prophets and came at last to the Birth of -Christ, when I looked around again to find Thropper still kneeling at -the bed-side. To me it was a display of the prayer-spirit unusual and I -was just investing my roommate with all the pious dignity of a Saint, -when a loud, long-drawn snore came from him. He had fallen asleep! I -shook him. He drawled, as he crept into bed, - -“I’m glad you wakened me, Priddy. I fall asleep quite often. One night -I nearly got frozen to death. I didn’t have a roommate. Thanks. Turn -off the light, won’t you.” - -After the Crucifixion I closed the Scroll and snuggled into bed with -Thropper. My first day in Evangelical University had ended. - - - - -_Chapter IV. Thundering Gymnastics. How to Keep on the Good Side of -the Young Women with Scriptural Quotations. The Establishment of -Friendship. Carrying Water for Beauty. How Music may be Something More -than Music. The Wonderful, Austere Man that Thropper Led me to_ - - -I linked myself to the following day’s life by clutching the gaudy -comforter in both my hands while I sat up in bed, startled by a -thundering that shook Pungo Hall. - -“What’s--that?” I gasped, turning towards Thropper, expecting to -discover that the vibrations had brought him up in alarm. - -“It’s only ‘Budd’ doing his gymnastics,” he muttered, drowsily, “what -time?” - -“Six.” - -“Better get up and go over to the dining-room at half-past,” he -explained. “Say,” he added, lifting up his head, “you wouldn’t mind -letting me know at twenty minutes past, would you, Priddy?” - -“Not at all, Thropper.” He dropped half under the clothes and in a -surprising manner was soon invested in all the dignity of thorough -repose. - -From that moment until the clamor of the rising bell, at half-past -six, the heart of Pungo Hall was turned into a huge alarm clock, for -first in this corner, then in that, on this floor and then on that, -intermittent clatterings of clocks brought intermittent yawns and -mutterings as the different students were signalled by their unsleeping -timepieces. Every noise seemed to pierce from room to room as if -it went through telegraphic sounding boards. Splashings, jumpings, -muttered prayers, readings aloud, animated conversations: these -increased as half-past six drew near. The Monday morning, with its -new week of study, demanding a fresh enthusiasm after the Sabbath’s -interruption, was not being approached in any business manner. Over -the banister, leading to the top floor, a voice exclaimed, so that all -could hear, “Say, Headstone, how fine you looked last night with Her!” -To which an answer came from a suddenly opened door, “Thank you!” Then -over that banister, into the laundry basket, in a dark corner of the -hall, the bed wash was hurled accompanied by dull thuds. - -“Got your quotation?” asked Thropper, as he dressed. - -“Quotation?” - -“Yes, Bible verse for the tables. You’ll probably be asked to give one. -You see, it’s a sort of custom for Bible verses to go the rounds of -the tables, in the morning. You don’t have to have one, but it fits in -nicely, if you have one. Especially if you’re a waiter.” - -“Oh, of course I’ll take one,” I said. - -“Only just remember and not do what one waiter did, Priddy: take that -verse and quote it: ‘Let your women keep silence in the churches.’ It -would get you in wrong--with the young ladies.” - -“Why?” - -“Well, so many of them are going to be evangelists and ministers and -missionaries: ever so many of them. You see how they would be liable to -take it.” - -“We had better keep on the good side of--the ladies,” I laughed. - -Thropper winked. - -“Betcher life,” he replied. - -Just then the head waiter peeped in at the door to say, - -“Brother Priddy, are you coming across to the dining-room? I’m going -over.” - -Eager to face my responsibilities of the day in the leadership of -somebody I accompanied the tall German across the road and into the -dining-room. - -“Black for breakfast and supper. White for dinner,” announced Brock. “I -mean the kind of coats that are to be worn,” he explained. - -While I arranged my two tables for twenty people with plates, knives -and forks, milk in granite-ware pitchers, sliced bread, corn bread -left over from the previous night’s meal, tomato butter, and dishes of -crisp, browned, fried potatoes, the other waiters came in and greeted -me with hearty, - -“Morning’s!” “Howdy’s!” and “Hello, Priddy’s!” which had the effect -of making me feel in strong fellowship with them, although our -acquaintance was but a day and a night old, at the utmost. Brock smiled -at all these evidences of friendship, and whispered, as he showed me -how to arrange the breakfast things, - -“Things are going well, eh?” - -“Yes,” I muttered, “if I can manage not to drop another tray!” - -Then the breakfast bell brought the hurried, chattering, hungry crowd -of young men and women into the room again, though, at this meal, they -were less formidable in their every-day clothes. Some brought books, -others writing pads. Fountain pens and pencils projected from the -outer pockets of the men, and were stabbed in the hair of the women. - -My tables were soon lined with students. They, too, seemed to have -met me, long ago, in the remote past and to some of them I must have -been at least a third cousin or present at a family party, so freely -and lavishly did the greetings come: greetings that put me at my ease -because I felt that they came from sincere hearts. - -The floor was ready to bend under the weight of the crowd that stood -waiting behind the chairs for Brock’s signal to sit. Like a stern, -powerful, determining Ruler, the head waiter stood at the opposite end -of the room, with his eye on his watch, not willing to press his thumb -on the Sunday-School bell until the instant seven o’clock arrived. -Eyes looked longingly on the hot, fried potatoes. It was no use. Seven -o’clock was a minute off. Some rumbled the legs of the chairs. To no -purpose. The German had patience. Finally the snap of the bell sent -every man and woman to the table accompanied by the roar of scraping -chairs, thumping feet, and expressions of satisfaction. - -Near the head of my first table sat a very young, pink-cheeked -Southern girl possessed of charming, gracious ways. Her “Mr. Priddy, -please, a spoon,” was as musical as ever a request could be. It made -me feel sorry that the spoon was not gold instead of German metal. -Consequently, when she asked me for a third glass of water during the -first five minutes of breakfast, it was no small happiness for me to -secure it, as speedily as possible, for her. But on my return with the -third glass her neighbor asked for one. On my return with that, the -Southern girl had her glass emptied. So it went for ten minutes: each -one of them drinking amounts of water sufficient for ducks or geese to -swim in--it seemed to me. Finally, on picking up a fork some one had -let fall on the floor, I saw several glasses, full to the brim with -water, under the Southern girl’s chair. She had been initiating me. -With a broad wink at the others, I very slyly sprinkled some pepper on -the glass of water before her when her head was turned and then waited -for results. They soon came. She reached for her glass, took a sip, and -then commenced to choke. - -“What is the matter, miss?” I asked, “will you have some more water?” - -She looked at me in resentful astonishment, at first, and then seeing -that the others at the table were laughing, she joined in with them, -saying, - -“Who peppered the water?” - -“Was there pepper in the water?” asked one across the table. - -There the matter ended, although, when in a spirit of boastfulness I -recounted the experience at the waiter’s table, Brock chided me by -saying, - -“You will have to be careful. We must have discipline, brother Priddy!” - -Thropper was waiting for me, after breakfast, when the call to chapel -sounded: the first exercise of the day. We joined the procession of -students which moved swiftly towards the central building. Into it -the procession hurried, racing against the tolling of the bell. Then -followed a tiresome climb up three pairs of stairs to the topmost room -of all, used for a chapel. An attic room, square and dimly lighted by -dormer windows. The roof girders overhead clung together like knitted -arms bent on holding together such a load of humanity as trusted to -them. Against the wall, opposite the door, spread a broad platform with -a semi-circle of male and female faculty arrayed on it. Before it, and -awed into respectful silence by it, spread a fan of students, sitting -in chairs, by groups. I sat at the heart of Evangelical University. -This chapel, in its plainness, its bareness, its poverty, formed the -pivot on which the life of the University swung; for here the religious -faith and doctrine which were the most eagerly sought gifts of the -place were received. Here, in these simple chairs, was where men and -women found God: the highest advertisement of the University. - -The doors closed out late-comers. A hymn was sung. This has been said, -and echoed many a time: that a hymn was sung. But this first hymn I -heard, proceeding from over a hundred hearts, should not be plainly, -unemphatically said to have been merely sung. If each word be trebly -underscored and trebly emphasized, then, one may say, a hymn was sung -that morning, for to me, the first bar of melody seemed to be the -onrush of an Angelic symphony through a suddenly opened door of Heaven! -Were they common men and women who were singing with such resonant -exultation! The boarded ceiling and the huge square attic room throbbed -with it. Rapture, adoration, victory, joy unspeakable weighted down -each note as the melody unfolded itself. The reliant basses, anchored -to the background of the melody--a resonant, manly anchorage--made -sudden excursions into the higher realms of the theme, but not to -displace the tenors whose shrill praises were the nearest to what a -hammer stroke on a bar of silver would produce. The dulcet altos, as -rich depths of throat as any one might expect, entwined themselves -in and out of the sopranos’ soaring, singing as if to keep those -higher voices from too suddenly darting past the doors of Heaven and -surprising God. That was no mere singing of a hymn. It was a hymn for -the love of the hymn; singing for the pure love of singing. Or, better, -a spiritual exercise that could certainly be no more willingly or much -better done in a morning rehearsal of the Court melodists! - -“Wonderful!” I gasped to Thropper, whose tenor had added much to the -dignity of that part. - -“They do sing well, don’t they?” he commented. - -A demure little woman in black, with a very set, white face, came to -the reading desk and read a scripture lesson. Then the sober Dean, -whose eyes knew every thought in that room and said so, gave some -notices. There followed a prayer whose outstanding character was -earnestness of expression, of theme, of length. Then the whole service -was embroidered by three verses of another hymn, after which we fell -in orderly lines and marched through the open doors, where an electric -gong broke up the line into unorganized groups, scattering for the -classrooms. - -“Now for the President’s office,” announced Thropper, abruptly. - -But a sudden pang of fear whipped across my thoughts. - -“Oh, suppose I can’t enter, Thropper!” I exclaimed. “It has tasted so -good, thus far!” - -He patted me on the back, in his manly way, did Thropper, and heartened -me by saying, - -“Well, Priddy, if you like the first taste, I guess you’ll stay for the -whole meal--if you are hungry!” - -“Thanks, old fellow,” I said. “Take me to the President!” - -He led me downstairs into a very busy office where some young women -were typewriting, inscribing books, and where one dudish young man with -up-combed, wavy hair, was flirting with a pretty, tan-cheeked girl who -was supposed to be engrossed in the task of trimming a window shelf of -geraniums. - -Thropper was told that the President was engaged and that we should -have to wait our turn. So we sat in high-backed chairs, in line with -three others, where I waited with a palpitating heart that began to -spell panic if my turn were delayed much longer. To increase this -threatened panic of courage, Thropper began to whisper terrible things -about the President: how he was a wonderful reader of books and had -a mentality and memory so well disciplined that he was able to read -an entire page at a mere glance and be able to pass an exacting -examination on its contents a day afterwards! Thropper also whispered -in an awe-struck voice, - -“The President just feeds on learning! He can speak in ten different -languages, read in fifteen, about, and think in twelve: so they say. -You mustn’t fool with him or tell him any funny stories! He’d never get -over it, Priddy. Now, come on, it’s your turn. I’ll introduce you and -leave you with him!” - -My sensitive imagination enkindled by all that Thropper had fed me on, -in the waiting room, I appeared before the President considerably -unnerved. He sat behind his desk, waiting for me: the embodiment of -every austere report I had heard. His mouth twitched; twitched all the -time. His eyes shone as brightly as those of an aroused lion from the -dark mask of a cave. It was a race between his mouth and his eyes: the -mouth slipped in and out, lip over lip, lip under and over lip, while -those two small eyes snapped back and forth with electric suddenness. -His gaunt features had the pallor of death. A world of woe, of hunger, -of intellectual dissipation could be read in him. He tried to compose -his features into a smile of welcome when he saw me, but it seemed -so unusual a thing for those ascetic signs to be disturbed by the -intrusion of anything pleasurable, that the first attempt ended in a -sad failure. He did not try again. His voice was tired when he spoke. -It had neither vibration nor health in it. I stood before that presence -chilled, uninspired, while a strong temptation to flight pulled on my -courage. - -“Sir,” began Thropper, fingering his cap, “I’ve brought Mr. Priddy in. -He came yesterday, and I’ve been letting him share my room till he saw -you.” - -“‘Had seen,’ you should say, sir,” corrected the President, “if you are -after the proper tense of the verb. You may go.” - -Thropper sighed deeply as he left, probably over the grammatical -correction just imposed on him. - -A seat was indicated and I was asked to place myself in it. Then the -President said, - -“Just tell your story in your own way till I interrupt you, young man.” - -Thereupon I went into such minute details about myself, that I soon -brought from the official a grunt of impatience. - -“No,” he said, “I’m not a bit eager to know how many times your family -has moved about the country. I want to know the salient things about -you yourself.” - -“I’ve been working in the mill till last week,” I said. “I always have -been eager to get an education. I haven’t been able to save any money. -I heard about this place. I came on. If you can’t take me, then please -let me live here; just live here, it will do me good even if I don’t -take any studies. I can work out and earn my board, I promise you. I -have been earning my own living for a long time now, sir.” - -“How much money have you brought?” he asked. - -“Three dollars,” I said. “But you don’t need to take me in yet, sir,” I -explained, hurriedly, for I felt that he would surely turn me off. - -“A young woman came here, last year, with just four cents in her pocket -and only her own strength to rely upon, young man,” replied the -President. “Her own strength and God to rely upon, I should say, sir.” - -“Yes?” - -“There are several here who, at middle age, have arrived with wives and -families and hardly more than enough to keep them a week, save their -own strength and God’s.” - -“Yes?” - -“There is one student here who, at forty-five, has given up his -position in business to begin in the lowest grade of study, with -arithmetic, that he may receive an education.” - -“Yes, sir.” - -“So that you, with your youth, your three dollars, your opportunity, -ought really to get along fairly well here.” - -“If you take me, sir?” - -“Do you think we would turn you off, young man?” - -“You mean that you’ll give me a chance, then?” I cried, in great -exultation at his quiet words. - -At last a faint smile did untangle itself from his austere line. - -“You are already earning your board in the dining-hall, I understand.” - -“Yes, sir.” - -“That leaves merely the small item of tuition and room rent. I think -that you will be able to find enough work about the campus and in the -village to arrange for the payment of that. If not, you should be able -to earn enough next summer to do it.” - -“Just the thing, sir,” I cried. “I’ll do it! Here is the first -payment.” I handed him the three dollars. - -He waved his hand. - -“Keep them for necessities,” he said. “There is no hurry. God is back -of us, young man, and will raise up friends for us. I want you to -work hard and make of yourself a useful man in the world. We have no -luxuries here. It is plain living and high thinking: the two essential -equipments of manhood, I believe. If you will share our hardships -faithfully and work hard, we welcome you to us. That is all. Now we -will see about your list of studies.” - -After fifteen minutes’ appraisement of my intellectual attainments and -of my intellectual aim, the President made me out a list of subjects -with such diverse studies on it as: Beginning Grammar, Church history, -elementary arithmetic, Jevon’s Logic, elementary Latin, typewriting and -zoölogy! I hurried from the office, with the card, to attend my first -class, the first real step in my higher education, the class in Church -history! - - - - -_Chapter V. Pungo Hall’s Occupants: Estes Who Planned to Take a Tent -and Plant it in the Midst of the World’s Sin; of the Little Man Who -Fled from the Chidings of a ‘D. D.’: of Calloused Hands and Showing How -‘Pa’ Borden was Beaten by the Grass Widower with the Long Hair_ - - -Every scar that a sin may leave, every phase of ambition made possible -in a democratic world, every type of dramatic character: these I found -in Pungo Dormitory. As to a shelter from the world’s temptations had -come firm-lipped, tense-browed men in middle life. As to the door which -led into serviceable adventures, had come stout-hearted, finely-fibred -but poor youths. Evangelical University meant more than a place where -one could get a formal education. To some it meant a haven from a -rough sea: a sea so rough, indeed, that but for the harbor must have -wrecked them inevitably. - -The sea, for instance, on which Estes, in Number 18, had found such -tempestuous experiences. To imagine Estes you have to think of two -small, very glistening black eyes shining through a forest of beard -like hut lights gleaming like faint stars in the midst of a dense -grove. That was all you noticed, at first, about him, for his body -was insignificant, unimportant. The little knobs of cheek that came -between the eyes and the black beard shone with a dull red glow, like -flesh that the winds and the frosts had hardened and tinted. When on -the campus, Estes crowned his blackish head with a cow-boy’s sombrero, -worn at a rakish, foppish slant, as if he were trying to be reminiscent -of a Mexican señor. A man to be called merely a _poseur_ when met on -the campus or in the classroom, with his arithmetic, his grammar, his -English history, and his black teacher’s Bible in the crook of his arm; -a thirty-seven-year-old man with his foot on the first rung of the -educational ladder. To most of the students he was known only in the -rôle of “elementary student.” But in the confidence of his chamber, -among his selected friends, when he opened his record, it was akin -to the opening of furnace doors to show the furious white heat of a -man’s sinful passion and the dark, twisting, sulphurous smoke of -criminal deceit. He had betrayed men and women in selfish conspiracies; -had drowned his wit in seas of alcohol; had abandoned his mother and -family to the cruelties of poverty and illness; had stolen money and -honor from his fellows; had mixed in the cheap and petty evil sports -of sailors and tramps; had roamed through the land in the guise of an -Indian doctor selling watery and greasy medicaments under a hissing, -gasolene torch to confiding purchasers; had held responsible positions -in shops; had--there seemed to be no end to his adventures in which the -coloring always turned out to be the fact that in all of them he had -introduced elements of sin, of criminality, of cruelty. They always -ended against those grim stone walls! After walking through the pages -of several high-strung romances of vagabondage and clap-trap he had -turned to Evangelical University as to the mould for a new character -which was to form him over, not only into a socialized being, but -into a serviceable, spiritual servant; for after he should have had -ingrained on him the elementary knowledge of Grammar, Bible, and -History, he planned to take a tent into the world, set it in the midst -of the slums for a season, and nightly exhort bad men to become good -with the same fervid impulsiveness with which he had formerly exhorted -them, under the yellow blaze of gasolene lamps, to buy pills and -medicine-cure-alls. - -In room “20” dwelt a student of an opposite type who embodied in an -eloquent degree the strength and adventure to which ambition may -attain. “Dr.” Upwell was a little north-of-Ireland Scotchman, past his -forty-third summer: an ordained clergyman in an energetic denomination. -He was one of those unfortunate men--of which there are a sad number -in the pastorate--who, in a moment of illogical frailty had succumbed -to the temptation which a letter offered, of securing for a trivial -sum of dollars the dignified, honorary degree of “Doctor of Divinity.” -At first the privilege of adding two capital “D’s” to his name, on his -letter heads, his visiting cards, his church advertisements in the -Saturday evening paper, and on the gold-lettered sign in front of his -church, had been highly appraised. Those two “D’s” had added almost a -furlong to his mental egoism. He felt himself admitted to the highest -peak where dwelt the chosen theological giants. But finally, after -much thinking--for Upwell was at heart an honorable man--conscience -had asserted itself with a flaming manifestation that shrivelled up -this mental egoism and left inside the poor man’s mind a mass of -smoking, smouldering remorse which no amount of “Poohing” could quench. -Conscience, in that sure way it has, and blunt, kept saying: “You are -not worthy of the ‘D.D.’ In the first place, you are ill furnished with -education. You have never been under the discipline of a school. What -you have is merely the results of desultory home reading. You have -never accomplished anything worthy of a ‘D.D.’ honor. You are minister -to a handful of farmers, in an isolated community, in a church which -pays a salary of five hundred and fifty dollars a year--when it does. -You have never made more than four speeches in Conference, and they -were in debate--remarks from the floor, in which the Chairman found you -‘out-of-order’ twice! You have played no heroic part in social reform -or made any spiritual stir. The degree was purchased because you were -selfishly ambitious. It was sold to you in cold blood by a college that -funded itself, partly, by such sales. Suppose that Peter, when you -came to the gates of Heaven, should ask you, ‘Upwell, give me name, -dignities, and titles!’ what would you reply? ‘Chadworth Upwell, Doctor -of Divinity!’ with a host of angels to laugh at you? Not so. You would -feel cheap, miserable!” - -Thus stung more and more into remorse, the little Scotchman had finally -been driven out to seek a place where, at least, he could be worthy of -his ill-gotten honorary degree. He had come to Evangelical University -to fill the mind with theology, ethics, history, and literature, so -that at the end of a year or two there might be some degree of merit -and fitness when he placed “D.D.” after his name! Of course, Upwell -did not put it in that bald way, but from the persistency with which he -rolled the “D.D.” under his tongue, while criticizing the possession of -it, it was not difficult to know that he would never bury it. - -In Pungo Hall I came face to face with young men to whom the gates of -educational privilege had been closed until they, like myself, were -on the threshold of young manhood. They had come from the hearts of -coal mines and breakers, bringing their life’s dreams with them, and -an indomitable purpose. Every penny they spent for books and board had -been earned by the sweat of their brow. They had come, many of them, -from far-away farms and from the Southern mountain fastnesses where -life’s expressions of hope and desire were to be seen in crude form; -where they found that it took the “breath of an ideal to blow the dust -off the actual.” Hands I shook, in fellowship, that were scarred from -hard toil, calloused through contact with the tools of labor. - -The comprehensiveness of the curriculum of Evangelical University was -shown in the case of the Borden family. I became intimately acquainted -with the head of the family, Julius Borden, while cutting sugar-cane -on the University farm. Julius was a pale edition of Falstaff: fat, -self-sufficient, self-important, with a scraggly yellowish moustache -half screening his pouting lips, and with a triple chin constantly -slipping like a worm back and forth over the folds of the points of -his collar. Mr. Borden, even at forty-two, after the discipline of -business, married life, and children, took himself too seriously. He -spoke with hesitating precision, though not with grammatical fluency, -as if he had predetermined that no word should ever come from the -depths of his profundity that did not aptly fit into the seriousness -of life. The merest word I flung at him became a challenge that could -be answered only when the hoe had been put down, the moustache pulled, -the brows contracted in thought, and the throat cleared. When I greeted -him with a trivial, “How do!” he could not trust himself to reply with -audible words; he wanted me to take his acquiescence for granted--I -could see it by the surprised look in his eyes. As he had been a -success at the grave-stone business, had been married the longest of -any of the married students, and possessed the most children, he seemed -to realize that these were tokens of superior power when compared to -our bachelor, or the other married students’ bridal, limitations. He -fairly withered our proffered suggestions or theories or criticisms, -with his weighty authoritative, “I’ve seen so much, you see!” It was, -in his own estimation, equal to a hurricane from the Talmud blowing -on the chaff of the Apocrypha. By reason of this constantly paraded -wisdom, Julius soon became current on the campus as “Pa” Borden. - -He had given up his grave-stone business; had brought his money, his -wife, and two children to the University for a “family fitting” as he -termed it; much as a farmer goes to the general store with his family -to be clothed, shoed, and candied. The wife, at her marriage, had -just graduated from a high school, so that she entered the collegiate -department of the University, on her way towards an A.B. to be -earned outside of the chicken-raising in which she indulged. Jack, a -quick-witted lad of twelve, found a place in the elementary classes, -by the side of Estes, two Porto Ricans, a Japanese, a missionary’s -little girl, and several other students who had to commence at the -bottom of the educational scale. Edith, a romantic-eyed daughter, who -wore Scotch-plaid dresses and Sis Hopkins’ braids, was plunging through -the College Preparatory division close on the heels of her mother. -The father, least of the family in school discipline, had to humble -himself so low as to take his place with a backward grass widower in -a “B” section of the grammar class because of his tendency to forget, -after a day, the relations and distinctions between verbs and nouns and -the various other members of the grammar family. But Julius saw to it -that besides the baneful necessity of his humble place in the grammar -class he came to a proper level in those studies in which he could -express his preference. He revelled in the Bible class, the Historical -and the Oratorical classes to his heart’s content, but though he shone -creditably in them, he never could quite clear himself from the “B” -section of the grammar class; grammar being his thorn in the flesh, as -he testified in one evening’s prayer-meeting, when the Apostle Paul -and his historic affliction was the lesson. Even the backward grass -widower, who had a thick mass of shining curls and intended becoming -a temperance “orator” finally graduated from the “B” section, thereby -heightening the shame of poor Julius, who seemed predestined to do -poorly with the science of speech, and forever linger in the shadow of -the “poor-doers.” - - - - -_Chapter VI. Financial Pessimism Taken in Hand by Thropper and Shown -in its Real Light. A Turkish Rug that Smoked. A Poet in Search of -Kerosene. Wonderful Antics of an Ironing-Board. Economy at a Tub. Three -more Waiting for it After Brock’s Bath. The Chemical Reduction of a -Cauldron of Tomatoes into Something Sweet_ - - -My capital of three dollars was very quickly expended. After I had -spent the last quarter of a dollar for writing paper and pens, my -pockets were as empty as they were the hour I bought my suit from the -Jewish merchant. I stood penniless in the first week of my educational -career: a realization that brought out every atom of self-distrust, -philosophical pessimism and gloomy foreboding. I had been completely -dependent upon nickels and half dollars previously. I had not moved -without they paved the way. Nothing of enjoyment and privilege had -been secured without money. Theatres, games, parties, trips; these had -always made their call on my spending money. Now I stood facing an -academic career absolutely without a penny and with no possible hope -that in the outside world there would ever be any benefactor to forward -one. I was stranded. I thought of the students who relied upon monthly -checks from home or from friends. I thought of the students who had -their own bank accounts which would carry them through the school. I -thought, with a kindling of envy, of the students who the previous -summer had earned the following year’s expenses. I secured a minimum of -comfort from such reflections. They plunged me deeper and deeper into -the gulping pit that sucks enthusiasm out of life. - -Thropper found me, standing by the window, indulging in such a -dispiriting review of my prospects. In his bustling way he shouted: - -“Well, Priddy, what’s the row now, eh?” - -“I shouldn’t be--here,” I choked. - -“Well,” he exclaimed, “I thought you’d get ’em--soon.” - -“What do you mean, Thropper?” - -“Homesick blues, that’s all. You’ve got every symptom showing, Priddy. -They’re on you, all right.” - -“I’m not homesick, Thropper,” I blurted out. “I have no reason to be -homesick. It’s not that at all. I’m fretting about money: that’s all.” - -“The root of all evil,” he mocked. - -“Wrong there, Thropper.” I half smiled, cheered beyond measure by his -banter. “I heard a preacher say that the Bible said, ‘The love of money -is the root of evil.’” - -“Well,” bluffed Thropper, “what’s the difference? Wherever you find -money you find the love of it. They are synonymous.” - -“I’m in no danger from either, about this time, Thropper. I haven’t a -cent to my name, and as I search the future I don’t see a prospect of -any except I give up the University.” - -“That needn’t worry you, Priddy!” - -I looked at my roommate in amazement. He was not smiling. In fact, he -was looking very seriously at me. - -“Not worry me?” I gasped. “That’s comforting, to be sure!” - -“What have you got to worry about?” he asked. - -“What--worry about?” I stammered, not falling in with his mood. - -“Yes. Tell me!” - -“In the first place,” I explained, “you know that I had but three -dollars--three--t-h-r-e-e, three, d-o-l-l-a-r-s, dollars; three -dollars--to begin my education with.” - -“Yes.” - -“I don’t think I told you that I shall never expect any help from the -outside; that if I stay here I shall have to rely entirely on what I -can earn with my own hands.” - -“I see.” - -“Well!” - -“Well?” - -“Well!” - -“Well?” - -“Isn’t it clear, Thropper?” - -“Isn’t what clear?” - -“The predicament I’m in.” - -“Predicament?” - -“Of course!” I retorted, impatiently. “What else is it for a fellow to -be stranded as I am? You surely wouldn’t call it a blessing, would you?” - -“I might!” - -“What!” - -Then Thropper, without another word, deliberately turned inside out -each pocket that he owned and deposited in my hands the following -items: A well-worn ink and pencil eraser, a fountain pen, a stub of -a Dixon’s indelible pencil, some blurred pencil notes, a half-dozen -toothpicks, a crumpled letter, a bunch of keys, a bachelor button, two -handkerchiefs, and fifteen cents in two nickels and five coppers. - -“There,” he sighed. “That’s all. There’s not a penny in my trunk. The -money represents my worldly fortunes--until I go out and earn more. I, -too, have to rely upon my own efforts. Shake, Priddy!” - -The big-hearted fellow reached for my empty hand and gave it a vigorous -shaking. - -“You’re not bad off!” he declared. “Let me tell you why. You see,” he -went on to explain, “after you’ve got in the swing of things here, -you become somewhat of a social or economic philosopher. You’re rich, -Priddy!” He smiled benevolently on me. - -“What do you mean?” I demanded. - -“You’re English, aren’t you?” - -“Of course.” - -“That accounts for it, probably.” - -“Accounts for what?” - -“Your high and exalted estimate put on money necessary to get you -through college. I understand that across the water it is only the -rich and the noble who are welcomed to the colleges; that the mass of -workers have come to respect education accordingly. At least, that -is the idea one gets through the books and magazine articles which -have to do with English college life. Whether it is true or not is -another matter. Anyway, Priddy, you’ve got to understand that things -are different in America. Our colleges are democratic and extremely -practical. Now take yourself, for instance; you have come out here -regarding it impossible for you to move hand or foot towards your -education without money in your pocket. Things are so arranged that -you don’t need to give yourself much trouble on that account. You say -you’ve got no money and that you ought to get away from here, on that -account. That’s the way thousands of plow boys and machine tenders -are arguing, only they say, ‘We haven’t any money; therefore we’ve no -chance to get to college.’” - -“I know that’s so,” I interrupted. - -“You see this arm,” and Thropper made a sledge-hammer of his right -arm, bringing his clenched fist down on his table. “That represents my -endowment of good health and strength. How much is that worth, in terms -of dollars earned in a year during spare time, Priddy?” - -“Why--I--” - -“Sixty-five dollars during school terms last year, outside of -vacations: sixty-five dollars earned at odd jobs during Saturdays and -odd hours,” he said. “All the spare cash I was called upon to spend. -Of course in the summer, by canvassing stereoscopic views, I cleared -sixty-seven more, above my expenses. That’s what the arm stands for. -Its strength is convertible into cash almost any day that I care to go -out and earn it--keeping on with my studies, too, of course.” - -“But I’m earning my board by waiting on table,” I urged; “that does not -touch my tuition and room rent, Thropper.” - -“Which amounts to about thirty dollars outside of board,” he laughed. -“You aren’t worth much if you can’t earn that in a year and keep on -with your studies, Priddy. I think you’re lucky, that’s what I think, -in earning your board so easily. That’s the big item!” - -“But what can I find to do? I can’t leave the campus. I have to be -around for the meal hours.” - -Thropper went over to his desk and secured a brown-backed account book, -and read off the following list: - -“Stacking books in the library, twelve cents an hour. Wheeling -Professor Dix’s invalid aunt in wheel chair, twelve cents an hour and -dinner. Scrubbing floors in University Hall, twelve cents an hour. -Weeding garden, cutting sugar-cane, thawing frozen gas pipes, grading -lawn, kneading bread, cleaning black-boards, ringing bell, watchman, -running washing-machines, errands, pruning trees, dusting Professor -Harvey’s insects; all twelve cents an hour, Priddy. The list of my -chores for last year. Possibilities for you, my boy!” - -“Oh, I see!” - -“Feel better, now?” - -I smiled and then said, feelingly, to my roommate: - -“Thropper, you’d be worth ten dollars an hour in a hospital bracing up -discouraged financiers; that you would!” - -“Oh, I don’t know,” he answered, pleased with what I said. “I’ve been -up against it myself, Priddy. I understand, that’s all.” - -“Have been up against it?” I gasped. “Thropper, I guess you should put -it in the present tense: _are_ up against it. Here is your fifteen -cents, your present fortune. What are you going to do about money?” - -“Oh, me?” He felt under his table and brought out to view a tin lunch -box made to resemble a bundle of school books. “I’ll have that filled -on Saturday morning at six o’clock, put on these--” he rumbled behind -his clothes-screen and threw a pair of dirty overalls on the floor and -a soft, black shirt--“and go to my regular Saturday job in the glass -factory. A dollar and fifty for the day; regular as the week comes -around. That’s the way I take care of myself, Priddy!” - -“But when I work for the University I don’t get cash, do I, Thropper?” - -“No,” he said, “it goes on your bill. But you won’t find it hard to get -along without money here,” he said, “there isn’t much that you can buy, -outside of clothes and a lecture in the village once in a while. You’ll -soon become accustomed to getting along without cash, all right.” - -When Saturday morning arrived, it was a distinct surprise to hear -Thropper moving in the room first, for he usually had droned while I -prepared for the day’s work. I opened my eyes. The alarm clock on the -table told me that it was half-past five. I watched my roommate as he -donned his working clothes and put on a slouch hat. - -“An Englishman would call you a ‘navvy,’” I smiled. - -“I should think an American would call me a tramp!” he replied. “But -you ought to see some of the Bulgarians I have to work with!” He spread -out his hands expressively to indicate that whatever the Bulgarians did -look like, he had not the rhetoric available at that moment with which -to describe them. - -There came a knock on the door and in response to Thropper’s cheery -“Come in!” there appeared another “tramp” with his lunch box; a tall, -high-cheek-boned Southerner, named Tripp, who drawled, - -“Best be gettin’ deown, Thropper!” - -So with a good-bye, Thropper left the room, turning to tell me that if -I found time, I might clean up the room--in his absence. - -“Be sure and shake the Turkish rugs,” he laughed, pointing to the -patches of well-worn carpet that were used for rugs. “When you shake -them you’ll find them very Turkish; they smoke!” - -By the time the early lunch for the workers had ended, there were -seven “tramps” who went to the glass factory with Thropper. Included -among them were two students, whom, judged by their excellent dress and -their social graces on the campus, I had thought were none other than -the sons of wealthy parents. - -When the Bible verses had been given at the tables and after the last -slice of fried potato had been scraped out of the dish, the students -hurried from the room and disposed themselves for work. - -As I left the dining-hall, I saw young women with duster caps on their -heads, leaning out of dormitory windows shaking rugs; others I found -hurrying down to other dormitories with bundles of laundry. When I -arrived in Pungo Hall, I was greeted with the thumping of brushes, the -clatter of furniture, and the shouts of the men as they called to one -another above the clouds of dust that were being hurled from the rooms -into the hallway. - -A knock came on my door as I started to sweep the room, and Jason, the -poet, poking his long neck around the corner of the door-post, asked in -the most concerned way imaginable, - -“Brother Priddy, is the kerosene can here?” - -“Why--no, I haven’t seen it. What do you do with kerosene? Don’t you -burn gas?” - -Jason blushed, and then replied, - -“Oh--we--er--use the kerosene for beds!” - -[Illustration: JASON, THE POET, LOOKED IN] - -“Beds?” - -“To subdue those fiery creatures who domicile in beds!” he affirmed. - -“Oh, bugs!” I blurted with such roughness that it must have made his -sensitive and poetic nerves clang. - -At eight o’clock a group of students, with clean collars and -well-pressed clothes, came down from the University building, each -carrying an ironing-board, to be sold in some nearby town. This -ironing-board was entirely unlike every other ironing-board invented -by man or woman. It was the product of the fertile and practical mind -of our mathematical professor; its chief virtues being, as described -in the prospectus, that “it stands up like a soldier, kneels down like -a camel, and folds up like a jack-knife!” With all its novelty, it was -extremely practical and, the agents reported, sold well. A large number -of useful citizens are out in the serviceable centres of life, who, if -they ever choose a coat of arms will have to adorn their shield with -an ironing-board--“rampant,” for to it they owe much of the financial -lubrication which smoothed their passage through the school. - -Hurrying after the same train were three young women, each armed with a -book, on their way to make fifty per cent from literary householders. -At different hours of the morning other students went to the village -where every sort of task from house-cleaning to raking up dead gardens -was undertaken. Evangelical University was at work. - -The head waiter, Brock, came into the room as I was cleaning it and -said: - -“Priddy, has any one been in after the tub?” - -“The tub?” - -“Yes, and the rubbing board!” - -“I didn’t know those things were here.” - -“Your roommate and I have a whole laundry set on shares. Look in my -room and you’ll see the irons; the flat-irons.” - -“No, the tub and the board are not here,” I reported, after a search. - -The tall German went into the hall, raised his voice in a great, -resounding shout: - -“The wash tub! Who has it?” - -A door at the end of the hallway opened and a voice replied: - -“Just rinsing out my shirt, Brock. Have it in a jiffy!” - -A few minutes later Brock called to me from his room. When I presented -myself before him, I discovered him with his sleeves rolled up, busily -engaged in pouring hot water from a kettle over some shirts and -handkerchiefs. - -“Any white things of yours, handkerchiefs or shirts, Priddy,” he -announced, “might just as well go in with mine.” - -So we shared the wash that morning. After they had been rinsed, I -carried them to the rear of the building and hung them on a double -wire line where the gas-laden air from the sheep pastures hummed -through them and the sun burned them dry in an hour. - -That same afternoon, after having expressed to Brock my desire for -extra work in the hours when I was not on duty in the dining-hall, I -found myself standing over an immense cauldron under which blazed a hot -camp-fire. In the cauldron were bushels of tomatoes and many pounds of -sugar. With a long ladle I stirred the concoction until nine o’clock -that night, save for the interruption of supper, and by that time I -had the satisfaction of seeing it turn from a vivid pink to a dark red -until it turned into a tarty, pasty preserve, not unlike strawberry -damson in appearance. That night there went on the University records, -against my name, “To seven hours’ labor, at 12 cents, .84.” I had paid -that much, that week, towards my tuition. - - - - -_Chapter VII. An Academic Ride in Five Carriages at Once. A Business -Appeal Mixed in with the Order of Creation. Is it Best for a Man to -Marry his First Love. A Sleuth-Dean. A Queen’s Birthday Supper with an -Athletic Conclusion. Jerry Birch Stands up for Albion. How we Tamed him_ - - -The terror that at first had been imposed upon me by the sense of -my own ignorance, a terror which had led me to think that at twenty -years of age no ambitious youth could at all fit into the educational -scheme, died down quite rapidly at Evangelical University. The -curriculum there was no arbitrary imposition, as it is so commonly in -the Four-Hundred-Dollar-a-Year University, into which a student must -fit himself willy-nilly, and to which he must either conform or not -approach. The Evangelical University curriculum was made to bend to the -needs of an illiterate man of forty and to the advanced demands of the -graduate who sought his doctorate in Philosophy. Its principle was that -of intellectual service to fit the needs of all who come whether poorly -fitted, old or poor. Estes, “Pa” Borden, myself and many others, who -certainly would not have had the chance for inspiration offered us in -hundreds of dignified schools, especially on such terms, were given our -lifetime’s chance in Evangelical University. - -But it must have looked chaotic, intellectually riotous, to a dignified -dean of a classic university, and, no doubt, he would have had much -in criticism of the university to offer, from his proper angle, after -looking on the manner in which the students mixed their courses. - -In my first term I spread myself through the common school, the -business, the college preparatory, the collegiate, and the theological -divisions of the University! It was akin to taking an academic ride -in five carriages at once! When the professor dismissed me from the -college class in logic I went immediately into the basement, where I -joined the grammar class, and from the grammar class I went to the -theological department and recited on Church History. From that class I -went into the scientific department and was heard in zoölogy, and from -zoölogy I found my way in the business department where I practised on -the typewriter. - -Though I came before this intellectual privilege with a hungry mind, -yet, threaded throughout it all were the complaints of the professors -in regard to the limitations under which they worked. The professor -of science constantly unfolded to us, who met him in zoölogy, a pet -dream of his which comprehended a future benefactor who should increase -the number of specimens in the museum. The English professor was -embarrassed frequently by the inadequacy of the library. In our Bible -classes, the President would take us into his confidence, the day after -a faculty meeting, and descant upon the hardship, the embarrassing, -financial hardship, of meeting the expenses of the school. There was -no lack of dignity to this proceeding, for each one of us felt under -obligations to the University, knowing well enough that whatever -financial sacrifices the faculty underwent, were sacrifices made in -order that we might receive an education. So the President was within -the bounds of propriety and discipline when he concluded his report -with his customary: “And so, young ladies and gentlemen, if you are -acquainted with any business men or wealthy person who might be made -generous by our worthy appeal, kindly hand me their names and addresses -after class. Mr. Stanton, you will please describe the order of -creation as given in the first book of Moses!” - -But it was not long before I had to realize that I had put myself under -an exacting discipline by coming to Evangelical University. We had a -dean who in effectiveness and as a sleuth would have been the dean of -deans had an international society of them existed. The presence of -young men and women on the campus rendered the Dean’s duties doubly -hard. The rules were rules of a Mede. His surveillance was that of a -man who felt an austere obligation to over a hundred anxious parents. -No one, except by special permission, could be out of his room after -half-past seven in the evening, save on society nights or on Sundays. -For the enforcement of this rule, the Dean depended upon the reports of -student monitors, but mainly upon his own vigilance. Every dormitory -was always in danger of a visit from the Dean, and as the students in -the dormitories were prevailingly men and women considerably beyond -their ’teens, there was no inconsiderable disobedience of this rule; it -made us feel too much like little children who are put to bed while -the daylight lingers on the earth. I soon had a taste of the common -experience. One evening three students met with Thropper and me to -indulge in a heated and loud discussion on the question: “That it is -best for a man to marry his first love!” We started it at half-past -six and once on the line of our pros and cons all sense of time and -existence went out of mind. We heard not the inrush of students as the -last bell rang, nor heeded the brooding silence that had come over -the campus. We lived only in our arguments on that “love” issue, and -Thropper was in the midst of a very final story of first love coming -out happily when tested by marriage, when three knocks were heard on -our wall, given by the student in the next room: That was the signal -that the Dean was stirring. Instantly the window was opened, our three -visitors leaped out, and a few seconds later, when the Dean knocked -on the door, Thropper met him innocently with the proposal, “Have a -chair, sir?” and the Dean, glancing about merely said, with a pleasant -smile, “I just thought I’d look in, that’s all.” When he left, we knew -that when he went to the rooms of our three friends, upstairs, he would -find them in their shirtsleeves poring over their books. I often saw -him in the twilight or under the glow of lighted windows, this Dean -performing his duty which, to a man of his fine, academic temper, must -have been so incompatible: a tall, ungeared, gaunt-faced, tight-lipped -man, stooped and stealthy, searching the campus with his glinting eyes, -squaring his jaws as he approached windows where law-breakers were -gathered, post-haste after delinquents! - -I chanced to be one among a half-dozen stout English hearts; at least -they were English hearts when somebody proposed that it might be a -patriotic act for us to celebrate, in a fitting, English manner, the -birthday of Queen Victoria. On account of the un-American aspect of the -proposed celebration it was deemed injudicious to ask the consent of -the Dean, for we felt sure he would prohibit it. We were determined, -however, to conduct a celebration that would be quiet, dignified, and -memorable, without having in it any semblance of disorder. We also -resolved to hold it on a Saturday evening, when the rules were not so -strictly upheld. To this end, then, we persuaded the master of the -dining-hall, who was also chef and baker, to fall into our scheme, -though he was a loyal American. We engaged him to fry the steaks, and -also gave him an English recipe for chipped potatoes. - -On the night of the celebration we met in a student’s room in the ell -of Pungo Hall, in the rear: a quiet, isolated room which also had the -double virtue of being a wash-room with a stove in it! Over this the -chef worked, quietly. We blanketed the windows so that no one could -peep on the scene. The table was spread and the seats occupied. Before -us, on a white platter and in white dishes, were the steaks and the -chips, surrounded by coffee, cake, and candy. After the meal, the -chairman proposed speeches which had for their theme the greatness, the -majesty, and the high repute of the “glorious Queen.” At the conclusion -of these speeches, we tried to sing a reminiscent snatch of “Rule -Britannia,” but had, finally, to compromise on “God Save the Queen.” -The college bell had struck eleven when one of the party proposed -that it might waken us up if we went out on the campus and exercised -ourselves by holding a jumping contest. On account of the lavishness of -the feast and the heartiness with which we had partaken, we were ready -to fall in with this proposal. - -In front of a little cottage in which a few students had double -rooms, we leaped and jumped very quietly for some minutes, speaking -in whispers, for it was nearly midnight, on the verge of the Sabbath. -But suddenly we were startled by a loud voice calling from one of the -windows, “I have your names!” The heartless monitor had spied on us. -We were undone. Heartlessly, guiltily, we went back to our rooms. The -damage had been done. We had been caught breaking the dread laws of the -University. Nothing could keep us from the wrath of the Dean. - -We indulged in our prayers and our Bible study and our church -attendance the following day with little enthusiasm, for when we -chanced to meet one another we asked the same question, over and over, -“What will he say?” For we had our heart in it. We were not flagrant -despisers of order. We cared for the respect of our Dean. - -On Monday morning we assembled in chapel for the usual morning service. -The Dean led the service. We were expecting that during the notices -he would say, reading from his book, “I wish to see Mr. Priddy and -Mr. this and Mr. that,” and so on through the list of Englishmen, -“at the conclusion of chapel.” But not so. In place of the customary -sermon of ten minutes, he delivered a very Patrick-Henryish philippic -against certain unnamed students who had so far forgotten themselves -as not only to be unpatriotic towards their adopted country, and had -not only demeaned themselves by an unlawful “_revelry_,” but had even -been indulging in sports at midnight, on the verge of the Sabbath, -and thereby rendered themselves unfit to give God the highest, most -efficient service on the holy day. The unexpectedness of it, the -fierceness of it, the lurid interpretations put on our innocent -feast, its coloring into a “night revel,” and the charge of impiety, -unnerved me. I sat riveted to my chair, in a cold sweat. I felt as -must a murderer in his sober moments when he realizes to the full the -enormity of his deed. The Dean concluded his philippic, during which he -had not mentioned a name, by this oracular notice: - -“I want each one of those revelers to meet me after chapel, in my -office.” - -All eyes were sympathetic towards the Englishmen as we gathered at -the Dean’s door. In his sanctuary he further explained to us the -extent of our crime, making it, to the mind of Jerry Birch, a stubby, -vigorous-minded Briton, treason. Jerry flared forth in an attempt -to prove to the Dean that he (the Dean) was an enemy to the Queen, -and that an appeal might properly be made to the British ambassador, -and--but here we cautioned Jerry to stop. We finally tamed him into -quietness, and the Dean dismissed us with the warning to show ourselves -peace-respecting Americans from then on. - - - - -_Chapter VIII. The Doctrinal Temper of the University and Thropper’s -Talk about it. Introduces the Select Board of the Pharisees. -Prayer-Meeting Monopoly Combated by Independents. Jason on my Track and -How it Came out_ - - -Evangelical University was founded by a minister of intense religious -convictions and its policy was directed by a Board composed of men -characterized by religious zeal. The University stood committed, also, -to the Christianization as well as to the education of its students. -In its advertisements, special emphasis was laid on “annual revivals,” -“personal, religious work of students,” and other evidences of a -flourishing religious atmosphere. - -Now in this, Evangelical University stood in line with hundreds of -efficient institutions, but it went a step farther, and not only -made its boast in regard to its Christian background, but it also -gained repute as the exponent of a particular, very sectarian, -very dogmatic, and intense doctrine; namely, that not until a -particular emotional experience had been secured was a Christian a -substantial and serviceable Christian. “The triple-birth doctrine,” -as Thropper christened it, “being natural birth, spiritual birth, and -extra-spiritual birth.” - -There were several students in the University who were there merely for -its intellectual privileges and who did not believe in this intense -doctrine of “the triple-birth.” - -Thropper said to me, one night, when we were discussing this matter: - -“Priddy, I’ll guarantee that out of all the students here, you will -not find more than five in all that do not profess to have a religious -experience. Now that ought to satisfy the University, but it won’t. -That isn’t enough. Until every one believes heart and soul in its -doctrine of the ‘triple-birth,’ and gets emotionalized, the whole -place will be turned upside down. Now I have always thought myself -a religious fellow. I belong to the church. I am trying to live a -Christian life. I have a Christian home in which I have always been -trained piously and well. But they have given me no rest since I came -here. They pray for me every year and struggle with me, and quibble -about me, all in order to get me to go through the ‘triple-birth,’ -which may be all right for them, but does not appeal to me. Yet, -because I don’t go over to their way of thinking, they can’t regard -me as a religious man. I’m not the only one, either. There are others -whom they bother in the same way. If we were out and out heathen, they -couldn’t be more alarmed over us. If we were unsocial atheists and -immoral beings, their enthusiasm and concern would be worth while, but -when some of us are to be preachers and respect everything that is true -and helpful and yet have to be prayed for in public and hounded from -pillar to post by them, why--” - -“Who do you mean by ‘they’ and ‘them,’ Thropper?” I asked. - -“Oh, certain of the students who are enthusiasts on the ‘triple-birth’ -doctrine,” he replied. “They mean well enough, and are good folks, but -I can’t agree with their peculiar doctrines and I tell them so, right -out.” - -“But a few students can’t carry off the whole situation, Thropper.” - -“Can’t, eh? Well, you see, as this is the particular doctrine for -which the University officially stands, the few aggressive students -who preach the idea are really in the majority. There’s a little set -of them, led by Jason, the Poet, who roam through the life of this -University like a little group of heretic hunters in some medieval -community, with all power and authority back of them.” He sighed, -deeply. “They make life miserable for many,” he said. - -I laughed at him. - -“Why, Thropper, don’t take it to heart so; just go along your own way, -tolerantly, knowing that if some of us can’t actually agree, we can -respect one another’s differences--if they’re not vicious.” - -He regarded me as if I had lost my wit. - -“That sounds nice, that does, Priddy, and it is good sense, too, -but it’s wasted here, old boy. You and I and some others may find -consolation in it, but Jason and his Board of Pharisees would have -their tongues cut out and their right hands severed before they -would rest easy with us differing from them, standing outside their -particular doctrines. You don’t know Jason. Besides, wait till you have -been here a year and then you will see so many things take place under -the direction of the University that it will be impossible for you not -to know that you are _persona grata_ here only when you swing over -to a full acceptance of the doctrine of the ‘triple-birth’: there’ll -be the annual revival when a whole, intense week will be devoted to -hardly anything else but a propaganda of that doctrine. There will -come the weekly prayer-meetings, the talks from visiting exponents of -the doctrine; oh, they won’t let you rest easy in your differences, -Priddy. Wait till Jason and his crowd get on your track!” - -“You talk as if they were going to be the worst sort of meddlers, -Thropper.” - -“Didn’t you hear me call them the Board of the Pharisees? Did you -think I didn’t mean that for a good description, Priddy? Well, what -were Pharisees always doing? Meddling. Telling the people to be holy -by washing the dinner plates thus and so; telling the people that God -was found by wearing this and that. Well, that’s what Jason and his -crowd are busy doing about here, through the year. The sight of a gold -ring on my finger fairly dilated the nostrils of one of them; he set -about praying for me and urging me day after day to stop wearing it -because it was the symbol of ‘carnal pride,’ and he quoted ever so much -Scripture, too.” - -After that I noted with especial interest the monopoly exercised by -Jason and a small number of the students--male and female--over the -multitude of religious meetings that embroidered the week of study. -The two noon prayer-meetings, the after-supper services, the Thursday -evening university service, the many missionary meetings, the Bible -study classes, the Sunday morning “search” services: in all these the -tone was given by the fervid and dogmatic Jason and his followers. -Wherever a religious interest of any sort chanced to be organized, -one was certain to find on its list of officers some representative of -Jason, the Poet. Thropper and I, and several others among the students, -formed “independent” circles for prayer and Bible study, where we -could, for once a week, at least, have our own, special beliefs prevail. - -One November morning, as I was leaving the dining-hall, Jason met me at -the door. - -“I should like to have a word with you, Brother Priddy,” he announced. - -“Certainly,” I replied. - -“I have been considerably burdened for you, lately, Brother Priddy.” - -“Eh?” - -“You have been the subject of my prayers.” - -“How is that?” - -“Because I think, though you may not realize it, that Satan is trying -to lead you astray,” he answered, solemnly. - -“That’s interesting, I’m sure.” - -“It’s terrible!” he half shuddered. - -“But--er--what especial act of mine, Jason, has brought out -this--er--burden for me?” - -“Carnal pride!” he exclaimed. - -“Pride?” I gasped. “I didn’t think I had anything or had done anything -to be proud over--that I know of.” - -“I thought you did not see it,” he announced; “that is the -deceitfulness of sin, it blinds us. That is why I came to you--to -warn, you understand.” - -“Then you will relieve the tension I am suffering from at this minute,” -I retorted, “by telling me just what it is to which I am blind, and -which is sinful. I am sure I stand ready to renounce anything that is -liable to stand between me and God, Jason.” - -His severe, but intensely spiritualized features relaxed at that -declaration. He nodded his head and rubbed his pale hands. - -“I am glad that you are open to the truth, Brother Priddy,” he crooned, -with satisfaction. “I have especial reference to that watch-chain of -yours and to that scarf-pin.” - -“What!” - -“That and that,” he reiterated, pointing first to my watch-chain and -then to my scarf-pin. - -“Nonsense,” I exclaimed. “What in the world are you making this bother -over?” - -“That watch-chain and the pin are ornaments and personal adornments, -not necessary to the person. They are expressions of pride which lies -in the heart to corrupt it. Therefore you will never find peace with -God until you have discarded them.” - -“Those things expressions of pride?” I gasped, “why, that chain is -gold-plated and didn’t cost more than a dollar and a half, and as for -the tie-pin!” I laughed. “Well, I paid ten cents for it, opals and all, -in a Five and Ten Cent Store, Jason. Not much to grow proud over.” - -“It is not the price, Brother Priddy, but the principle.” - -“But I swear to you, Jason, that I don’t give those things a thought.” - -“No, granting that they don’t hurt you,” went on Jason, persistently, -“they are liable to lead others into pride. It is the weak brother you -must think of.” - -“I don’t think there’s much danger of others finding much to emulate -in my jewelry or dress,” I answered. “I do recognize the force of what -you have to say about the weak brother, Jason, and if, for a minute, I -imagined I was doing anything or wearing anything that would hurt the -life of another in any appreciable degree, why I’d renounce it quickly -enough, you can wager!” - -“I never indulge in wagers,” protested the literalist, “it is ungodly. -I still persist in asking you to give up that jewelry on the ground -that in all things we should walk soberly, as the Bible enjoins.” - -“Well, I’ll think it over, Jason,” I said, walking hurriedly away. - -When Thropper returned from his trigonometry, I recounted my experience -with Jason. - -“Well, your days of quietness are gone now, Priddy,” he declared. -“You’ve got a Pharisee on your trail who will keep it until your days -are made miserable.” - -“But why doesn’t he cut off his beautiful curls and be consistent?” -I protested. “Why doesn’t he throw off that peculiar vest and that -military coat? He’d be consistent if he did! Talk about offending the -weak brother! If a dude wouldn’t be jealous of those finely cultivated -curls, I don’t know a dude. I’ll wager Jason is always looking in the -glass, at himself!” - -“Oh,” smiled my roommate, “you just tell him about his coat and his -curls and he’ll have his explanation ready. Those curls are sent by -the Lord. As for his coat and vest; they are simple, without the fancy -incidents common to our coats! Don’t try to beat him in a quibble, -Priddy. He’s got you before you start. Can you quote over half the -Bible word for word without once looking at it?” - -“No-o!” - -“Jason can! Are you able to read it in Hebrew and in Greek?” - -“No-o-o!” - -“Jason is! He’s got you when it comes to Biblical quotation and can fit -a passage even to so common an act as eating a dish of creamed toast!” - -“But I shan’t give in to him--that is, unless I really see the force of -his arguments, Thropper.” - -“Oh,” smiled Thropper, “he’ll give you forceful arguments enough, -that’s the hang of the fellow. He knows so much! I tell you, Priddy, -when you employ logic, biblical lore, and a fanatical sincerity in -trying to persuade an innocent little greenhorn like you--to give up a -watch-chain and a tie-pin, why, the greenhorn is bound to go under!” - -“We’ll see!” I declared, as the conclusion of the subject. - -The next day, Jason found me in a corner of the library busy with -my Latin. Without a word he edged over to me, pulled a little black -book from his pocket, opened it at a marked place, fixed it on the -chair handle before me, indicated the marked passage with one of his -long, white fingers and left me to myself. I put aside my Latin and -investigated. - -The book was the writing of John Wesley, and the place marked was a -passage in a sermon on “The Wearing of Ornaments” or some such theme. -In any case, that was the subject treated in the marked passage. It was -a reiteration of the arguments Jason had advanced, but coming from so -noted and often quoted an authority as the founder of the Methodists, -it considerably sobered my impressionable senses. I had no sooner -closed the book, than out of the unseen the Poet flitted to my side, -and with a whispered, “Forceful, isn’t it?” Jason took up the book and -returned to his study. - -A day or two later he brought into the dining-hall a little green bound -book, printed on cheap paper and entitled, “The Victory of Selina -Bostwick--Evangelist.” As he handed it to me, Jason said, - -“Sister Bostwick is well known to me. I have sung for her in tent -meetings, near Chicago. She is a saint of God. I want you to read the -place I have marked, if you cannot find time to go through the whole -book.” - -In the privacy of my room, when Thropper chanced not to be around--for -I did not want him to see me reading Jason’s book--I read the extract. -It recounted, in a very rambling manner, the “third-birth” of Miss -Bostwick--who, by the way, had been so inconsiderable a person as -a seamstress who exhorted in revival services. The tale went on to -show how, as a young girl, Selina had been especially addicted to -wearing gaudy jewelry: stone-tipped hat-pins, glass ornamented combs, -two rings, one with a cluster of imitation rubies, the other a plain -band, which had been her mother’s wedding-ring, and various brooches -and fancy studs. These, it seemed, had entirely prevented Selina from -entering into the deeper faith in God, and for proof argued that so -long as she fastened her heart on those trinkets she had never once -been able to preach or exhort in meeting or revival. Then the day -came when she plucked them from her and threw them in her trunk. From -that day on, she had gone into the world preaching and exhorting -successfully! - -When I returned the book to Jason, he entered into a long discussion -with me, and by the subconscious seriousness he had created in my -heart over the question of ornaments and the kingdom, and because I -was getting weary of the theme, and also because the tie-pin and the -watch-chain were becoming eyesores to me, I finally said, - -“Oh, I’ll stop wearing them, I guess!” - -Jason rubbed his white hands and patted me on the shoulders. - -“There is joy in heaven over one sinner that repenteth,” he quoted. - -“I’m not a sin--Oh, don’t let us get into any more arguments over the -matter,” I corrected, eager to be out of the reach of my persecutor. -“Here they are; both of them to be put in a drawer--or something.” - -I pulled out the tie-pin and unfastened the watch-chain. Then I was -perplexed. - -“But, Jason,” I remonstrated, “I have to carry this watch, you know. -The watch-chain was handy. It kept me from losing the watch. What am I -to do, if I don’t have this chain? It seems to me that I had best keep -wearing it. What do you do for your watch?” - -As he pulled out a gold Waltham I felt like asking him if it would not -be more consistent for him to wear a nickel-plated one, but remembering -Thropper’s comments, I expected Jason would argue that it was more -economical to buy a gold watch on account of its wearing qualities -and reliability, so I kept the protest to myself. Jason’s watch was -attached to a woven black chain, which, he said, he had made from a -long shoe-lace! - -“I’ll make one for you, too,” he added generously, “if you’ll get a -long lace.” - -The next day I gave him the lace, and after dinner, we sat in the -reception room, where in ten minutes, he wove for my watch a chain as -artistic as a shoe-string chain may be. After he had fastened it in my -button-hole and to my watch, he said: - -“Well, Brother Priddy, the weak brother will not have cause to stumble -now, will he?” - - - - -_Chapter IX. My Trip into the Magic World of the Past. How Appreciation -is sometimes Worth More than Money. Jason and his Coterie on Scent of -Terrible Heresies. How God Takes Care of His Orators. How a Big Soul -can go through Annoyances_ - - -The strangeness of my life had worn off by winter. I knew every man and -woman by name and character, and they knew me. The daily routine of -class work and waiting on table more and more took the novelty from my -existence. I was getting the maximum of inspiration from my studies. -Leaning back in my chair, under the hissing, flaring gas flame, with -drowsy Thropper opposite me in his sheepskin upholstered chair, I went -forth into the new worlds where Cæsar led his mailed Romans and his -following of slave kings, where the gaudy coronations and noisy wars of -ancient England were enacted; into the world whereon Christ scattered -the seed of faith out of which grew, stone by stone, dipped in martyrs’ -blood, the magnificent cathedral Universal Church. With the guidance -of the professors, I pierced into the living, animal world where tooth -and fang and claw were in contest and where the divine finger was busy -sorting moral law out of it. I was being daily disciplined in the use -of language and in the finer esthetic appreciations of it, under the -direction of the English teachers and the Oratorical Professor. - -There were many, who with me, went in confidence to our teachers and -gave them our thanks for their sacrificial services. Of all the service -that I have seen men and women render, that done by the faculty of -Evangelical University measured up to the finest. They were men and -women of liberal culture; trained, many of them, in our most prominent -institutions. Every day that they lingered at the University teaching -us was a sacrifice. They were sadly underpaid. There was no endowment -from which to guarantee them their salaries. Some of them worked with -us, out of sheer enthusiasm, claiming that their wages were the gold of -our thanks and outspoken appreciations. They were willing to economize -and live in poorly furnished homes, in order to awaken in those of -us who had had little opportunity, the first spark of intellectual -response. - -One of our teachers took me aside, in the privacy of his empty -classroom, for the purpose of assisting me with a back lesson. I had -occasion to remark, - -“Professor, you aren’t giving yourself a fair chance, here, are you? -Some of the students have been saying that you have had more than one -opportunity to better yourself.” - -The kindly eyes of the man glistened with tears, for he was very -readily responsive to his feelings, and he said, - -“Albert, I cannot better myself. There is no higher privilege in this -world than to invest what God has seen fit to give us in the way of -privilege or attainment in other lives that thirst for what we have! -There are men in colleges, whom I know, surrounded by their books -in pleasant college communities, fitted to a delightful social and -intellectual life, teaching in classrooms filled with students who do -not have to fight for a living as do the students here, yet they are -not happy men; not one-tenth so happy as I am teaching you boys and -girls! No, sir! All that those positions that have been offered me -could have done would have been to ease me from financial worries, and -relieve me from a few hours of instruction; but there is nothing in -this wide world, Albert, can equal the work I am privileged to do with -such as you, to inspire you for useful service. It is missionary work; -but missionary work pays the highest wages. I have the first chance at -men in the making!” - -It was not alone the poverty of the university equipment and the -inadequate compensation they received which intensified the nobleness -of our teachers’ characters, but also their endurance of some of the -petty, trivial annoyances they suffered from the dogmatic Jason and -his few followers. For even into the classrooms religious, doctrinal -quibbles were carried by those stern and unyielding students. The -little coterie went on strike in the English department when the -Professor refused to debar Shakespere and Burns from the reading -courses, in response to the charges drawn up and presented by Jason’s -clique that those writers had unreadable passages in their works. -Some one replied, that on this basis, Jason had better stop reading -the Bible for the same reasons. To this Jason replied that “The Bible -is the Bible, but Shakespere is only Shakespere!” But the more acute -issues between Jason and his followers and the curriculum were to be -found in the scientific and theological classrooms. Here the conflict -between “science and religion” as the Church History termed it, -became pointed, tragical. I can still see them, the two followers of -Jason, standing before the scientific professor after class had been -dismissed. They are on scent of a terrible heresy! Aggressively they -quiz the able exponent of science, as follows: - -“You said in this recitation, professor, that the world was created in -millions of years?” - -“I did!” - -“But the Bible says plainly, that God created it in six days and that -He rested from his labors on the seventh day!” - -“Oh, the Bible, in that part is not to be taken literally--it--” - -But he could get no further. Two shocked faces were before him, and one -of the students interjected, - -“Why, we have to believe the Bible!” - -“We shall stick to the Bible!” added the other in support. - -“But let me explain,” began the professor, patiently, “you see the -early Hebrews possessed no real science--” - -“But, professor,” interrupted one of the students, “God revealed it to -them and--” - -“We will not discuss the matter further at this time,” interrupted the -teacher. - -“But what shall we do when the examination comes around,” asked the -first speaker, “if you tell us to give the age of the earth, we shall -either have to say that it is millions of years old or that it was made -in six days?” - -“Of course,” added the second student, with finality, “we shall have to -stick to the Bible statement, even if you mark us down!” - -“Rest easy in your minds, young men,” retorted the severely tried -professor, “I don’t think I shall call on you to undergo such a -martyrdom!” - -Even the professor of elocution was not exempt from this little band -of literalists. Some of this band had so firm a confidence in God that -they “could leave with Him” what they were to speak, how they were -to speak it, and the sort of gestures that should accompany their -exhortations, for they were preparing themselves for the church. -“Pa” Borden was the leader in this sort of thought. He had done some -exhorting before becoming a member of the University, and he summed up -the case quite well when he said, in his heavy, sober way, - -“What right has any man, I don’t care who he is, to improve on what -God has done, I’d like to know? It will be given us in that day, says -the Bible, what we shall say and how we shall say it. What more do you -want?” - -So this little band of the sons of the prophets stood apart from the -kindly and helpful criticisms of the professor of elocution, and -continued their old practise of yanking their stiff arms, standing on -their awkward feet, speaking from tight throats, in stubborn loyalty to -their faith in God’s oratorical interest in them. - -The patience, the Christian patience, of the professors carried them -past such trivial, but real annoyances with the same nobleness with -which a true-compassed ship goes straight to its port despite the -little chips that tap against it. For every one of these quibblers over -doctrine, there were several appreciative, awakening minds, leaping at -the truth. The professors centered their real efforts on the majority -of those who could face the truth no matter in how startling a dress -it first presented itself. In such, these deep-hearted, sacrificing -teachers found their real reward: lasting gratitude. - - - - -_Chapter X. The Magnitude of a Postage Stamp. Showing how Desperate the -Thirst of Money made me. Brock’s Rosy Nose and its Possibilities as a -Fireplace. How Brock thought he was Fooling me and the Other Way About. -The Barrow that Became our Enemy and how Brock was Revenged on it_ - - -It was a morning in early December. An unsealed letter lay on my -table, a Christmas greeting to a mill friend. I had written it the -previous night. When the morning dawned, I realized that I had not -enough money with which to purchase a stamp for it. A feeling of utter -miserableness took hold of me. There I stood, working my way through -school successfully, from week to week without any difficulty, and yet -when it came to forwarding a message of greeting to the outside world -I was a pauper! That strong term mastered me. I knew that for the mere -asking Thropper had a stamp waiting for me, but I resented the thought -of charity, the humiliation of asking for the gift of a postage stamp. -After chapel I went into the President’s office and on being shown in, -made the following announcement. - -“Please, Doctor, I think I had better leave the University. It is no -use!” - -“What is the matter now, young man?” he enquired, gently. - -“I’ve got to earn some cash, sir. You know that I shall never have any -by working for the University; it all goes on my account. I need some -clothes, and just at present I need a stamp. I haven’t handled any -money since my three dollars was spent; it is almost three months since -then.” - -“But you don’t have to run away from your education, do you?” asked the -President, bending on me his searching eyes. “I thought you would stick -to it!” - -“But what can I do, sir?” I demanded, “I am busy waiting on the table, -and cannot leave the campus to earn money. I give all my spare time to -the University. If I could work a week or two at outside tasks I might -get some money on hand.” - -“There need be no trouble about that,” agreed the President. “Get some -one to take your place in the dining-hall on Saturdays, and I will see -if there are any jobs you can do.” - -The following morning, in chapel, the Dean read off my name as one of -the students that the President wished to see, in his office. - -“There is a load of bricks on a siding of the brick-mill--you know -where that is, of course,” he said. “Brock has taken the contract for -loading a car at something or other a thousand--which means about -twenty cents an hour, I believe. He is quite willing to take you with -him on Saturday, if you care for the work.” - -Inwardly I thought of my frail muscles hurling rows of brick through -the air on a winter’s day--and felt doubtful about the adventure, but -the President was waiting for his answer, so I said hastily, - -“Anything at all, sir, that will bring me in a real, substantial piece -of money. It will look big enough when I do see it, sir!” - -Thropper was eager to take a day off from the glass factory and so was -able to take my place at the tables. I had a conference with Brock, -relative to the proposed loading of the car of bricks. - -“Can you manage it?” he asked dubiously, scanning his eyes doubtfully -over my frail physique. - -I was in a desperate mood just then, and with an accent in my voice -that scorned even the suggestion of any mental, physical, or moral -incapacity, I declared, - -“Can I?” - -Then scanning Brock’s ungeared physique, I asked in turn, - -“How about yourself? Seems to me you are a near rival to a centre-pole -yourself, Brock!” - -He grinned, guiltily. - -“I used to exercise with dumb-bells--once upon a time. It is long -since. I am afraid that the daily exercise of pressing the button of -the call bell hasn’t done well by my muscles.” - -“I’ve watched the Portuguese load schooners with bricks many a time,” I -affirmed. - -“Your experience might help--some,” he declared, “the man who engaged -me told me how to place them in the car and all about the number of -rows and the count. I’ll be able to manage that part of it. I hope that -you and I, Priddy, will be able to succeed with the brick end of it.” - -“The way the brick loaders do,” I explained, “is to pass them from hand -to hand four or five bricks at a time--just like passing ball, you -know!” - -“Um, um!” nodded Brock. “But what about the sharp ends of the bricks? -They cut gashes in soft hands, of course.” - -“Oh, we’ll wear thick gloves,” I explained, “something to protect the -hands.” - -“We should have to wear gloves under any circumstances,” said Brock, -“the weather we’re getting is very far from a summer day!” - -“Oh, we’ll manage all right,” I affirmed, for the mere thought of a -possible dollar and a half in cash set my brain in a whirl of incaution -and illogical optimism. In that mood, if the President had offered me -his place for a week--for a cash wage--it is doubtful if I should have -refused him. - -By half-past seven the following Saturday morning, Brock and I, -bundled in the oldest garments we had been able to borrow or beg, with -quadruple thicknesses of old socks covering our hands, for mittens, -and with lunches put up in pasteboard boxes, left the village center, -walked down a frozen turnpike, until we came to the lonesome, neglected -brickyard with its Egyptian tombs of piled brick, yet unsold. A covered -freight car had been left on the rusty siding; the car stood off from -the nearest brick-pile separated by a gap of two yards. It was a dreary -and very cold prospect, for the north wind surged down over the frozen -pastures, and hummed and wailed through the black latticework of an -abandoned oil-well on the opposite side of the track. - -“Your face is blue to begin with,” mumbled my companion from behind the -folds of his cap. - -“And your nose would make an excellent danger signal on the rear -end of a train,” I retorted. “When my hands get cold, which they are -rapidly doing, I’ll warm them over your nose!” - -“Better get to work,” suggested Brock, “before we freeze to death in -this miserable place. Worth twenty cents an hour for this work, eh?” - -“Worth a dollar an hour, I think,” I replied. - -We fixed some stout planks into a run-way between the top of a -brick-pile and the freight car, after the door had been unbarred. We -found a shallow and creaky barrow under a shed. After helping me fill -it with the first load, Brock tried to wheel into the car what we had -put in. He gained the edge of the plank, and the ill-balanced load -dumped over on the ground. - -“We put in too many, to begin with,” suggested Brock. “Next time -we’ll reduce the load by half. I forgot they were so heavy. I was too -ambitious.” - -The next load went across the planks successfully, and after they had -been dumped on the floor of the car, Brock said, - -“I’ll pack these in the car the way the man told me, and then when the -load is properly started, we can take turns with the barrow.” - -At first it was exciting and warm work, but after the first warm -glow had died down in the blood, my body began to stiffen with the -exposure. Then my muscles, ill-treated by excessive and continuous -lifting of the loads, began to tighten and shoot with pain. But at -first, I did not care to let Brock know, Brock, who was snugly shielded -from the wind, with the easier and less straining task. But he must -have noticed me gasp in with a load for he suddenly leaped to his feet -and said, - -“Your turn here, now, Priddy. Give me the barrow!” - -I flung myself to the dusty floor of the car when he relieved me of the -barrow and never lifted a hand until I heard him coming with his first -load. Then I picked up a brick and fitted it in one of the rows, and -tried to say cheerfully, when he entered, - -“Is that placed right, Brock?” - -“All right, Priddy,” he replied, and then went out whistling with the -barrow. - -With the change in the task, I recuperated somewhat, and worked on with -the thought warming me, that every hour added twenty cents in cash to -my credit. When the first twenty cents had been earned, I took heart -and said to myself, - -“Well, I shall be able to buy that stamp for the letter!” - -Brock ceased whistling after his fourth load. I took a look at his -face. It was pale and strained. - -“Hadn’t you better take a breathing spell, Brock?” I suggested. “It -comes hard when one isn’t used to it. That barrow wheels hard, too. We -ought to have brought some wheel grease.” - -“I guess I will sit down a few seconds,” agreed Brock. “It’s quite a -lift--at first, but I think we’ll manage the job, don’t you?” - -“We’ll try!” I commented, grimly. - -So we passed the barrow from hand to hand, the loads growing smaller -and smaller as the noon hour approached, and the need of rest and -change becoming more and more imperative. When half-past eleven -arrived I proposed that we eat our lunches; not so much for the mere -satisfaction of hunger, but for the opportunity of absolute rest for -an hour. Brock assented to the proposition the instant it had left my -lips. In fact, he dropped his barrow in the middle of the plank; an act -on which I commented by that fragment of an old song: - - “For I’ve worked four hours this day, this day, - For I’ve worked four hours this day. - Keep your whiskers on, till the morning, John, - For I shan’t work another minute longer!” - -We closed the doors of the car, sat in a far corner and munched our -bread and cold meat as if it had been a luxury from a king’s banquet -table. Then after our meal, in spite of the chilliness of the car, we -stretched ourselves on our backs and gave our strained, worn muscles -the opportunity of relaxation. - -“How do you feel?” Brock demanded after an interminable silence. - -“Cold, tired, weary and sick!” I replied, throwing the mask off. “Let -us either wheel that old barrow again or go back to the University.” - -“Well,” muttered Brock, dispiritedly, “our backs can’t really get much -worse, Priddy. We might as well finish a day’s work. If we leave now -we’ll be unfit for work for another week anyway. We might as well get -all we can out of it while we are about it.” - -“Oh, that barrow! If it were a thing of flesh I’d stab it for my worst -enemy!” I cried. - -“We worked too steadily,” suggested Brock. “We were too ambitious. -We’ll loaf along this afternoon and take more frequent rests. You pack -the bricks for awhile. I’ll wheel!” - -“Lucky you proposed to wheel first,” I muttered, “for I’d have gone on -strike if I’d been the first.” - -Brock looked knowingly at me, showed me the blisters on his hands and -said, - -“I know just how you feel!” - -Numb, dispirited, weary and backsore, we worked until four o’clock in -the afternoon. At that time, Brock was just coming across the bridge -with a reduced load, staggering under it. I called out to him, - -“I’ll not handle another brick!” - -“Neither will I!” he replied, losing his grip and the handles of the -barrow so that it fell to the frozen ground with a resounding thud. -“I’m done!” - -When we reported at the office of the brickyard owner, and Brock had -given the computations of the work we had done, my heart throbbed -warmly for the first time since early morning when we were each handed -a dollar and ten cents in real cash! - -“This is the first money I have handled for three months!” I could not -help exclaiming in the office. - -“Do you mean it?” asked the contractor, interestedly. - -“I do, sir!” - -“Then any time between now and the end of the month that you want to -earn a dollar or two come to this office and I’ll have some more bricks -for you to load.” - -I looked with a smile towards Brock. Brock returned my gaze with a -hearty laugh. Then he said, holding out his swollen hands, for the man -to view, - -“No, thanks!” - -And I, I said, - -“Cash is good and I need it, but I think I’ll leave the handling of -bricks to the Portuguese.” - - - - -_Chapter XI. How I Competed with Patrick Henry and was made Aware of -an Uneconomical Waste of the Eighth Letter of the Alphabet. How I -Condensed all my Studies into an Oration. How the Populace Greeted my -Rehearsal. Striking the Top Pitch_ - - -By the middle of the year I had obtained such a grip on study that -I was bold enough to incorporate two extra subjects in the week’s -routine. Besides that, I conceived the idea of reading English history -outside of class and then securing permission to pass an examination -on it, a scheme in which the teacher acquiesced. I felt that I must -make up for lost time and hungrily, voraciously threw myself at the -privilege which fortune had brought me. I began to realize in my own -mind what men called “enthusiasm in his work.” Every day seemed to me -a momentous day of opportunity: a day in which I might atone for the -educational privilege I had missed up to my twentieth birthday. When I -saw Aborn, stately, gifted, and on his way towards his Master’s degree -at twenty, I was made to realize how long a road I had before me and -how energetic I should have to be in order to get anywhere in education -from my elementary and preparatory studies. So I put in my studies an -investment of interest and patient attention which I had put in no -other work that I had ever done. - -The most outstanding interest that I had was the class in oratory. -This class met on the top floor, under the rafters, in a room directly -off from the chapel. It resembled the studio of a poor artist with its -gray northern skylight and little windows high above the bare floor. -The class included young men and women. Nearly all were preparing -for religious work, as ministers, missionaries, and evangelists. -One student, a shock-haired young Westerner with “temperament” and -“personality,” who generally sat in the pose of an actor, was planning -for the career of a public reader. - -After the preliminary weeks of physical gymnastics and throat clearing, -and after we were able to say “Oh!” without making the flame of a -candle flicker, we began on the real excitement of speaking Orations; -I began with the traditional Patrick Henry, of course, and naturally, -after long and patient rehearsals in my room credited myself with the -fact that if the author of that thriller should chance to come into the -oratorical studio on the morning when I planned to recite it before my -professor, he would feel that his forceful utterance had passed into no -mean mouth! - -The morning on which I was scheduled to speak duly arrived and with -it an increase in my confidence that I should do well with it: the -confidence without which no orator yet--in school--ever did much. I -stood out before the class, struck my pose--left foot at an angle from -the right and slightly in front with the weight on the right foot to -maintain balance--and attempted to recreate the atmosphere, the thrill, -and the historic eloquence of the Virginia Convention where the oration -had had its birth, before the innumerable army of school lads had -passed it on from generation to generation. Applause greeted my effort -and I sat down in a flush of happiness. However, the professor, after -crediting me several points of excellence, brought up a criticism that -plunged me into a sweat of guilty self-consciousness. He said, - -“Mr. Priddy, why is it that you aspirate your words so? I know you were -born in England, but you have been in this country for some time now. -There were several places in the oration where you placed ‘h’s’ where -they should not have been placed, and where you left them off when they -should have been retained!” - -It was the first time in my whole life that anybody had called my -attention to that fault. I said, - -“Will you please give me samples, sir?” - -“Well,” replied the professor, consulting his tablet, “you said ‘w’ile’ -instead of ‘while,’ and ‘_H_i’ instead of the pronoun ‘I.’ And ‘w’at’ -instead of ‘what,’ and ‘Forbid it, _H_almighty God,’ and you declaimed -that passage, ‘Is life so dear or peace so sweet as to be purchased -at the price of chains and slavery?’ became ‘_H_is life so dear _h_or -peace so sweet _h_as to be bought _h_at the price of chains and -slavery?’” - -I felt angry at myself, chagrined. There trooped into my guilt-smitten -consciousness the innumerable times I must have put ‘h’s’ where they -had not belonged and left them off where they should have been retained. - -“Nobody ever told me--about it before, sir!” I exclaimed. - -“This is just the place to get rid of the habit,” replied the -professor. “I am here to help you. I think that when you get rid of -that habit you will make a fair showing in public speech. Now that you -are aware of it, you will be on your guard.” - -I made known my discovery at the waiter’s table at noon, and instantly -my friends poured out for my consideration a whole museum of sentences -I had originated in their hearing and over which they had secretly -smiled. It seems I had said, “’Ave you got your ’at, Brock?” and “Will -you ’ave another _H_egg, please?” and “Look _h_out for this ’ot water!” -When the waiters saw that I took the criticism in good part and was -eagerly anxious to rid my speech of that defect, they were instant and -sometimes severe in their criticisms; with the result that in a very -short while I gained the advantage over my “h’s” and somewhat tamed -them. - -With the mastery of my “h’s” and the daily discipline in the oratorical -class came an overmastering desire to make a public speech. I thought -that if I could accomplish that I should vindicate myself so far as I -had gone in my education. It should be the first milestone in my school -career. The opportunity was given in a proposed oratorical contest to -be held in the village church. I took Thropper into my confidence as -I prepared my original oration. Into this I tried to exemplify every -admirable rule of rhetoric and every stern rule of logic and every -manner of long, short, periodic, balanced, and climactic sentence I -was then learning in Rhetoric. I marshalled historical allusions, -read widely in the library hour after hour. Then, when I had put -myself through this profitable discipline and had typewritten my -manuscript--the final triumph of my educational career thus far--I was -ready for rehearsals. After I had practised alone and as the evening of -the contest drew near, I asked Thropper if each evening after supper -he would accompany me into the woods and listen while I delivered -my oration. He consented, cheerfully enough. That same evening he -accompanied me to the pastures in the rear of the University. I poised -myself seriously on a stump, while Thropper stood with his back to -the wind in a waiting attitude. I had not delivered more than two -paragraphs of my speech before there came a yell from behind me and a -half-dozen students ran shouting, applauding and screaming before me. -When the crowd of interrupters had exhausted their animal spirits, I -said to them, addressing them from the stump, - -“I’ve a good mind to invite you to stand out there near Thropper and -listen!” - -“Why not?” they demanded. - -“If you can’t address a bunch of farmers like these,” smiled Thropper, -“you won’t be able to stand up in church before three hundred people -and give it. Go ahead!” - -I did, and the result was that the students rallied about me at the -end, carried me on their shoulders, shouting, mockingly, - -“Hail to the new Webster!” and to show their approval of me, they -sat me astride a rail and would have given me a ride home on that -conveyance had not Thropper prevented it. - -The evening of the contest arrived and with it the seating of seasoned, -experienced, graceful, prize-winning orators, in comparison with whom -I knew I should not and could not under any stretch of the imagination -be placed. I wanted to give a speech in public, that was the height to -which my expectancy went, but, of course, I had to set before me the -prizes that were offered and be prepared for “accidents.” When my turn -came and I faced that illimitable sea of white faces, I felt my feet -slip from under me while I seemed to float above this conscious world. -Then I picked out an interested face in the far, far corner of the -church. At him I threw my strident voice, determined to make him hear -what I had to say. The result was, in Thropper’s words, “Priddy, it -seemed that you placed your pitch on top of the highest mountain in the -world, and after that it was a scream, that’s all, old fellow. That was -due to inexperience.” - -But this failure was atoned for when the judges especially commented -on the “careful thought,” “the good English,” and “the excellent form -of the written oration” and when they marked me in second place on the -literary side of the matter, I felt repaid with my first adventure into -public speech. I felt that I had vindicated the struggles I had set -before me, through the long years, to go through the school. - - - - -_Chapter XII. The Personnel of “The Clamorous Eight” and other Social -Matters. The “Blepoes” and the “Boulomaies” Invite me into Fellowship -with a Protest from Jason. Epics and Lyrics of Love. “Pa” Borden Speaks -for the Benedicts on a Momentous Matter. How the Magic Tree Lured Some -Unfaithful Ones from their Sworn Duty_ - - -The routine of that winter’s work was embroidered with many interesting -social experiences. For though many of the students were stern in -religious doctrine and practise, hearts were youthful and recreation -was sought. Thropper belonged to a “Bachelor’s Club,” a facetious -group of married and unmarried male students who met every now and -then for the avowed purpose of upholding the dignity of bachelordom! -Thropper also joined a “Moustache Club,” whose members met and -compared lip sprouts and looked forward to the day when they would be -sufficiently mature to be called “moustaches.” These two institutions -were more satirical than practical; outlets for the humor resident in -the students. But the “Clamorous Eight” was a real institution of the -noisiest, most untamed spirits of the school, seven of whom were young -men and the eighth member a young, gum-chewing, blondish, hobbledehoy -girl in the Business department. What we knew of the charter of the -“Clamorous Eight” was in their shoutings, their numerous practical -jokes, their songs, and their rebellions against the University rules. -If anything of an unlawful nature occurred, like the throwing of a -live rooster into the sleeping room of a sedate female monitor or the -placing near the chapel door of a stuffed dummy, suspicion of its own, -fluent accord fixed itself first of all on the “Clamorous Eight,” and -hung there with tenacity until every member had been through a “Faculty -sweat.” - -There were two rival literary societies in the University and the -students were supposed to be portioned out between them. The “Blepoes” -or “The Seers” and the “Boulomaies”--“The Willers” sent their agents -after me and made a bid for my membership. These were not secret -organizations, for such an institution was considered sinful by the -University authorities. Their gatherings were open to the public and -each student was supposed to attend the different meetings before -deciding which society he would join. Jason, who considered even these -literary meetings harmful to the morale of the students, on hearing -that I had been asked to join one of them, sought me out and for a long -mournful hour tried to make me promise to keep my name off their rolls, -“For,” he whined, “they are of the Devil, brother Priddy!” - -“What makes you think so?” I demanded. - -“They joke in their meetings and tell light things and for every idle -word God will hold us accountable!” - -“But jokes and light conversation have their places in life, haven’t -they?” I persisted. - -Jason looked at me with his round, poet’s eyes growing rounder in -wonderment. - -“Lincoln couldn’t have borne the weight of the Civil War if it had not -been for jokes and fun--at times,” I concluded. - -“But the Bible says that for every idle word we shall have to give a -full account,” said Jason. “Are not jokes idle words?” - -“They don’t--eh--” I stammered, limply. - -“The Bible is true, isn’t it?” went on the logician. - -I gave up in desperation. - -“Look here, Jason,” I cried, “you might get me to give up wearing a -watch-chain and a tie-pin, but you aren’t going to stop me from joining -one of these societies. I want social life and I’m going to have it, -jokes or no jokes. I’m not so good as you on logic or Bible, but you -aren’t going to stand between me and a few pleasures. Don’t some of -the faculty belong to the Blepoes and the Boulomaies? If they can join -without scruples--and they are Christian men and women--I can join. So -it’s no use arguing the matter with me, Jason. I think I’ll send in my -name to the Blepoes for the next meeting.” - -And I did join myself to the Blepoes and partook of their suppers, -their programs, and even went so far one night as to appear on the -platform myself, before a blackboard on which I drew sketches to -illustrate a temperance address, and at the conclusion of which I -recited with great fervor and many gestures, Kipling’s “Recessional.” - -That winter, too, though far outside of love, and even the thoughts -of love, in the seriousness of my tasks, I looked on little epics and -little lyrics of love between man and woman. Thropper himself had -Cupid’s dart in his heart and his rhapsodies concerning his “luck” and -his “happiness” and “her wonderful sweet spirit” were only a few of -many indications of the depth to which he had fallen in love. Those -of us who were not enamored of love had to be diplomatic in making -engagements to walk or exercise with the boys, for there were times -and seasons when Thropper and his fellow-lovers devoted themselves -exclusively to their fiancées. For instance, there was lecture night -in Pubbets Junction, six miles away, and on that evening, under -chaperonage, the couples would seat themselves in carriages and not be -back till midnight, returning to tell the bachelors and maidens the -next morning the expressive points of the lecture and any exciting -episodes of the trip, like the adventure of the wheels up to the -axles in mud and a plunging horse pulled out by a nearby farmer, the -adventure which befell Thropper and his love when they were on their -way to hear Sam Small lecture. Those among us, like myself, who were -not concerned with sentiment, held various speculative conferences, on -Sunday evenings, as to how this and that student would mate. We had -precedent to argue from, for we had seen Donald Bryce, a laughing-eyed -Evangelist-to-be, pick out Clara Trine, an athletic and extremely -conscientious Missionary-to-be. We had seen one of the “Clamorous -Eight,” a light-haired, flush-cheeked banker-to-be, sort out and become -deeply attached to the female member of the “Eight,” the blondish -hobbledehoy, whom we judged, like grocery store sages, would at least -fit herself to spend quickly enough what money he should chance to make -as a banker. - -These loving couples considerably colored our social life and often -made the University picnics problems. When the first touch of spring -pervaded the gassy atmosphere and, at least, suggested the scent of -coming flowers and grassy banks, notice was given out by Brock one -Saturday morning that the usual spring trip to the river would be -undertaken and that each one who went should go to the kitchen and -prepare a lunch from materials that would be furnished by the cooks. - -After the breakfast a meeting of the excursionists was held in the -reception room, presided over by Brock, who announced, - -“Now, friends, this year--mind you, this year, we are going to keep -together. In the past, on our excursions, there has been altogether too -much coupling up and going off alone. That has spoiled more than one -excursion and it is not the fair thing. Is it?” - -A chorus of “Noes” gave emphasis to his protest and appeal. - -“This time, though,” he went on to explain, “we are to keep together. -No matter if you are in love with the sweetest girl on earth and can’t -be alone much under the University rules, you are not to wander off -when we get out of bounds and not come around to the main party again -until lunch time and then go off and not return till it is time to come -home. What have you to say about it, Brother Borden?” - -“Pa” Borden, thus appealed to, raised his pompous head, cleared his -throat after the best mode of the orator, and said, - -“I’m married myself and maybe shouldn’t have much to say on the matter. -I agree with everything’s been said: agree with it hard!” and to give -oratorical force to his last word, he brought his plump fist down on -the centre table, thereby spilling half the water out of the glass -which held in it a sprig of geranium. - -A representative of the Benedicts having been heard, Thropper, as -representing the unmarried was asked for his opinion. He replied, - -“Of course we ought to keep together. I’m certain of it, Mr. Chairman. -That’s all I need to say!” - -At nine o’clock the excursionists started for the river forty-five -people strong. To prove the sincerity of the social aspect of the -excursion, Thropper and the other lovers separated themselves from -their beloveds and walked, sacrificially, either with other young -women or mingled freely with the male members of the party! Thus two -by two and three by three we walked down the rutted, soggy lane past -the root-fenced sheep pastures where the woolly young lambs squeaked -and bleated like crying children, down past the grove where the -wood-choppers were measuring cord wood; past dismal, wind-swept forests -of burnt stumps and rusty underbrush, over which desolation huge -vultures soared, and pivoted themselves in wait for prey; past clayey -roads over which mud boats were dragged by struggling horses and oxen, -past pig-pastures torn up by the sniffing snouts of the ruminants. Then -we entered a fresh, dampish wood-path which led us along the rocky bed -of a river over which a thin stream of water churned with great energy -as if to impress us with its importance. At last we entered a cleared -grass space over which the sun held itself and lighted gloriously the -deep pool of water the river had become. Here we deposited our lunch -boxes and began to arrange our games. So far the party had remained -one, much to the admiration of Brock. But now, after the lunch boxes -had been unloaded, a rearrangement of the party began to take place. -Thropper, who had been walking and talking with me, hurried over to the -side of his beloved, and said: - -“There’s a magic tree farther along the path, growing right through a -big boulder, about which there’s a legend of Indians. I’ll tell you -about it!” - -That was all. They two passed out of sight while the angry Brock gazed -speechlessly after them. That was the signal for other couples who -wanted to see the “magic tree,” and to such an extent did the defection -of the lovers take place, that before long only two couples remained -with the bachelors to share the games we tried to play. - -By the lunch hour, however, they came from their expeditions from this -side and that, unapologetic for leaving us, came to eat their lunches -and then go off again, paying no heed to Brock’s impassioned appeal to -their _esprit de corps_. When the hour for the return to the University -arrived, the couples returned and then either went ahead, arm in arm, -or loafed behind, immersed in their own thoughts; leaving us bachelors -to amuse ourselves by bantering flings at them, which, however, were no -more than peas aimed at the mailed shell of an armadillo. - -“It’ll be the same over again next time!” growled Brock. “These -lovers--oh!” - - - - -_Chapter XIII. How One Dollar and a Half Secured “The Devil in -Society.” The Medicine Chest which Became a Tract Depository under the -Teachings of a New Creed. How I Stuck to Orthodoxy_ - - -The spring was full upon us, with the return of the birds, the tang -of the new plowed soil in the sugar-field where the “University Mare” -tugged listlessly at the plow whose blade sliced through the clayey -earth leaving back of it shiny, damp slices on which the birds stood -and pecked up the exposed grubs and worms. The dynamite wagon with its -frail springs and its dangerous load jogged by along the turnpike on -its way to newly-bored oil-wells. Flocks of sheep with an accompanying -host of maximum-legged lamblets passed over the turnpike on their -way to the railroad-cars, to be followed by grunting packs of hogs -directed by sapling-armed drovers who in one minute of speech profaned -the whole English language. Chugging traction-engines, hauling plows -and harrows and on their way to hundred-acred wheat and corn fields, -passed in the night-time with their shrill whistle-screams for water -and their explosive puffing and puffing as if no breath in their steel -bodies could successfully spurt them through the soft mire. - -Thropper said to me, one afternoon, - -“Priddy, how would you like to sell books?” - -“Sell books, Thropper?” - -Thropper nodded. - -“What for?” I asked, interestedly. - -“For money, of course, Priddy! What do you think?” - -“It takes talk to sell books, Thropper!” - -“Then you ought to make a success at the business, Priddy!” - -“What’s the book?” - -“‘The Devil in Society, or High Life in Washington by an -Ex-Congressman,’” quoted Thropper. - -“Sensational, then?” - -“A moral book--with a lesson,” laughed Thropper, “pepper to make you -know that it stings, you see, Priddy. Fifty per cent on each one. Buy -them for seventy-five cents, sell for dollar and a half. Easy money, -everybody wants the book on sight. I’ll loan you three dollars for four -if you want. Sure to sell them!” - -“Anything to get some cash,” I cried. “Besides this would take me on -Saturday trips into the surrounding towns. That would be quite an -adventure after staying here throughout the winter. Will you show me -the book?” - -“‘Pa’ Borden will bring one around tonight. He’s the general agent,” -declared my roommate. - -In the evening, before the half-past seven bell had signalled silence -and study, “Pa” Borden had displayed the book to us. It was a lurid -green cloth-bound affair in which the glue showed in the web of the -cloth, printed with blotched, worn type on the cheapest of cheap paper -and interspersed with amateurish wood-cuts of which I recall a drunken -revel in a ball-room and some ballet-dancer-garbed women on a seashore -with wooden waves indicated by wavy lines. I was no connoisseur of -literature at the time and took as solemn truth “Pa” Borden’s words -that “anything that was of the Devil ought to be showed up, even if it -cost a dollar and a half!” I allowed Thropper to get me four of the -books and placed myself under his instructions for a week during which -time I learned how to point out the chief items of interest in the -illustrations when they were upside down, to give a kinetoscopic view -of the table of contents, and to end by flashing the record of previous -sales before the astonished housewife’s eyes before she could make up -her mind whether she wanted the book or not. - -The following week, then, after engaging a substitute waiter for the -day I accompanied Thropper to Pubbets Junction to place “The Devil in -Society.” The first door on which I knocked chanced to be that of a -Christian Science Reader, a very highly cultivated and sweet-spirited -woman who, the minute I announced that I was agent for a book entitled -“The Devil in Society” immediately knocked my “patter” _hors de -combat_ by announcing, firmly, that there was no such thing as a Devil -and that it was all a delusion of mortal mind, adding various other -remonstrances of a philosophical, semi-philosophical, and dogmatic -nature which I was in no mood or mind to combat. Besides bewildering me -in the intellectual meshes of that new doctrine, the woman made me sit -in her office and listen to a fascinating recital of her household’s -progress from a drug-store of drugs to an empty medicine chest: to a -radical change in the family temper from semi-pessimism into a real -sunburst of glorious, mellowing optimism: to an intricate and involved -interpretation of the Old Testament and then in a very cloudy but, to -me, excitingly suggestive denial of all facts that men and books had -told me were positive and real. All this, of course, was the precursor -to an attempt to proselyte me to the faith of Christian Science. After -she had shown me the empty medicine chest, which she was then using as -a store-house for all sorts of Christian Science literature, I told -her that I had learned a great deal that was both new and novel, that -I would think it over seriously, but that I should never believe in -anything but orthodoxy. Then I called at the next house and many other -houses, so that by noon, when I met Thropper at a candy store, where -we lunched on a glass of milk and some Washington pie, I had sold two -books and earned one dollar and a half. In the flush of that success, I -returned to the University, ready to repeat the excursion the following -and several other Saturday mornings. According to Thropper’s epigram, -“The Devil in Society” meant dollars in our pockets! - - - - -_Chapter XIV. A Chapter Depicting how Strife Existed Between the -Pro-Gymnasiums and the Anti-Gymnasiums and Showing how Baseball, -Debates and an Epidemic Determined Matters This Way and That_ - - -Next to its faith in religion an extreme abhorrence of matched athletic -games pervaded the ruling spirits of the University and found its -sanction in the charter of the institution. In the Bleponian and -Boulomanian literary societies the characteristic discussion for -heated and vigorous debate, next to the eternal question: Does Love or -Money Rule the World? was: Are Athletic Contests Moral? The charter -and advertisements of the University said very emphatically that they -were not and should not be tolerated by Christian people. Jason and -his Board of Pharisees agreed with the University. On the other hand, -there were many young men and women who had an opposite mind and took -issue on every occasion with Jason and the authorities. Thus one could -find them on every occasion in the springtime when the fields and the -paved paths lured forth whatever sporting proclivities nature had -deposited in the blood, Jason and his followers firmly insisting that -under no consideration should a contest of any sort--even a game of -checkers or “Pit” be countenanced, as it led to gambling, and, if not -to gambling, then to unchristian feeling. This feeling became acute -when the students began to discuss the necessity for an athletic field -and a gymnasium: a very hypothetical discussion remote and probably -ever to remain remote, for the University had need of money for more -impending goods than gymnasiums. But Jason’s party argued as if the -gymnasium were about to be built, and said that it would only lead -young men into racing for prizes!--and competing for wagers! The party -was called the Anti-Gymnasiums. - -Thropper and I aligned ourselves to the Pro-Gymnasiums, for, as -Thropper said to me: - -“My kneecaps fairly creak for need of stretching. As for my arm joints -and muscles, they pain me on the least provocation. I need proper, -systematic exercise.” - -The Pro-Gymnasiums were thoroughly represented by “The Clamorous -Eight,” whose faces and veins throbbed with healthy, well-exercised -blood; in fact, they were eight who cared for little else beyond -exercise of muscles. - -The program of the Blepoes one Friday evening was devoted to the -debate of the question: “Resolved: That the Bible Prohibits Athletic -Contests.” Larry Thomas, who debated for the Pro’s and who was almost -as well versed in biblical lore as was Jason, argued well, basing his -strongest rhetoric on Paul’s words: “I so run that I may receive a -prize,” and “I box, not as beating the air,” but, as Larry paraphrased -it, freely, “to give a knock-out, pure and simple, a plain indication -that Paul believed in the prize-ring and the running-track!” The -Anti’s, realizing the force of these quotations, attempted to minimize -their power by arguing, “Oh, Paul was only using the common terms of -his day; the ordinary experiences of unchristian men, to represent to -them the Christian life. That was all. He was not giving sanction to -sports.” This explanation, the judges informed us, considerably helped -the Anti’s, but the debate was declared a draw. - -[Illustration: EVANGELICAL UNIVERSITY WAS TREATED TO ITS FIRST MATCH -GAME] - -One Saturday morning when the air was crammed with the warmth and -lassitude of early summer, and a considerable number of Pro-Gymnasiums -were playing scrub baseball, one of the “Clamorous Eight,” in a fit of -healthy rebellion against the University, proposed: - -“Say, fellows, this knocking out a ball is too tame. Let’s choose up -sides. There’s no harm in it!” - -Thropper, who was not working that day, and myself, were among those -enjoying the sport, and in the excitement and thoughtlessness of the -minute we consented. I was placed in the field, Thropper went in the -catcher’s box. We even engaged the services of an umpire, though few -were found from whom we could select a capable official. Many of the -Pro’s dared not come into the game, but stood off ready to look on an -incident that should become historic, like a Civil War or a French -Revolution: the first matched game ever played on the University -grounds! - -Jason looked on the opening of the game with horror. To him it seemed -that the Evil One had just made his bold appearance in the morale of -the institution. When he heard the umpire’s decisions and saw the sides -changing positions, and realized at last that the whole event had -actually developed into a matched game, he hurried to the home of the -Dean and gave notice of the rebellion that he had scented. Instantly -the authorities came, ordered the game disbanded, took our names for -Faculty discipline, and we left the field to the Anti’s, who sincerely -believed that Satan himself had been flouted. - -But even the anti-match spirit of Jason and his band could not -eliminate from their joints and muscles the need of exercise, and -while they argued against the advent of contested sports, they could -be found on the cinder walk after supper, previous to the evening -prayer-service, leaping, bounding, twisting, and jumping, Jason in -competition manifesting the grace of a rheumatic frog. - -Shortly after this an epidemic of disease broke out in the village. -The University was quarantined--even from attendance at the village -church services. The momentousness of this is plainly evident when -it is remembered that it was these church services which gave to the -University lovers their chance to walk together, sit together, sing and -pray and talk together; consequently the quarantine imposed a severe -restriction upon the poor unfortunates. - -When Sunday dawned, glorious with the summer sun, some of the members -of Jason’s clique together with their young ladies took their -black-bound Bibles and sat under the campus saplings for Bible study: -two in a class and every sapling shade occupied. - -But the Dean, who hated sham of every sort, interrupted these classes -and the next morning in chapel he had some very emphatic and pointed -remarks to make on the subject: “The Sacrilege of Pretending to Study -the Bible when You are Doing Nothing but Make Love!” - -It was the Pro-gymnasiums’ turn to laugh then. - - - - -_Chapter XV. A Ph.D. in a Clay Ditch and the Futility of it. A Can of -Beans at the Conclusion of a Morbid Meditation. How Thropper and I -Played David and Jonathan_ - - -The first summer vacation brought joy to a majority of the students, -but to me it merely meant a lonely isolation for three months on -the campus where I was accustomed to watch my friends move back and -forth hour after hour through the day. They went out with tents: the -Evangelists. They went out with books: the canvassers. They went out -with brawn and health: the miners and farmers. They left me alone to -share the solitude of the campus with the few professors who were not -going to conferences, and with the superintendent of grounds, whose -assistant I was to be. - -The winter’s struggle, though pleasant, had left me tired and -listless. I needed a rest, but saw no possibility of any. I had few -good clothes and no money. Any adventure into the world would have been -utter folly. So I began to scrub floors in the University building, to -mow the grass, and trim the flowers. I painted and scraped and hung -wall paper, all in the silences of the dormitories once full of merry -sounds, the recollections of which doubled the loneliness I suffered -from. - -Meanwhile I made my home in the little room where we had held our feast -in honor of Queen Victoria’s birthday. In it stood the stove on which -I cooked my own meals: canned goods, tea, and sundry fries of bacon, -eggs, ham, and potatoes. Here, too, I washed my clothes. - -During a lull in the work, one of the married students, who had -been given his Ph.B. at commencement asked me to go with him to the -outskirts of the village where some eight-inch gas pipes were to be -laid. He wanted me to join him at the shovel! At the time I weighed but -one hundred and twenty pounds. The foreman put us in a clay ditch under -a scalding July sun with a gang of knotted-muscled, tanned Irishmen to -whom the picking of dried lumps of clay and the shovelling of heaps of -it were mere items of a day’s work to be done mechanically, but for -my friend and myself tasks for Titans. The Irishmen at my heels kept -passing me, doubling on me, until, after a two days’ attempt, with the -lure of twenty-five cents an hour for the prize, my friend with his -Ph.B. and I with my ambitions fell out of the race and rode wearily -back to the village and to the University, where for days neither of -us was fit for even so simple a task as lifting a pound weight; the -excessive strain had undermined our strength. - -While recuperating, I was given food by the superintendent and spent -most of my time wandering into the woods or through the sheep pastures -where my uppermost thought was: “What is the use of all this? It is -weariness and a vanity of the flesh. Give up your education! You must -have money and strength, money and strength, money and strength!” -And then the thought of my classmates would obtrude itself and I saw -them in visions at their tasks, at their homes, in the full enjoyment -of work, companionship, and wages. I seemed to hear, borne on the -summer wind, above the bleating of the sheep, the exhortations of the -evangelists in their tents which were crowded with farmers, paying -heed to the gospel, and I was envious of them. I thought of the miners -deep under the earth, black with their toil but happy in earning a -substantial wage; strong, oh, so strong! My fight for an education, -when contrasted with their natural endowments of strength and -friendships, seemed puny, futile. In such a way did the black demon -Despair lay its sharp claws on my spirit and make it bleed. I would -start back across the field, not heeding the innocent, questioning gaze -of the sheep as they packed off and watched me go, not watching the -swift circlings of the sombre vultures high above my head, but going -back to my lonely room feeling that I should never have another flash -of happiness flood my life again. Then I would get out the can-opener, -uncover a can of beans, and warm them on the stove for supper. - -But everything has its end, even as my homesickness and discouragement -had their ending when the students came back once more, bringing -others with them. They came back flushed with eagerness for another -year’s work; eager once more to invest themselves in sacred ties of -friendship. Thropper came back with a hundred dollars: his summer’s -earnings. I reported that I had just managed to pay my last year’s -tuition and my summer’s board: I could enter upon my second year of -education with a clean slate. - -Once more the round of studies, prayer-meetings, and chores commenced: -this time with less of novelty. The approach to winter brought with it -the same questions of how to earn cash. To this end I went into the -woods for a day and tried to chop down trees, but my arms were not -attuned to axe swinging; after my first cord had been cut I had to -abandon the quest for dollars in that healthful but too vigorous work. -I returned to the University and assisted the baker with bread and pies -and the janitor with the university floors; the money to be credited -against my account on the books. - -But I realized at last that I was in the midst of inestimable -privileges. The studies awakened me to the possibilities of culture and -mental fitness. Some of my last year’s friends had entered upon the -pleasant vocations of teaching and business for which they received -a moderate, but, as it appeared to me, a flattering compensation. -Thropper--ever on the alert with inspiration--comforted me one night -when my empty pockets had induced a pessimistic frame of mind, by -saying: - -“Now look here, Priddy. Suppose you don’t have any money and have to -scrimp on things. Here you are privileged to take extra studies every -day; a millionaire’s son couldn’t do more. You don’t have to lose a -term of study, either. You are going along through the schedule about -as comfortably as any one. That’s worth a good deal. There’s Harry -Lane--got plenty of money, but you know he was compelled to drop out -for a term on account of bad eyes. You’re lucky, old fellow!” and the -good-natured fellow gave me a staggering, but well-meant, clap on the -shoulder that knocked every ounce of pessimism out of my system. - -“I am in luck, Thropper. I know it!” I declared, and then went to my -study with new courage. “The only trouble about the whole matter, -Thropper,” I declared, after some moments of quietness, “is that I am -making the fight alone--no one to rely on if I get stuck, you know. The -other fellows can depend upon more or less from friends--I can’t; all -those bridges are cut behind me!” - -Thropper closed his book with an energetic snap. - -“You Chump!” he exclaimed, with a melting light in his clear eyes, -“what do you think? That you haven’t won any friends since coming to -the University? That’s where you’re wrong: sadly out of tune! All you -have to do, any day, is to say the word and you can get any amount I -have on hand!” - -I jumped to my feet and said, very gently, “Thropper, you’re all right!” - -Then, without another word, for the situation was getting close to the -edge of tears, Thropper threw himself in his stuffed chair and I sat on -the edge of the bed, under the hissing flare of the gas, both of us as -busy as could be with the next day’s lessons. - - - - -_Chapter XVI. Visions, Hysteria, Dogma, and Poor Lessons to the Front -when the Revivalists Arrived. How Natural it Sounded when “Bird” -Thurlow Asked a Flippant Question_ - - -Then the annual winter revival was announced. Upon this event the -University centered all its prayers, its hopes, its attention, as the -banner event of the year. In the church papers where the advertisement -of the University appeared, the annual revival was featured. Several -of the students had been sent to the institution by their parents -principally for the spiritual benefits that might come to them in the -atmosphere of the revival. - -The whole air began to stir with the throb of revival preparation. A -spiritual census of the students was taken, not officially or in any -stereotyped way, and all the energy of Christian effort was brought -to bear on creating the right, psychological mood for the time the -evangelists should arrive. The prayer bands wove in extra meetings and -increased their unction. Neglected, after-supper prayer-services were -suddenly filled. Bands of earnest, zealous men and women roamed from -room to room holding spiritual inquisitions over “The Clamorous Eight” -and any others who were thought to need special portions of grace. - -“I’m heartily in favor of Christian effort,” I said to Jason, one day, -when we were talking over the coming revival, “but take last year and -think how many hours were lost to study and given to the meetings! -I should think that those things might be left to camp-meetings -and churches--there were three long revivals in the village last -winter--and we ought to center our precious time on study!” - -Jason declared, emphatically and finally, “Brother Priddy, what are -_heads_ compared to _souls_?” - -“Oh, I don’t object to any sort of efforts being indulged if people -are to be made Christian, Jason, but according to what you said in the -prayer-meeting last night, there are only three in the whole University -who do not make any profession of religious faith: just three, and yet -two whole weeks are to be set apart to the Evangelists who will come -and preach the ‘third-birth doctrine’ and other dogmatic matters. That -is what I protest against.” - -Again Jason answered with his inclusive, “Brother Priddy, what are -_heads_ compared to _souls_?” - -By the time the revivalists appeared it had been announced in the -prayer-service that not one of the students stood “outside the -Christian fold.” The revivalists had a clear chance, then, to preach -the special doctrine of “the third-birth,” without any further parley. - -The revivalists were a man and his wife, both of them uneducated, -whose chief claim to merit in their field lay in the fact that -they were said to be “filled with the Spirit.” In spite of the bad -grammar, the mixed figures of rhetoric, traces of demagogism, and an -excessive _ex cathedra_ tone, the revivalists were given full power in -the meetings. All interests in pure scholarship were crowded aside. -The valedictorian, the temperance orator who had won the interstate -oratorical prize, the professors, and the humble seeker after knowledge -were subordinated to the zealot, the exhorter, the unctuous pleader. - -In morning chapel the time was generously lengthened to accommodate -the doctrinal exhortations of the revivalist and his wife, who spake -not so much of practical concerns, but entered into a bewildering maze -of Scripture quibblings, text jugglings, super-rational conclusions, -and a daze of fantastic analogies. When the closing bell sounded, -the speaker would turn to the President and say, familiarly--even -commandingly, “Well, brother, studies can wait on the Lord, can’t -they?” and the President had nothing to say but, “Yes.” The morning -exhortations infringed on our nine o’clock classes so that often they -had to be discontinued; much to the reluctance of the professors who -had to bear the brunt of the intellectual disqualifications of students -at graduation time. - -As the meetings continued, in the evenings, the enthusiasm increased. -When emotions were running at flood the meetings were carried well into -the night and Thropper and I often did not reach our room until eleven -o’clock--with all opportunity for study taken away. But again the -professors had to lose, for if any of us were backward with lessons the -next morning, by saying, “Professor, I was at the meeting last night. I -did not have any opportunity to study,” a proper adjustment was made in -our favor. For, as Jason had said, the theory at that time was, “What -are heads compared to souls?” - -At the conclusion of the first Thursday evening’s meeting, the -revivalist and his wife let it be known that “At last God is blessing -us!” High tide had been reached. That meeting had been given into the -hands of the students after the leader had preached for an hour on a -doctrinal theme. A hymn was started by a young woman. She stood while -she led the singing and at the conclusion she still stood erect, with -her eyes fixed on the ceiling. She had thrown herself into a trance -and spoke in a jumble some words nobody could decipher but which -were understood to be a “revelation.” That was the signal for a wild -demonstration. Jason leaped to his feet and after shouting, “God is -with us! Emmanuel!” he sat shivering in his seat as if his body were -in the grasp of angry spirits. A group of young women paraded down the -aisles and before the pulpit waving their handkerchiefs and shouting -in shrill ecstasy. Suddenly one of the young men near me burst into -lamentations and tears, moaning as if his heart would break. Meanwhile -the evangelists knelt at the front of the platform in prayer; praying -for people by name. Then the young man who had been crying suddenly -darted to his feet and broke into a torrent of wild, hysterical -laughter and ran to the upper end of the room clapping his hands. Hymns -of different sorts and tunes had broken out in different parts of the -room, making a musical Babel. The young woman who had had the trance -came into consciousness again, and, on the urgence of the revivalists, -ascended the platform from whence she described a vision fit to be -framed in Miltonic verse. At eleven o’clock hands were joined, a hymn -was sung, and after a benediction from “Pa” Borden, we went back to our -rooms. - -Then the revivalists with their honors full on them departed, and -the emotional tension left us. It was a distinct relief, like a bit -of bird’s chatter after the epic storm, to hear “Bird” Thurlow shout -across the walk, one morning, “Hey, Paddy, going to take Miss Adee to -the lecture next Wednesday?” - - - - -_Chapter XVII. My Presidential Pose and its Central Place in “The -Record.” A Wistful Glance and Some Practical Plans towards Eastern -Education. How the Little Sparrow Brought my Class Colors to me as I -Gave the Class “Oration.” Ends in a Fight_ - - -In the spring, when announcements of Commencement and Graduation were -in the air, a gathering of four members of the collegiate department, -as many members of the preparatory division, two business students, and -five who could not be classified by reason of their slowness to master -their studies, met in response to a call, sent out by the Seniors, for -the members of the Freshmen Class to elect officers, and after due -deliberation made me their president. - -With this honor thrust on me, I was immediately in a dilemma, for -the main purpose of the class organization was to have each member’s -photograph in the Senior’s “Record,” a souvenir book of the University -life. Had I been other than the president, I should not have fretted -about my inability to afford a visit to the picture gallery, but there -I was: due to have my picture in the middle of the group. I was in -despair until finally I thought of little Jack Borden, who owned a -three-dollar camera. I told him my predicament and he consented to make -a snap-shot of me for ten cents that should be fit to be in the center -of a group of “gallery ones” as he termed those that the official -photographer would take. - -As Jack had no photographer’s background, he snapped me with my back to -the flowered wall paper, and when the finished picture was handed me, -there I sat, outlined against a mass of conventional crocus leaves and -a picture of “Pa” Borden hung on the wall above my head! I was told by -one of “The Record” Committee that the picture would never be fit to -reproduce with such a background: that it should be in relief against -a plain one. I returned to my room in despair, but finally resolved -to cut my picture out from the wall paper and paste it on a piece of -plain, black pasteboard. After going over the outline with the scissors -I finally succeeded in accomplishing the feat and the picture went in -the middle of the group, an undignified, flat, ill-posed, and somewhat -jagged outline of myself, most conspicuous as “the president.” - -As the year drew to an end, and the students began to talk so -emotionally of home and friends, I began to feel that I had been long -enough in exile from my eastern home and friendships. I also began -to wonder if now that I had learned the art of working a way through -school I should not be more comfortable in Massachusetts. I had heard -the graduating students talk of “Dartmouth” and “Boston University” -and “Yale” and “Harvard,” with a sort of worshipful accent, not far -short of reverence. One or two graduates in the past, so the local -legend ran, had even attained to post-graduate work in Yale and -Harvard! Therefore, as I heard this talk, listened to this semi-worship -of New England education, and realized that it was my home, my own -environment, I also asked myself the question: “Why not go and complete -your education in that atmosphere?” - -I mentioned this fact to Thropper. He said to me: - -“I have often wondered, Priddy, why you came away out here for your -education when you have such good schools in New England. I should -think you’d be able to work your way along out there and get some -mighty fine chances. I just wish I had been an Easterner!” - -“I’ve a good mind to go East when school closes, Thropper, and try. I -must confess I feel lonesome, homesick out here. I miss the ocean and -the hills. I can’t help it. I suppose I run the risk of not getting to -school next year, though, if I break off now!” - -“Not if you’re willing to work as you have,” said Thropper. “Though I’d -hate to have you go. I thought you might be my right hand man when I -marry, next fall!” - -“Marry?” - -“Yes, in September. Oh, you’ll get an invitation even if you won’t be -able to attend, Priddy,” he added, solemnly, “I wouldn’t try to keep -you from going East even with my wedding. Try it, old fellow. You owe -it to yourself, now that you’ve got such a good start here. This place -doesn’t pretend to be in competition with the big Eastern institutions. -Evangelical University is concerned mostly with giving a fellow a start -towards them. The faculty would be only too glad to have you leave -here, if they knew you were going to stick to your education in the -East.” - -“I’ll do it, Thropper!” I replied. - -The busy season of Commencement was ushered in: a busy time even for -those of us who were far, very far from graduation. My “class” voted -that I represent them with an oration on “Class Day.” No classic, -intellectual, or sentimental event was Class Day at Evangelical -University, but, rather, a Western outflow of burlesque and banter. -Every day for a week I practised my “oration” in the attic of the -University building. In this speech I had put, as all previous Class -Day orators had made a practise of putting, puns, alliterations, -pompous passages, personalities, and much bathos. I tried to perfect -myself in its delivery, not knowing just what experiences I should -encounter on the day I should speak it. - -A wild, untamed, yelling, crowding procession filled the chapel hall, -each class in a section by itself and the “orators” seated on the -platform. - -It came my turn. I stepped to the front and raised my hand for the -first word when suddenly the class next above mine yelled, poked up -slang signs, and then from the square ventilator hole high above my -head darted a sparrow with a trailing streamer of our class ribbon -fluttering from its tail. At every sentence, nearly every word, I had -to pause on account of the yellings, the banter, and the interruptions -caused by flying hats and scudding pieces of pasteboard. After about a -half hour of disciplined posing, I finally concluded the “oration” amid -the admiring plaudits of my class. Thus orator followed orator, each -one outdoing the other with satire, pun, and rhetorical nonsense. To -the accompaniment of a thudding fight which was taking place between -the representatives of two classes over our heads where the bird -had been sent down, Class Day came to an end, and my active life at -Evangelical University likewise. - - - - -_Chapter XVIII. Thropper Unfolds Something Better than Canned Foods. A -Lesson with the Flat Iron. Thropper Proposes that I Chaperone Horses_ - - -“How are you going to get back to Massachusetts, Priddy?” asked -Thropper when I was shuffling some photographs which I had taken down -from a wire rack on the wall. - -“Oh, I’ll have to try to get work in a factory or on a farm about -here,” I answered, “until I earn my fare!” - -“Have you any definite work planned for, yet?” - -“No, but I thought I’d go out this afternoon and see what I might pick -up. I could keep this room and board myself, Thropper.” - -He made a wry face, and blurted out: - -“Warmed over canned beans, ugh!” - -“What do you mean, old fellow?” - -“Boarding yourself--canned soups, canned meats, canned everything--ugh!” - -“That’s what your wife will feed you on--at first, while she learns to -cook, Thropper,” I laughed. “Perhaps you’ll prefer canned things!” - -“Is that so?” he retorted, with some show of heat. “Well, that’s all -you know about things. _She_ can cook already: you just wait till you -taste some of her cooking. Canned things--ugh!” - -“Well,” I sighed, “I’ve little choice!” - -“How would you like to spend the summer at a neat little hotel in -Michigan?” - -“Thropper!” - -“And room in a little cottage in the midst of a little grove of pines, -near little sandhills, among a little group of the finest fellows in -the world--college students?” continued Thropper, with a smile. - -“A little bit too much imagination in your little talk, my dear little -fellow!” I retorted. - -“And go down to the beach every day for a bath among the big waves, and -go boating and fishing; seeing the great crowds of excursionists and -vacationists!” - -“Go on,” I gasped, “have it out, Thropper, if you particularly enjoy -the stunt!” - -“Food,” continued my roommate, “well, let me see: strawberry shortcake -à la much, mutton chops with bacon à la juicy, calves’ brains on toast -à la delicious, hashed browned potatoes à la second helping, and for -desserts: cream and jellies, sherberts and pies--” - -“--À la imagination, eh, Thropper,” I interrupted. - -My roommate’s rugged face was overspread with a grin. He clapped me -over the shoulder and said, continuing his whim: - -“To enjoy many beautiful, moon-lit hours, watching the glint of the -phosphorescent waves as they twinkle like fairy lights over the broad -expanse of Lake Michigan; to--” - -“Look out, Thropper,” I exclaimed at this poetic outburst, “or you’ll -be crowding the spring poets out of a job!” - -“To roam at will through the shady groves, over the sand dunes, to hear -the orchestral music, the light plash of the waves against the pier -while you hold a fish-line in the water; to loll on the fragrant pine -needles and read, muse, rest, and be inspired: what do you think of -that for a program for the next three months, Priddy?” - -“Ask a Mohammedan what he thinks of Paradise or an exiled Prince what -he thinks of a Kingdom, Thropper?” - -“Then,” continued Thropper, “the whole experience not to cost you a -cent: rather you are to be paid at the rate of four dollars a week: -wages for a treat like that, Priddy: what do you think of _that_?” - -“It is impossible for me to think about such a prospect, Thropper, my -imagination is intoxicated!” - -“Then you will go!” - -I looked at Thropper as if he had parted with his senses. - -“What an actor you are, Thropper. One would imagine you serious in all -this!” - -“Of course I’m serious!” he announced. “I am merely offering you the -chance to go with Brook and myself to Macatawa, Michigan, to wait on -table at one of the hotels there.” - -“Oh!” - -“But all the things I have enumerated, Priddy, are facts and not -dreams. The work is very easy: six hours a day; two hours a meal, with -the interims filled with all sorts of good times. What do you say? -Our railway fares and steamer passages will be sent and later will be -deducted from our wages. Will you go?” - -“Do they let the waiters eat calves’ brains on toast, Thropper?” I -asked, seriously. - -“Extra orders which are not taken,” he responded. - -“Of course I’ll go, old fellow. It will be a wonderful chance, won’t -it?” - -“It will give you a good chance to get a rest, Priddy,” he averred, -solemnly. “Your poor, pinched body needs it!” - -“When do we leave?” - -“In two days; soon as Brock gets word to the hotel that we are coming. -I can lend you some collars and things till we get there.” - -“The first month’s wages are to go for clothes,” I announced. “All -aboard for Ma-cat-a-wa: last call for dinner!” I cried, and then -Thropper and I, sharers of confidences and of dreams, linked arms and -waltzed crazily around the room--for sheer joy. - -One week after having waltzed with Thropper over the creaky boards of -the dormitory, I found myself adjusted to a new phase of existence, -delicious and inspiring in its every aspect. After a lifetime spent in -the midst of places where toil and only toil held the boards: after -twenty years’ vision of strenuous tasks done by those about me, in -mills, shops, and on the street, at last I found myself in the midst of -a place set apart to idleness: where the indolent were given the palm -branch, and where work, for a wonder, found itself, even by honorable -people, spurned as a thing out of place. - -The six hours’ work a day put at my command all the recreational -advantages of the resort: the shapely sand dunes, the boardwalks -through cool, shaded pine groves, the smooth, sandy, slippery beach -down which one walked past artists’ studios, soap box shanties, and -pretentious pillared cottages. And the water! We bathed by day and by -night. In it we fished and raced. Over it we rowed in boats that were -tossed like light corks from engulfing wave to engulfing waves, while -the life-boat man from the pier kept a sharp eye on our adventure. By -its edge on a moon-light night we built a chain of fires and in the -flames of them we roasted marshmallows, sang songs, and passed all -sorts of banter. - -In the dining-hall I met my fellow waiters and waitresses: college -students, all of them, from different parts of the country. The -orchestra, at dinner, played complimentary college tunes in our -honor: our guests broke down all perfunctory relations and intimately -entered into our ambitions. While waiting for the arrival of guests at -breakfast the waiters stood under a wooden canopy in the hotel yard -and ironed napkins and towels. Of course neither Thropper nor I were -very expert in the laundry, but that did not excuse us from it. One day -the Irishwoman, who was proprietor of the hotel, came and investigated -the laundry. She paid particular attention to the manner in which -I conducted the flat-iron over the towels. After watching me for -some moments, during which, for a woman, she maintained a severe and -terrible silence, during which perspiration poured down my face, she -suddenly exploded with laughter and said: - -“Ah, ah! You should see Mister Priddy use his iron. It’s a rale treat. -He is that gentle on the cloths! I want you all to come around and take -a lesson. You girls now,” she indicated some of the college girls, -“have been doing it wrong all the time!” She laughed loudly, as they -gathered about my board. - -Taking the iron gingerly in her massive, red, and scarred hand, the -Irishwoman very gently tipped the back edge of it on a towel and -deliberately, though exactly, drew the iron backward several times, -lifting it from the board to carry it forward. - -“That’s the way Mr. Priddy says you ought to iron!” she shouted, her -burly face reddening with merriment, as she noticed my chagrin. “It’s -backwards and not forwards that you should iron, all of ye!” and then -she sat down on a bench in the midst of a most industrious crowd of -laughing boys and girls. After the fun, she took the iron in hand in an -endeavor to show me the true, laundry method of using a flat-iron. - -All the tricks, the horse-plays, the trivial but welcome expressions -of fun that crowd themselves into a college life, were indulged at the -hotel by the waiters and waitresses. A group of Michigan students lived -in a long, loosely-built shanty in the yard, on the doors of which they -had painted its name: “Lover’s Roost,” and the better to carry out the -fancy of its being a roost, the boys were in the habit of receiving -expected visitors, who came to inspect their quarters, perched on the -upper beams, above the partitions, flapping their hands and crowing -like lusty, gigantic roosters! - -The season rushed past in its merry whirl. Tired muscles relaxed, taut -nerves slacked, weary bodies gained repose, there on the sand dunes, -amid parties, fêtes, musicales, and picnics. The first chill winds from -the lake wafted hordes of people back to work, and soon left the hotel -nearly unpeopled. - -As the day approached when I should have to leave, I found that I -had saved but a trifle out of my earnings: the money had gone for a -much-needed, but not expensive, ward-robe. I counted over my change and -found that I did not have enough money left with which to purchase a -ticket for so far away a place as Massachusetts. I mentioned the matter -to Thropper. He, in turn, in that generous way of his, began to plan -for me. One day he came and said: - -“Priddy, you know Gloomer, the fellow from Indiana State University; -well, if you go down to Indianapolis with him, he’ll see that you get a -chance to go on a freight train as far as New York; from there you’ll -have enough to get home, won’t you?” - -“Yes. A freight train, you say? As a tramp, riding on the axles?” I -gasped, with an inward shudder at the thought of such a desperate ride. - -“Of course not!” declared Thropper. “You’d go in the caboose. We’d send -you with a load of horses, you know. You’d be the man in charge; to -feed them.” - -“But I don’t know anything about horses, Thropper.” - -“You don’t have to know anything about them,” he said, with a smile. -“It’s just a technical way of expressing it. You see, when the -horse-dealers send a carload of horses East, they are entitled to -a representative to go along and take care of them. You’d be the -representative. Gloomer could give you a line to an Indianapolis sales -stable. They’d do the rest--as far as New York. What do you say!” - -In a wild moment of incautious self-confidence, I responded: - -“Anything to get to New York, Thropper.” - -“It’s settled, then,” he responded. “Albert Priddy, horse chaperone, I -salute thee,” and he gravely saluted me. “When will his lordship occupy -his caboose?” he went on in good-humored raillery. - -“As soon as I can get it!” I replied. - - - - -_Chapter XIX. A Chapter Which Has to do with a Series of Exciting -Affairs that Occurred between the West and the East, and Which are -Better to Read about than to Endure_ - - -Thropper accompanied me to the wharf in Chicago where, so far as I was -able to judge, we were to part forever. The manner of our parting was -as follows: - -Thropper insisted on carrying my suit-case, though his own was loaded -to excess. On crossing a street to enter the railroad station, I half -stumbled, blunderingly, under the heavy hoofs of a dray horse which -a swearing driver had pulled shortly into the air, when Thropper, by -a lunge at my back with his heavy suit-case, startled me into such -action, that I lurched ahead and away from danger. - -“Thanks, old fellow!” I called, above the roar of the traffic. - -My train was announced, and as I gripped my suit-case, Thropper blurted -out: - -“Well, Priddy, I wish you luck: plenty of it!” - -“Well,” I stammered, in return, “you’ve certainly been good to me, -Thropper. I shall never forget it!” - -“I shall miss you, Priddy!” - -“Maybe I shan’t miss you, old fellow!” I said hoarsely, for I was on -the verge of tears. - -“God bless you!” cried Thropper, with an effort. “God be with you!” - -“Make a man of yourself, old fellow!” I replied. - -One moment of profound, tearful silence, with our hands tightly -clasped, and then I broke away and ran as fast as I could towards my -train, pretending by that action that I might be in danger of losing my -train, though my only intention was to be by myself, where, unseen, I -could baptize this parting from Thropper with unrestrained, heartfelt -tears. - -The brick-paved and marvellously wide streets of Indianapolis were -oppressively hot when I arrived in the city, with Gloomer’s letter of -introduction to the sales-stable manager in my possession. I had to -spend two days in the city before a regular auction day arrived when -it would be possible for me to make a contract with the manager. I had -been told that the psychological time to approach the horse-dealer -would be at a sale when a carload or two of horses would be made up. - -During my wait, I had to harvest my cash diligently, for fear of -getting stranded on the way. The four dollars in my pocket seemed -indescribably trivial when measured against the gigantic journey I had -between Indianapolis and New York City. I went on a side street and -searched among the cheaper lodging-houses until I found one whose red, -illuminated sign told me that beds there were fifteen cents a night. -I went in, talked with a wizened-faced tramp of a man, and was shown -up a flight of back stairs into a large, dirty-papered room, in which -stood a wooden bedstead with dampish, musty coverings. As I slept that -night, I was awakened by loud quarrelsome voices in the back kitchen, -and from what I heard, I realized that I was sleeping in a thieves’ -lodging-house. After that, I found myself waking up in nervous fright -every few minutes, expecting to see the door open while some villain -entered with a knife or gun to strip me of what little I owned! It -was a night of horror, of wakeful, excited, dread. I was afraid to -sleep, and yet I kept waking, hour after hour, with the consciousness -that I had given in to sleep, and had made it possible for some one -to overpower me. Then early morning dawned, without any accident -befalling me, and I seized upon an excuse to leave. I went downstairs -very stealthily and confronted three ragged, evil-faced men who were -sitting on chairs, smoking with the landlord. I emptied a half-dozen -soiled collars on the table and said: - -“I haven’t time to have these laundered, and don’t need them. You may -have them--if they fit. I wear fifteens. I have to leave early. Here -is my lodging fee for the night. Good morning!” and without another -word I rushed from the house, hoping that the men would imagine that my -excitement was due to fear of losing a train rather than to any dread -of them! - -The only sight-seeing I accomplished in Indianapolis came in a long -walk I took past the freight yards, at the end of which I came to a -tomato ketchup factory, where, for two hours, I watched a carload of -ripe and otherwise tomatoes unloaded in barrows and carted into the -store vats. Then I hurried back to the stables, for a sale was due for -late afternoon, and my heart was centred entirely upon the hope of -securing the ride to New York City. - -Guided by the snap of whips and the strident calls of the auctioneer, I -entered a dim vault of a place, where the sale was in progress. After -the glare of the sun had worn itself out of my eyes, I found myself on -the outer edge of a large group of horse-dealers, watching the animals -put through their paces and holding up fingers to the auctioneer. - -After the sales had been concluded, I approached a cubby-hole, which -was filled with stale tobacco smoke through which I had a view of -lithographs of race horses. The manager of the stables sat at his desk, -apparently not busy, but eloquent in cigar smoke over the sales he had -made that day. He had a blown, raw face, as red as his sunset shirt -bosom and dotted with unshaved blotches of bristles. His thin nose had -been turned aside by a blow of some sort, his mild blue eyes might -not have been out of place in a woman’s head. However, on seeing me -hesitate, and probably knowing from my abject, petitioning manner, that -I was after some favor, he flavored the air with an oath and tacked on -an impatient demand as to my wants. I thereupon unfolded what was in -my heart, and in the nervousness of the moment, instead of handing him -Gloomer’s letter of introduction, gave him, instead, my pocket comb. -Then I thought he would horse-whip me, but, instead, he laughed, and -said: - -“Well, you’re a thoroughbred, ain’t ye! What’s this?” - -I thereupon exchanged the comb for the letter, which he took with some -show of interest. After reading it he said: - -“Why, I’d ship you to Jericho, if I was sending hosses that fur, but -only thing I can do’s to send ye to Buffalo. You’ll mebbe get another -haul from there, though I can’t say.” - -I thought of the small amount of money in my pocket, and of the -distance at which I found myself from home, and then said: - -“I was told that you might be able to ship me to New York, sir. I need -the lift. I have less than five dollars.” - -“Sorry, kid,” he muttered. “Buffalo’s best thing in the ring for a week -or more. Good day, sonny!” - -“But I’ll take the chance to Buffalo,” I gasped, fearful that he would -turn me off entirely. “I’ll be very thankful for that much of a ride, -sir.” - -He opened a drawer and wrote several items on a yellow way bill which -he handed to me. - -“Shove that in yer pocket and skedaddle, sonny,” he said. “I wish yer -joy in yer ejucation, though I don’t in hang know what ye’ll do with it -when yer got it; plant corn, in all likelihood. S’long! Train leaves at -half-past six: freight yard. Numbers of the cars on the pass!” - -At six o’clock I appeared in the terminal freight yards with a bag -of three-cent egg sandwiches under one arm and with my slate-colored -suit-case bumping against my shins. It was not until I reached the -yards and beheld the illimitable maze of tracks and the innumerable -dragon-like trains of freight cars and the hive of busy, shifting -engines that were making up trains, that I realized how wise I had been -by coming a half hour early. I asked a switchman where I should find -the freight which left for Buffalo at half-past six. Then I realized -still more acutely that my difficulties were only begun, for after he -had whirled the lever over and allowed the section of shunted cars to -rattle past, he turned to me and with a very decided and pugilistic -gesture, asked me if I would not immediately consign myself and all my -ancestors to a very negative theological place. I stumbled over the -switches and as I went felt the hot, resentful glare of the railroad -crews, as they refused me the information I sought and spiced their -refusals with peppery idioms. They would have buffeted me had I not -been armed by the pass. Finally, knowing that I was in danger of -losing my train, I entered the switch-house and after I had gulped a -stomachful of pipe-smoke, one of the men told me that I should find the -train if I would look for the numbers of the cars which were written on -the pass. So I went out in the dim twilight and tried to match numbers, -which to my startled, nervous imagination looked like 54679900993259 -and 563780533255555555573275, but which, in reality, were an inch or -two shorter! Finally I found the two numbers, and then I eagerly ran -down the length of the train until I came to the caboose. I climbed up -the steps, opened the dusty door and was immediately greeted by the -angry gaze of the conductor and brakemen who were busy with some sort -of schedules. - -As I humbly presented my pass to the conductor, and when it was made -known to the crew that I was to be their guest in the comfortable -caboose, they immediately gave me a lurid and explicit welcome: one -that made me shiver. Genealogical connections of a hitherto unknown -nature were ascribed to me; to them I appeared as one of the brood of -imps from that negative theological place, and various exciting and -blood-bringing adjectives were loaded on me that made my flesh quiver. -The conductor, after generously and minutely explaining how undesirable -was my presence in that caboose, going into the minutest details of my -personal limitations, sent me, shuddering, over to the opposite side -of the car, as far away as possible from his presence, where I found a -padded window seat which was to be my bed overnight. - -When the train started, and the crew were sitting around with nothing -to do, I tried to enter into conversation with one of them. But I was -_persona non grata_; of a different caste, I was told to “hang my lip -on the clothes-hook,” a grewsome feat and quite a poetic conception. -The window, a little square one, was high above my head. I stood on the -seat in the attempt to look through it into the night. Immediately I -was told to “switch off.” Then I made myself comfortable for the night -by spreading myself at full length on the seat. After a time, the -fumes of the lamp drugged me into a doze, and then the thunder of the -freight and the dull, dull rumble of the train crew’s voices sent me -off into a fretful, but long sleep. In the morning, when I opened my -eyes, and looked out of the back door window, we were passing stations -in Ohio. The morning was very pleasant, and thinking that a whole night -of my presence might have made the train crew tolerant, I ascended into -the lookout, above the roof of the caboose, where, from the cushioned -seat, I could make a splendid observation of country through which we -were passing. But my joy was short-lived. Immediately the thunders of -the conductor called me down and I was sternly ordered to “sit down -where you belong,” a command which was followed by a descriptive phrase -which linked me to a low and disreputable order of creation. - -By nine o’clock we brought up in the Cleveland yards, where a new -caboose and a new train were to be fastened to the freight. I was told -to “grab” my belongings and “git the-twelfth-letter-of-the-alphabet out -of this!” which I did, and found, when I got to the ground, that the -freight train had gone off and left the caboose standing in the yard. -Then I went on a frightful, heart-thumping search for the two cars -with the long numbers on them: not spending any time to be rebuffed by -the yard men. I leaped from track to track and searched car after car -until, at last, I found the numbers I wanted, and by following out the -length of the train, came to the new caboose. - -In this second caboose I resolved not to irritate the crew, and to this -end I made myself comfortable in my allotted place, took off my boots, -put on a pair of tennis shoes, and read a book I had in my suit-case. -When the train finally entered the Buffalo freight yards I was hurried -out, as the conductor wanted to lock the caboose without the loss of a -minute. When I got to the ground, in my hurry, and after the conductor -had locked the door and left me standing dazed, I found that I had left -my shoes in the caboose. But no amount of search for the conductor -succeeded, and finally one of the railroad men told me that I might as -well give up the search, especially as the caboose had been whirled -out of sight by a switching engine. So I went into the city with my -suit-case and my lean purse, determined to visit the sales stables and -stock-yards, until I should find a chance to ride on to New York City. -I realized that if I should ever arrive in New York I should not have -enough money to carry me home, but I followed a blind instinct which -seemed to tell me that, New York attained, “something would turn up.” - -In one of the back streets of Buffalo I found a Temperance Hotel, where -beds and rooms were fifteen cents a day. The hotel had in its frowsy -lobby a group of unkempt men who seemed to be temperate in one thing -more strikingly than another,--work, for during any part of the day I -found them there tipped back in the chairs holding their conferences on -momentous matters. I left my umbrella with the clerk for collateral, -and told him that further security for my board would be my suit-case -which was certainly worth thirty-five cents. I had a good thirty-cent -dinner in the dining-room, and then went out to visit the stock-yards -of the city. - -When I saw the multitude of cattle pens, near the railroad, and saw -them filled with sheep and cattle, I estimated that in them alone were -two hundred and fifty possible trips to the end of the world; but -when I entered the lobby of the Stockman’s Hotel and tried to get the -influence of the cattle-buyers towards a pass, they would have nothing -to do with me. Thus rebuffed, I went the rounds of the sales stables, -of which there were many facing the stock pens. In these I was told -there were no sales on just then, but that if anything turned up they -would see what they could do. That gave me hope, so I said that I would -call on them during the next day. - -During this wait I found that my money was nearly gone. I had fifty -cents on hand for board. I asked a disreputable fellow, near the -Temperance Hotel, where I could get some cheap meals. He pointed to -the next street and told me that they had three-cent meals in some -of the eating-houses there. That evening I indulged in a three-cent -supper. It consisted of a dish of beans, a slice of bread, some -“butter” and a cup of coffee. I went to the same place for breakfast -the next morning and for three cents secured a cup of coffee, a -doughnut, and a dish of stew. That morning a heavy rain began to fall, -and, for the first time, I began to miss the shoes I had left in the -caboose. I had on a suit of good clothes, so that the worn tennis -shoes on my feet were all the more startling; but when the streets -were filled with running brooks of rain through which I was forced to -walk, it was not merely a matter of appearance with me, but a matter -of comfort. On my way to the stock-yards to see what the sales stables -could do for me, my feet were uncomfortably soaked to the skin. The -canvas tops of the shoes were like mops. Every step I took on the -sidewalk was the cause of a soggy, moppish slop. I expected the first -policeman to arrest me as a suspicious character. - -I went from stable to stable, and at each one asked in a tremulous -voice if they were about to send any horses to New York or Boston in -the near future, but neither sales nor shipments were being made. I -tried to interest some of the stock-drovers in the cattle yards in my -affairs, but evidently I bored them. I paid another, desperate visit -to the Stockman’s Hotel, but the cattle-buyers would not give me a word -of encouragement towards a pass to New York City. - -After this I returned to the heart of the city and began to plan -against absolute starvation. Even with three-cent meals I could not -have a much longer time to eat unless I obtained some more money. -Then I felt the bulge of my nickel-plated watch, in my vest pocket. I -had paid a dollar for it and had used it for two years. It had been -purchased second-hand from a mill friend and had originally cost not -more than three dollars. I hurried to a pawn-broker’s shop and said, -eagerly, as I handed the shopman the weighty time-piece: - -“You can have this at your own price--I don’t care how much you offer. -I need the money!” - -He tossed the watch in the palm of his hand, then laughed, and as he -handed it back to me he said, impatiently: - -“G’wan! It ain’t wuth a flea! I wouldn’t buy dat t’ing fer junk! Git!” - -Disconsolately I passed out, with the shopman’s scornful eyes on me, -and the gaze of a burly negro and his wife following me. I had no -sooner reached the sidewalk, however, than the negro came out and said: - -“Say, how much yo’ want fo’ dat watch?” - -The negro’s wife appeared, and from their excessive interest in -the watch I knew that they would purchase it if I should put out an -enticing price. I cogitated in my mind as to how much I might have to -pay for a pair of second-hand shoes, and then said: - -“Fifty cents! Keeps good time, too, see!” - -The negro took the watch in his hand, and evidently it was the enormous -size of it rather than its efficiency as a time-keeper that interested -him, for he spent more time gazing on its back than he did in -contemplating its works. He thrust his hand into his pockets and gave -me a fifty-cent piece which, just then, looked as round and golden as a -harvest moon, but more tangible. - -I hurried from the negro as swiftly as I could in fear that he might -repent and ask for a return of the precious coin. I hastened down a -side street, made a spiral through a maze of streets, and then felt -that the half dollar belonged to me. I next began a search for a pair -of shoes. There were rows of them in a Jewish cobbler’s window, so -I went in. The Jewish woman, who was in charge, in the absence of -her husband, asked me what size I wanted, and then pulled out for my -inspection a pair of iron-clads that would not have been amiss on the -feet of Ulysses when he started out on his wearing travels, and they -surely would have lasted him through all his strenuous adventures. - -[Illustration: SAY, HOW MUCH YO’ WANT FO’ DAT WATCH] - -“Fifty-four cents!” announced the woman. - -I told her that I could not spend a cent more than fifty for foot-wear -else I should have to go without supper, and that wet feet were more -comfortable than an empty stomach. - -We then entered upon an oriental haggling during which I found -it imperative to credit myself with every virtue of honesty and -candidness, and during which she called on every prophet to witness -that the shoes should not go for a cent less than fifty-four. I held -up my soggy tennis shoes and tapped them on the floor so that their -miserable splash should strike a compassionate chill in her hard heart. -I told her my lifetime’s history; gave her a most pathetic list of my -adventures; descanted with fervor on the unkindness of men towards one -who was trying to make his way, and then the shoes were mine! - -I had to learn to walk over again when the dry shoes were on. I half -stumbled at first with the weight, but I felt that at last I could -go on the main street of the city and pass among respectable people -without having harsh comments made. - -After my three-cent supper, I hurried to a church where a -prayer-meeting was in progress. After the meeting I made a confidant -of the minister, who took me before a group of men; the total result -of which was that they lent me ten dollars on a note which I later -paid, or tried to pay, but they refused to accept the money and sent -me back my note. A scalper’s ticket to New York City took nearly all -of the ten dollars. I returned to the “hotel” where I sold my umbrella -and out of the proceeds paid my room rent and bade good-bye to the -men who lounged there. The New York train which I had to take did not -leave Buffalo until two o’clock in the morning. As I went through the -quiet streets, the scavengers were out, with bags on their shoulders, -fingering the refuse barrels that lined the curbs in front of hotels -and eating-houses. It was a glimpse of poverty that made me shudder, -and which by comparison made me feel quite aristocratic. - -The conductor accepted my scalper’s ticket without comment, though he -might have put me off the train on the least suspicion. I took off my -heavy shoes, leaned back in the seat and fell asleep without a care to -distract me while the express hummed smoothly through the night. - -As soon as the train arrived in the New York station I had to hurry -across the city to the steamboat wharves in time to board the -Providence steamer for the dollar ride into the Fall River zone. Though -I had never been in the metropolis before, and though I stood for a -thrilling moment in the very midst of its wonders, impelling poverty -drove me across the city like a slave-master’s whip, and I boarded the -steamer with merely an impressionistic glance of some ferry-houses, -some wholesale fruit houses, a dilapidated horse-car, some street -corner blockades, a whiff of Hester street, and the East River bridges. -After a night in the forward part of the boat, sleeping in a berth -which might have been the confines of a barrel, while a drunken man -next to me kept up a periodic, loose-mouthed protest to a man in the -upper berth that he wished he wouldn’t snore so loud and keep everybody -awake, I was put ashore in Providence. From there I was taken by -trolley into Massachusetts and home. When I arrived in New Bedford I -had thirty-five cents remaining in my pocket. But I was home! And ready -for the next step in my education, whatever that should be. - - - - -_Chapter XX Aunt Millie’s Interpretation of Education. The Right Sort -of an Adviser Gets Hold of me_ - - -I hurried--with a feeling of pride--in the direction of the tenement -where my aunt and uncle were living. It was nearly noon. I would -surprise my aunt! I knocked on the door. My Aunt Millie stood before me. - -“Hello!” I cried. “How are you?” - -She gazed on me with evident surprise, and with a mixture of suspicion, -which she put in her first words: - -“I thought you were out getting made into a gentleman--at one of those -schools?” - -“Why, aunt, I’ve had two years of education--so far. I mean to have -more.” - -“But where’s that fortune you’ve made?” - -I gasped. - -“Fortune? I’ve only got thirty-five cents and I’m in debt for that!” - -“It’s a failure, then?” she asked, maliciously. - -“Of course it isn’t a failure!” I insisted, desperately. “Two years of -it have helped me very much. I mean to get more of it, aunt!” - -“But you look poorly dressed, and you tell me that you’re poorer than -the day you went. I always thought education meant getting along in -life!” - -“It does mean getting along in life,” I argued, “but not necessarily -getting along in money--or even good clothes. It has to do with the -mind--with the thinking powers--eh--” - -She burst into mocking laughter and said: - -“Oh, that’s it? Then maybe you’ll not be needing bed and board now that -you’ve had two years of education,--is that the state of things?” - -“Oh, you don’t understand, aunt. Of course you can’t do much in the -world with only two years of it. It needs several years of it before -you can really get a position in which money or prestige may be made. -I’m only just on the way: in the first stages.” - -“Then why aren’t you in it? What have you come back to us for? I -suppose you are short of money and want us to help you along in your -brainless undertaking, eh?” - -“Have I asked a cent from you during the last two years, aunt?” I asked -with some show of spirit. “Haven’t I earned my own living even when I -have been at home? Is it likely that I’ll ask you to help me through -now?” - -“It wouldn’t do any good if you were to ask us,” she said, firmly. “We -have debts enough in the house now to drive us to distraction.” - -“Of course,” I said, “it will be some weeks, probably, before I can -shape my plans. You will let me stay here?” - -“There,” she sniffed, “he’s coming the soft soap act on, now! I thought -you had something up your sleeve. So you want me to board you free of -charge for some weeks, eh, while you lord it around without working?” - -“I shall have to plan just what to do next!” I announced, feeling that -this last touch to my already heavy load would break me. “That’s all. I -shall be going off to some sort of a school if it’s possible.” - -“Two days free: that’s as long as you can stop without board,” she -announced. “I never was for this hair-brained business. It’s taken your -earnings away. After two days you must pay board.” - -I knew it was fruitless to argue with her any further and I longed for -the noon to arrive when I could have Uncle Stanwood’s more comforting -greetings. - -My uncle came in and was extremely pleased to greet me, and my return -so unexpectedly considerably upset him. - -“Two years of learning, steady,” he commented. “That’s good. You are -the first Priddy to get such a chance. Make the most of it. Two years -is a good beginning. I can notice a difference in your speech and your -manner already. Keep on, Al!” - -“His learning hasn’t given him any silk shirts or gold-headed canes, -has it?” scoffed my Aunt Millie. - -“Don’t heap it on the lad,” chided my uncle, “it’s taken a lot of -courage and perhaps suffering for him to get through as he has. We -haven’t done anything towards it, Millie; so we shouldn’t have much to -say!” - -Then my uncle asked a perfectly natural and innocent question. - -“What are you aiming to be, Al, when you’re through with the schools?” - -Tremblingly I whispered: - -“A preacher, I think!” - -If the world had cracked or the moon had leaped into the middle of our -kitchen, my aunt could not have been more startled than she appeared to -be at that announcement. She instantly rallied her powers of ridicule -and sarcasm and indulged in the following monologue that had little -savor of love in it: - -“Oh, oh! That’s the lay of the land, is it? A parson! A Priddy a -parson! A fawning, hypocritical parson! A tea-drinking, smirking thing -in black. Why, at least, didn’t he choose to be a lawyer or a doctor or -something worth while? I thought he had brains!” - -“Millie!” thundered uncle. “Shut up! Do you want to crush the lad?” - -But she was not to be stopped. She grew almost hysterical in her tirade. - -“I suppose he’ll be hurling his sermons at us, so sanctimonious and -pious!” - -“Hush, aunt, please,” I pleaded, “don’t shout so loud, people will hear -and wonder what’s wrong!” - -“There,” she went on with a dry laugh, “just hear that low voice: it’s -just the voice for a parson!” Then she posed before me in dreadful -mimicry, with her finger tips touching in front of her and an affected, -upward cast in her eyes, while she cried, ingratiatingly: - -“‘Be good, be very, _very_ good, my dears! Do right like me and get to -heaven!’” and then releasing herself from this display she suddenly -roared, “You old hypocrite, you! The idea, _you_ a parson!” - -“God knows,” muttered uncle, “it is to be wondered how a lad brought up -with us could ever turn his eyes in that direction!” - -At that my Aunt Millie cast on her husband a frown and said, snappishly: - -“Aye, you old sinner. Your conscience is working now. No wonder you -talk like that!” - -During the dinner, while my aunt was in the pantry, uncle bent towards -me and whispered: - -“Come out with me after dinner, Al. We’ll talk there!” - -At half-past twelve we left the house together and sat down on some -logs on an empty lot near the mill where uncle said, after I had -recounted to him my two years’ experiences: - -“But what can you do now? It seems that you have cut yourself off from -everything by leaving that school. You have nothing to go to now!” - -“Oh,” I replied, “there are scores of places that I might go to in -the East here, if I only knew where to look. Rather than be idle, I -might go to the local high school and work during the spare time for -my board and clothes. Then there are free academies and preparatory -schools where I might get a chance. I will begin to look around. Mr. -Woodward, the minister, might know of some things. I mean to see him -this afternoon. I shall try to keep on with my studies somehow.” - -“Why don’t you go into the mill for awhile and then get some money by -you, Al. It would make it easier for you?” - -“But I can’t spare the time, uncle. I ought to keep right in with an -unbroken school career. It can be done if only the right place be -found. I am all at sea, just now, but I shall inquire. I know I shall -find something.” - -We talked until the one o’clock whistle sounded, and then I went in the -direction of the minister’s house to consult with him concerning my -future. - -Mr. Woodward was minister over a little church of mill people, one of -those underpaid men who not only preach faith but express it in many -kindly but unheralded services to society. He obtained congenial work -for overworked factory girls, sent tired mothers into the country in -the summer season, sent invalids to hospitals, inspired mill lads in -self-culture, and kept his own busy mind furnished with the latest and -most scholarly information in social science and theology. - -When I rang his door-bell my heart nearly failed me with the thought -that as he had never had the privilege of attending a college or a -theological seminary, he might be unable to give me any advice on my -immediate problem. - -But after we had sat in his study for an hour, and he had sounded me on -my past experiences, and when I had concluded with a very pessimistic -exclamation, - -“But I guess I’ve thrown away my chance by leaving Evangelical -University, Mr. Woodward. I don’t know what took possession of me, -I’m sure. It was such a whim, especially when I was doing so well out -there!” - -The big Scotchman stood up, laid his heavy hand on my shoulder and -exclaimed, - -“Albert, I think I see you continuing the fight from now on, if I can -possibly do anything. You must have courage and faith; they are more to -you than money.” He swept his hand across his eyes as if to sweep back -the years and said, reminiscently, - -“Oh, if I’d had your chance, lad! You don’t know what it cost me to -lose my chance! Listen!” He then recounted to me his own experience in -search of an education and unfolded dramatic incident after dramatic -incident for my encouragement. He showed me himself by a peat-bog fire, -in the north of Ireland, amidst poverty, struggling with his few books. -He showed me himself, an immigrant landing in New England, where he -began to work in the flare of a furnace. Next he showed me how his -chance for going to college had been cut off by his marriage. That -was followed by the picture of him, sitting in a room through the day -learning Greek and theology, while his wife went into the mill to earn -the money for rent and clothes and books. The memory of those severe -struggles which had cost nerve and health brought tears swimming into -his kindly eyes. He said, in conclusion, - -“Why, if I were in your place, lad, I’d black boots to get to a -college, I would. Don’t lose a day. I know a theological seminary in -high standing where you can get as good a training for the ministry -as may be secured anywhere in the United States, where your mind will -awaken and where you may not feel ashamed after graduating from it. -From there you can go to a college, entering the Junior year. That will -mean five years more, Albert, five years of blessed privilege, which I -shall envy you, lad!” - -“But I have no money, and it must cost money to enter the theological -seminary,” I insisted. “I should have to get there, and there would -occur several expenses for books and things when I get there.” - -“I can get fifty dollars for you on a note, which I will secure. Trust -me,” replied Mr. Woodward. “I mean that you shall go ahead. The world -can’t afford to let one of its ambitious lads slip up. It’s not good -economy. Fifty dollars will start you off. The expenses at the seminary -are trivial. There will occur opportunities for self-help. In the -summer you may get a church. Come to me tomorrow afternoon. I’ll get -busy with the telephone and telegraph right away. The Seminary opens -this week. Come tomorrow, lad, and I hope to have good news for you. I -feel that you’ve got your chance!” - -As I left him standing at the door, gazing after me, I hurried home -whistling; thinking, too, what an overturn of emotion can occur in a -single day. - - - - -_Chapter XXI. Over the Sea to a New Educational Chance. How I Revenged -Myself on the Hungry Days. The Cloistered Serenity of the New Place_ - - -The following afternoon when I arrived at Mr. Woodward’s house, I found -a young man with him, whom he introduced as Mr. Blake, a Congregational -minister from a nearby town, whom he had invited in to talk to me about -the Seminary. - -“Mr. Blake graduated there a few years ago and can tell you all about -it,” added my friend. - -“Had you better not show him the telegram you have from the President -of the Seminary?” suggested the young man. - -Mr. Woodward smiled, and showed me a telegram which read, - -“Send the young man at once!” and bore the signature of the Seminary -President. - -Then Mr. Woodward put his hand into his pocket and brought out from -thence a cluster of crinkling bills. - -“Hold your hand, Albert,” he smiled. “It’s money!” - -He counted into my hand fifty dollars and said, - -“If you are energetic, this is all the money you will have to borrow -for awhile. I am glad for you, my lad. Now I have to attend a funeral. -You go out for a walk with Mr. Blake and come back with him in time for -supper. We’re to have an informal celebration together.” - -I led Mr. Blake to the Point Road, the peninsula which juts out like -a forefinger from the south end of New Bedford into Buzzard’s Bay. -We walked along the grassy foot-path, near the low wall, past the -shimmering sea, the flying, croaking gulls, and a parade of scallop -boats. My companion had a very ambitious moustache which was trying -hard to mature, and he had a trick of unconsciously aiding the ends -by pulling them as he talked. While he interjected theological shop -talk, and had a long dissertation on Textual Criticism versus Literal -Inspiration, when he found that I had been in such a conservative -theological atmosphere as Evangelical University, and though he -prattled familiarly the names of Renan, Weissmann, Schleiermacher, and -Ritschl, I found inspiration in the man himself, for I kept thinking -to myself on that walk, “He has attained to what you are after.” We -came to a grove of spruces that had grown on the edge of some rocks -by the side of the road. Here, a quartet of blue-bloused Chinamen -were celebrating some sort of a holiday by playing strident tunes on -queer pipes and tom-toms, joining in with their falsetto voices. Mr. -Blake and I found a secure place on some ledges, from which we could -throw pebbles at the white gulls that walked up and down the beach in -lady-like fashion. - -When we returned, at the supper hour, we sat down with Mr. Woodward at -the table, where both men set my head to whirling by the confidence -with which they recounted my future enjoyment of the Seminary. -Had it not been for the crumpled fifty dollars in my pocket, the -entire experience would have had the shape of a dream, for only two -days before I had stood before my critical aunt with no plans and -with thirty-five cents for my fortune. My freight ride and Buffalo -experience seemed years back, in a dim haze. - -On arriving home, I pulled out the fifty dollars and showed the amount -to my aunt and uncle. - -“Where did you get all that?” gasped my uncle. - -“Borrowed it,” I replied. “I go to a theological seminary in two days.” - -My aunt wanted to know what sort of a lunatic I was to borrow money on -which to get an education. Her theory yet remained, that only those -with large fortunes were entitled to an education. - -But from the shining eyes of my uncle, I gathered that he felt glad -over my prospects, as I unfolded them to him. - -Two evenings later I sat on the hurricane deck of a steamer that was -to carry me to the Seminary city. I watched the golden dome of the -State House dwindle to the size of a noonday sun. I watched the waves -from our paddles wash the edges of innumerable islands. We passed the -lighthouses: huge warning fingers flashing their diamond lights. Our -bow foam swirled over the low-lying decks of loaded coasters. Then -we entered the silences of the ocean: even the sun left us and we -swirled into night. The dismal echoes of bending bell-buoys reached our -ears out of the darkness. The chilly, night wind threatened us with -influenza, so we hurried into the cabins where, under bright lights, -people were chatting, and where, in a far corner, a musician was -tickling the popular tune from the piano: - - “All the Stars in the Sky, Dear, Speak through the Night of You-u-u!” - -When the glistening negro, in spotless white, rushed through the cabin, -waving a pink-bordered towel and muttering to the ceiling or to the -thick carpet, as if it were no concern of his, that this was “the last -call for dinner,” I felt that I would adventure into the considerable -menu a dollar would bring me, if for nothing else but to atone for -those hungry days of three-cent meals in Indianapolis and Buffalo! - -The next morning the steamer was poking its prow insistently through -the sea and through a drizzling rainstorm. We were near land again and -passed bleak islands hardly bigger than a man’s hand on which were -exiled lonesome, bleating sheep. Then we left the bays back of us and -entered the mouth of a river roadway whose banks were lined with golden -foliage. We passed a grim, grey fort and then stopped at a quiet town -whose roofs were buried in tall trees, which in turn were topped by the -spires of two old-fashioned churches which seemed to be telling the -townspeople in which direction God was to be found. The river roadway -deepened and narrowed and twisted as we ascended it. Then we left -the autumn beauties of tree and shrub and passed between ice-houses, -factories, and tenements until a bridge marked the limits of navigation -and we were put ashore in the Seminary city. - -The steamboat wharf was the front porch to a large city which began at -the summit of a hill to the south, crowded the hillside, wandered into -the valley, and ascended another hill and continued on it as far as the -eye could reach. I walked over the cobbled street in front of the wharf -shed, made my way past long rows of cordage and commercial houses, -and came out into a triangular market-place, shut in by low-set brick -and wooden houses, cheap hotels, fruit, fish, and sailors’ clothing -stores. The market-place was thronged with wagons and stalls. In one -section the hay wagons were massed and over them groups of stablemen -and citizens argued until load after load had been sold. In another -section, with their backs forming an aisle through which I walked, were -the butcher-carts offering roasts, strings of sausage, coral strings of -frankfurts, and whole sides of pork. Back of them were the vegetable -carts with loads of squashes fresh from the fields and heaps of greens. -After walking through this noisy market, I came to the main business -street of the city, lined with stores and humming with cars. Then I -walked up a hill past residences and dying grass lawns, until, in a -triangular fence which followed the parting of two streets, I had my -first view of the theological seminary. - -The seminary was separated from the modern houses about it not only -by the fence, but also by its age, its soberness, its shaded walks, -and its ample stretches of lawn. Behind the leaves of the trees I saw -one of those mill-like dormitories which our stern, eighteenth-century -forefathers loved to build when they planned colleges and seminaries. -The whole aspect of the place, as I entered the gate, was one of -monkish repose, of academic sedateness. The drab paint on the porches -of the dormitory and covering the professors’ houses, the dignified -layers of brick in the chapel, all said, as plainly as you please, -“Don’t laugh here!” All my early dreams concerning how colleges and -places of learning should look, were realized. The very bricks in the -buildings seemed to be after a theological education. - -As I put my foot on the porch a young man met me, asked me if I was -“Mr. Priddy,” and on learning that I was, he escorted me immediately -over to the president’s house, where the final arrangements for my -matriculation in the Seminary were completed. An hour later, under the -guidance of Burner, who was an upper-classman, I was purchasing an oil -lamp, a parlor stove, a ton of coal, a wash basin, two coal-hods, and -sundry decorations. Two hours after that I had unpacked my belongings -in a double room on the fourth floor of the dormitory, and when the -chapel bell sounded for supper, Burner conducted me into a very -old-fashioned Commons, on the walls of which were paintings of ships -and shipwrecks. Here I was introduced to the students and then found -myself eating voraciously of the fare that was set before me. - -The next morning, I was awakened by the piping of a little bird that -sang on the window ledge, under the open window. - - - - -_Chapter XXII. Stoves with Traditions, Domestic Habits, and Greek, -“Boys Will be Boys”_ - - -The apocalyptic hope of the students who were domiciled in Therenton -Hall, the Seminary dormitory, included steam heat and running water; -for neither of those modern conveniences had been installed up to that -time and students had to carry hods of coal up four flights of stairs; -and were compelled to convey pitchers of water the same distance. -Each one had his own coal bin in the vaulted cellar and also owned a -kindling pile which he watched with suspicious and amusing jealousy. -Besides that, ashes had to be raked from stoves, carried downstairs, -and sifted--by the thrifty--in a far corner of the cellar, where lay -the dormitory ash heap. - -The parlor stoves, coal-hods, water bowls, and pitchers, the personal -possessions of the students, were handed down from class to class, -in many instances, until the most trivial price--say a dollar for a -six-foot stove--gave a profit of ten cents and three years’ use to -the senior who sold out. The stove I purchased for two dollars was a -giant of a stove, high, bulky, and lavishly decorated with ring-a-rosy -cherubs, covered with a thick coating of stove polish until they had -ceased being an angelic silver and had become an Ethiopian black. I -mention this stove because its sheet-tin girth was hallowed by hoary -traditions, and if it could have spoken it would have kept me cheered -for many hours by a recital of the different escapades in which it had -figured at the hands of the theologues. The rust on its bands, for -instance, was due to the fact that some students had plastered it with -a swaddling of sticky fly paper. The dent immediately under the hood -had been made by a flying theological treatise which had been aimed -originally at the head of an intruder, who insisted on keeping one of -the stove’s former owners from a study of Hebrew nouns. The broken -foot, which rested on some thin wafers of wood, was caused by the -attempt on the part of some students to reverse the stove during the -absence of another owner who was paying court to one of the young women -in the city. - -We attended to the dusting and care of our own rooms with more or -less thoroughness. Some of my friends chose to sleep and study amidst -dust and disorder rather than to endure the strain and toil of a -sweeper, a beater, and a duster for a Saturday morning. When we went -to a city prayer-meeting or a lecture, we would usually dangle our -greasy kerosene cans as far as the corner grocery and leave them to -be filled. In fact, so inextricably interwoven with our intellectual -concerns were our domestic habits, that I had not been in the dormitory -very long before I caught myself entering my Greek class holding fast -to a coal-hod, which I had taken the trouble to carry along the walk -and into the recitation building, while I had unconsciously propped -my Greek Testament very snugly behind the lower banister, under the -impression that it had been the coal-hod. - -One Saturday morning, Providence or Fate--whatever it would be at -a theological seminary--arranged a _mise en scène_ which called -attention, in an effective way, to the inconvenience of permitting -the students the use of coal-hods and wash bowls. The President was -entertaining a gentleman who had been the first donor to our new -and splendid gymnasium. He had escorted the benefactor through the -bathrooms, the bowling-alleys, over the running-track, and had taken -him among the equipment, with evidences of great pleasure. I had -occasion to be leaving the gymnasium in their wake. I saw the President -throw open the door which led into the lower hall of the dormitory and -heard him say, “This is our dormitory--” or something to that effect, -and he stepped back to allow the seminary benefactor to precede him -into the dignified precincts of our domicile. Then he followed, and one -may imagine how he must have felt, as he gazed upon a chaos of coal, -of wood, of water, and of broken crockery, which lay like the trail of -a sloven over the hall and over the first flight of steps; echoes from -the preceding night, when the top floor had engaged the lower floors in -a counter demonstration of noise, smash, and confusion. - - - - -_Chapter XXIII. A Plot Which had for its End the Raising up of a -Discouraged Young Preacher_ - - -One day I was sitting in the apparently deserted library, looking over -the new books which were always kept on a side shelf, at the entrance -to one of the alcoves, when I heard a heavy, most disconsolate sigh, -coming from a hidden corner in the rear of the room. The sigh was -followed by the rustling of book leaves. I continued my investigation -of the new books, but was once more interrupted by that same, prolonged -sighing. It was just such a sigh as Dante must have heard proceeding -from the lips of those unfortunate creatures who stood in neither hope -nor despair. I decided to investigate, and, for that purpose, went down -the alcove from which the sighing seemed to have come, and there, with -his back turned to me, seated at one of the reference tables, with -his head resting woefully on his spread out arms, sat Amos Tucker, an -upper-classman. - -I hesitated to approach him, at first, and pretended that I had come -into the alcove for a book. Then again the sigh proceeded from the limp -heap at the table, and, throwing all restraint to the winds, I went to -the table, touched Amos on the shoulder, and said, - -“Are you in trouble, Tucker?” - -He raised his tearful, grey eyes to me, and said, - -“They say I’m not fit to be a preacher!” - -I sat down beside him, for from his manner I knew that he welcomed me -to be his confidant. - -“Who says so? Any of the students?” I asked. - -“No, it wouldn’t matter if it came from them: the church says so!” - -“What church is that, Tucker?” - -He sat up in his chair and replied, - -“I have just started to preach, this year. I have been out for two -Sundays in a little place where they give me seven dollars, out of -which I have to pay a dollar and a half for expenses. It’s not that -I care a snap about the money, though, but I want a place to call my -parish. I feel that I ought to preach. Well, I’ve got a letter from the -committee this morning, telling me that they will have to get along -without me; that they cannot have me any longer for their minister.” - -“What reasons do they offer?” - -“That’s it!” he responded, with a catch in his voice, “they have had -the bravery to tell me the exact reason. It is this: they tell me--oh, -hadn’t you better read for yourself,” and he handed me the last page of -a letter, explaining, - -“It’s all on that one page: all that you want to know.” - -I read: - -“You can never make a preacher, we feel--excuse us for telling you so -frankly--you have no voice, you do not read well, your grammar is poor, -your themes are not interesting. Your last Sunday morning’s talk on -‘Conscience’ was beyond our understanding. Several good supporters have -threatened to forego their subscriptions if we have you another Sunday. -Will you kindly suggest some one to come to us next Sunday and oblige, -yours in Christian sincerity, etc.” - -“Blunt, isn’t it?” he half smiled. - -“The idea of asking you to send them somebody, after that!” I gasped. - -“Oh,” he sniffed, “it’s all in Christian sincerity, you know!” - -“Well,” I added, “there are other places, Tucker. Cheer up!” - -Then a most discouraging change came into his eyes, he nodded his head, -and replied, with vigor, - -“The trouble of it is, Priddy, what they say is all true, every word of -it! I have a terrible voice and can’t seem to get my words out. I don’t -know much about grammar; never had much of a chance on the farm. I’m -not quick to learn like so many here. I have to plod and plod and plod. -As for interesting sermons, why, if they aren’t interesting I do the -best I can!” - -I wanted to ask him, then, why he persisted in entering the ministry, -but I couldn’t find courage to do so, but he had read my thoughts, for -he said, immediately, - -“You wonder why, if I know all this, I enter the ministry, and fight -against hope? Well, I’ll tell you. I have felt, right along, that I -might break down my handicaps. At least I thought I would give myself -a thorough trial, no matter how bitter the disappointment of failure -might be. I didn’t mind losing two or three places at first, if I could -finally master myself. It was a sort of inherent vanity of mine that I -could succeed. But this--this seems to be a judgment on me, I guess. I -think I’ll pack up and go out and become--oh, anything that pays day -wages. At least, I can try to be a good layman!” - -“Why don’t you try it another year?” I suggested. “Things might turn.” - -“How can I stay here if I can’t earn some money by preaching?” he -asked. “If no church will take me, why, I shall have to leave the -Seminary.” - -“I wouldn’t leave before having a good talk with some of the -professors,” I suggested. “I think you have the sort of a spirit which -will finally prevail, Tucker.” - -“Oh,” he replied, “I haven’t got much spirit--now--after that letter. -They might have borne with me a month or two longer--perhaps I should -have surprised them.” Then he laughed, bitterly. “You can’t guess why I -came into the library with my troubles, Priddy, can you?” - -“No.” - -“You see this!” and he indicated a large, open book, on which his tears -had been falling. It was a huge, ancient tome, with metal bands and -chipped leather binding. The leaves were yellowed, and from them came -a dampish odor of musty age. It was a Latin edition of “The Book of -Martyrs” opened at the page where the fanciful wood-cut showed heaps of -flaming fagots, blazing in Smithfield market, directly under the bare -feet of a woman, tied to a stake and holding to her breast a crying -infant. - -“There is a story about here,” went on Tucker, with a smile, “to the -effect that a former student in the Seminary, when discouraged, would -come into the library and pore over these dismal, grewsome pictures, -and persuade himself that his own sufferings were trivial when compared -with the sufferings of these martyrs! I thought I’d come and try it, -too, but it only intensified my own misery!” He shut the great book -with such an explosion that the dust issued from it and gleamed in the -rays of the sun which streamed in through the window. - -“But I’d stay on till the end, Tucker,” I persisted. “It’s worth -trying--if you feel that you have a call to preach!” - -“I have the call clearly enough,” he insisted, evidently cheered by my -confidence in him. “If I could only persuade others of it, though, I -should feel happier.” - -“Probably you’ll have another chance to preach before you expect it,” I -said, in conclusion, and left him with the intention of speaking in his -behalf to some of the students, who might be able to encourage him in a -substantial manner. - -I went, quite naturally, to Burner, the upper-classman who had -manifested an interest in my arrival. The big student heard my version -of Tucker’s experience without comment, and then, after a moment of -thought, answered, - -“Don’t you bother yourself any further about him. I’ll do all I can. -This is an upper-classman’s work, and it needs, too, some fine work by -the professors. It wouldn’t take much to drive Tucker off. By the way, -don’t mention to him about your conversation with me. I’m sure he’s got -the stuff in him for a preacher. He needs practical encouragement and -he shall have it. You just watch!” - -Two days later, while I was in the gymnasium, practising alone with the -basket-ball, Tucker appeared on the floor in his gymnasium clothes, -and, apparently, in a very happy frame of mind. As he stood opposite to -me and caught the ball as I threw it to him, he said, - -“Priddy, I’m going to preach on Sunday; another chance to botch it.” - -“Good for you,” I declared. “Where are you to preach?” - -“For Burner,” Tucker explained; “he wants a Sunday off. Do you know -whether he preaches from manuscript or not, Priddy?” - -“I think that he does read--I know he does. I recollect to have heard -him declare that it was only by reading that one could get logical -sequence: his pet hobby.” - -Tucker held the ball in the air for a second and sighed, audibly. “That -makes it somewhat easier for me, Priddy. You see, even if I ramble -on with notes, so long as I don’t read my sermon word for word, the -congregation will give me credit for it, and I may have a chance. -Anyway, I mean to keep on, even if I am rebuffed again.” - -The following Sunday morning, while Burner was shaving, he said to me, - -“I hope that Tucker has a sermon with some logic in it. Anyway, he will -get back encouraged. Deacon Herring will see to that!” He turned his -face from the glass and smiled at me through the lather. - -“What do you mean?” I demanded. - -“I have written a letter to my deacon--about Tucker and the tight place -he’s in,” explained Burner. “Told him all the facts and asked him to -work with us to save a good man for the Lord’s cause. After his sermon, -no matter how good or ill it is, Deacon Herring will go up to Tucker -with a radiant face, tell him how glad they are to have him along, and -invite him to preach the following Sunday. Meanwhile the deacon will -forward to me a carefully written, frank criticism of Tucker, from -which we can diagnose his troubles, fairly, and then get some of the -professors to work on his case. Oh,” and Burner’s face was gleaming, -“I guess if there’s any good points under Tucker’s skin, we’ll uncover -them!” - -It was an unusual edition of Tucker who returned the following day. I -walked with him, arm in arm over to the Commons. - -“There, Priddy,” he chattered, “at last I’ve found somebody who thinks -I’m called to preach. They want me to supply Burner’s pulpit again next -Sunday! He’s to have another day off. Tired, he told me. That’s the -best sort of appreciation, isn’t it?” he added. - -Burner said nothing to me or any one else about the personal sacrifice -he made in giving up two Sundays to the discouraged Tucker, but I knew -that the money he gave up was much needed. Burner, meanwhile, received -the diagnosis from his deacon, and reported matters to one of the -professors to whom Tucker looked with great reverence and respect. -The result of this came out in a diplomatic invitation, sent by the -professor, for Tucker to come and have a talk about his affairs--a -perfectly natural request for the professor to make. - -It did not take the professor long--armed as he was by Burner’s -report-to get from Tucker a statement of his situation. Finally, the -professor set himself to work, not only on the written sermons of -Tucker, but also on his enunciation, his gestures, and his habits of -thought. - -“The professor’s helping me wonderfully,” exclaimed Tucker to me one -day, as we took a walk into the outskirts of the city. “He’s landed -ker-plunk on my worst faults, just as if he could read me like a book. -You’d laugh at the sort of mournful stuff I’ve been giving from the -pulpit! It’s quite plain to me now. I’ve been too depressing. That’s -been one thing. No wonder the people didn’t want some of the stuff I’ve -been guilty of giving. It’s optimism they want, Priddy, _optimism_! The -professor’s proved that, all right! Just you wait till next Sunday, -when I preach for Burner. I’m to have a sermon, entitled, ‘Rejoice, and -again I say, Rejoice!’” - -“What have you been preaching on, Tucker?” I asked. - -He smiled, as one who could afford now to smile at past faults. - -“Judgment, and Conscience, and the Inheritance of Penalty, and -such-like,” he said. “Heavy, eh?” - -“I’ve no doubt you had some good ideas on those subjects, Tucker, -though, as you say, they are a trifle doleful, one after the other.” - -“Got thinking in a groove, Priddy, that’s what the professor thought. -But, of course, I’ve other faults. I don’t speak up--just whisper: -no life or action. But,” he went on with a confidential smile, “I’m -working hard on that, too. Mean to brighten up on those things next -Sunday; though reformation can’t come in a day or a week.” - -The next Monday a most encouraging report came to Burner from his -deacon. Among other things, the old man said in his letter, - -“There were not many out to hear him, for they had not cared for his -preaching of the previous Sunday: but to those of us who had heard him -the first time, his second appearance was startling. First of all, he -seemed to have confidence. That was the striking thing. Then, in his -effort to make himself heard he kept on a high-pitched note, which -was somewhat monotonous, but more effective than his former timid -whispering as if he were afraid of bursting the ear-drum of a gnat -which sat on his desk. He fanned the air like a windmill in an effort -to remedy lack of action: but that was a good sign. It argues well -for the young man when he gets on the middle ground. But his sermon! -He really gave us a cheering word; that made most of the others, who -were there, like him. Personally, he would be glad to know in what a -different way I have taken the application of his sermon, to ‘rejoice, -and again--rejoice.’ I wish him the best of success. There is hope for -him. I am getting one or two people, who told me they like what he had -to say about rejoicing, to write notes of appreciation to him.” - -“Twenty dollars well spent!” concluded Burner, with a smile. “At the -rate, he is going Tucker will have a church of his own, over which he -will cast his blessing. He has confidence--now!” - -Late in the spring, Tucker found himself enjoying somewhat of a local -reputation among us, for he was a decided success, by that time, on his -preaching expeditions. He said to me, - -“Priddy, the other people think I’ve got a call--now. I had a narrow -escape, didn’t I?” - - - - -_Chapter XXIV. Burner, a Searcher After Truth. How a May-Pole Subdued a -Tribe of Little Savages_ - - -Burner, the upper-classman, though not my roommate, and by his -upper-class privileges under no sentimental obligations to me, became -my constant companion. He was a tall, thick-set man with a very heavy -black moustache, much older than myself and dominated by a very heavy -but sincere temperament. He had been a real estate agent and a country -auctioneer up to his thirtieth birthday. Then he had studied for three -years, privately, with a high-school principal, and later he had come -to the Seminary to put himself under training for the ministry. - -Burner almost frightened me by his hunger and thirst after knowledge, -for in him I looked upon the epic grandeur of a mind, long starved, -completely awake. All the outstanding, amazing, bewildering -intellectual problems of the Universe and God, had solutions which -Burner, with a sense of his limitations, sought to master. I had seen -students of books before, prize scholars, in Evangelical University, -but I had never beheld the workings of an awakened, mature mind. Books -and the teachings of the masters were merely the starting points, -the paths of departure, for Burner. He sought his path to God and -God’s mind by his own charts. He was his own authority in thought, an -independent ship under full sail exploring unmapped territory. He would -sit in his Morris chair, in a secluded corner of his room, with his -bony fingers propping up his gaunt chin, and with blazing eyes try to -think out, in his own words, from a synthesis of his own observations, -why God permitted evil. One night he rushed into my room with almost -fanatical eagerness and compelled me to listen while, from a newspaper -item which told of a father who had given some of his blood to his -sickly child, he gave an eloquent theory of the Divine Fatherhood, -suggested by that analogy. All his studies, in language, science, and -philosophy were focussed upon his thought of God. They were not merely -a discipline, or parts of a necessary curriculum, but the means to -an end, the roads over which he went to a completer knowledge of his -faith. The most unrelated and even trivial items of truth aroused his -mind to action and set him at work on the most intricate and abstruse -doctrines. He was critical down to the fine points of sharpening a -pencil: he was intolerant of those who got their conclusions from text -books. - -“I’m doing my own thinking,” was his favorite sentence, “basing it on -careful reading and minute information and nearly always I find that -I get conclusions, after hard thought, that I might have secured, -second-hand, from books. But oh, Priddy, what a treat it is to be in -the Seminary, filling in the mind after it has been starved all these -years!” - -“It must be a tremendous inspiration to you, Burner,” I said, “you seem -to enjoy it so!” - -“Enjoy it!” he gasped. “I revel in it! Just think how blank my mind -was when I came here! I thought they wouldn’t take me. I had never -been to college, and had little preparation. When they did take me and -give me my chance, I resolved to make up for lost time, Priddy. Other -seminaries would have refused me, and I should never have gone into the -ministry. Of course it is the biggest inspiration that has ever come to -me. It is my first real chance!” - -I soon learned that I had found in the East what I had found in -Evangelical University, a professional school that was willing to bend -to the service of the ambitious but unprepared student. But in the -Seminary there was more point and breadth to the teaching; the studies -were more thorough, intellectually more satisfying; so, with Burner -and with many others who, like myself, had never been to college, I -began the exciting adventure into disciplined truth. - -It was rich fare to which I was invited, during that first year: the -tough meat, Hebrew, which even moderately digested, meant exegetical -strength in Old Testament lore, the tenderer portions of Greek which -nourished one’s New Testament appetite; entrées of psychology and -philosophy; well-baked and spiced Church history, and a various dessert -of special lectures comprising every viand from the art of preaching to -nerve-stirring appreciations of social movements. - -The social life of Evangelical University had been so narrow that I was -ready to appreciate the broadness of that permitted us in the Seminary. -The professors had us in their homes for teas and dinners. The intimate -touch between us and our teachers formed part of the discipline of -those years. There was hardly any sign of that academic aloofness which -I had always supposed to be characteristic of eastern institutions. I -ran into the room of a sick classmate one Saturday morning, only to -find him being nursed by the professor of theology. The utmost freedom -of thought was given us in the speculations of the classrooms. It was -an atmosphere where bigotry and dogmatism could not live overnight. Our -lives, by being linked to that of the Seminary, began to be linked to -the life of the city; for the churches and the people showed us many -thoughtful courtesies, took us into their circles, and made many winter -evenings merry and profitable. - -I still had to rely upon my own efforts for money, but the days of -loading brick, raking lawns, making furnace fires, were gone now, and I -was enabled to earn money in a more professional way. I was given the -task of organizing some children for one of the smaller churches of -the city. One hundred of them met me on Sunday afternoons, in the body -of the church, where for an hour we tried to get along harmoniously -together and incidentally learn some concrete definitions of the -Kingdom of God. I tried to preach through pictures on a blackboard and -through objects like keys and nails, knives and flowers. Many of the -little ones were not used to church etiquette, so I had to wander away -from the Kingdom of God many times to instruct some of them concerning -the necessity of taking off caps in church, of the inhumanity of -pulling one another’s hair braids, of the injudiciousness of poking -pins in one another’s necks. Often, too, when the neighborhood, after -a Sunday feast of mutton and peas, was enjoying its mid-afternoon -slumbers, some of the boys would whirl the church bell and make -startled men and women imagine it was the fourth alarm of a fire. I -had to correct that practise. We held several socials during the year, -socials of a unique character. My assistants would keep the door locked -in the little chapel until the oil lamps had been lifted out of danger. -The popcorn and candy would be put on tables in heaps and the signal -of admission given. Into the room the horde of yelling, scrambling -children would come and fill it with all manner of wild romping. The -refreshments would be given, there would follow another wild frolic, -and at half-past eight the children would go home persuaded that they -had had “a dandy time! Three helpings of popcorn and all the lemonade -you could drink!” - -When the first of May arrived, I announced a picnic for the children, -and though the day was cold, more than our actual membership -appeared--with individual lunches. When we arrived at the grove I had -to stand guard over the lunches until the noon hour. Then, after an -afternoon of disordered fun and fight, I managed to secure order on the -way home by permitting the children to hold the ribbons of the May-pole -and to trail behind in orderly procession, singing, as we entered the -residential section of the city, very piously and earnestly, “Onward, -Christian Soldiers!” - -Meanwhile the arched elms on the seminary campus leafed out and shaded -the walks with cool shadows. The students met after supper, threw off -their coats, and played ball until darkness. The robins began to perch -on my bedroom window ledge and waken me by their dulcet flutings long -before breakfast. The fumes of burning leaves came through the open -windows from the campus. It was spring and it was graduation time for -the seniors. - -It was the season of the year when at Evangelical University the -students, like Thropper, would be planning to earn money during the -coming vacation by taking subscriptions for “The Devil in Society” and -similar objects; but my summer was to be one full of inspirational and -serviceable possibilities. It had been arranged for me, by the seminary -president, that I should take two schoolhouses in a far-away district -and preach during the long vacation. At last I was to actually enter -upon my chosen profession. - - - - -_Chapter XXV. At the Heart of Human Nature. A Confidential Walk with -a Dollar Bill at the End of it. A Philosophical Observation from the -Stage-Driver_ - - -A four hours’ journey by train, each minute going farther and farther -away from thickly settled country, and then I found myself waiting on a -depot platform for the stage-driver who was to conduct me to Upper and -Lower Village, twelve miles from the railroad. - -I looked around and when my eyes lighted on a wooden-legged man, seated -on the front seat of a democrat wagon, I knew that I had found the -conveyance. I went over to him and said, - -“Are you going to Upper and Lower Village?” - -He aimed some colored expectoration over his horse’s ear, watched it -alight upon a fluttering piece of paper, and then, satisfied with his -marksmanship, he said, gruffly, - -“Ef you’re th’ Elder, why, I got a seat. Jump in!” - -The day was excessively hot, and we sat under the full glare of the -sun. We left the little railroad village and plunged on through the -churned-up swirls of choking dust straight into the isolation of this -world, into a part of New England where whole townships have not even -yet attained unto the dignity of names, but like prisoners with their -suffrage taken from them, must be known by mere numbers. - -The forests had been leveled, and there were innumerable acres of -deforested land covered with rusty branches which had been left after -the choppers had trimmed the logs. After several miles, we came to wide -stretches of plain, covered with blueberry bushes. - -A dip in the road, and we had plowed through the last inch of dust: the -wheels of the democrat rattled merrily over the stone road of Lower -Village. Word had been telephoned from the first farm we had passed -that “the new Elder was on the stage with Bill.” The women boldly stood -at their doors watching; from behind many windows I saw intent faces -engaged in taking a comprehensive glance at me. I maintained a stolid -attitude, and pretended not to be aware of the intense and continuous -surveillance to which I was subjected. We thundered over a wooden -bridge, went up a steep hill, and drew rein at a long veranda, which -“Bill” informed me was the “Office, whar you git down.” - -A tall, timid octogenarian, in shirtsleeves, whose thick trousers were -drawn up tightly above soil-daubed shoes, introduced himself as “the -deacon” and conducted me to a little house down a lane which ended -in a pasture. The hot air of the day was fragrant with the odor of -sweet-smelling foliage. Crows were screaming in the distance over the -tops of some burnt pines. A woman, tall and thin and pale, welcomed me -with all the hospitality with which a mother would welcome a son. I -knew from that moment that I had a pleasant summer before me. - -The two villages were nothing more than single rows of houses on either -side of a main road. That road went inland for miles and miles through -immeasurable solitudes, where no man dwelt. We were at the end of the -world, apparently. - -Then began my missionary experience. I was passed from home to home, -sometimes staying but three days in one place: the object being both -economical and social. The cost of my board, under this arrangement, -was very light on each household, and as each hostess was not satisfied -unless she gave the “Elder” the very best cooking she could produce, -my short stay did not permit any embarrassment to the menu. But more -especially this arrangement made it possible for me to know nearly -every family in my parishes intimately, as the association with the -families at the table was the means of establishing more than a -perfunctory friendship. They learned some of my shortcomings, and I -was made aware of their needs. When, in the latter part of the summer, -I was boarding in Upper Village, in the shadow of the mountain, and -went down to Lower Village for a Wednesday evening meeting, one of the -households expected me to creep into the house with the eldest son, go -into the pantry and “steal” huge slices of blueberry cake. This done, -the husband and wife would come into the kitchen, have a hearty laugh, -and before I started back for my boarding-place, we would have our -serious talk over matters of faith and life. - -There were few well-to-do farmers in the community. The distance was -too great from the railroads for the injection of much social life. The -winters were filled with days when life was grim. Had it not been for -the telephone and the mail, the life of that back-road would have been -without any great attractions. But the very isolation of the villages, -and the absence of many social opportunities through the winter, like -a church and preaching, made these farmers the prey of traveling -fanatics, who imported here and there the most fanciful conceptions of -religion and sought, by all manner of persuasion, to turn people into -Mormons and “New Lights,” “Holy Ghosters” and “Disciples.” It did not -take long to see that some of these perversions had taken root in some -homes, and I found myself having to attempt the feat of constructing a -positive and less fanatical doctrine: a feat which at the time I did -poorly enough, but which I took pleasure in attempting. But it was not -formal doctrine or intellectual discriminations which those parishes -needed as much as it was a social man, to impart into their midst, -after the austere winter, a joke, a song, a story, and a friendly -hand-clasp. If I had preached no sermon, but merely gone from home to -home, from field to field, telling men and women and children that I -was their friend, I believe that I should have accomplished the major -part of the needed ministry. - -The meetings were held in the upper rooms of two very solidly -constructed schoolhouses four miles apart. Our meetings had to be -announced in two kinds of time, for some set their clocks by the sun, -while others set them by the Standard, sent over the telephone wires. -The dim, chalky atmosphere of the rooms was always colored by rich -green ferns and assortments of wild flowers. Even though the flowers -were bunched in the necks of mustard bottles, tumblers, and cream jugs, -and not always arranged according to Japanese art, yet the thought -that the sense of beauty in religion found expression even in wild -flowers apologized for all else. When the hob-nailed boot and the plow, -year in and out, are uprooting and crushing field flowers, it marks the -high tide of esthetic appreciation when the wearers of the hob-nailed -boot and guiders of the plow take pains to pick those flowers and add -them to their hymns, their prayers, and sermons in praise to God. - -No small, narrow opportunity was mine, such as in my gloomier moments -I had ascribed to a country pastor. Preaching a sermon formed but a -fraction of my duty. There were young men and women who sought advice -about the outside world, and their business chances in it. There were -business colleges, academies, hospitals, and mills to propose to the -restless ones, who, like young birds, were to try life on their own -wings. - -Entwined in the pastoral work, were many social pleasures that made my -body strong and rested my nerves: adventures over the high hills for -soul-subduing vistas of mountains and lakes; trout fries by the side of -meadow brooks; picnics by the river; visits to bark-peeling camps, over -corduroy roads, and encampment on a lake shore where at night the wild -birds gave voice and were interpreted to us by a guide. - -The golden-rod lined the dusty road at last, and the purple flowers -took the place of the lighter summer ones, and it was time for me to -return to the Seminary. The services were crowded that last Sunday; -mothers brought their babies and did not care if the little ones did -compete with me, in voice. I knew what was in the faces, as they looked -intently on me, as I preached. They were thinking that this would -probably be the last preaching they would hear until the following -summer, unless some stray, itinerant evangelist strolled that way and -opened up the schoolhouse for an evening. There were many tearful -farewells, and then the people went out into the night. It was a clear -night of stars and chill. As I left the schoolhouse, having bade -good-bye to the janitor, for I was due to leave on the next morning’s -stage, a young farmer stepped out from the deep shadow of an oak near -the flag-staff and accosted me with, - -“Say, Elder, do you care to go up the road a piece?” - -I responded that I should enjoy a walk and a chat with him. - -While we walked between two walls of trees, our way dimly outlined by -the faint flicker of the stars, my friend said, - -“I’m one of the bashful sort, Elder. You know that; but I didn’t want -you to leave without having me tell you how much you have helped my -folks this summer. The time you come in our house and played and sang -at the organ for us, and cheered us up with a laugh, why it made -things different in our house. Since mother died, we’ve been having -a hard row to hoe, and you don’t know how much we’ve appreciated the -cheering up you give us. It gets terrible lonesome out here through the -winter, and I want to thank you for all that you’ve done!” - -We took a long walk through the night, paying no attention to distance; -but sharing confidences in true brotherly fashion. Then we turned -about and when we came to the crossroad, in front of the schoolhouse, -we clasped hands, and as he hurried, without another word, into the -darkness towards his motherless home, I felt something crisp in the -palm of my hand. When I returned to my room and had a light I found -that he had given me a dollar bill for a thank offering. - -The next morning I had my baggage on the stage, this time for a -return. Bill, with his wooden leg, greeted me, for by this time we -were old friends. The word of parting was given at the post-office, -and the democrat rattled down the grade and over the bridge. This time -a continuous flutter of handkerchiefs and aprons, and a continuous -hearty shout from the men and boys, followed our passage through the -two villages and then we drove into the dusk of the road through the -blueberry barrens, Bill aiming expectoration at every soap sign within -reach, and confiding in me, on the way, the fact that he had loved -once and “lost,” which he seemed to take in a very philosophical mood, -for he concluded with this phrase, “You can’t get the hang of wimmen, -anyhow!” - - - - -_Chapter XXVI. The Strange Adventure of Burner into Nothing, and How my -Own Mind Got into Trouble, and How my Faith was Strengthened under the -Chapel Window_ - - -On my return to the Seminary I found Burner in the throes of -intellectual despair. The big fellow was sitting in his room, half -buried in the depths of the green Morris chair, his bony fingers -prodded into his working brows. - -“What’s wrong, Burner?” I demanded. - -“I’ve been thinking back too far,” announced the serious fellow. - -“Thinking back too far?” I gasped. - -“Yes,” he muttered. “I’ve nothing to stand on, now.” - -“What do you mean?” - -“I’ve thought away all substance--now!” he moaned, in despair. “I can’t -even conceive a God!” - -“Burner!” - -“Horrible, isn’t it, Priddy?” - -“What do you mean--explain, so that I can get this thing by its head,” -I suggested. - -Burner seriously gathered himself together in his chair, sipped from a -glass of water, and then began, - -“Probably I do too much thinking; maybe that’s what’s the matter, -Priddy. When I left here, last June, and went out for the summer, I -began to try to think through substance; I thought I might do it, -sometime. I got to thinking about it, when I took my walks over the -hills, and kept thinking about it, but, somehow, I couldn’t get my -thought back of the material. When I got back here, last week, I was -sitting in this chair, when all of a sudden I did think back of God; -and conceived all reality as being so immaterial that nothing exists: -no, nothing!” he shouted, “not even--God!” - -“Can’t you think back again--to him?” I demanded, making an effort to -be of some assistance and comfort to the disconsolate man. - -Burner stood on his feet, and paced the floor, excitedly, and said as -he gestured with his hands, - -“I’ve got to be honest--with truth, no matter how far it leads me!” - -“Yes!” - -“Just think how horrible it is; I’ve thought back till I’ve struck -nothing--nothing!” - -“Come, it’s not so bad as that, Burner, is it?” - -“I shan’t be able to preach, to study, to believe anything!” he -declared. “How can I when there is nothing to preach, to study, or to -believe?” - -I could not conceive a more pathetic restraint on a man who sought to -get his living by preaching and study. - -“Perhaps some of the professors might help you back--at least as far as -a belief in God,” I suggested, timidly. - -“Oh, if I only could get back there,” he pleaded, “I would pray about -the matter, but I can’t pray to nothing, can I?” - -I began then to realize how much a dilemma a philosophical honesty -could create. - -“You are too serious, Burner,” I proposed. “You ought to take some -things for granted; not seek to explain everything, you know.” - -He looked at me through astonished eyes, - -“I will take nothing for granted that cannot bear the test of logic!” - -“There,” I cried exultantly, “your intellectual adventures have brought -you into German Rationalism: that’s just what’s the matter with you, -Burner. You’re not the first one that has been caught. It is a passing -experience. Keep on thinking, old fellow, you’ll come back after a -time. It looks serious now, but it’s only a phase. Read the biographies -of some of the saints; it will help you back to a positive faith, I’m -sure.” - -So I left him with that comfort, hoping that he would not leave the -Seminary in his intellectual excitement, for I felt sure that his -Rationalism or Agnosticism or whatever form of mind he was in, would -pass and give way to something with more color and inspiration in it. - -Our studies for the second year were more practical and philosophical -than those we received during the first year. I was ready to appreciate -the value of the studies more after my summer’s experience as a -missionary. The intellectual honesty and sincerity of Burner was -indicative of the spirit which one of the professors, who later left -us, engendered in us. One incident will illustrate the temper of -his art of teaching. Our class, in its first year, had approached -this man’s recitation with a feeling of fear, for his astute mind -and his impassive manner in the classroom, and withal, his absolute -fearlessness in bringing up the other side of an affirmative, had not -reacted in his favor. Even before we knew him, we had him placarded, -in our minds, as an unbeliever! One day when we came into his class we -found that some one had written on the blackboard, the professor’s name -with this legend after it: - - “Professor ---- Atheist!” - -When he came into the classroom, and saw that, I thought he would burst -into tears; a look of patient wonder came into his eyes, and he merely -said to me, - -“Mr. Priddy, will you kindly take the eraser and give us a clean -blackboard!” - -Our first class under this teacher was one in psychology. We met and -his first question was, - -“What are we to study?” - -Instantly one of my classmates replied, - -“Psychology!” - -“What is psychology?” - -My classmate, who had read the definition in the day’s lesson replied, -confidently, - -“‘The study of the mind and the processes of the mind,’ sir.” - -“Ah, and what do you mean by the mind? What do you know about the mind? -Have you ever seen one?” - -My classmate stammered, - -“Why--eh, no, sir.” - -“Then perhaps some one else will inform me what we are here for?” - -No one was willing. - -“Then you will return to your rooms, gentlemen,” said the professor, -without a trace of a smile, “and come tomorrow at the same hour and -tell us what we are to study during the year. I really must know. We -cannot get along until I do.” - -The next day, some of us met, before the class and conspired to teach -that professor his lesson. We memorized the definitions and the -explanations so that it would be impossible for us to slip. Then we -entered the classroom. - -“What are we here for, gentlemen?” began the professor. - -Instantly the answer came from the corner, - -“To study psychology, sir.” - -“Will any one tell me what is meant by psychology?” - -“‘A study of the mind and the processes of the mind, as such,’” -responded another student. - -“‘As such.’ What is meant by that, sir?” - -One of my classmates undertook to explain that “as such” meant that the -“states of the mind” were to be studied as “states of the mind,” and -not as--eh-- - -“Mince pies?” asked the professor, with a slight, serious elevation of -his eyebrows. - -For the next five minutes he went around the class involving each one -of us in our own ignorance until it was impossible for him to get a -reply to any one of his questions. - -“Too bad,” he muttered, seriously. “I really don’t see how we are to -get on. This won’t do. You had better go back to your rooms and come -tomorrow and see if we can let in any daylight on this matter. Good -afternoon, gentlemen!” - -We resolved that we would not study a single word for the morrow; but -that we would go into the class and have no information to offer. We -would see how the professor would like that! - -The following afternoon, pursuant to this plan, when the professor had -greeted us, his first question was, - -“What are we to study? Can any one tell me?” It brought no response. - -He looked around the room in great astonishment and went from man to -man, asking, - -“Can you tell me?” and each time getting a decided and belligerent -negative. - -Then a smile of satisfaction lighted up his sober face and he said, - -“There, gentlemen. Now that you have made up your minds that you know -nothing about psychology, I am ready to begin to teach you!” and from -then to the end of the year we sat under instruction that was masterly, -inspiring. - -This spirit of thoroughness and critical honesty was needed during the -second year, for we were constructing a personal faith: a task more -serious than the mere acquisition of historic facts or encyclopædic -knowledge. But the teachers were patient, kindly, and watched us let -conservative and traditional habits of mind go, not in any spirit -of intolerance. There were many times, that year, when I found -myself almost duplicating Burner’s misery, by sitting in my room -and wondering, after I had let go my traditional habits of thought -about God and the Bible, what I should do without faith. But as one -conception went, another, larger conception came, and I found a -nobler faith than I ever had before. The self-distrust and miserable -vacancy of doubt, were, as I had blunderingly told Burner, mere phases -towards a positive faith. One winter morning, after a night of mental -struggle, during which I suffered fully as much as I had ever suffered -from any physical hardship, I went out on the campus to walk about in -the crisp air. The students had just gone into the chapel for morning -prayers. I stopped under the windows and heard the drone of the parlor -organ. Then, on the quietness of the morning, the manly melody came -to my ears: a hymn resonant with a man’s faith, and bringing peace -to my doubts. “Oh, Love That Will Not Let Me Go,” they were singing, -a monkish, monastic tinge to it, coming from male throats,--only -the tenor was too boyish for a monk, too thrillingly rampant in its -ambitious soaring after God over the high notes. But it soothed me and -I went in the strength of that hymn for many days. - - - - -_Chapter XXVII. The Wonderful Summer on the Pleasure Island_ - - -My next opportunity of earning money for my education came in a call to -preach on Sundays in a little church sixty miles from the Seminary at a -fashionable summer resort. The compensation to be ten dollars a week: -compensation for three days’ absence from the Seminary, one hundred -and twenty miles of travel and expenses, and the nervous exertion of -preaching twice and teaching a Sunday-school class, not excluding -pastoral work whenever opportunity should offer! - -These weekly journeys began when I arose on Saturday morning at five -o’clock, drank a hastily prepared cup of cocoa, and hurried off to -the station for the six o’clock train. Then the train would start on -its way through the snowdrifts, puffing and gasping down white aisles -through rows of stiff, stately pines whose hands held puffy clouds of -snow, and then followed a slow passage through miles of birches bending -low under the weight of wet snow like robed saints humbled by too -great a weight of glory. The railway trip was followed by a steamer -journey of eight miles through a heavy, sad sea which never seemed to -have any light in it, and in whose icy surface pretty grey and mottled -gulls were not afraid to dip their palpitating breasts. The steamer put -me ashore on an island whose centre was loaded with a serried row of -little mountains. At the landing I found a stage and drove for eight -miles over the island to my parish. The stage horse rushed us down -dipping roads that threaded between precipitous mountain sides, whose -summits were desert rocks and at whose feet had crumbled cliff after -cliff of red rock, spread out like a rusty iron yard. Then the road -became a climb until some highlands were attained and we sped through -a little fishing village which nestled close to a mysterious, secluded -cove, guarded by stern, fretted cliffs, a place where Stevenson would -have had a cave of smugglers or the anchorage of a rakish pirate craft. -Then came a turn in the road, where, behind a fringe of thick, old gold -birches and in the midst of some dead oak stumps, nature had placed a -cathedral pile of gigantic slabs of stone, one on another, as if to -show to man what the angels of strength could do once they started to -build with stone. Next followed a bewildering ride over a spiral road -up a steep hill on which stood aristocratic summer homes. At a lookout -where the road took a sudden dip, one saw the cold ocean far down -below with its heavy, listless breakers pounding wearily against the -iron cliffs, as if saying, “Why do the poets insist on our ceaselessly -trying to shatter this cliff? I wish they would let us rest through -the winter, till the summer visitors come: then I will pound like -Vulcan’s hammer to please them!” In the distance, little dismal islands -stood in the sea like burnt dumplings in gravy. Over them the gulls -were screaming and wailing, adding to the solitude and the winter’s -dreariness. Then the stage slanted down the hill and after a long, -twisting ride drew up before the village post-office, where I met my -host and was duly welcomed as the new minister. - -Back and forth, week after week, returning to the Seminary on Monday -evenings, I accomplished my journeys faithfully. Each week besides -my studies I had to plan for the church. There was little time for -idleness, for the hours of recreation were taken up in travel. On these -trips I took a book and tried to have it read on my return. - -But my reward was near at hand. The summer arrived, and with it -an inflow of wealth, honor, and leisure to my parish. A wonderful -transformation came over the island--the Pleasure Island. Boards were -unscrewed from cottage windows. The dead grass gave way to green -carpets. Lifeless sticks budded with colored foliage. The dead sea -and the listless waves became animated with restless energy. The -sun kissed the roads into smoothness and lined the highways with -flowers. Fresh painted steamers, with flying banners, whistled into the -wharves and unloaded crowds of visitors. Steam yachts lay at anchor -in the cove. The white wings of yawls and catboats were dipping in -the breeze. The mountain paths had been re-charted and were filled -with adventurers. The pine groves and the quiet cliffs lured tired -men and women to their restful silences. Trout fishers rubbed oil of -camphor over their faces to restrain the ambitious stings of flies -and mosquitoes, and sought the brook pools where Walton’s classic -trout waited to be played with. My little rustic church became filled -with city people, who not only sat in the pews, but sang in the -choir, decorated the pulpit with flowers and grasses, and served on -responsible committees. - -Then, too, my rest and opportunity came, for we had a list of -distinguished clergymen and professors who were to occupy my pulpit -every Sunday morning, for the resort was very rich in clerical talent -of a willing and gracious sort. We had so much professional talent -indeed, that one morning near the post-office I beheld two bishops, -two university presidents, two professors, and a world-famous author -standing on less than two square yards of ground! - -We left the doors and the windows of the church open while the noted -men preached, and their voices had to vie with the song birds who -perched on the waving trees outside the windows. The sea tang blew -across the church, the sweetest of summer incense. - -I had little enough to do, for the people were too busy with pleasure -to be at home: they wanted me to sit on the cliffs with books and take -a rest--on a salary. - -But there came calls to preach on some of the outlying islands to which -I was carried on different Sunday afternoons in a launch. - -Then they all left us, tanned, virile, rested: the whole community -took itself to the decks of the island steamers and was carried to the -trains. The tennis courts were closed. The shutters were fastened over -the display windows of the flower stand. Many pews were empty in my -little, rustic church. The flowers and shrubs were bedded in straw. -Soon the snow and frost and bleakness of winter would spread over the -island. My second pastorate ended, too, for I had received a call to -supply a larger church much nearer to the Seminary, a church where I -intended to preach after my graduation from the Seminary. - - - - -_Chapter XXVIII. How a Parsonage Suggests a Wife. The Convincing -Revelations of a Phrenologist Who Examined the Students’ Bumps_ - - -On the return to the Seminary, to enter upon my senior year, the first -men I missed were Burner and Tucker, who had graduated the previous -summer. Burner wrote me a very interesting letter from the precincts of -a prominent New England university to the effect that he was a member -of the junior class of that institution, that on Sundays he preached -in a very delightful country town; that he was having a rich feast in -college fare; the courses in animal psychology, metaphysics, especially -in relation to the fundamentals of faith, holding the fullest -fascination for him. Tucker, able at last to do a preacher’s work, not -only to his own personal taste, but also to the gratification of his -parish, was giving himself, sacrificially, to the work of dignifying -the life of the people who had called him. He wrote me that he felt -his special work in life to have two phases to it: that he should -remain unmarried in order that, like a monk, he could do God’s work -with singleness of purpose, and that he should go only to struggling, -discouraged parishes where the small salaries and the hardships formed -a sufficient missionary challenge: parishes in which he should labor -until they were transformed and able finally to pay a salary on which -a permanent, married man could settle among them and give them the -fullest, freest service. - -“I am setting myself,” concluded Tucker, “to be a mortgage-lifter, -parsonage-getter, and salary-raiser for other ministers who are to -follow me!” - -The parish to which I ministered during my last year in the Seminary, -and in which I planned to settle immediately upon graduation, was in a -seaport town of a quaint type: buried back in the rugged coast lines -of the Atlantic. The Embargo Act had been like the chilling breath -of petrification on the East Indiamen, the Ceylon traders, the China -brigs, and the many other ships which had gone out from its port. The -wharves to which of old time these sea-rovers had been tied when in -port had rotted until, in my day, the water-front was outlined by their -black, damp, soggy ruins. Here and there, outside the precincts of the -town, half buried among young saplings and deep grasses, could be seen -the piles and planks of a once stout wharf. In the village itself, -almost everything pointed, with an index finger, to the past as the -scene of the town’s glory. The hotel in which I stayed, in stage-coach -days had been a tavern, and from the porch of it the landlord, wearer -of a blue military coat with brass buttons, had fed the wild birds -and pigeons. The house had an office-boy who was seventy odd years -old, a man whose clothes and speech were tinctured with reminiscences -of the sea and the past glory of the village. As one tipped back in -one of the hundred-year-old chairs, which were whittled, by loungers’ -pocket knives, to skeletons of rungs and seats, one saw slow-pacing -oxen, nodding their heads in two-four metronomic time, pulling loads -of sun-dried, salted codfish from the outdoor driers to the packing -factory. In the parlors, on the hillside, were many interesting relics -of the past, left by the race of sea captains and ship-owners almost -extinct. There were trinket boxes made from scented, oriental woods, -and little Ceylon gods of brass and porcelain. There were Japanese -ivories and vases and draperies. There were ebony ornaments from savage -islands and carved novelties, the product of barbarous intelligence. - -The old families, remaining in the village, were of that splendid -Puritan sort who serve God with mind, heart, and purse, and while the -older men and women remained at home, the sons and daughters, blessed -with their heritage, had gone out into the world to do no small share -of the brilliant and serviceable tasks for which honor and wealth are -given. When the bells on the two churches rang, on Sunday mornings, -one waited for the other, so that they might ring in antiphonal -brotherhood, seeming to say, “Good morning,” and to reply, “Good -morning,” in praise of the doctrinal harmony in the parishes where, in -the by-gone years, opposing pulpits had been girt about with demoniac -lightnings and surmounted by the wild-eyed heresies of dethroned angels. - -In addition to the salary for my preaching, a white, green-shuttered, -iridescent-windowed parsonage, perched on a summit of grass terraces, -stood ready, as my home, whenever I should want it; in other words, as -members of my parish phrased it, “when I should bring Mrs. Priddy!” Now -a twelve-roomed house, rent free, perched on grass terraces, guarded -on one side by a syringa and on the other side by some red currant -bushes, says nothing to a young bachelor theologue, about to graduate, -but, “How about a wife?” As there was no ignoring such a house, there -was no ignoring its consequent,--a wife. The two, like a “neither” -and “nor,” went together. Probably that is why parishes generally see -to it that there is a parsonage, especially where young ministers are -concerned: that such a concrete suggestion will work on the mind and -heart of their minister, through the night hours with all the terror -of an inescapable dream, in the day hours as a thing to be accounted -for whether or no. There is, perhaps, no suggestion more haunting -can befall a young, bachelor minister, than an unoccupied, Colonial -parsonage, standing on a summit of terraces, unoccupied! If he rents it -to outside parties, it is one way of saying to your parish, “I am too -cowardly to marry!” If he permits it to remain empty, he has to spend -many precious hours explaining to the church committee and their wives -his good reasons for having it empty, and there are so few good reasons -that the task is no desirable one. - -However, Destiny, using a strange mouthpiece, showed me a clear path in -the matter. It came about in this wise. - -The lower floor, in the east wing of Therenton Hall, at the Seminary, -was devoted to social purposes. It was the meeting-place of the -students immediately after supper, where all sorts of recreations were -indulged. A song, a piano solo, a burlesque, or a bit of clever mimicry -was usually in order in that place. It was ostensibly a reading-room, -where, on the tables, were to be found magazines of interest to -theological students. - -It was in this room where our freak visitors came to describe to us -their specialties: men who came and tried to woo us from study to -strange, emotional cults; men who came and told us, to our faces, -with prophetic fearlessness of consequences, that by our alignment to -the Seminary, and to _any_ institution of learning, we were making -ourselves heretics and outcasts. One evening, at the supper table, in -Commons, Bobbett announced that “Professor Hoyle, a fellow that feels -bumps, a phrenologist, would be in the reading-room, ready to read our -capabilities, our faults, and our destinies for twenty-five cents a -head, special price to theological students from the usual fifty-cent -rate. No satisfaction, no pay!” - -Town lassies, in medieval Europe, never flocked to palm-reader or -card-turner, with more curiosity or “pooh-poohing,” than did we. On the -way through the yard, the same critical faculties which we had brought -to bear on “hallucinations” and “superstitions” in our studies of -psychology and savage religions were brought to bear upon our impending -interview with “Professor Hoyle.” Certainly the majority of us, by -the time we had entered the parlor, were there on account of no other -emotion than the wish to bring to bear on this man’s acts our trained, -critical, scientific acumen; though it cost us twenty-five cents! - -The “professor” was waiting for us, a tall, slightly stooped, -well-dressed young man. He made no claims, no speech. He merely said, - -“Come up, one following another, and after I have examined you and -made a note of my findings, I will write out each one’s report on paper -and if it does not suit, why none need pay.” - -One after another then we filed into the chair and had those pliant, -nervous, cold fingers steal, subtly, over our cranial topographies. -Silently, quickly, skilfully, bumps that nature had placed on our -skulls, and bumps that basket-ball and parallel bars had induced, -were sorted out, interpreted, and their meanings put on a pad of -paper, against our names. Then, after some moments of scratching, the -“professor” handed each one of us his report. Laughingly they were -received, laughingly they were perused, and then looks of startled -wonder were the rule, for in some unaccountable way, the “professor” -had managed to find strange true interpretations of us. He informed one -student that if the latter had not planned to become a minister, he -would have done well at mechanical engineering, a vocation in which the -student had had some proficiency. There were some intimate revelations -for each one of us, true appraisals of temperament, inclination, -and habit. But it was the unknown things over which we smiled, the -mysterious future, which we were ready to believe on account of -the truthfulness with which he had told our present. Instantly the -parsonage on the summit of grass terraces came into mind, as the last -words of my phrenological report read: - -“Love: brown-haired young woman.” - -I paid my quarter, willingly, and went to my room, linking an unknown, -unnamed, intangible “brown-haired young woman” with the waiting -parsonage. - - - - -_Chapter XXIX. It Devolves upon me to Entertain a Guest and the -Sentimental Consequences Which Ensued_ - - -Then, as if in conspiracy with the traveling phrenologist, the Seminary -itself made “the brown-haired young woman,” concrete, before my eyes. - -As the emotional revival had been the feature, the advertised feature -of Evangelical University, so Lecture Week was the unique, advertised -feature of the Seminary. As the Revival was doctrinal, controversial, -and excessively unintellectual, so Lecture Week was undoctrinal, -constructive, and preëminently intellectual. Lecture Week was, par -excellence, one of the most inspiring intellectual treats of a week’s -duration to be found within the bounds of the Atlantic and Pacific -oceans. For the special lecturers of the year pooled interests and -appeared together. These lecturers were preëminent men drawn from the -ranks of highest achievement: specialists of high, world-wide repute -on preaching, social service, and _belles lettres_. They were men for -whose speech and thought any student would gladly put aside treatises -on oratory and explanations of social movements and interpretations of -literature, and give himself entirely into their safe-keeping. Three -words were inscribed over those precious, inspiring weeks: “Golden -Speech,” “Ripe Thoughts,” and “Impressive Personalities!” Students were -never the same in ambitions after the lecturers had shuffled their -notes into their leather pouches and left: I had one student preach for -me the Sunday following one such week, and there, before the eyes of -my parishioners, some of whom had been in attendance on the lectures, -appeared an excellent facsimile of the noted divine who had given the -course on preaching; the student stroked back his hair exactly as -the noted man had done, he leaned over the pulpit in perfect accord -with the latter’s peculiar and distinguishing trait; even some of his -climaxes and intonations of voice followed those used by the famous -preacher in his most forceful oratorical moments. I think this student -was not alone among those who played the sedulous ape to the Lecture -Week speakers. I know that more than once I caught myself thinking that -probably a change in method to that of Dr. Gladden’s conversational -ease might impress my audience à la Dr. Gladden. - -During that week the Seminary became a generous host to the country -ministers, not only sending the poorer ones an urgent invitation to -the feast, but following very closely that gospel which urges one to -go out into the highways and compel them to come, for she aided some -by railway fares, helped others by having the fares reduced, and when -she had them into the city, gave them free lodgings in the dormitory -and in the gymnasium, with students for chambermaids and professors for -general managers of departments. - -The result, in my senior year, for Lecture Week, was inspiring. The -heroic preachers from the isolated parishes, who in true poverty and in -chastity of heart hold up God’s light amidst a darkened, back way, came -to us in their brushed-up frayed frock coats and white percale ties -to find themselves somewhat surprised at the city ministers, who not -only did not wear white ties during the week-days, but had even left -their frock coats at home to appear on the campus more like doctors -on holidays than sedate ministers of the gospel. However, in heart, -neither frock nor sack coats made a difference, for it was astounding -how boyish and playful the faces of both city ministers and country -missionaries became in the interim of lectures, or at night when in the -midnight hours some sedate man would get out of his cot, skulk past -the snoring brethren who were arrayed in a row on the cots in the -gymnasium, and either by rolling a thundering bowling ball at the pins, -or by some other act of deliberate mischief, awaken Babel! - -Morning, afternoon, and evening the city people united with the -seminary members in crowding the lecture hall; school-teachers, -women’s clubs, college professors and college students, librarians, -esthetic clerks, intellectually inclined mill-workers, doctors, -lawyers, and church people,--these were in evidence always, for the -lecturers’ names, and the three poles of their thought--religion, -social service, and letters--made a universal appeal. In fact, it -must have somewhat embarrassed the speakers to have been called in to -lecture to theological students and find before them all the Gentiles -of the city. In any case, the speakers who had been so uninformed as -to head each separate lecture, whether on “The Pastor in his Study,” -“The Turmoil in Society,” or “The Supremacy of Browning over the -Saxon Heart,” with the usual, “My Dear Young Men,” were compelled, -on appearing, to make it read, “The Citizens of this City, Visiting -School-teachers and Professors, the Faculty and my Dear Young Friends -of the Seminary! Ahem!” and then go ahead and wonder how the Barbarians -would be interested in what was intended for the Greeks! It was, in -all, a reincarnation of a medieval monastery acting as light-bringer, -with this difference, that the Seminary’s light was a Welsbach burner -and no smoky fish-oil one that made a fog! - -The visiting clergymen who had overrun the privacy of the Seminary -left, and the parishes in the back places were to ring with the echoes -of Lecture Week, and from many and many a dried-up well in the mind -and heart of a minister who had never had money enough for timely -books or visits to inspiring conferences, was to be flowing living, -leaping water for months after. One missionary pastor, however, had -been left within the precincts of the Seminary, a missionary whose work -lay far back from the railroad, amidst the heavy, drifted snow roads -in winter and amidst the serenity of the isolated hills and fields in -summer; a missionary preacher who had been to a college, but not a -theological seminary, and one who evidently strongly believed in equal -suffrage--for this minister was a “brown-haired young woman.” She -attended our classes in company with an elderly woman student and was -present when our homiletical professor, to make his instruction clear -as to how we should engineer a wedding, took a long and short man, -called one the bride and the other the groom, and had them plight their -troth before us, _ex more_. - -One evening I sat at a supper table in the family hotel to where I had -transferred my appetite, when I was surprised to see the busy little -woman manager guide the “brown-haired young woman” over to my table and -say, without a lift of the brow, as she came, - -“She is a minister and you are to be a minister, I think you ought to -sit at the same table!” - -She left the young woman sitting opposite me at the table, not being -aware that we were strangers to each other. But there we were, and it -seemed as if the phrenologist’s ghost must have been wandering near, -though by that time I had put his report out of mind entirely. - -Suddenly it was rumored about the Seminary that I had in charge the -entertainment of our guest, the missionary, and students stumbled over -us in the most unexpected places, as we took our walks over the city. -Curious persons began to speak about the usefulness of a wife who could -herself take to the pulpit! It was even reported about the Seminary -that some day she would be writing my sermons! - -When the missionary had returned to her parish a sharp watch was kept -over the mail box at the foot of Therenton Hall stairway, for it was -expected that probably some correspondence would take place between -the missionary and myself. Some letters did pass between us, though -those from the missionary conveyed to me the fact, expressed in -clear, unequivocal language, that she was wedded to her mission and -felt that her whole life and sympathy belonged to her people, despite -any personal wishes of her own. The matter had reached that stage -when examination and graduation week drew near, a time which brought -suffering with it. - - - - -_Chapter XXX. A Heretic Hunter. The Orthodoxy of the Seminary Admirably -Defended. I Contract a Fashionable Disease, and also Receive a Very -Unsettling Letter_ - - -The fifty-year-old elms are budding; the shapely Norway maples are -bursting into May leafing; the sun, after having melted away the ice -and packed snow in the north corners, is now pouring down over the -sloping field in front of the dormitory porch; the snow shovels which -the students have used through the snowy winter months in clearing -gridirons of paths--a task which they have chosen by lot--these tools -of winter have been packed away in remote corners of the vaulted -cellar. There is a slack fire kept in the stoves, a sure sign of a -seminary spring. One or two bicycles are seen leaning against the steps -of the chapel, waiting for their owners to come from class and take -a ride over the hills. Nature has set the campus for loafers, but the -professors have chosen the dramatic month of May for the hard grind of -final examinations! Just about this time the students begin to debate -very seriously on this matter, of acute interest--to them: “Resolved: -That Examinations Do Not Gauge the Mental Fitness of a Student,” and -substantiate their proposition by the following proofs: - -“That examinations induce nervousness, prohibiting the student from -actually expressing what is actually in his mind. - -“That all knowledge cannot be put on paper, for it is possible for a -man to profit by study and yet not be able to give proof of it when -asked. - -“That examinations depend upon memory: that all students are not -perfect in memory--” and the many other usual arguments which -examinations, from the earliest times, must have had against them. - -But, in the Seminary, these examinations on paper, while almost -decisive, were supplemented by oral examinations, made in public, with -full liberty given to any visitors, especially visiting ministers, -to ask questions. Immediately it is seen what a heresy-hunting, -heretic-discovering opportunity these oral examinations gave: for if -ever a study has brought men’s thumbs into the screw and men’s necks -into nooses, and caused the suspicions of men to flame into white heat, -has it not been Theology? - -For two years I had sat with my fellow victims in the little chapel -where our hymns of praise and our prayers had been wont to ascend. -Class by class we sat, the lower classes unimportant in dramatic -possibilities because they were to be examined merely on Hebrew and -Church History, and surely it would have taken a persecutor with a -keener nose than Hildebrand or a Scotch vestryman to cull a heresy -on the Trinity or the Virgin Birth from a _hiphil_ or a _hophal_ or -a padrigram with a _kametshhatauph_ in it! In fact, after a minister -has been away from the Seminary a few years, he attends these oral -examinations in Hebrew, merely to nod his head at the recital of every -jot and the pronunciation of every drunken row of consonants, as if -it were a matter of every-day understanding with him, and needed no -comment! At least, it seemed so to me as I watched during my first -experience as a participant in an oral examination in Hebrew. Neither -is there much of a chance for heresy-hunting in Church History, for is -it not, in itself, a record of heresy after heresy? But “the senior -class in Theology!” The mere announcement of such an event is enough -to lure from his tombs every theological ragger who ever drew breath. -Think of the chance: to be given _carte blanche_ with eight young -students who are ready to be quizzed on their theology! - -The senior class sit in their students’ chairs hardly comprehending -what they face. Perhaps because they are young and have a certain -amount of _bel esprit_, in any case, they sit ready; each one ready -to take up arms in defense of the orthodoxy of the seminary of that -present year against the orthodoxy of the seminary forty, fifty, or -fifty-eight years ago; a clash which may have in it every element of -theological tragedy. That there may be need of it is clear, for in the -second settee of visitors sits a white-haired, stern-faced minister, -who had stopped progress before Darwin wakened the world, or ever First -Isaiah was said to have a double, or before such startling queries as -“What Sage Influenced the Psalter?” and “Did the Code of Hammurabi Help -Moses?” began to be made. He antedates those novelties: is strongly -entrenched, unwilling to lend his ear to them lest Zion’s song be not -heard. Traditions of this man have been handed down to the seniors, -who now sit ready for his ringing challenge. They know he is waiting -eagerly for them, to follow every word, every answer that has in it any -deviation from the straight doctrine of _his_ senior year! - -The examination begins. First the professor asks some questions that -will indicate the range and character of his instruction. The old man -jots down something in a note-book, which he holds in his hand, for he -is experienced in these matters. Then the cross-examination ensues. The -old minister asks, first of all, in a bewildered voice, - -“Do you mean to say, young gentleman, that the first sin was not done -in the Garden of Eden, as exactly recorded? Does the Seminary teach -that?” - -The student replies, at length, showing, in terms of modern research -and science, exactly what he means: that he has not denied the terrible -fact of sin nor of its penalties, etc. - -But, in the audience sit some younger men, recently graduated, who, by -skilfully injected questions, deflect examination into constructive and -spiritual channels, bringing out from the students the rich faith that -they have to preach and the helpful doctrine that they mean to proclaim -to men, and the examination closes with only one man imagining that -faith is on its last legs through too much wisdom. - -These parlous times of test, of trial were approaching for me, -and I had my class note-books in order on my desk, for a review, -when one morning I awoke suffering agony from the then fashionable -ailment--appendicitis; just at a time when the papers were reporting -that some Philadelphia society women were compelling doctors to -operate on them as a new fad! The student across the hall opened his -medicine-closet and made me a very stout and vigorous mustard plaster; -but that did not avail. Then the doctors were asked in and gave out the -news that I should have to be operated upon immediately. Visions of -graduation melted in thin air. While a carriage was secured, I dictated -two short letters, not knowing whether they would be my last. Then I -had my friend read me a letter which the missionary had sent. It was a -letter to the effect that she felt that our personal feelings should -be put aside in order that she might devote herself to God’s work. It -pleaded that we should bring our correspondence to an end, in order not -to heighten the tragedy to which the matter had reached. The words were -like knife blades driven deep, and causing a pain more acute than that -physical pain which had brought me next door to death. - -As the students carried me downstairs and put me in the carriage, they -saw my face contorted and purple with physical agony. - - - - -_Chapter XXXI. How Some of the Joys of Friendship Came to me in the -Tower Room. The Orator in the White Vest. How Soon I Lost my Diploma_ - - -From the ether cone which a house surgeon had held over my nostrils I -breathed unconsciousness and peace. I awoke in a tower room, with a -semi-circle of bright windows letting in the morning sun on me, and -with a quiet-motioned, white-capped nurse watching me as I struggled -free from grim dreams and tried to regain my right mind. The merest -turn of the eyes toward the low windows permitted me to see the May day -outside: a day in which salmon fishers came in boats up the river and -patiently, skilfully lured giant fish from the deep waters to their -bags. - -The little, bare room was soon colored with gifts of flowers from -friends in my parish, from my classmates in the Seminary, and from -the missionary. Letters of consolation and good cheer, visits from the -president of the Seminary, who told me not to fret about examinations, -because I should graduate, and cheering minutes with my class friends -took the edge from my suffering. One morning a delegation of little -children came bashfully into the room, and after standing in a row -before me, each waiting for the other to speak,--for they represented -the children whom I had organized in the mission church, two years -before,--one of them, a little girl, stepped forward and with a quick -thrust put on my white coverlet a paper bag, saying: - -“Mr. Priddy, we’re sorry you’re sick and hope you’ll soon be well. We -chipped in for those and hope you’ll like ’em, please.” - -When they had left the room, the nurse opened the bag and discovered -one half-dozen maximum-ripened bananas. - -But graduation! Should I be in the hospital while my classmates enjoyed -the festivities, the sobering joys, the inspiration of that event? -The doctor, who with his trail of a clinic examined me each morning, -had been given a word by the President, for though a stern man in -appearance and very blunt in speech, he would turn, half fiercely, in -mock ferocity to my nurse and say, - -“This young man _must_ be ready for the sixth of June. Remember, he is -not to be in this place on that day!” - -Though he never smiled as he said this; yet because he said it I -imagined him as the best friend I had ever called friend, for the sixth -of June was the day of graduation! - -From the fragments of news which came to me, day by day, I knew that -the Seminary was shaping itself for the graduation exercises. The oral -examinations had been held; the visiting alumni had met for their -annual meeting; the reception, in one of the professors’ homes, had -been given; and on the morrow, in the evening, my classmates would -stand before the pulpit in the brick church while the President handed -them their diplomas. - -Graduation morning found me shaved, expectant and nervous, sitting at -one of the windows watching a little girl cruelly strip a tiny sapling -of its first glorious flowers. Suddenly the nurse came into the room, -with a knowing smile, and said that there was a stranger to see me! - -There followed the scrape of a foot along the rubber-carpeted corridor -and into the room, dressed in demure black, came the missionary! She -had followed the leading of her heart and had come down to cheer me on -for graduation, for a strange dream had come to her the night I had -been smitten down, a dream that came before any news of my illness had -reached her, in which some spirit of warning had whispered that I was -suffering, in danger of my life! Then the mail had brought her the -truth, and there she stood before me to share the honors of the day -sympathetically with me. - -By ten o’clock two classmates rattled into the hospital yard in a -carriage; came into my room, their arms loaded with my best clothes. - -“You’ve got to graduate with us!” they exclaimed. “We’ve been together -through the years, and we can’t afford to have the line broken now!” - -One half hour later, supported by them, I was placed in the carriage -and carried triumphantly to my room in the dormitory, where I was to -remain quiet and patient until evening, when I should go down to the -brick church for my diploma! - -From the lofty height of my dormitory window I could look down on the -house-tops of the city and see the hazy hills far, far against the -distant sky-lines. I could also look down between the veil of elm -leaves and see the processions of visitors and the hurrying forms of my -classmates, as they passed over the tar walk, under the shady arch of -the trees towards the gymnasium, where a banquet was to be served in -honor of my class. - -There was a clatter outside my door, and the classmate who had been -chosen to deliver the speech for us in the gymnasium appeared in my -doorway with a hearty, - -“How do I look, Priddy?” - -No groom ever did better with a frock coat, a white, flowered vest, a -brilliant tie, and neatly combed hair, and I told him so. He then left -me for the momentous occasion in which he was to figure after dinner, -when he would stand up at the head of all the tables, strike his pose, -and in his best manner--with an incidental throwing back of his frock -coat to display his grand white vest--give the felicitations, the -thanks, the hopes, and ideals of our class. - -So I sat apart from the revelry of the day, with a beating, thankful -heart, waiting for the arrival of evening. After supper a student came -into the room, fitted me into the best collar that I had, fastened the -groomish, white silk tie skilfully about it, put the golden links into -my new cuffs, and then helped me insert myself into my new frock coat! - -“There,” he cried, stroking the front of my coat and then standing -back for the effect, “I think you are ready to be escorted down to the -church by the missionary; she will meet you in the reception room. Good -luck to you, Priddy!” - -I was so faint that I walked through the great congregation of visitors -and friends as through a blur. I took my seat in the front of the -church with my classmates and saw only the array of palms and flowers -on the communion table. I needed to marshal every ounce of nerve and -strength in order to get through the service without accident. A -terrible fear rushed into my heart, as my head kept whirling like a -top and leaving me exhausted, a fear that I should tumble from my seat -and spoil the exercises. - -One after another of my classmates crowded past me, ascended to the -pulpit, and delivered his speech. Next my name on the program, and the -subject of the speech on which I never wrote, was a star, followed by -the note: “Excused on account of illness.” - -After the addresses, the President came down from the pulpit throne and -we stood lined up before him, with the vast audience at our backs. I -could not listen to the words of parting that our mentor gave us, for -I felt every minute that I should tumble back like a stricken ninepin; -bowled over by my insufficient strength. Sweeps of pain, of cold and -heat went through me like differing winds. Slowly, ever so slowly, -the diplomas were handed us, seeming to take a day or more, and every -minute I felt like stopping the solemn service and asking to be allowed -to go back to my seat. - -Finally the last of the diplomas were given, we turned our faces to the -congregation, walked nervously back to our seats, and waited for the -exercises to be concluded. - -The organ thundered its exultant recessional, the people crowded into -the aisles and intercepted us as we struggled through, seeking out -sweethearts, friends, parents, whose congratulation we sought first. -The missionary was waiting for me near an exit door, anxious for -me, as I saw by her face. I had just shown her my diploma, with its -blue silken bow, when suddenly the Dean tapped me on the shoulder and -politely requested my diploma, saying, - -“You may have it again, Mr. Priddy, after you have completed your -deferred examinations!” - - - - -_Chapter XXXII. How, Though I was Ready for Service, I was Forestalled -by a New Trouble, and the Very Interesting Plan Which Came Out of it_ - - -Then the reward of the years came to me: I had my whole time to give to -my parish, I had my home in the parsonage and a wife--the “brown-haired -young woman”--to preside over it. Though Evangelical University had -nurtured narrow, dogmatic, and discontented versions of faith in -me, and though the first months of instruction in the Seminary had -witnessed the destruction of these versions of faith, finally had come -the larger world of faith, without narrow bounds, with deeper reaches -and a much brighter sky. Like Burner, I had been called upon to pass -through skeptical valleys, and to climb over high walls which bruised -the spirit, but it was only to climb to the top of a lofty faith, at -last, in which I seemed to behold the world of men, spite of their -common sins, tending towards the central place--God’s garden. I felt -that I could go into the pulpit and preach on themes, which instead -of arousing the hostility of men, as the doctrine of Evangelical -University seemed destined to do, would by their breadth, optimism, and -freedom from Phariseeism win the repentant consent of men. I had gone -into the Seminary tutored by Evangelical University to be afraid to -let the sun shine on religion’s chief doctrines, I had come from the -Seminary believing that the flood of light intensified the beauty of -religion. So, at last, I had the opportunity of testing on community -life this doctrine which comforted me with an inexpressible comfort. I -bent to my work, with my wife at my elbow, as proud of my chance as any -king called suddenly from obscurity to a kingdom. - -I occupied a study whose front window overlooked the trees and gave me -an excellent view of the sailing ships and steamers which dotted the -bay. I had my typewriter in one corner, my desk in the centre of the -room, and an abundant supply of manuscript paper on which I intended -writing years and years of sermons for that parish. - -One day, in spring, my wife insisted that I consult a specialist about -a throat affliction which had been interfering with my parish duties. I -sought one out and had him make a thorough examination of me. Gravely -he plied his tools and searched my throat, and gravely he announced, - -“You will have to bring your pastoral work to an end, sir. Your throat -will have to be cared for. You must go, immediately, to a dry climate, -among the high hills, and use your throat for a year or two with great -economy. That is all. There is no better remedy.” - -I gazed on him with startled eyes. - -“But I’ve just got settled down,” I insisted. “I have no money saved. I -have just married. Is there no other remedy?” - -“None,” he replied, “I am sorry to say. You will have to do as I -prescribe or lose your voice altogether. It is very serious.” - -Late that afternoon I appeared before my wife. She had been planting -some old-fashioned flowers in the garden. She saw by my downcast -countenance that I had bad news. - -“What has he told you?” she enquired. “Don’t quibble with me, please!” - -“We’ll have to say good-bye to this place,” I began, miserably. “It’s -all at an end: this fine dream!” - -“Have to leave?” she echoed, faintly. “Is that it?” - -Then I reported to her what the specialist had told me. - -“And we’ve planted the garden!” I concluded. “We shan’t be able to stay -here long enough to reap it!” - -There followed some moments of silence, during which the full shock of -the news had time to hurt her, and then she proved herself to be one -in that sisterhood of wives who in proposing a comfortable escape from -a domestic difficulty bravely commit themselves to hardships: for she -said, with a smile, - -“There, now, this will give you a chance to get to college!” - -I looked at her with great astonishment. - -“But we cannot afford to go to college,” I protested. - -“Oh, can’t we?” she smiled. “Well, I suppose it may be possible for -you to get a little church to supply near a college, and I will stay -at home through the week, keeping an eye on the parish work while you -study for your degree.” - -“I had never thought of that!” - -“You will have to be idle if you go to a parish, you might as well use -your time in getting a college degree,” she insisted. - -In two weeks’ time I had written to the Dean of an old New England -college, of great reputation, and, on the strength of my seminary -study, was informed that I should be eligible to enter the junior -class at the college the following fall. With that matter settled, I -soon learned that I might supply a country church, some miles from -the college, and let my wife occupy the parsonage. The financial end -of college thus concluded, I resigned from the church: the church -in which all the sentimental ties of student days, ordination, and -marriage were merged. - -An old seaman came and boxed my household goods, and as he worked, -tried to blunt the sting of the task by reciting to me in great detail, -how Moses, after becoming the wisest man among the Egyptians, likewise -became the greatest war general of his time. - -“How is that?” I asked. - -“Well, you see,” said the seaman, “the ’Gyptians was allus goin’ over -the sands of the desert to battle, and the sands of the desert was -filled with biting snakes, and the men died by whole companies from the -glare of the sun, so Moses, he invented some red umbrellas and give one -to every soldier and took ’em onto the blazing, snake-ridden floor of -the desert. Result was, when the snakes seen the glaring umbrellas they -was scart off, and the men was covered from the hot blaze of the sun, -and went into other lands and won big victories under that same Moses!” - -“Where did you learn that?” I asked, in great curiosity. - -He mumbled the name of some strange-sounding history, and then -returned to his work, for which I was paying him twenty cents an -hour. That legend had cost me fifteen cents; it had taken him a full -three-quarters of an hour to recount it with its frills and the many -interjections. - -Then my wife and I, feeling like the first man and woman leaving Eden, -bade a tearful good-bye to the house, to the parish, and went forth -to a new educational adventure, one that would have its own peculiar -hardships, pain, and pleasures. - - - - -_Chapter XXXIII. Of a Village where Locomotive Whistles Sounded like -Lingering Music: of the Esthetic Possibilities in a College Catalogue: -of a Journey over the Hills to the College where we find, besides a -Wonderful Array of Structures, a Large Room and the Junior with his -Barnful of Furniture_ - - -To a bird the north New England hill country whither our adventure -took us might have resembled in shape a crumpled pie crust. In one of -the depressions lay our new parish: the horizons high and lifted up by -reason of the hills which girt it closely about. All the exits from the -village were over roads that sloped upward. Only the river had an even -course as its shallow body bruised itself in rushing over the sharp, -white rocks which tried to hold it back. - -The village was composed of groups of neatly painted cottages branching -from an elm-shaded green around which stood the town buildings: the -drab-painted pillared church, the post-office and general store, -the glaring red brick townhouse, the mill-like school building, the -parsonage, the doctor’s residence, the postmaster’s house, and the farm -of the first select-man. - -The two fine contributions to the national reputation that a majority -of our parishioners were sending into the markets, were golden bars -of butter and finely-fed beef. Very quietly the people were giving -themselves to these tasks, having but little touch with the great world -outside. - -It was difficult for me, in the midst of such rustic peace and isolated -civilization, to realize that twelve miles back of the hills lay a -famous college whose traditions had gone out into every part of the -country during the century and a half of its existence. Its name -had been reverently spoken in so far away a place as Evangelical -University. The history of the United States cannot be written without -mention and eulogy of some of its noted graduates. During those July -days, while we were establishing our household goods in the parsonage, -I caught myself sniffing the east wind, as if eager to slake my -curiosity by catching the flavor of the college. My enthusiasm was -unbounded over the possibility of at last attaining unto a college -education: the trade-mark of American culture. My wife and I had -promised ourselves to drive over the hills as soon as the house had -been established, so that together we might have our first view of -the institution and that I might confer with the dean and arrange my -schedule of studies for the first term. I waited impatiently for that -day to come. - -Meanwhile, during the lulls in house settling, I took the college -catalogue and selected a course of studies. It was an enticing feast -before which I sat: I felt like a lad having to choose from fifteen -nectar flavors of ice cream, only the courses of study from which I -had the privilege of choosing went into the hundreds. Almost every -theme of my desire was spread before me; explorations into literature, -social life, fine arts, science, language, and economics. Old yearnings -could be abundantly gratified at last: a formidable list of professors -and a more formidable list of studies awaited my option. Evangelical -University had given me the foundations of an education, the Seminary -had given me the technical knowledge of my profession, at last I had -come to the studies that should broaden my outlook, extend my habits -of thought beyond the narrow groove of my vocation, and link me to the -great world-thought. I put down Italian so that at last I might, with -my own ears, hear Dante speak to me through his euphonious and inspired -Cantos, and I chose a course in which Goethe should at last be met face -to face. I also determined to test my theology in a science course -to find out for myself if God and the forces of Nature were actually -engaged in undying warfare. I chose, also, a course in composition, -which had in it all the lure towards authorship and the fascination of -literary creation. My technical studies in the Seminary had prepared -me to secure from the college the highest inspiration I should ever -receive from books. - -Early in the month of August, my wife and I started from the village -in a buggy for a drive over the hill roads to the college. My wife -reminded me, during the drive, of the strangeness of the situation: -of the fact that five years previously she had received her degree -from her _alma mater_ and that she was now on the way to witness the -matriculation of her husband. Midway on the route we drove through an -abandoned village, past a once commodious church, a mill, and several -houses, all storm bent and in forsaken ruin. We rode along sand-rutted -highways which seemed to take us farther and farther away from living -creatures. We passed acres and acres of stumps showing where the axes -and saws of woodsmen had left a permanent scar in the forestry of the -back-roads. Then we emerged on the first street of a quaint, slumberous -town whose green and drab-shuttered white houses hid demurely behind -screens of elm and of maple. On the outskirts of this village we found -ourselves on a sandy plain which sloped down towards a wide river. On -the opposite bank, set like gleaming red and white flowers in a bed of -green, were towers, windows, houses, chimneys: acres of them, a mile -distant, scattered over a narrow elevated plain behind which rolled -hills far to the North, to the East and to the South, their sky-lines -lost in clouds. - -“It’s the college!” I exclaimed, dropping the reins for further, -excited contemplation. The patches of red and the hundreds of gleaming, -sun-blazing windows, were dormitories and academic halls. The white -blotches were innumerable houses surrounding the college buildings. -One had to pick them out from the lavish clusters of shade trees whose -leaves left cool, dark shadows on the buildings. - -Fifteen minutes later our horse had dragged us toilsomely up a steep -roadway on either side of which were a few scattered houses, the -outposts of the college town, and brought us right into the midst of -the college campus itself, a very green oasis surrounded by a hollow -square of college structures. Yes, the Fence was there, a double line -of it with the grass worn off where Seniors’ sacred feet had rubbed! -just as in my boyish speculations I had always conceived a college with -its Fence. Very near the green, too, lay a solid stone sarcophagus of a -drinking fountain: just the sort which, in my boyish speculations and -boyish reading, I had seen used for the baths of recalcitrant Freshmen -and too obtrusive Sophomores. Over on the north side a snow-white -meeting-house fronted us with a stiff, proud chest, and with its -hexagonal bell-tower rising above the roof like the smoke-stack of a -railway engine, made one expect to see it start puffing forward over -the campus, with a very tiny, Greek-pillared vestry accompanying it, -like a colt engine, destined, sometime later, perhaps, to grow into a -meeting-house, like its companion. Across the street from where we had -entered stood a brick tavern, under whose canopy an old coach waited -equipped with glass doors, outside seats, and with thick leather straps -to keep the pliant springs from sending the body of the coach leaping -off the wheels at the “thank-you-ma’ams.” To the left we discovered a -huge square brick structure with a fenced-in roof faced by a spacious -walled-in porch, with pillar-supported roof which, we learned, was the -combined college club and commons. - -Screened by the arching trees and massed in companies of twos and -threes, fives and sixes, were recitation halls, a Renaissance museum, -a stone chapel, a power house, numerous dormitories, a snow-white -observatory, a gymnasium, and last, a stone tower crowning a knoll and -dominating the campus. - -The dean gave me my papers, approved my courses of studies, and then -sent my wife and me on an inspection of available dormitory rooms, for -I should have to reside at the college six days out of seven. - -After the penury of Evangelical University and the quaint compactness -of the Seminary, the broad acres, costly, comfortable buildings and -lavish size of the college gripped my imagination. We threaded our -way past a set of dormitories, through a wooded road, and entered a -rustic park where Commencement festivities were held every June. We -passed sedate rows of professorial residences fronted by hedges and -smooth-clipped lawns. Over to the south we viewed a fenced-in athletic -field; a mass of green with ovals and straightaways of black cinders, -and with bleachers and a grandstand at one end: the place where, fully -as much as in the college buildings, the culture of youth went on: the -culture of health, of muscular skill, and of moral temper. - -A janitor--a young man with a broad forehead and gentle ways--extracted -a bunch of keys and showed us into a very old dormitory where were -single rooms, double rooms, quadruple and sextuple rooms; according -to taste, but no room which met with my approval, especially when the -dormitory bore such a sinister name as Demon Cottage, a corruption of -Damon Cottage. The janitor, who turned out to be, himself, a graduate -of the college, on learning that I was an aspirant for the ministry, -promptly advised me to examine a room in the Christian Association -building. This we did, and when he had guided my wife and me up three -flights of stairs and thrown open the door of a massive, square room, -with shop windows for light, I said, - -“Isn’t this the college Socialistic Hall, or the band practise chamber?” - -“No, this is merely a double, dormitory room,” he admitted. “Sixty -dollars a year for each occupant with an extra bedroom over there and -an enormous storeroom through that door.” - -“Well,” I concluded, after some discussion, “a flat-full of furniture -would hardly furnish the center of the room, but there’s sure to be a -good circulation of air, and that is important. I think I’d better take -it.” - -When we returned to the campus we discovered a group of canvas-clad -students punting a football while a group of Freshmen, with eyes -bulging out of their heads, looked on in worshipful wonder, for Ellis, -Barton, and Chipman, three of the Varsity team, were in the advance -guard of athletes engaged in early practise. - -The janitor had sent us to “Durritt’s Barn” where, he informed us, -we should be able to pick up a team load of dormitory furniture at -second-hand for very little money. “Durritt’s Barn” was actually a -barn attached to a pleasant little house which had been transformed, -by a very energetic Junior, into a second-hand furniture store. The -Junior, whose name I learned was Garden, presented himself from behind -a bewildering mass of dusty rugs, topsy-turvy mission chairs, and -sectional book shelves, and picked his way to us through a narrow aisle -made by massed heaps of bedsteads, mattresses, chiffoniers, tables, and -desks. When we expressed amazement at his business audacity in having -such a mass of second-hand furnishings on his hands, he informed us -that we had not seen it all and then he led us up a stairway to the -loft where we discovered another heaped up mass of material. - -“I shall have it all sold by the time college has opened,” said the -Junior. “In fact, I shall not have enough for the demand.” - -“Where do you get the furniture?” demanded my wife. - -“From the Seniors,” replied Garden. “They sell it for next to nothing -during Commencement. It is a profitable business--while it lasts. It -gives me an excellent chance for earning my way through the college. -Now, how would that iron bedstead suit you, for your room, Mr. Priddy, -and that felt mattress, which goes with it: three dollars for the -whole?” - -After informing him that he did not have in his stock a rug expansive -enough to cover the floor of my spacious apartment in Association Hall, -we compromised on a very limp, red carpet rug which would resemble a -bandanna handkerchief when spread out on my room floor, but which was -actually the broadest floor covering I could purchase. A half hour -later I paid twelve dollars and a quarter for the bed, the rug, a -chair, a small book shelf, and a tied-together chiffonier with most of -its brass handles missing. - -After having left the moving of the furniture in the hands of Garden, -my wife and I were once more driving over those lonesome, sandy, rutted -roads, in the midst of the profound silences of remote civilization. -Again we passed through the deserted village. Two hours later we were -back in the parsonage ready, next, to pack my trunk preparatory to the -opening of college. - - - - -_Chapter XXXIV. My Wife Packs me off to College. The Senior and I Stop -at a Rock for a Drink, Meet the Advance Guard of Students, Plunge into -a Bedlam, and Witness the Labors of the Freshmen. The Finger-study -of Quarles and my Apology Given to the Retired Medical Man who was -Specializing in Hens_ - - -“Here I am, in our honeymoon year, packing you off to college,” -commented my wife, as she folded some towels and handed them to me to -put in my trunk. “It takes me back to the day when my mother did it for -me.” - -“And you’re to have the hard end of the business,” I replied, “staying -in this house alone and keeping an eye on the parish. Not much of a -honeymoon to that through the long, winter days, while I am in the -swirl of college events, with all the fellowship one can desire.” - -“But there’ll be holidays and Saturdays at home, for you,” she -answered. “I shall see you once a week at least, for you will have to -preach here every Sunday. We’re working together, now,” she added, -quietly. “If there’s any suffering, any hardship, any self-denial -involved, I am willing to undergo it, else I would not have married -you!” - -In her voice ran an undertone of tragic feeling and for the first -time I began dimly to realize, in the midst of my own opportunity for -a college education, that in this little home, back over the hills, -my wife would be waiting, and waiting, through the long hours of the -day and night, for the two years’ study to be at an end: the study -which would break up our home and separate us during the first days of -our married life. I vowed then to give it all up: to plunge into the -pastoral work: to send word to the college dean that he must not expect -me. - -“No, not that: not that!” protested my wife. “It is your chance, take -it!” - -As I descended from my pulpit the following Sunday morning, I was -introduced to a quiet youth who was recommended to me as a Senior in -the college. That afternoon my new acquaintance came down to the -parsonage and willingly permitted me, in my curiosity, to question -him concerning the traditions, the customs, and the personnel of the -college. I asked him some very trivial and laughable questions, I -remember, because, at the time, I had some very curious and perhaps too -exalted notions concerning colleges, especially colleges of the high -standard of the one in which I had just matriculated and to which I was -to journey on the morrow. - -After our conversation, the Senior promised to call for me next day and -escort me to the college: a proffer which I was glad to accept. - -That September Monday morning was a very pleasant one in the Northern -country. The maple groves on the hill slopes made one think that God -had let fall his color pots, for the leaves of the trees flamed with -reds, with yellows, and with blacks. The mail wagon drove up to the -parsonage door and collected myself, the Senior, and my trunk. My wife -stood at the door telling me not to forget this and that, with true -motherly solicitude. Then, with a dash through the dust, the wagon -wheeled us on our way across the river to the train that should carry -us to within four miles of college. - -The Senior said, as we changed at a junction, - -“The train that will get us to college does not go for some hours. Are -you fit for a four-mile walk? We can eat lunch on the way. I have some -in my suit-case.” - -I agreed that I was ready for the walk, so we left the town precincts -by walking through a lumber yard. - -Our travel took us over a cinder path between the ties and switch rods -of a railroad. At the right, far below us, flowed a very wide and swift -river, whose surface twinkled through the shields of pine and white -birch which lined the bluff. Here we met several young men walking -slowly and engaged in earnest conversation. - -“Those are students!” the Senior whispered, “out for a walk.” - -When some mill whistles at a remote distance announced the noon hour, -the Senior conducted me to a grove of stiff, tall pines where on the -brown, fragrant needles he spread a lunch of sandwiches, jelly, and -pears. - -Then we took up the walk again, passing on into the wilderness of trees -and rushing river. At a turn in the track we came to a high cliff whose -outer surface was stained with moss and glistened with dampness. The -Senior stopped before a niche out of whose cool interior spouted a -stream of ice-cold water, bringing to mind the rock which Moses struck -with his wand and which slaked the thirst of the children of Israel. - -“Nearly every student who passes this way,” the Senior announced, “gets -a drink of this water.” - -Ten minutes later we walked into the station and I was amazed at the -heaps of trunks that covered the platform. Drays were doing their -best to reduce the pile by carting them away in enormous loads. As -we made our way around the trunks there dashed into the station one -of the coaches I had seen near the tavern on my previous visit; this -time topped by a group of healthy-faced, shouting students, wearing -tan shoes, flannel trousers, and flapping caps such as clowns, in the -circus rings, wear with such comical effect. This coach was quickly -followed by another, similarly loaded with students come down to greet -the arrival of classmates and friends. - -At last I was able to realize the task that was on my hands if I were -to fit into the college life, for scores of students passed us or -trailed after us as the Senior and I walked up the hill. How should -I ever succeed in remembering their names, in entering into the -acquaintance of a small number of all those students? And the trains -were bringing more! - -On top of the hill, just before entering the campus, some fraternity -houses, lavishly appointed, had their verandahs filled with students, -singing snatches of songs and bantering one another. Then there flashed -into view again, the campus and the business street, only on this -occasion it was a far different campus and a very different business -street from what I had seen on my previous visit. The sidewalks were -thronged with students, some leaning against shop windows, others -sitting on steps, while others roamed along engaged in conversation. -On the campus, keeping to the paths, were groups of Freshmen walking -timidly enough past Sophomores in sweaters and negligee attire and past -Seniors in graver dress and mien. On the front lawn of a dormitory four -neatly-dressed youths were beating rugs and as their energetic actions -continued they were half smothered in the clouds of dust. - -“I should imagine that they would don rougher clothes while they dust -rugs,” I commented to the Senior. - -My companion smiled, knowingly, - -“They have no chance to change clothes,” he replied. “They are Freshmen -which some of the upper-classmen have picked up from the campus and -compelled to do that work. It will be the Freshmen’s turn, next year, -however, so that it isn’t much of an imposition. Now you’ll see some -fun. Watch that football man with the sweater!” - -The football man in the sweater had come out of the dormitory and had -gone over to the Freshman who was working more energetically than his -fellows, and said to him, - -“Say, Freshie, what’re you sleeping on the job like that for, eh? Do -you want the Sophs. to give you a black mark so soon?” - -He glared with mock savagery at the bewildered Freshman, who replied, - -“Please sir, I am working very hard, sir!” - -“If you call that work, then,” stormed the football man, “I wonder what -you do when you loaf? Die probably, eh?” - -“I thought, sir--” persisted the Freshman, but he was cut short by the -football man who said, - -“Just carry that up to my room, put it straight, set the furniture in -place, and then go to work and copy those marked extracts from the -coach’s note-book which you’ll find on the desk. Hurry and have it done -in two hours’ time!” - -As the football man ended those savage orders, he turned away with an -amused smile and as he came towards us he winked and said to the Senior, - -“That young cuss’s got the making of a fine kid in him, even if he is -the son of a several hundred thousand dollar Senator. Just watch him -make the dust fly! Ain’t he a peacherino, though!” - -The Senior informed me, after the football man had strolled away, that -the fagging was in full force just then and that the Freshmen took -it in good humor, and, in fact, would have considered themselves not -actually at college had that feature been omitted. - -The different noises that filled the air made a Babel. From dormitory -windows came shouts, cornet practise, and various moanings which, at a -quieter time, would have been differentiated as vocal trios and duets. -Down the business street, from the upper floors where some of the -fraternities had rooms, the sounds of clanging piano rag-time tried -to merge with explosive bellowings of happy, singing fraternity men. -On the College Club porch a jostling crowd of students could be seen, -shaking hands, telling summer experiences, and knocking chairs about -in the anxiety to get at one another. The shop windows were gay with -college banners, souvenirs, books, picture cards, college photographs, -and sporting goods. - -I found the furniture I had purchased from Garden heaped before my door -and a half hour later I had it scattered lonesomely over the floor -of my large room. From my open window I could look down on the stir -of life on the campus. Night deepened, and with it came an increase, -rather than a quieting of the noises, as if Youth were bound to have -one last, gleesome frolic before the sedate masters of Books curbed -their liberties. In the darkness of the night, sitting at the window, -exactly as I had done at Evangelical University six years previously, -I had an alien feeling as I listened to the sounds which soared up to -my ears from the gloom below. Demon yells, demon howls of acute misery, -throbbings of mandolin strings, the hoarse tooting of a fish horn, a -piercing falsetto voice under my window trying to sing, - - “O, O, O! Dear, dear old days, love!” - -the clanging of a hand bell and intermittent revolver shots. These were -only a few of all the riot of sounds spreading through the night air, -over the campus and bursting out of the dormitory windows on every side -of me. While I sat wondering how a hundred or so of faculty could ever -bring seriousness out of such a chaos of youthful energy, I heard a -chug underneath my window as a truckman hurled a trunk to the sidewalk: -my trunk. Immediately I went on the campus, discovered two Freshmen, -and with all the abandon of a Junior that I could muster for the -occasion, I coolly invited them to assist me in carrying the heavily -loaded trunk up the three flights of stairs. So conformed to the -fagging custom were the Freshmen, that when one of them unfortunately -sliced his finger on a loose nail and I commiserated him on it, he -said, keeping his grip on the trunk, meanwhile, - -“Nothing at all, sir. Nothing at all.” - -Next morning the trio of bell chimes, in the tower of the college -chapel, hurled clanging, throbbing scales-of-three over the quiet -campus. Immediately from the doorways of dormitories, boarding clubs, -and the Commons, appeared chatting groups of students who took the -paths across the campus towards the first chapel service. From the -North, the South, the East and the West they hurried; hundreds and -hundreds of well-dressed youths, arm in arm or four and five abreast as -they walked. - -The choir, transepts and gallery were soon crowded, almost to -suffocation. The morning sun in trying to break through the windows -into the dimness merely glorified the pictured saints, and prophets, -shepherds and sheep. The gowned organist played a part of the grand -finale of The Pilgrim’s Chorus. The gowned figure of the President -arose and stood silent a second while a wave of reverent stillness -swept through the chapel. Scripture followed hymn, and a simple -prayer was followed by a general confession. Then the organ burst -into a triumphant recessional, and the students noisily crowded down -the aisles into the open air. The day’s work was begun, having had -invoked on it the blessing from the Author of all Truth, and the -Creator of that World which throughout the days and years, has had such -fascination for students and professors, of Science, of Art and Faith. - -In the confusion of the multitude of students, most of them strangers -to me, I felt the futility of my social ambitions. In Evangelical -University and in the theological seminary I had been in the midst -of small groups of students, whose names, characteristics and -acquaintance could be compassed in a few short weeks. But the vast -procession of young men which blackened the greensward of the campus -that morning dismayed me. It seemed that mere hand-shaking and saying -to each individual member of it, “I am glad to know you!” would demand -months and months of time. It was a new experience, too, after the -simple democracy in my previous schools, to have those who were my -classmates and college associates, pass me without a word of morning -greeting, without a lift of the eyes. - -But that was only the first day! - -The second morning, as I sat in the chapel, I chanced to have my -attention attracted by a curious fingering of paper. It was the student -next to me who had some blank sheets of paper in his hands which he -shuffled intermittently and over which he kept passing the ball of his -forefinger. The organ had not ceased its prelude, and the students -had not ceased entering the chapel, so I paid a stricter attention to -the strange recreation of my companion. Though he shuffled his blank -papers with great skill and fingered their surfaces with scientific -regularity, his eyes--wide, staring ones,--were kept fixed on the -President’s pulpit--never once did they turn on my inquisitiveness or -towards the papers. - -One of the students then slipped by me and took a vacant seat next to -this shuffler of papers. As soon as he was seated, however, he bent -forward and said, to me, - -“Your name’s Priddy, isn’t it? I’m Sanderson, the monitor who keeps the -attendance of this section. By the way, have you met Quarles? Quarles,” -he said to the student who was shuffling the papers, “meet Priddy, your -classmate!” Quarles, without taking his eyes from their fixed stare on -the President’s pulpit, extended me his hand, and said, in a very quiet -voice, - -“I’m glad to meet you, Priddy! I’m blind, as you probably know.” - -I expressed my amazement that he should be in college. - -“Oh,” Sanderson exclaimed, “it doesn’t seem to bother him any. I notice -that he’s getting on for Phi Beta Kappa. He makes us hump!” - -“Then you are able to take the regular studies!” I gasped. - -“Yes,” said Quarles, “the regular studies!” - -“Of course,” I went on, “you omit mathematics, languages, and such -things!” - -“Why should I, Priddy?” asked Quarles turning toward me his -expressionless eyes. - -“Well, I really don’t see how you can manage--those subjects,” I -explained. - -“He manages all right,” interrupted Sanderson, “why, Priddy, he’s taken -nineties in calculus, French and German and Greek, and is right there -when it comes to such graft courses, as philosophy and English! Oh, -you don’t need to pity him: rather pity me, who with my eyesight, am -hardly able to pull through Fine Arts One!” - -Quarles then explained to me how, before taking his courses, he had a -student read to him the complete text which he translated into Braille -with his blind-writing apparatus, on sheets of paper. He also used the -same instrument, almost as quickly as we, with our sight, would use our -pencils in the professor’s lectures. The leaves he had been shuffling -that morning, formed a reading lesson in French. - -Everybody was the friend of Quarles. He would be groping his way alone -over a path to a class but a brief moment, for a student, playing -ball, nearby would signal to his comrade, who would hold the ball, and -then, throwing down his glove would hurry over, have a cheery word -of greeting, ask Quarles whither he was bound, link arms with the -blind student and guide him into a path where he could find his own -way without need of piloting. In this way, Quarles must have felt the -arm of nearly every upper-classman, for not only were they willing to -straighten out his walks for him, and read to him, but they also took -him with them on excursions, which he shared with excellent comradeship -and proved to be as good a mountain climber as the best. - -In this way, too, through walks, at meals, and in classes, I soon had -the students differentiated and had a formidable list of friendships. - -It was my custom, throughout the fall months when the highways were -hard and untouched by snow, to ride weekly to and from college on -a bicycle which I had bought for that purpose. On this twenty-mile -excursion, along a winding river and through quiet, little hamlets, I -had certain resting-places where I could breathe and refresh myself -with a sup of water. - -Doctor Floyd’s well, conveniently near the highway at the summit of -a steep grade, had also a rustic bench near it, from which a most -gratifying vista could be obtained, which included the view of a -pyramidal mountain cone framed in a circular opening of twinkling -poplar leaves, at whose foot a silvery dash of river curved under high, -bush-lined banks, with now and then a cow or a colt completing the -composition by standing in the river. - -The Doctor, himself, whose permission to drink of the water and to -seat myself on the bench for a rest I had taken pains to secure, was -a short, stout, bald-headed man of about sixty, whose clean-shaven -cheeks were always flushed by an excess of blood. He had retired from -active practise and was engaged in the delightful, old age recreation -of seeing how many eggs he could persuade a harem of Plymouth Rocks to -lay through a most careful, scientific mixture of laying foods, use -of germless drinking troughs, and adaptation to an expensive mode of -existence. - -One Saturday noon, as I sat on the bench puffing for breath, for the -day was both dusty and hot, the Doctor, with the egg record for the -week in his hands, which he came down to show me, sat down on the bench -and said, - -“Well, do those wild students know what they are in college for?” - -“What do you mean?” I asked, puzzled by his sneer. - -“Usually,” he explained, “more’n half of the students in the college -over there don’t know why they’re there!” - -“Oh,” I said, “there are a great number of my friends who are not -certain what they are going to do in the world, after graduation, if -that is what you mean, Doctor.” - -He rubbed his fat hands in revengeful gratification. - -“That’s just it! Just it!” he laughed, cynically. “It’s all a waste -of good money and precious time. There’s no good can come of it. -They don’t take their studies seriously enough. Let me see, how many -subjects does a student have to select from under that new-fangled -election system they have--study made easy, I call it--how many, now?” - -“I think there must be in the neighborhood of a hundred different -courses, a majority of which are elective, so far I know.” - -“And the young lazybones pick out the easiest courses they can, -independent of the good it’ll do ’em, eh?” - -“Perhaps they do,” I replied, antagonized by his critical and -belligerent tone. “But then, I don’t believe that a liberal education: -a college course, has to do merely with giving a student a lot of -technical information!” - -The little man fussily remonstrated. - -“What? I thought that colleges were in the world to fit men for their -work, and that if they’re to be doctors, why, they’re to be taught -medicine and nothing else!” - -“That is the function of professional schools,” I agreed. “Take my -case, for instance. I am a minister. I spent three years in a good -theological seminary. While there I wanted technical information on -my profession. I got it, and assimilated more or less--perhaps less. -But when I came to college I did not come to add to my technical -theological knowledge; not at all!” - -“What did you come for, then,” he asked, with another sneer, “to get -the degree, I suppose, like a lot of others?” - -“I don’t think you give me credit for being a man of ordinary -intelligence,” I replied, hotly, angered by his insinuation. - -“Then what under heaven did you come to college for, if not to increase -your theological information and whatever ability you might have as a -preacher.” - -“I came to college,” I replied, “to get the other man’s point of -view. I reasoned with myself that a purely technical education tends -to narrow a man unless supplemented by an education which might be -entitled, ‘The Other Man’s Point of View.’” - -“That’s a thrust at me,” replied the Doctor, “as if to say that I, -because I took my medicine with old Dr. Desbrow, and never went to one -of your colleges, was narrow. The idea!” - -“I was not alluding to you, sir,” I responded. “I was merely making a -generalization which seems provable. For instance, I have a friend who -is an expert surgeon. He has been trained in some of the best clinics -and has diplomas from the most reputable medical colleges. He has -learned his profession well, in all its finer, technical points. But he -never received any liberal education. The result is, that he is narrow -in his tastes, caring for nothing which is not flavored by anaesthetics -or redolent of carbolic acid. As there are among his friends those -whose stomachs turn at the mention of an operation or at the whisper -of anaesthetics, he has no way of interesting them on subjects in -which they are interested. He imagines that because all the world is -not poking steel points in ulcers and cancers, it had better be left -alone. The result is, that when you mention the surgeon’s name to the -townsfolk, you will hear words like these: ‘A fine surgeon, but as -cranky and bitter as a hobby-rider.’ No one can get along with him. He -loses business by it. He knows nothing but his profession!” - -“Well,” demanded the doctor, “that’s a job big enough for any man with -brains, isn’t it?” - -“True,” I responded, “but the truly _educated_ surgeon has not only to -know his tools, his diagnoses, his operating methods, but along with -that knowledge, his final success demands that he be liberally trained -in human nature, that he have at least a faint idea of the subjects in -which other people are interested. A liberal education, added to his -professional education gives him that.” - -“I’d like to know how?” demanded the Doctor. - -“Well, take my case again, for instance. I am going to take a lot of -studies which are not technically pertinent to sermons or doctrines: -study of Dutch paintings, Italian, Chemistry, Anatomy of the Brain and -Sense Organs, and others which I can’t mention at this time, because -I have not decided just what they will be. Here is what I mean. After -an introductory study of Italian, I shall learn just how the Italians -think. It is good to know that, surely? Then after a brief course in -chemistry, though I shall not care enough about it when I am through -with the experiments, to carry off a test tube, tie it with baby ribbon -and keep it for a souvenir, as some students do, I shall ever after -realize that while I am swearing by theology, others, about me, have -reason for being engrossed in chemical formulas and tests. Each study -that I shall take, and each classroom that I shall visit, will form -opportunities for me to get at the points of view which determine why -Tom differs from Joe and why Joe differs from me. If the college can -do that, Doctor, and not add a single jot to my theological knowledge, -I shall feel more than repaid for the time I spend in it and the money -I pay to it. So that is why I don’t think it either wasted time or an -entirely hopeless situation, Doctor, if a large number of students in -the college do not know why they are there. One thing is certain, they -are getting trained in the other man’s point of view!” - -The Doctor, evidently not at all in agreement with my explanation, -after he had pooh-poohed to himself for a minute, thought to change the -subject and for that purpose he said to me, - -“I rather pity you, young man. I always did pity ministers. They don’t -seem to do anything substantial; that’s why I don’t go near a church. -It’s all up-in-the-air preaching, and darned little doing. Now, keeping -pullets or mixing a sick draught--why, they are something worth while, -now--but preaching and preachers--um!” - -“The other man’s point of view, Doctor,” I laughed, as I mounted my -wheel and started off. - -A week later, the Doctor came out of the house, when I stopped at the -well, and as he drew near he shouted, - -“I drove over to the college, last Wednesday. What a lazy set of -loafers you’ve got over there, to be sure. I was there in the afternoon -and saw them reading papers, strolling around the campus and playing -all sorts of games. I don’t think they’ll amount to much in the world -if they go on at that rate. They seem so aimless! I heard one fellow, -with turned up trousers and purple socks that would have given light -at night, say to another student, something about throwing books and -professors to the dogs--or some such stuff!” - -“Yes,” I admitted, “I hear that every day. I know a good many students -who care little about classes and text books.” - -The doctor, evidently gratified with that admission grunted, - -“Then what’s the good of the college--to them. Why doesn’t it send them -into the world to be useful?” - -“That’s what a good many people say, about us students,” I replied. -“But books and professors and courses of study are only a part of what -a student gets in our college, sir. It’s a very peculiar situation. -I’m older than most of the students, and have had the advantage of a -professional training, and so can look on the college through somewhat -serious eyes. You would be astounded, for instance, at the tremendous -education that the men receive from purely student affairs.” - -“Going into the country, when the football team’s won over Princeton, -for instance,” sniffed the Doctor, “and tearing down farm fences! Oh, -yes, a wonderful education in student affairs? Like one of your boys -that came into this village, and in broad daylight went up to the -grocery store, there, on the main street, and deliberately took down -and carried off a four-foot, patent-medicine thermometer, the folks -all the while thinking him to be an agent fellow, come to mend it, -or change it. Oh, yes, a wonderful education those fellows get among -themselves!” - -After the old man had frightened one of his pullets back into the rear -of the house, I replied, - -“No, I didn’t refer to isolated acts of mischief, Doctor, but to the -student enterprises that create ability. Our college is nothing more -than wheels within wheels. There are professors and classroom studies -for the big, outside wheels, and for the inner wheels, whirling all the -time, are the college newspaper, the college magazine, the athletic -business, the writing and staging of plays, the dramatic clubs, the -musical clubs, the social service enterprises, the political clubs -and the religious work. Why, Doctor, those students conduct all -those things practically without help from outsiders. You would be -astounded at the amount of executive and administrative ability they -demand. The students who run the monthly magazine, for instance, must -be good editors, fair writers, and managers of astuteness, for it has -to pay for itself, at least, and must express literary power. It is -the same with the newspaper. That is a business in itself, yet, it is -managed, financed and edited entirely by students, many of whom find it -difficult to get interested in the routine of the college curriculum. -When you multiply these business and serious activities, you find the -students actually doing profitable and character-forming tasks outside -of the classrooms which few critics of the college take the trouble -to notice. Why, it was only a week ago, that a student came into my -room and had a talk with me about a new college enterprise that seemed -formidable. He was a student who did not care five toothpicks for his -studies. He was in difficulties with his physics course, at the time, -having failed in it twice, and seeming to be letting his third and -last chance for his degree slip past without giving it a thought. The -people on the campus, and the professors in the classrooms appraised -this fellow as a ‘loafer’ and an ‘idler.’ Yet, that morning he came to -me and said that he proposed to start a comic monthly, at ten cents a -copy, himself to be editor-in-chief, and the jokes, poems, pictures, -designs, the securing of advertisement and subscribers, to be under his -general charge and apportioned to willing students. He went off for -two days, at his own expense, secured over a hundred dollars’ worth -of advertising, and only last week had newsboys selling on the campus -a first-class, neatly printed, well-filled, artistically illustrated -comic monthly, which, by this time has its regular staff of student -artists, poets, joke writers, business managers, and board of editors; -it’s a paper which promises to be one of the features of student life. -No, Doctor,” I concluded as I felt of my tires, preparatory to taking -up my journey towards home, “students may seem shiftless, indifferent, -and unenthusiastic on the campus, but when you get behind the laziest -of them you are liable to find that they are giving themselves to -some sort of character-making work,--contrary to the posters which -lead outsiders to think that college life consists of a place where -the student sits in the sun on a fence, smoking a pipe with a leashed -bull-pup at his feet!” - -“Say,” called the Doctor, as I fitted the toe clips to my shoes, “my -pullets did a hundred and sixty this week. Laying,--eh?” - - - - -_Chapter XXXV. Hot-Popovers and a Cold Watch in the Station. The -Sleigh-load of Talent_ - - -When the winter storms piled the river highway with snowdrifts, I -had to put aside my bicycle and use the railway trains. This made it -necessary for me to leave my home on the Sunday midnight train that I -might be ready for my classes at college, on Monday morning. In that -northern part of New England what storms could grip the land and put -a stop to train traffic and cartage! One of my parishioners showed -me, for my comfort possibly, an actual photograph of a drift of snow -so high that a liberal load of hay on a wagon stood on a level with -it, when a gap was dug through. I had packed fir boughs around the -parsonage cellar wall, and that was soon covered with the drifts; -even the window sills were reached by the snow at last. As for the -crumpled hills surrounding the village, their lonely, hurricane-swept -crests,--with the stick-like birches bending away from the north like -timid creatures afraid to stand up, day by day, against those icy -assaults,--presented a wild, dismal picture of winter’s fury. - -My custom was, during those months, to arrive home on the Saturday -afternoon train and immediately set to work splitting the maple blocks -of wood into convenient fire-wood and stacking a week’s supply in the -kitchen wood-box, while my wife held a meeting with the children of the -parish in the parlor. Then on Sunday, I would preach two sermons. I had -to wear my overshoes in the evening on account of the chill in which -the vestry was always wrapped. After this service, my wife would have -the supper table spread with preserved pears, hot pop-overs and cocoa. -We would linger over this meal, the last I should have at home for a -week, and keeping a sharp eye on the clock. At the first announcement -of ten o’clock, the lantern would be lighted and the words of farewell -be given at the door. Then out into the dark misery of the night, -with my lantern flickering my shadow over the houses, and my wife’s -lonesome sigh echoing in my heart, I would creep through the storms -of swirling snow, which wet my hot cheeks, pass over the quiet bridge -to the opposite side of the river and climb up a steep road until the -silent, isolated station was reached. Across the river I could see the -dark outlines of the village, and in the midst of it, a golden point -of light: the light of my home. The train was due at half-past ten, -but it was never on time and so I had long waits. The station-master -left the station dark on Sunday evenings. He gave me a key with which I -unlocked the door and was able to keep warm while waiting. After having -lighted the swinging lamp, I would produce a book and let the slow -minutes pass until the late train screamed around the corner, as if -angry with itself for its slow progress between stations. On the first -sound of the whistle, it would be a wild scramble to quench the light, -lock the door, and rush out to the train before it pulled out from the -station. - -An hour later the train would draw into the terminus and leave me -stranded, four miles away from my dormitory. Then I had to cross over -to the hotel, engage one of the rooms and try to sleep till half-past -five the next morning; if sleep were possible with such a screaming -of freight-train whistles, and such a bumping of shifting engines as -prevailed through the small hours of the night. - -At eight o’clock the following morning, eyelids leaden with loss of -sleep and my body weakened through lack of rest, and an inadequate -breakfast, I would commence the first of my three Monday morning -classes, and not be free from the intellectual discipline again until -nearly noon, after which I would spend the afternoon in sleep or -recreation. - -One day the director of social service, a department of the religious -work done by students, came to me and said, - -“Priddy, we’ve got all sorts of concert talent about here. Would your -church care if we should give them an evening’s entertainment?” - -“They can’t afford to do much in that line,” I replied. - -“But all we shall expect will be our expenses and a good, hot supper. -We can hire a big sleigh and make up quite a party to go over the -hills.” - -“What have you got--for talent?” I asked. - -He thought a minute, and then said, - -“Why, we’ve got banjo players to spare, club jugglers, a -sleight-of-hand performer, four or five male quartettes, a stringed -orchestra, two readers, and a ventriloquist. Of course, the night we -could give to you would find some of these students unable to go, but -tell me what sort of an entertainment you would like and I’ll see what -we can do for you. We want to make the evenings brighter in some of -these isolated, north country villages. It’s a little bit of social -service that brings its own reward, for the boys like to get out and -have a good country supper!” - -He was able, finally, to make up a program which included a reader, -a young professor who would swing flaming clubs, a sleight-of-hand -performer and a male quartette. - -On the afternoon appointed, these artists, wrapped up in thick clothes, -appeared in front of a dormitory and were packed into a huge barge on -runners until, including some invited professors and their wives, we -numbered twenty or more. - -The four horses, with streamers of brass bells hanging in front of them -jingled over the packed snow roads of the village and finally brought -us into the less used hill roads, which, in places rambled over the -hills until the climb seemed interminable. The snow began to fall and -we plunged down the steep declivities, half blinded by it, but opposing -the storm with jokes, songs and banter. - -On a shelf of road, which had been cut from a steep hillside, and which -the winds, unhindered by protecting wall or trees, had stripped of snow -and left glare ice for the sleigh to cross, our runners skidded to -such an angle that we were threatened with an overturn that would have -hurled us down the steep bank, had not some of the students leaped to -the ground, and by sheer strength, aided by the careful control of the -driver, kept the sleigh to the road until we were in safety. - -Then as the twilight set in, and there were no sign-posts to guide -us, we stopped at the first house and asked how far we were from the -village. An old woman, dressed in a greasy print wrapper, and drawing -gulps of smoke from a briar pipe, said she guessed we were “nigh four -miles this side of it.” We drove through the storm for a quarter of an -hour more, and then, thinking that we should be coming in sight of the -village, we stopped a man who was going to his barn with milking cans -and repeated our request as to how far we were from the village, and, -as if he had been in league with the old woman with the pipe, a mile -back he said, - -“’Bout four mile, I’d say!” - -Hopefully, then, we rumbled and scraped down a hill for another half -hour, and then, meeting another sleigh, coming in our direction, our -driver hailed the man at the reins, who was muffled to his ears in a -swathing of crazy-quilt, and shouted, - -“How far are we from the village?” - -And much to our dismay, a rumbling answer came from the folds of the -crazy-quilt, which we had to interpret as, - -“Jes’ four mile!” - -Ten minutes, later, however, we had the joy of arriving hungry, cold, -but not without spirit, at the church door, where, under kerosene -lamps, and on white paper table-cloths, was spread a meal of hot -biscuits, hot yellow-eyed beans, hot pea beans, potato salad, hot -kidney beans, dill pickles, pickled beets, four sorts of frosted cake, -luscious lemon pies and coffee. - -After the supper, the students went into my church and found a hundred -of the villagers gathered, in spite of the storm. The quartette sang -entrancingly their college jingles. The young professor swung his -flaming clubs, until, when he was in the midst of some complicated -spirals his alcohol-soaked rags burnt out, unexpectedly, and he had -to apologize since he could not go on with his novel act because -his “spirits had given out.” The reader gave, with great effect, a -memorable quarrel between man and wife, and sparkling anecdotes which -would have taken the dullness off a yokel’s heart. Then the star of the -concert, the sleight-of-hand performer began his skilful mysteries. -He made a pencil cling to the palm of his hand, brought flags and -flowers from an empty hat, multiplied a billiard ball into six, wafted -a half dollar into thin air, and, finally, produced a pack of cards, at -the sight of which, I thought my deacons would institute proceedings -of worldliness against me for allowing it, but which, when made to -do the weirdest acts, finally reconciled even the most austere of -them; so much so that one grim Puritan even came forward and held the -pack--after much persuasion--while the man of mystery seemed to change -them without the holder’s knowledge. - -At the close of the entertainment, the college delegation, after going, -every one, to the church women and declaring that they had never -eaten a better supper than had been provided, got into the sleigh, the -driver cracked his long whip with a deft explosion for the ears of the -on-looking villagers, and with a hearty yell, they started on their -way down the river road through the storm, and I stood with my wife at -our door until their songs died away among the midnight shadows of the -hills and storm. - - - - -_Chapter XXXVI. A Chapter of Sentiment and Literary Atmosphere, -Including the Account of Sanderson, the Procrastinator. How Two Prize -Checks Were Spent. A Parish of Talent_ - - -When came the announcement of Spring, at college, after the lawns and -the paths had dried, and when the evenings were filled with the throaty -gurglings of hopping robins. A sign in front of the Commons announced, -“Class Sing Tonight 7:30.” This is a “Sing;” - -At seven o’clock the students gather by classes at four different parts -of the campus: the seniors to sit on their double fence, the juniors to -sit on the steps of the recitation hall, the sophomores to occupy the -commodious steps of the Assembly Hall, and the freshmen to stand near -the library. - -Silence! - -Suddenly the low, vibrating voices of the seniors fill the air with, -“Harvest Moon.” On its completion, the three lower classes send -snapping hand claps over to the fence. - -Silence! - -The juniors send across to the seniors the melodious, sentimental song, -“Summer Days and Love, Love, Love!” over the triple trills of which -the high-pitched tenors linger as if they would stop there and sound -those musical half tones until out of breath. Led by the seniors, the -underclassmen repeat the hand-clapping. - -Silence! - -With a sudden, flank attack, the sophomores, directed by a -shirt-sleeved and very fat student fly into the midst of “Dolly Grey,” -a stirring war ballad, and from the pathos which wells out of the -sentimental passages, one can easily imagine those wild, irresponsible -sophomores crying in harmony with it. Once more the three classes snap -their applause. - -Silence! - -A longer silence this time, for the freshmen, making their first -appearance in the rôle of class singers--a thick mass of them--cannot -agree with their director as to what the premiere shall be. Soon the -matter is settled. An arm is raised and then--a low rumble that dies -down, followed by three giant laughs from three different points of the -campus. The freshman leader has pitched the tune too low. - -“Out with it, Freshies!” comes a mocking, cutting call across from the -sophomores--traditional enemies of the freshmen. - -One more try, and with the effect of an aeroplane getting its flight -slowly, hesitatingly, the freshman song at last rises to a mighty, -boyish, exultant rendering of “Old Black Joe!” for they dare not trust -themselves with a recent melody. - -After the songs, the cheers! the class cheers! - -The seniors give one for the juniors, and the juniors applaud it. - -The seniors give one for the sophomores, and the sophomores applaud it. - -Then the seniors give a heartier one for the freshmen, and those boys -almost split the heavens with their yellings. - -Next the juniors make the rounds of the classes, with the same response -of applause, save that their cheer for the seniors gets but scant and -dignified applause, for the seniors must not be too boyish! - -Then the sophomores and the freshmen have their turn and the cheering -is over. - -Silence. The night is deepening, and one hardly stirs. Four huge masses -of shadow move in the direction of the campus centre. Then one hears a -martial, drill-sergeant’s “Left, left, left!” as the classes catch the -step. It is so arranged that, without a halt, the four classes merge -into one mass in the middle of the green. - -Silence again. Not a sound is heard, until the college song-leader -hums a pitch. Then the Alma Mater hymn goes up with all the thrilling -reverence in it of a song of love sung to the college mother. If one -were near the singers, it would be possible to see, how, when the song -deepens in theme, the sophomore unconsciously throws his arm over the -shoulder of the freshman, and the senior throws his over the shoulder -of the junior: all brothers as the melody unfolds itself. - -The hymn ended, the cheer-leader moves to the side of the song-leader, -says a few words, and then, as he takes the position of a -prize-fighter, on guard, with his fist extended, he pulls out from the -disciplined throats, a snappy, thundering crash of a college cheer. It -is over. The crowd thins out over the star-lighted campus. Spring has -come! - -I was amazed, that year, at the amount of personal supervision the -professors gave to the students, out of hours, amidst such large -classes as they were called upon to instruct. It had been drilled into -my mind at Evangelical University that only in the small college is it -possible for the professors to “get next” to the student in a wise, -helpful manner. So that when I came into the centre of the college -life, in all its complexity, diversity and confusion, I actually -expected to see the professors deliver their lectures, and then coldly -leave us to ourselves, withdrawing themselves from the student life -with academic aloofness. - -But on Tuesday evenings the faculty were “at home” and welcomed such -student visitors as cared to accept the courteous hospitality of -their cheerful homes. After classes, and in their offices at certain -hours, we could go to our teachers and be sure of receiving their most -thorough attention on the matter in mind. Then, too, the professors -were always eagerly seeking to align themselves to our life: to enter -with us into the profitable ventures of a social, inspiring nature. -Thus it came about that they served on athletic committees, religious -boards, literary and social programs. It was because they possessed -this spirit of fellowship with their students, that I was enabled to -venture into a new world of opportunity. It was in this wise. - -I had been spending the largest proportion of my time in literary -composition, for my wife, my sermon critic, had found that in my pulpit -address I needed rhetorical clearness, so I determined to discipline -myself to that end. When the English professor gave out exercises, like -editorials, descriptions, book reviews, or short stories, I resolved -to put the burden of my time in such writings with no other thought -than to remedy my pulpit faults. When some of these exercises were -returned, after examination by the professor, I found red pencil notes, -suggesting that this or that be submitted for publication in the -college periodicals. These red pencil suggestions were common in the -class, and gave great inspiration to the other students, as they gave -inspiration to me. One day, when I arrived late at class, I found the -professor reading aloud a description I had written. This was followed -by a request for a conference in the teacher’s office. - -“I have been watching your work,” said the professor, kindly, “and -think that you might try for the junior essay prize and also for the -prize offered for the best piece of college fiction. I have been -advising several others in the class to compete, and hope that you will -find time for the work. These prize competitions are real tests as to -the value of classroom work. I hope you and the others will try!” - -On account of the professor’s kindly suggestion, I began to work on -the essay and the story, and kept my typewriter clattering hour after -hour when not in class. For all the lure of authorship was before me. -The lure of substantial prizes. The lure of contest. The lure of doing -something, in composition, that seemed _real_. - -When I entered upon this special literary adventure I found that I -was part of a considerable fellowship, whose interest in the work was -kept alive by the wise, far-seeing, personal interest of our different -literary instructors. I found one student who confidentially informed -me that he was making a special research in the library concerning -some wild, unknown pirates who once infested the New England coast. He -meant to write at length upon that subject for the gratification of his -own literary curiosity. Another student was busy, like the youthful -Stevenson, in imitating, deliberately, the styles of the world-famous -authors, and just then, on our first acquaintance, was in the wild -morals, but cameo-cut phrases of Maupassant! - -By the end of spring, in fact, I found myself in as inspiring a -literary atmosphere as, probably, ever an undergraduate experienced. -For I had been made a member of the editorial board of the college -magazine, and even wrote comic doggerel and attempts at descriptive -wit for the now thoroughly established comic monthly. I have been in a -magazine board meeting, held in a student’s room, when the conversation -would rise into debatable heights, and would excite the whole company, -over such questions as: - - “Are there more than seven types of plot possible in fiction?” - - “Is the supernatural in Shakespere scientific?” - - “Was Poe a plagiarist?” - - “Will any of the present-day six best sellers become classic?” - -Not only did we have these conversations among ourselves, but one of -the professors invited a group of us into his home, once a week, where -seated in his snug library amid his choice editions, we would take up -the technical study of literature, enter into interesting debates about -it, and then sit back in our chairs as our generous host rang for the -refreshments: a home touch which we appreciated thoroughly. - -Another pleasurable surprise was the small number of text books that I -found must be purchased. During my first term I bought only two books -for seven classes. The professors regarded the college library as a -sort of encyclopædic text book for over a thousand students: forming -the standard work on history, economics, social science, literature -and the various other departments of the curriculum. At last, I found, -professors and students had broken loose from artificial authorities -and took their history and economics not only from many treatises -on the matter, but from current periodicals, the daily newspaper, -catalogues, year books and similar vital, first-hand sources. - -This method of study, in use throughout the college, made the library -something more vivid than a stack of collected books, magazines and -pamphlets: it vitalized it and made it the resort of hundreds of -students every day. It linked our classroom work, the professors’ -lectures and our own studies to hundreds and hundreds of books, -periodicals and papers, where otherwise we should have been limited -to a half-dozen omnipotent authorities. In place of reading selected -Orations from a book of compilations, I was compelled to find the -original oration in some yellowed book in which it was first printed. -In studying the leading principles of Forensics I had to go to the -records of the courts to read the original evidence and pleas in the -case. A procedure like that appealed to the mind and made one alert in -judgment. It also made the library the centre where the real, serious -work of the student was accomplished, and where one could come in daily -contact with the fellows who were after serious results during their -four years’ residence in the college. - -It was in the library that I first made one of my deepest and most -valuable college friendships. - -It chanced that one of my studies, the life and works of Goethe, took -me to a particular section of the reference room where the shelves -of Sociology and Economics filled considerable space. As I made my -excursions into the section, I became accustomed to the presence -of a serious-faced Senior who was constantly occupied with books -and periodicals from those two departments. It became natural for -us, as the term advanced, to ask one another the time or to borrow -pencils or paper. Finally these approaches to intimacy developed into -a friendship; into a ripe friendship which included visits to one -another’s rooms, long walks, communings in the club-room and ante-class -conversations: on all these occasions a true exchange of serious and -most profitable confidences taking place. - -Thurber, for that was my companion’s name, though the son of a very -wealthy father and accustomed to the finer touches of society life, had -undergone, in his contact with the college, one of those conscience -awakening, ambition refining and ideal lifting experiences which our -president informed us, time and time again, should be the final results -of a true, college education. - -Thurber’s father was one of that type of American men who boast -that their success has been attained through self-improvement and -self-education and who crystallize their own peculiar and fortunate -experience into formal axioms, on which every one else must seek -success. Thurber’s father had to his credit at the time a very large -textile mill in a textile city in the South and it had been his supreme -desire that his son, immediately on quitting High School, should go -into the industry, work his way through it, and take charge of it in -the end. - -But Thurber had no inclination towards lint and the stifling heat of a -cotton mill, and he had so informed his father. He also told him that -nothing less than four years at a college, where he could meet fellows -worth meeting, would please him. - -“You can imagine the look my father gave me when I made that -proposition, for it knocked to splinters his special pet theories -concerning education,” said Thurber. “He stormed about ‘self-made men,’ -and quoted Lincoln and some others from the classic list of non-college -men: pointed to himself and the huge industry he had created without -the aid of a college education, and, in all, gave me to distinctly -understand that a college education would spoil a good employer: that -it was a waste of time, and that if I was set on going to college, why -I could go on my own funds--which I did not have--and be hanged! Of -course I was lazy, undecided and youthful: just at the age when all -life is a perpetual sunny day. I wanted to come to college to sport -around and imagined my doom sealed when father emphatically refused to -fund me, but mother--say Priddy, what would the spoiled children of the -rich do without generous-hearted mothers?--my mother privately funded -me and sent me here and still maintains me, even against father’s -orders, for he will not relent and imagines me to be the fool of fools -in taking the course I did.” - -“The so-called ‘self-made men’ are usually very set men,” I replied. - -“Set?” muttered Thurber, “even a vice, tight locked, is loose by -comparison with the prejudices my father has against a liberal -education. Well, I came this way and started in to sport it and -expected to be tutored through my courses by the narrowest passing -marks. I spent most of my time either in the fraternity house chugging -at a piano or sitting in my room with my feet perched on the table -gazing into space. Then I got the--the glimpse, Priddy, and that -changed it all.” - -“The glimpse, what was that?” - -“Well, I can’t exactly define it or locate where it first began, but -I do recall that one day, in the classroom--it was in Sociology--the -professor set me thinking on a line I had never considered -before. I can’t tell what it was that he said explicitly, but he -implicitly suggested to my mind that there are such things as -dividends-not-of-money. Of course having been used to the other sort -of dividends all my life, I was attracted to the idea that there were -other dividends. I kept thinking about it and one thing led to another. -The president spoke one day, in chapel, of the educated man’s duty to -his generation. I linked that to ‘dividends-not-of-money’ and worked -it out to my satisfaction that there was for me, the son of a wealthy -manufacturer, a place of usefulness and service in the world.” - -“You had a call to the ministry, then, Thurber?” I demanded. - -“Gracious, no: not that!” he exclaimed, in a tone that implied I -had proposed something too extravagant for fancy. “I a clergyman! I -respect the cloth, Priddy, and I am glad that you are making it your -profession, but really, that’s not my line. Perhaps I’m not cut out for -it. I know I’m not.” - -“You planned to go into settlement or Y.M.C.A. work, probably,” I -hinted, “so many college fellows give themselves to that form of -service in these days, Thurber.” - -“I know they do, Priddy, but I didn’t work it out in those directions, -either, but in a more vital way: one that has aroused every bit of -latent enthusiasm for service and helpfulness that might have been -hidden away in so pampered a body as mine. It’s what I call the -glimpse, Priddy. Want me to explain it?” - -“Certainly I do.” - -“Well, I really was put in a fix by so much talk in the classrooms from -the faculty and in the chapel by the President about ‘moral leadership’ -and all that, and really thought at first that they were asking me -to go into definite self-sacrificing avocations like settlement work -and the other forms of social service, and I had no hankering for -that, either. I hated to leave father alone in his old age and wanted, -eventually, to succeed him in the ownership and direction of his -mills. I imagined myself a callow materialist, opposed to spiritual -forms of influence, but I did not want to give up the business. You -can probably imagine how heathenish I felt when I contrasted father’s -industrial policy with the call to be a social servant. I began to -think back to what father’s self-education had done for him and had -done for his employees. I faced the truth for the first time: how his -narrow-minded policy had brought him great wealth at the expense of -his self-respect and the happiness of so many of the people who worked -for him. For years and years and years, he had been just paying wages -for work done: that was all. He had paid no attention to the moral -or social welfare of his people: the hundreds of families under his -control. He did not go to their church, attend their lodges, go into -their homes, or ever make it his policy to inquire about their welfare. -He was just simply using them as tools towards the securing of a -fortune--for me, that was all. I saw it all, how he had been creating -in his little corner of our American industry, labor hostility, -unsanitary conditions, poor types of ignorant, drunken, loafing -citizens until the tenements belonging to his firm formed a perfect -slum. But he had not the eyes to see, nor has he yet; but he goes on -in the darkness and in the groove of his own selfishness, intensifying -the disloyalty of his employees and incidentally hurting his own -reputation. Yet I could not bring myself to give up desiring to take -on that industry. It was right then that the glimpse came.” Thurber -paused for a moment and then continued: - -“Like the breaking of day, it flashed into my soul one morning in -Ethics class, that if I could only go to work in that industry and -reform it, that I should be doing a public service: that I should be -following the advice of the college and giving moral service. But I -realized that I should have to train myself in the science of ethics -and morals; the history of economics and the deeper things of social -science in order to reform the business intelligently, constructively -and profitably to myself and the employees.” - -“Oh,” I commented, “you want to make your type of social service earn -money?--is not that an unusual sort of social service?” - -Thurber smiled and said: - -“It does sound worldly, especially to a minister, Priddy, but the -strange thing about it is, as I have figured it out, that if I do -take an educated, intelligent, thoroughly scientific interest in -my employees, and manage to clean up their tenements, their morals -and their minds through welfare work, I shall, in the same stroke, -be increasing their loyalty to the business, be redoubling their -efficiency, be preparing a higher grade of workman: all of which will -increase the earnings of my plant.” - -“In other words, Thurber, you are going to work on the principle that -humanity and welfare work are good business policy?” - -“Yes,” nodded Thurber. “If you, as a minister, were phrasing it you -would say, ‘Godliness is profitable in all things’--even in good -industrial management--to mix in Shakspeare, it is ‘twice blessed, it -blesseth him that giveth’--the employer--‘and him that receiveth’--the -worker. That’s what I call ‘the glimpse’ and you may imagine how -eagerly I am tugging at the strings in order to be working it out -practically.” - -“But it may turn out to be fine theory: mere dreaming, Thurber?” - -“Oh no,” he protested. “Read the countless numbers of sociological -works that I have and follow the countless numbers of experiments that -have been made in this direction and you will agree that it is the most -sane procedure.” - -“College has meant something very definite to you, then, Thurber?” - -“I should say it had. I tell you I believe I understand, now, the -tremendous suggestion that lies behind the college emphasis that -its students stand in their businesses and interests against mere -commercialism and flood them with intelligent, moral service. Besides, -think what significance lies in my studies now: the whole course seems -bent to broaden me towards the intelligent, economical use of human -beings: psychology will give me trained insight, a course or two in -physiology helps me to understand the limits of workingmen’s endurance -and wide reading in literature will aid me to intelligently work out a -policy of self-culture in the workingmen’s libraries I shall form. Oh, -I have come to realize that a business education is a thousand times -more than learning bookkeeping, the names of the tools, and a little -mathematics from which to compute wages. It demands, in my estimation, -the broadest college culture and I mean to secure it.” - -“Just the antithesis of your father’s theory,” I suggested. - -“Yes, and think, too, how much he has lost by it. You would understand -how enthusiastic I am about it, Priddy, if you could have one glimpse -of the people and tenements around father’s mill. I feel that right -there is my call.” - -“I know something about the waste, the riot and the ruin that have -followed in the wake of narrow-minded, selfish, uncultured and -unsympathetic manufacturers, Thurber. If the college only manages to -send out a hundred thousand graduates filled like you with this spirit -of humane statesmanship, what a revolution would take place in labor -conditions!” - -“It would be the front door of God’s kingdom, Priddy,” affirmed -Thurber, “sure enough!” - -Throughout that year, from the seriousness with which Thurber asked -questions in his classes, from the eagerness with which he was ready -to talk about welfare work, from the diligence with which he fastened -himself to the library alcoves marked: Economics and Sociology, and -from the pervading seriousness of his manner, one might easily have -guessed that in him one looked on a youth aflame with a consuming, -zealous ambition to make his stewardship of men and his college culture -yield the highest per cent of moral earnings. I felt proud to call him -my friend. - -Another of my companions during the senior year was “Quiet” Sanderson, -the student who had introduced me to Quarles. “Quiet” was one of those -illogical and fanciful appellations in which the students delighted, -and was paradoxically twisted from Sanderson’s fluent tendencies. - -Sanderson occupied a corner room in one of the newer dormitories. In -it was a piano on which he played Beethoven and rag-time with equal -ease. The mission bookcase was topped by a very large, felt college -streamer and a “perpetual care” sign, which in his Freshman wildness he -had taken from a cemetery. As he was a literary man with a pronounced -taste for Poe and the French short story writers, there were various -evidences of “atmosphere” in the orderings of the room. For instance, -some old swords, which might have been discovered in the ruins of Troy, -but which, in fact, were clever imitations bought for a song in Boston, -hung over the door. A Turkish fez, which Sanderson would wear when -company was present, usually hung from the clothes post in a corner of -the room, over a quaint, full-length lounging robe made from scarlet -cloth and embroidered with Mohammed’s crescent. An oriental scent -lingered on those habits of dress; a scent which I have seen Sanderson -compound from barks and minerals bought at the druggist’s and of which -he would never give me the names. When he held a spread or a meeting -of any sort, Sanderson’s room would be thick with the fumes of joss -which he kept burning from a blue Chinese bowl. If any one complained, -Sanderson would have no scruples in telling the complainant that -perhaps the smoke would be even denser and more sulphurous in a later -destination! - -It was fortunate that I did not catch, like some insidious fever, -Sanderson’s habit of procrastination, for while his dreams were in the -present tense, real, and vivid, his deeds lingered in the nebulous -future. Thus, one night while he lounged on his couch wearing his -fez, he informed me that he had the plot of an exciting tale that a -publisher might make a fortune by. There was a secret staircase in the -first chapter, and between that and the twenty-eighth--a distance of -eight thousand words, for he had measured them--enough blood was shed -in the numerous duels, alley encounters and small riots with the watch, -to stain a miniature Waterloo. - -“What are you wasting your time with those blood and thunder yarns -for?” I exclaimed, for the utmost frankness was the rule between us. - -“Blood and thunder!” he echoed. “Why, it’s thoroughly exciting, -whatever you may say about it, Priddy. In my best style, too. Racy, -full of tender sentiment at the love passages, and written with an iron -pen, whose tip was flaming hot!” - -“Let me see this epic of thunder then,” I demanded. “I should like to -look it over.” - -“Oh,” yawned Sanderson, “I haven’t had time to put it on paper--yet. I -have my studies you know!” - -Thus it was not only with his literary dreams, but also with his -studies. He never seemed to be in his books, but I knew that at some -secret hour he must work hard, for his recitations were generally -brilliant. - -He was a sly fellow, at times, especially when he chanced to be back -with work. It was his habit then to get me in his room, when he would -yawn and say: - -“Priddy, what did the professor conclude about that Lochner fellow?” - -Stephen Lochner was one of the Dutch painters we were studying. - -I would tell him as well as I could. Then he would drawl: - -“Uh, I didn’t follow the professor at all when he said that the early -Dutch school, Van Eyck and the others--let’s see, how many were there?” - -I would tell him, exactly, with names and dates, and then he would -drawl: - -“Sure you got them all, Priddy?” - -“Yes, I have.” - -“I’ll bet you’re grafting the course, Priddy, and haven’t been near the -references in the library, eh?” - -“Sanderson, I’ve got every note of importance, and have worked up every -single picture!” - -Then the yawning fellow would turn over to me, lift up his fez in the -politest manner and say, with his endearing smile: - -“Oh, is that so! Then Priddy, I shan’t need to bother much myself, -shall I? You can give me some fine dope on the course!” - -Seeing that I was caught, there was no way out of it but to become -the unofficial tutor to his lazy highness; a duty, however, which was -pleasant enough, for we had so many things in common. There was a sense -of embarrassment, however, in the fact that Sanderson would go into the -examinations of the course, after I had prompted him, and by some freak -of the angel of Providence, his guardian spirit, he would out-top me -with marks! - -One Monday morning I dropped into his room, on my way across the -campus, when he came from his bedroom arrayed in his bath-robe, for he -had been oversleeping, and he said to me, - -“Congratulations, Priddy!” - -“What’s this for?” I exclaimed. - -“For the honorable winner of two literary prizes!” he exclaimed. - -“Two?” I gasped. - -“Yes, and firsts, my friend! I want to get in on the ground floor and -get a college ice on the prize money,” he smiled. - -“And how do you know this?” I asked. - -“The announcements were posted Saturday, after you had left, Priddy.” - -“Then you shall have the treat, Sanderson.” - -The two prize checks--beautifully decorated with the college seal and -ornamental borders--were used to pay for the winter’s supply of wood, -at home, and to clear off a store bill. I felt that my first adventure -into literature had amply repaid me in fellowships, discipline, and -cash: a well-rounded reward. - -When I arrived home, for the long summer vacation, I began to ride over -the hills to outlying farm-houses in a canvass of fellowship among -my parishioners, whom I had never seen in church. My bicycle rides -exhausted me in this work, as the summer was excessively hot. Between -the village services, on Sundays, I trundled my bicycle up a long hill -until I came to a crossroad schoolhouse to which I had invited the -isolated people, for services. The people who came to this service -would not sing, so that part of the time they were treated to vocal -solos by me, to which I had to play my own accompaniment on the little -parlor organ I had secured. As my skill on the organ keys was limited -to hymns up to the limits of two sharps or as many flats, my repertory, -like that of a hand-organ, was easily exhausted. But the people seemed -thankful for this interruption of the monotony of their back-road -life, and though I never took up an offering or asked them to do -anything more than attend the services, which they did with increasing -enthusiasm, I knew from their thanks and their faces that it had been a -profitable venture, an appreciated service. - -But the strain of such a responsibility in addition to my college work -was bound to ruin my health, so I resolved that the parish should be -free to engage a permanent, resident pastor, and to that end I resigned -and sought out a place nearer the college, where I could go through the -next year as a pulpit supply and have my wife with me, in my own home, -near the college campus. - -My new parish, which I visited only on Sundays, was a most delightful -village, where an unusual number of interesting people made their -homes. Though, at first sight, the village appeared an isolated, sleepy -place, yet a plunge into its activities and a catching of its spirit -meant the discovery of a number of enterprising, intellectual, and -social efforts, of which any large community would have been proud. - -There was a village nature club. This club was composed entirely of -the townspeople, yet one of the members had been the co-author with a -scientist in the study of fresh-water algæ, another member had made an -exhaustive study of grasses and minerals in such a scientific manner -that his work had received the commendation of the state botanist. The -club had expert bird students and a butterfly collector. Another of -its members had discovered a rare fern, hitherto never found east of -the Mississippi. The members of this club, surrounded as they were by -the riches of summer and winter beauty, lived in a glorious world of -adventure. When one family drove home, up the long road to its pine -groves and isolated farm-house, it counted the varieties of flowers -growing by the wayside and made a report of great interest to the other -members of the society. Another member watched the stars and gave -reports on the newer astronomical happenings. - -Then, too, such intellectual interests reacted upon the social life of -the little community, and a tennis court for the boys, clubs and sports -for the girls, village improvement undertakings, and very interesting -and rare lectures through the long winter, were the rule, backed by -trained, interested people. This type of community, also, made the -church a very desirable and interesting one, and made it easier for me -to be away from Sunday to Sunday, for the social concerns were certain -to go on under efficient and responsible management. - -Meanwhile, my wife and I had brought our little boy to the college -town, and had established ourselves in three rooms under the roof of -a very tiny cottage. Though we had our dining-table near the kitchen -stove and were otherwise crowded almost to discomfort, yet the last -year of my educational career meant less anxiety and more inspiration -because I could have my home in the midst of it. - - - - -_Chapter XXXVII. Teiresias, the Blind Prophet, and Squeem, the Student -in the Back-waters of College Life. A Night of Grim Fate_ - - -One winter afternoon as I approached Quarles’ room, to take him for a -walk, I heard a loud voice raised in angry altercation, as I thought. -I paused on the dormitory stairs, and there came to my ears the blind -student’s voice, raised high, as if he were spitting fire. I hurried to -his door and entered the room to see what the quarrel between my friend -and his enemy could be. - -“Priddy, sit down!” quoth Quarles, pausing in his strange heat of -jargon. “Listen,” and then, standing in the center of the room, he -declaimed this strange-sounding sentence: - -“_Eipo ti deta kall, in orgitze pleon!_” and attended it with a fierce -and angry thrust of his fist, as if he were thrusting red-hot bolts -down the unwilling throat of a helpless foe. - -“Well, of all the strange jumbles, Quarles!” I exclaimed, “what is the -baby talk, please?” - -“_Soo de athlios ge taut oneiditzon, a soi oudeis os ouxi tond -oneidiei taxi!_” he continued, scowling frightfully and staring with -his expressionless eyes as if he would have his stored up wrath break -through to flash like fierce lightning on the pride of his unseen -opponent. - -“Taxi?” I mused, “that means automobile riding at ten dollars a -minute--what is the rest?” - -“It’s Greek,” he explained, sitting down. “I am the blind Prophet -Teiresias, in the Greek drama ‘King Œdipus,’ to be given by the -college. Let me translate!” - -He sprang to the middle of the floor, and, in English, attended by the -same angry gestures, he declaimed to the scoffing King whom he was -warning: - -“‘Shall I speak something more, to feed thy wrath?’” and then he paused -to explain, “and when you called it baby talk, I recited the line which -I am to use when the King slanders me for being blind, ‘O miserable -reproach, which all who now behold thee, soon shall thunder forth on -thee!’ and,” went on Quarles, “you are to know, if you do not know it -now, how that later the King does blind himself with hot irons and -fulfils the prophecy I hurl at his coward lips!” - -“Horrible, it must be!” I shuddered. “What a dark tragedy to lighten a -college stage!” - -“But,” mused Quarles, “think of the achievement, in these days, when -the college critics are charging the college with immersing itself in -practical concerns so as to forego the classics. My work is cut out -for me, Priddy,” he went on. “If they are to have a real blind man for -Teiresias, they must also have fair acting of the lines, for it is all -to be given in Greek, not a word of English; for barbarians like you, -who will probably be mystified, there will be an English line-for-line -translation.” - -“Oh,” I retorted, “I have studied some Greek. I have read the New -Testament!” - -Quarles laughed, - -“That is only the introduction to Greek. Listen!” - -He stood before me and recited the fluid, rounded, Greek lines of the -blind Prophet, as he leaves the King, - - “‘Ere I depart, I will declare the word - For which I came, not daunted by thy frown. - Thou hast no power to ruin me.’” - -“You will have to have a clear brain for the storing of so much pure, -classic speech, Quarles,” I said. “Come out for a walk over the -four-mile road with me and you may talk King Œdipus to me till I faint!” - -So, arm in arm, over the ruts of the four-mile road, which first took -us up a steep hill and then around to the west through some dark, cool -woods, the blind student and I walked, and talked of the Greek -tragedy in which he was to play so realistic a part. - -[Illustration: SO ARM IN ARM THE BLIND STUDENT AND I WALKED] - -On our way back, as we neared the campus, Quarles said: - -“Priddy, have you ever met ‘Squeem’ Hirshey? I’ve got to see him before -supper, if you’ll take me to him. He’s one of the old men of the -chorus, in the play, and wants me to help him with pronunciation.” - -“No, I haven’t met him,” I said. - -“A poor Georgian,” explained Quarles, “lives in a stuffy bit of a room -with an Irish family, down at The Alley; you know where that is, of -course.” - -So while we walked in the direction of “Squeem’s” lodging, Quarles -gave me full information about this student, one who lived in the -back-waters of college life. - -“In some unaccountable way,” said Quarles, “Squeem managed to get a -decent preparatory education in the South, in a place where most of -the people lived in huts. Missionary education, I think. However, he -came here, passed entrance exams all right, and was awarded a couple -of scholarships that bring him in about a hundred and fifty dollars a -year. He tells me that he manages to get enough work to support him: -that he earns his room rent with the Gibboneys by doing chores, though -what chores such a poor family can have for him to perform, I cannot -understand. He cooks his own meals on an oil stove, and, for that -purpose tries never to go over seventy-five cents a week for his food. -As for clothes, well--he patronizes ‘Eddie’, the old clothes-man, and -manages to get cast-off shoes and clothes at ridiculously low prices. -A suit for four dollars and a decent pair of shoes, not much worn, for -fifty cents!” - -“I must have seen him,” I explained, “but of course, I cannot place -the name. A queer one, too; reminds one of Dickens’ Squeers, the ugly -schoolmaster.” - -Quarles smiled. - -“That name was tacked on a year ago, when he was a Freshman. It seems -that he kept himself to his room and never mixed in things, sort of -a timid, bashful chap, but full of energy when it comes to study. -A down-at-the-heels fellow, I have heard him called. Well, he was -squeamish about everything, and it was natural for the Freshies to -tack him with ‘Squeem’ and by that name he will always be known to the -future generations of college men.” - -“Here’s the alley!” I announced, after a few minutes more of talk. We -had passed down an outlying road where, on the very outskirts of the -village, stood a row of cheap tenements. Between these, at an angle, -lay an alley filled with ashes, tin cans and broken bottles. This alley -led up to two ill-looking shanties, so small that by comparison with -the houses farther in the town they seemed no more than half-ruined -doll houses. - -“It’s the blackest house,” whispered my companion. “Go around to the -rear. His room is up the back stairs.” - -As we rounded the black shanty the sound of gurgling and churning -reached our ears, and then, back of a line of flapping, wet clothes, -we came on a middle-sized, but excessively gaunt youth, wearing an -oil-cloth apron, such as we wore in the chemistry classes when we -performed experiments, with a bib that fitted close to his neck. He -wore under it a ragged, red sweater, and was churning a washing machine -full of clothes, while, at his back, a stout, red-faced Irishwoman was -engaged in taking clothes from a basket and hanging them on lines. -Hanging from a row of nails on the outside of the house were all shades -and colors of students’ laundry bags. Underneath them, wriggling in a -broken and dirty clothes basket, lay a six-months-old baby, sucking a -soiled thumb and apparently finding it nourishing. - -“Hello, Quarles!” greeted the washerman, in great embarrassment at our -discovery of him, “I didn’t expect you!” A Southern drawl was evident -in his speech. He was about to take off his apron, when the Irishwoman, -throwing a frown of dissatisfaction in my direction, growled: - -“Mister Hirshey, an’ don’t you be lavin’, mind you. Them things’ve got -to be done. You can talk while you work; but work you must, and the -young gentlemen can go hang till you’ve time, if they care!” - -Squeem’s waxen cheeks, which seemed before to have no signs of blood -about them, flushed, and he said, apologetically, as he resumed his -churning, - -“Only ten minutes more, Quarles. We can talk, and then we can go to the -room.” - -I was introduced to the student and recognized in him the one whom I -had passed on the campus, time and time again in the winter, with his -shivering body fitted to ill-measured clothes, and his goose-fleshed -wrists and ungloved hands hanging like dead weights from below his coat -sleeves. - -Ten minutes later, after I had watched the Southerner dip out the -dripping mass of laundry and put it through the wringer, we were -conducted into the dark kitchen with its odor of cabbage, and ascended -by a wabbly stairway to the loft, one half of which was given to -Squeems for his abode. A greasy, sour odor of cooking permeated the -room. It was lighted by two narrow panes of glass fitted to a makeshift -frame, and covered by a curtain of imitation tapestry, with the design -of a red Swiss house half buried amid gray bushes and a row of stiff, -brown poplars. A cot bed stood in a corner with a bundle of warm quilts -in confusion on it, for evidently our host had little skill in his -housekeeping. A packing case, on end, with the open side towards us, -had been skilfully transformed into book shelf, storage place and desk. -A short row of text books was ranged on the packing case. Besides -a kitchen chair there was no other seat, save a tin-covered trunk -from which Squeem had to take a few dishes, an oil stove and a bread -tin,--his dining apparatus,--before it could be utilized for a seat. - -The following half hour was spent by Quarles and the Southerner in the -pronunciation, the translation, and oratorical interpretation, not only -of the chorus part of the play, which would be sung, but of the Blind -Prophet’s thrilling lines, which Quarles recited before Squeem with -even more spirit than he had to me, for, he explained, as we left the -house: - -“That poor fellow may be in the back-waters of college, but he’s got a -really excellent mind. It wouldn’t surprise me to see him come near to -leading his class in scholarship. I like him--that Squeem,” and then -my blind companion quoted, with great impressiveness, “‘Grand, gloomy, -and peculiar, he sat upon his throne, a sceptred hermit, wrapped in the -solitude of his ... originality.’” - -Then the night of the Greek play arrived in which Quarles and his -strange friend were to appear. - -My wife and I sat in the gallery, in Assembly Hall, amongst the vast -throng of spectators. - -A dark, green curtain covered the stage. The white interior of the -hall, with soaring ceiling panels, dotted with flaming rows of -electric lights, the paintings on the gallery walls of presidents and -benefactors of the college, the ushers in evening dress, fine, manly -samples of youth, the well-dressed women in their opera costumes: all -this was a glorious show to look upon, in itself. But when a group of -gowned students took their places, in chairs, near the stage, and were -followed by the orchestra, and the musical director,--then the programs -fluttered, expectantly, even in the hands of the professors and invited -guests from other colleges, who had come to enjoy the literary treat of -the much-heralded play. - -The leader, with a gentle tap on his rack, brought the musicians into -position. A stroke of the wand in the air, and the instruments began -with the introductory theme, a droning chant, with wild whisperings -in the background, as the violins tried to paint for our senses the -chatter of the fierce Fates that were to hound King Œdipus to his -horrid death, in payment to their stern laws for his unconscious sin. - -Then, as the haunting prelude paused on a wailing minor, as if to tell -us that forever and forever man’s despair should continue--under the -rule of the Fates, the lights in the hall were darkened, amidst a -silence. There was a pause, and then, as the heavy curtains were drawn -aside while the drums crashed forth a suggestion of impending strife, -we looked upon a marvelous palace front in ancient Boeotian Thebes. -Austere gloom, the fluted, pillared doorway with the brazen door -bespoke, though the sky was tinted as if for a sunrise, or sunset. Then -before our eyes, in that ancient world was unfolded the grim lesson -that even unconscious sin must pay at last the uttermost farthing. - -Quarles, transformed into a bearded, led prophet, spake his lines with -heart-ringing pathos. But as for “Squeem” among the bearded men, who -chanted their parrotish gossip, I could not distinguish him. - -Heaps on heaps of color were massed on the stage, with a studied effort -to inflame the imaginations of the audience. When it seemed that the -finest effects of grouping and harmonies of color had been obtained, -other actors would suddenly appear and make the splendor of the setting -pass belief. - -Word by word, gesture by gesture, chant by chant, we followed the -dismal but dramatic tale from its air of glory and freedom into the -darker shadows of dread which Teiresias foretold. Moods of king and -queen, of the old men who stood by the temple, of the priest and the -shepherd changed slowly and steadily from scoffing to belief, from -belief to alarm, from alarm to fear, from fear to resistance, from -resistance to submission, from submission to final reparation. Woven -into the shudderings of the old men, witnesses of death and grewsome -penalties, were the musical whisperings, to keep our minds upon the -unseen spirits of the vengeful gods who were directing the grim tragedy -until all the sobs that men and women could give were ended, until the -last dreg of a tear remained, and until only the merest whisper of a -cry could sound in the chambers of a suffering heart! - -We went into the night, from it, feeling that our hearts had been -smitten heavy blows, that our life had fastened itself to leaden -anchors. The terrible reality, the magnificence of Fate, the classic -splendor of sufferings in epic girth had been staged before us. - -Teiresias’ words hung in the air, everywhere, even under the dark sky -outside: - - “O miserable reproach! which shall soon - Thunder forth on thee!” - - - - -_Chapter XXXVIII. How Ellis, the Captain, Taught me the Spirit of -Contest. I Turn Pamphleteer on Behalf of Scholarship. But Find from -Garvin that Scholarship and Education may be Separate Matters. Account -of a Truly Classic Event, which Makes the Students Study Color Schemes -and Gives us a Chance to Appear in Gowns_ - - -One afternoon I was sitting on the senior fence, watching two -fraternity teams wage a contest in baseball, when I saw Ellis, the -football captain approaching, with his finger upraised to draw my -attention. - -Ellis was an impressive fellow with his towering shoulders, oak-like -limbs, and ruddy cheeks. In his flannels, tan oxfords, and varsity -cap he spelled in large capitals, “Exercise.” For Ellis was known -preëminently, in the athletic world, as one of the year’s gods who sit -on the pinnacle of Olympus, the revered of freshmen, the applauded of -sophomores, and the envied of fellow seniors. By the newspapers he was -heralded as the best player of football in his position in all America. -His name, through the years of his playing, when he appeared with nose -guard and canvas suit, had been on the lips of admiring multitudes. -His photographs, showing him catching a football, or in pose for a -scramble, had been spread on many city papers that year. - -In the college, more than in the outside world, Ellis’ fame had won the -highest respect. He was the marked man: marked for friendships, for -class honors, and for the respect of the faculty. A freshman, given the -merest smile or word by Ellis, immediately ran to his room and wrote a -burning letter about it to his mother or his sister. The fraternities -and senior societies had vied with one another to secure him for a -comrade. He was the college “boss” in a good sense, for if a group of -excited students broke the public peace, by an unruly demonstration -before the town jail, where one of the students had been immolated for -throwing a snowball at the village justice, it was Ellis who jumped -on a flour barrel, which he had ordered brought from the back door of -a nearby grocery, and at a word, commanded the incipient riot to break -up; which it did without a murmur. - -“Take a walk, Priddy?” asked Ellis, as he drew near. - -“Certainly,” I said, jumping from my perch and measuring my stride to -his. - -“Priddy,” he said, “you know about the Bristow Oratorical Prize for -seniors?” - -“Yes.” - -“The trials come off soon. Why don’t you go into it?” - -“I hadn’t thought of it,” I admitted. “Besides, I don’t think it would -be wise. I am no orator; I mean that I do not use finished gestures, -and my throat trouble has taken the spirit from my voice. In addition -to that, Ellis, when one is used to the pulpit, it is really a -different proposition to speak in an exhibition.” - -“But you will have a chance with the literary side. That counts one -half,” persisted Ellis. - -“Now look here,” I smiled, turning on him, suddenly, “why don’t you go -into it?” - -“I will, Priddy. I certainly will!” - -“You’ve made your record in football, and you ought to go into this -oratorical contest, Ellis.” - -“I’m going into it,” he replied, “not so much for the mere idea of -trying for the prize, but for a purpose.” - -“What’s that?” - -“Well, Priddy,” he continued, seriously, “I’ve been up against it -ever since I indulged in sports. It has eaten up much of my time, and -there have been days and days when the grind of training and practise -and of having to go to bed early, and all that, have been wearing and -uninspiring. If it hadn’t been that I felt that I was maintaining the -honor of the college by my playing, I should have quit the game long -ago. Well, there are a lot of folks that think of college athletics as -a waste of the student’s time and as a feature of college life not good -in itself, but which must be endured, if men are to be won to college. -Of course you know that’s not the truth; at least in this place.” - -“Of course it’s not so,” I insisted, just as earnestly. “College sports -are the cleanest, most honorable of sports. They teach the students -in this college to be manly in losing, to hold their tongues when the -visiting team makes a fumble, and to cheer one for the other. It’s so -different from the national game, outside of the college, where the -crowds in the bleachers throw pop bottles at the umpire, insult the -players, and nag one another bitterly. Our college sports teach the -students moral control and self-restraint.” - -“I’m glad to hear you say that, Priddy,” agreed Ellis, warmly. “If the -game had been otherwise, I would not have wasted my time with it. -Well, there are a lot of folks, even in college,” he continued, “who -really think that because a man makes good on a football team that he’s -not capable with his studies, or with the literary features of the -college.” - -“There again,” I agreed, “they don’t know all the facts. Think of the -fellows on your team, this year. Several of your best players are -making excellent records in class work.” I enumerated three of the -brightest players who had maintained a rank of over eighty-five, in -spite of the great amount of time given to sports. - -“Yes, Priddy,” replied Ellis, “that’s so, but the public at large -don’t think of it in that way. Well, that is why I want to go into the -oratorical contest; just to show folks that a fellow interested in -athletics is also able to manifest an interest in literary matters!” - -“Good!” I exclaimed, won by his sincere earnestness. “But why do you -want me to go in, too, as a competitor? I should think you wouldn’t -care to increase the competition, merely as a matter of self-interest.” - -“Oh,” he laughed, “the more, the merrier. I thought you ought to go in, -too, for I think you would stand a good chance, Priddy.” - -Finally I agreed to go in with him. On the walk we advised about -subjects and the next day Ellis came to my room for some material I had -promised him on his proposed theme. - -Then began the strangest preparation for a contest in which I had ever -indulged. We conferred with one another about the points we were to -make, and prodded one another on, when either became slothful. Finally, -when our speeches were memorized, we took afternoon walks into a field -where we shaped our orations into some definite spoken form before -each other. Ellis would hear me through, suggest how this gesture and -that thought might be improved. Then I would criticize him in the same -way. We hid nothing from one another, though we were to be rivals on -the platform. He knew every turn of my speech and I knew every turn of -his. He added force to mine by thinking out for me a new analogy that -I could insert at a weak part. I altered a misquotation in his which -would have lost him a point. It was an inspiring experience for me. I -was witnessing, in Ellis, a sportsmanship of which there could be no -more refined example. I did not wonder, then, at the praise the college -had given him. - -But this was not all, for on the afternoon when the trials took -place,--in the big, dim room of empty seats, with a few judges -scattered lonesomely about,--as I took my turn and was walking to the -platform, I felt a hearty clap on the shoulder and heard Ellis whisper, -“Good luck to you, Priddy!” exactly the way in which he had encouraged -his men in the big football contests. I walked to the platform -thrilled through by the magnificence of Ellis’ sporting spirit. I felt -that if any other man won, it should be Ellis. - -I did not do well with my oration. I was marked down. Ellis’ turn -came. I watched him, admiringly, as he strode to the platform in his -masterful way. His gestures, over which we had worked with patience, -were still undisciplined, and at times his voice thundered too much. -But he came down with the consciousness of having done his best. He was -declared eligible for the final contest. - -Later, when the final contest took place, Ellis, who had gone into -it with the loftiest ideal of all the contestants, had the thrill of -knowing that he was the winner of the prize. He had won both sides of -the medal, the athletic and literary. - -“At least,” he said to me, in bashful comment on his victory, “I think -that some folks will be persuaded that a football man may have some -interest in scholarship.” - -Garvin, a fellow Senior, illustrates another phase of college life -and thought. He was a clever individual and one of the editors of the -college newspaper. His “den,” as he loved to term his narrow room in -Wise Hall, had been made to resemble as much as possible an editorial -sanctum. Galley proofs, daubed black with corrections, revisions and -proof marks, had been hung over his desk, as if to forever remind him -that the true function of an editor is revision, as it is the true -function of life. Original artists’ drawings, in charcoal, pen and -ink and pencil, were mixed in with Gibson Girl sketches on the walls. -Three samples of “the worst contributions ever sent into the paper” -were framed in _passe partout_ and hung over the brick of the fireplace -where the curious might read them; one was a Freshman poem whose theme -had never been understood and for the interpretation of which Garvin -had a standing offer of a box of cigars. The “poem” said something -about “the ancient cow, sitting munchingly on the steep broadside -of green, fertile country,” and then went on to irrelevantly bring -in various other cattle, scenes, and people in such an unexplained -matter-of-fact way that the mind was in a whirl at the end. The other -two contributions were attempts at stories, and judged from the first -pages of manuscript exhibited, ended in being nothing more than -attempts. - -I had visited Garvin to speak on a matter to which I was giving -considerable thought at the time: the curious disparagement of -scholarship by so many of the students. I had even gone to the pains -of having published in Garvin’s paper my undergraduate protest against -the universal tendency to despise the “plugger” and to esteem the -“grafter”; two terms which marked the antipodes of scholarship. My -article, entitled, “On the Spirit of Work in College,” had been printed -and followed by a parody, written by an unknown student and entitled: -“Priddy Has A Grouch,” in which the writer had openly given all the -honors of the college to the student who refrained from seeking a -salutatory, vying with his classmates for the valedictory or hastening -after academic honors of whatever sort. - -“Blatant heresy!” I announced, pointing out the anonymous article. - -“Oh, I don’t know,” replied Garvin. “I rather like it!” - -I regarded him in astonishment for a moment and then protested, - -“But think of it, man! Denouncing scholarship! A student in a college -denouncing the very charter of the college. It’s incredible: audacious -and heretical: undermining the very foundations of the college! And to -think that you, an editor, interested in culture and education, support -such a paradox. You ought to be tortured in a Smithfield fire or have -your thumbs twisted with Inquisition screws!” - -“Oh, I don’t know!” smiled Garvin. “I’m not the only one that scoffs -somewhat at the scholars: there are hundreds of us on the campus: -hundreds of us.” - -“Yes,” I replied, “sour grapes, probably.” - -“Now look here, Priddy. I’m no loafer. You know me. I believe in -education or I would not be spending my four years here. If I were -to put all my time in study: the time which I invest in my editor’s -duty, for instance, and in the mandolin club, I think there is in me a -potential honor man at least, even as there is in Sanderson a potential -valedictorian, and in Ellis a potential Phi Beta Kappa (if he left -off athletics), and in Forrest a potential magna, triple X, summa, -double-barrelled cum lauda if he didn’t put so much effort into the -evening classes for the Italian laborers down at the Reservoir. But the -truth is--these men, like myself, aren’t very enthusiastic about high -marks, or the honors that high marks and class rankings bring to the -undergraduate.” - -“No wonder the professors get discouraged, Garvin. It’s enough to make -the college founder place dynamite under the campus and blow us to -kingdom come!” - -Garvin’s eyes twinkled at his next question. - -“Hear about Scholarship Night, Priddy? I know you weren’t there for you -went home that day.” - -“Hear about it?” I gasped. “I should say I had. They say that there -was about as much enthusiasm over the reading of the honor roll that -night, in assembly hall, before the students and invited guests, as -there is enthusiasm over--well, say a book entitled, ‘The Thesaurus of -Diction--or Recent Explorations into the Vocabulary of Monkeys.’” - -“Enthusiasm!” repeated Garvin, “it was ten miles away that night. -Just a handful of students, lonesomely huddled in the first few rows -of seats and behind them a lighted vacancy. I tell you, Priddy, the -students aren’t interested very much in pure scholarship: even many of -the men who are here for a serious purpose.” - -“Then why do they come here, Garvin, tell me that?” I demanded. - -“For an education, Priddy.” - -“But how can they secure an education unless they are solicitous about -scholarship, Garvin?” - -“Oh, I see what is the matter, Priddy. You imagine that because so -many of us aren’t interested in scholarship, pure scholarship, we -aren’t interested in education. Education and scholarship are two very -different things.” - -“How do you argue that?” - -“You have the old-fashioned idea of a college,” continued Garvin. - -“What do you mean?” - -“The old New England college: the representative college of olden -days, injected a love of books and the wisdom of books in their -students: reams of the classic poets and prose writers: encyclopædic -furnishings of the mind with the contents of a few good, stimulating -books. Those were the hey-days of pure scholarship. They have existed -here: but we students, today, are illustrations of an evolution in -educational ideals, even if most of us don’t seem to realize it. We -represent the changed temper of higher education. If I may phrase, -offhand, my idea of the change,--it is that the older generation -considered pure scholarship, in itself, the central aim of a college -course, and to an ideal of that sort, Scholarship Nights, Phi Beta -Kappas, and all such educational fashions were not only in keeping -but were producers of tremendous enthusiasms. On the other hand, what -seems to me to lie in the heart of the students now is the demand -for scholarship,--plus _accomplishment_. It is due, no doubt, to the -practical turn of the world during the last few years. I am interested -mightily in scholarship when it helps towards actual accomplishment: -when like a gold coin it purchases something; unlike the old notion -that scholarship was a gold or silver medal, good only to decorate or -dignify the person, or to be kept on exhibition.” - -“Are you sincere in that, Garvin?” I demanded. “If so, you should write -it out in editorials, for the criticism of the professors: if you could -substantiate it by concrete facts.” - -“Concrete facts, Priddy! Why, it would carry us into the small hours -of the morning if I were to begin their enumeration. Take Ellis, -for instance. You tell me that he went into the medal contest to -vindicate the athletes. There is one example of the coin of scholarship -purchasing something: one concrete expression of the student interest -in scholarship when it leads to something practical and concrete. Can -you imagine Ellis going into a literary contest that would wind up in -itself, without relation to something practical to be gained by it?” - -“No.” - -“You go around the campus with a test like that, Priddy, and you will -find that scholarship is highly respected wherever it has resulted in -accomplishment. Don’t we respect Professor Florette? I should say we -did. One of the most perfect scholars in the college and yet even the -grafters among the students would throw their caps in the air at any -time for the Professor, and why is it? It is because his scholarship -has actually made him accomplish something. He is president of the -National Science Division of College Instruction and is known and -quoted abroad as an authority in his line. That’s why the students -like him. On the other hand you might pick out a professor here and a -professor there who is very erudite--notice my vocabulary, Priddy--and -who is a perfect scholar in his department, and yet who never -translates his knowledge into life: never writes a useful book, or -influences thought abroad, or is asked to address even a Kindergarten -Teachers’ Convention. All we know of him is that ‘he is a scholar.’ -You don’t catch us shouting much for that man, do you? He has not -accomplished anything tangible, ergo--his scholarship is merely an -esthetic satisfaction. That’s why we fellows prefer old Florette.” - -“But that’s a very youthful and shallow way of judging, Garvin,” I -replied. - -“Well, whether you call it youthful, shallow, or what not, that is the -way most of the students seem to regard scholarship. They are only -interested in it when it means contact with life and the enlargement -of the scholar’s ability for civic usefulness. That is the outcome of -practical America, I suppose. But for the ‘grind’ who slaves for big -marks and the sheer worship of books--and nothing else, why, I don’t -have much use for him. On the other hand, if a fellow grinds out big -marks to play on the football team in security: why, that’s the fellow -that gets the cheer. It’s scholarship plus, with my crowd, and I think -you’d better come in the band-wagon with us, Priddy, for whether the -professors like it or not, and choose to cling to the seventeenth -century exaltation of scholarship _per se_--note my Latin, Priddy--why, -it won’t change matters any.” - -“That’s something to think about, Garvin, at any rate.” - -“If you observe the students closely, Priddy, I think you’ll find that -they do respect scholarship; put it in the very highest possible place -of influence--when it has led to something.” - -“I am glad I had this talk with you, Garvin. I think I understand the -fellows a little better,--I can even forgive the unknown who wrote: -Priddy Has A Grouch!” - -“Thank you, Al,” replied the editor. “I am the chap!” - -If the failure of Scholarship Night--and a dismal one it was--had -seemed to indicate little respect for pure academic accomplishment at -the College, there soon took place an event which swallowed up that -failure in its overwhelming scholarly success and aroused, in the -student heart, every last atom of admiration for the academical ideal. -Our new President was inaugurated. - -Inauguration Day was pre-eminently the real Scholarship Day with -the links closely forged between what Garvin called scholarship -and accomplishment. The President we were to honor represented the -close tie between scholarship and accomplishment. His learning had -brought him a world reputation as a scientist, and it was extremely -interesting, after the talk with Garvin, to note with what unction -the students lingered on the reputation of the President, and how -deferentially they spoke the names of this Royal Society and that -Foreign Body which had honored him for his work. - -Garvin’s paper, weeks before the event, teemed with anticipatory gossip -concerning the stellar names in education that were to be printed on -the list of college guests. The campus was to be the show ground for -the American academic peerage; come to honor our chief! At last even -such a loafer in the college as Bridden, who was in danger of losing -his degree by reason of his overindulgence in pool: even he expressed -a pride and interest in the coming of the scholars: the scholars _par -excellence_. - -Even down to so technical a consideration as the language of hoods, the -undergraduates manifested fully as much interest as they had been wont -to give to baseball batters’ averages. Garvin’s paper came out with a -color list by which the college presidents, university chancellors, -international statesmen, state officials, seminary heads and the host -of lesser academics could be fully interpreted through the colors on -the gowns they would wear in the procession: white signifying arts and -letters, scarlet theology, purple for philosophy, blue for science, -brown for music and so on through the list, which Garvin editorially -advised each student to either cut out and have in his hand when the -procession moved, or, better still, to carefully memorize it. - -The dignity of the impending, classic, stately event; the sorting of -gowns, the whispers and queries concerning what world-famous shoulders -were to receive the highest degrees: all this sobered the students and -stimulated imaginations, days before the actual event transpired. -To me it promised to be the opportunity to see, face to face, the -men of culture and administrative power whose names were familiar in -the far corners of the country: men who not only figured as authors, -administrators, lecturers, scientists, travelers, and moral leaders, -but, among them, potential Presidents of the nation, honored citizens -of public reputation, men whose names were already merged with civic -movements, patriotic events, and national political advances. It meant -that history, successful ambition, leadership, and moral fibre were to -be personified for me in their highest types. - -The morning of the inauguration brought with it a great excitement. -The Seniors were to wear gowns that morning for the first time. On -leaving the house, after breakfast, and taking my position near the -Senior Fence, to wait for the formation of the line, a sunburst of -silken scarlet gown dazzled my eyes, as a sedate man of sixty, with a -white beard, hurried along the path, his head topped by a black velvet -bonnet. He was followed by others, in the silken glares of Oxford and -Cambridge, and a continual procession of black-draped figures whose -multi-colored hoods were like lurid gashes cut in the mourning by a -deftly wielded blade. - -By nine o’clock the campus was astir with visitors, faculty, alumni, -undergraduates, the band and the sight-seers. Ellis marshalled us into -a double line, so that to the beholder, in our black gowns and black -caps, we resembled a very mournful, if dignified, procession of upright -ravens. - -Then the band blared forth a martial thunderclap which pulled our -feet into time. Slowly, led by the musicians, we filed on our way -around the outer edge of the campus, dragging after us the faculty -and distinguished visitors whose chief distinction in the procession -lay in their inability or unwillingness to keep to the step we fixed. -Our two hundred and odd pairs of hands swished against the sides of -our flapping gowns in rhythmic evenness. Not even the precision of a -Black Watch drill could have been finer rendered than was our Senior -march. The heads and bodies swept from side to side like the orderly -attack of a straight, long wave beating backwards and forwards against -a cliff. Then, at Assembly Hall, our double line divided and we stood -with heads uncovered: a lane of honor, while the recipients of honors, -the visiting presidents, the faculty and the alumni threaded their way -between our lines into the hall. - -Deeper and deeper into formalism we plunged: all the traditions -of scholarship were called up: all the esthetic possibilities of -academic show and etiquette passed in review before us, cap tipping, -hood placing, and the summing up of the achievements of a lifetime -in two sentences as an honorary degree was bestowed. The trappings -and medievalism of scholarship added a new dignity to the college -atmosphere. The very air we breathed was musty with the scholar’s -tradition. - -The only modernness in the event came in the moments of hand-clapping, -as addresses, investiture and degrees followed one another. The -undergraduate chorus, massed in the rear of the enormous carpeted -platform, added to the impressive solemnity of the exercises by its -sonorous harmonies. Then came the event of the occasion, and Ellis, -knight of valor and skill on the football field, was the central -figure in the event. He had been assigned the address representing the -undergraduates. He stalked his way to the platform and stood before us, -backed by the massed greatness of America’s university world. But he -paid no heed to that, as he had not been wont to pay much heed to the -thousands of on-lookers who admired his skill in the games. He took -fire, and was the first to disturb the quiet soberness of the program -by putting vivid gesture and loud, vibrant voice into play. The effect -on the visitors and the undergraduates was electrical. Each one bent -forward as, in no stately rhetoric or formal phrase, Ellis opened his -heart which, at the moment, comprehended the loyalty of all the student -body. As he concluded, the students stood in a mass, and after the -prolonged applause--the finest applause of the event--our cheer-leader -dragged a husky, but thrilling college cheer from our throats, while -Ellis modestly found his place in our midst. As we filed out into the -light of the noon sun, and could easily discover the towering, broad -shoulders of Ellis, our leader, at the head of the line, I thought of -the honor he had brought to the college in his four years’ presence in -it, and saw in him the union of all that is best in American college -life and those qualities which the college aims to invest in every -willing student’s life: loyalty to one’s fellows, physical fitness, -moral alertness, humility in success, and a respect for the law that -governs men and nations. - - - - -_Chapter XXXIX. The Lost Parrot. Academic Burlesque. The Nervousness of -the Final Minute. A Religious Outcropping in a Non-Pious Heart_ - - -Since the establishment of my family in the college precincts, I had -seen very little, in a social way, of my old friend Sanderson. I -determined to pay him a visit one evening, and took with me a glass of -grape jelly and some hermit cookies, as a remembrance from my wife. - -I found him before a heap of blue papers on which were lead pencil -scribbles. A look of anxiety was on his face. When he saw me, however, -he smiled his pleasure, went over to the hat rack and put on his fez. - -“How are you getting along, Sanderson?” I asked. - -“Say,” he pleaded, “you couldn’t just run over these reports of mine on -your typewriter, could you, Priddy. I’m back about a dozen, and must -have them in to get passing marks. It would be such a help!” - -“Unfortunately, what with sermons, two prize essays on which I am -working, and my own studies, Sanderson, I haven’t a spare minute!” - -“Then I’ll have to root out some freshman and give him the job, though -a freshman’s so uninformed! Why, I asked one of ’em to just scribble -a two-page description of Jane Austen’s ‘Pride and Prejudice’ and it -took the idiot most a week to do it, and I don’t think it can be hard -reading, from what the Prof. said about it. Now if I’d had time, I -could have read it in a night!” - -“Same old Sanderson,” I muttered. “I don’t know how you’d get through -without help!” - -“Well,” he retorted, “since you brought your wife and boy to town, -you’ve done mighty little for me, eh?” - -“Oh, you’ll take care of yourself,” I replied. - -“Well,” he winked, “I have been lucky, lately. Jimmy’s stuck by me!” - -“Who’s your latest benefactor, ‘Jimmy?’” I enquired. - -“He’s a medic. who rooms across the campus. The nicest man you ever -met: patient--oh, so patient, and motherly--oh, so motherly!” - -“Motherly?” - -“Yes, can sew patches on, and buttons, like a real endowed maiden aunt, -and when I’m out of sorts he reads to me, and when I prick my thumb he -brings over a medicine case and drops peroxide on. I sprained my wrist -at hand-ball, and Jimmy soaked and painted it with stuff, and made a -firm leather brace for it. Oh, you wait till he blows in on the medical -profession, he’ll fit in it as no man, before him, ever fitted in it. -He looks after me like a regular private physician, if I’ll only let -him come in and study with me. You see, his own room’s always so full -that he wants to get away.” - -Sanderson smiled significantly at me. - -“Filled with a lot more soft-soapers like you, eh?” I laughed. - -“Well, willing good-nature like Jimmy’s is liable to be imposed on,” -he agreed. “He comes to my room for protection. I tell you, my lessons -have picked up wonderfully since he came.” - -“Will he be in tonight?” I asked. - -“He sure will!” said Sanderson. “If he doesn’t I don’t know how I’ll -get along with my biology quiz in the morning. I was saving it for him!” - -“You fraud! He has his own work to do!” - -“Don’t scold, please,” replied Sanderson. “He gets through his work -all right. He’d starve if he couldn’t be a benefactor to somebody. He -will come in tonight. We’ll have a few minutes’ chat. Then he’ll ask me -about the quiz and he’ll let go at me for an hour or so. Then we’ll -have another chat and it will be my bedtime, for I never plan to be out -of bed after half-past ten except on exceptional occasions. I’ll leave -my bedroom door open while I get ready. Jimmy’ll talk to me until I -let out a snore,--I’ll tell him to be sure and snap the lock after he -leaves. Perhaps an hour later he’ll creep out, and go to his own room. -Oh, I swear by Jimmy!” - -“And get your marks by him, too, eh?” - -“What’s a fellow to do?” asked Sanderson. - -As I turned to go, Sanderson yawned, - -“Say, Priddy, could you run in with that print on Holbein’s ‘Saint -Barbara?’ I failed to get it, and we have to recite on it, in the -morning. You might bring me the dope on it, too!” - -I entered at last upon the final stretch towards my degree. In the -stress of work and the excitement of writing a philosophical and a -literary essay, in competition for two senior prizes, the days of -winter changed into the brighter aspects of spring almost before I was -aware of it. Once more we assembled on the campus for the class “sing,” -and this time my wife could enjoy the music with me, as we stood on the -corner and let our year-old boy ask, “What?” when the cheers began. - -The class elections were held, the photograph of the class was taken, -backgrounded against a most rustic wall of stone and arrangement of -wild shrubbery. Our caps and gowns soon followed the class pictures, -and then we wore them to chapel, in which we marched so slowly -and solemnly under the guide of our marshal, that more than one -irrepressible spirit in the ranks would burst out with laughter at so -much dignity in so youthful a crowd. Through these days I often grew -impatient. I was eager, now, with restored health, and with a richer -mine of truth, to be in a parish again, doing my chosen work. - -But when commencement week arrived with its sentimental spirit,--then I -felt the full significance of this last educational experience. - -A band, brought from the city, gave concerts on the college club porch, -amid a forest of plants and shrubs, and under fairylike illuminations. -Class reunions brought crowds of graduates, who donned yellow hats, -wore clownish clothes, and paraded up and down seeing how much -burlesque they could express. One class engaged an Italian hand-organ -artist who had also, perched on his music-box, an intelligent parrot -which would pick out fortune slips from a box--for five cents. In some -way the class lost the parrot, and I came across the Italian boy, -crying bitterly, as he searched a wild gully for the bird, saying, when -I asked him what the trouble could be, - -“Ah, my parrote, he los’, my God, what I do for live now!” - -Meanwhile the renters of the organ sat in an automobile and raced back -and forth down the main street while it scattered its wheezy music -along the trail of gasolene fumes. - -On one corner, a group of distinguished-looking men and women stood in -the dry gutter, with slips of paper in their hands, singing with more -or less effect, and great seriousness, - - “Oh, the class of ’Eighty odd, - It is a glorious band, - It scatters wisdom, grace and power, - Throughout this mighty land!” - -Over on the opposite side of the campus a crowd of lawyers, bankers, -ministers, and business men, who would shock their neighbors at home if -they had a shoe-lace untied, paraded in purple wrappers and sun-bonnets -topped with paper roses. - -Then the morning of graduation arrived. The mock wrappings were put -aside by the visitors, who appeared in frock coats and sedate manners. -By nine o’clock I joined my classmates at the fence and found my place -in the line. Meanwhile crowds of people in holiday dress thronged the -campus once again, members of the faculty with gowns fluttering in the -wind, and with scarlet, purple, yellow, and white hoods, gathered at -the administration building. - -As at the Inauguration the band once more took its place at our head, -struck up its vibrant tune, and then at the dropping of the marshal’s -baton we took the step and marched around the campus, a black, -rhythmical procession of academics. The gay-hooded, but sedate faculty -followed, to march through the double line of honor we formed at the -entrance to the hall. Then we entered and stood at our seats until the -marshal’s baton gave us the signal to be seated. - -The deep platform before us was ranged with the faculty, the trustees, -the recipients of honorary degrees, and the musicians, including a -robed choir of students and the musical director. - -But my eyes fell on the table at the head of the centre aisle on which -lay a thick, flat heap of sheepskins; mine among them. - -Nervously I picked up the program, and, as I looked it through, to see -the catalogue of my academic career, it told to all who searched it -through that Albert Priddy graduated cum laude, and that he had won -four first prizes: two in his junior year and two in his senior year: -two essays, a story, and a research in philosophy. - -The addresses, the salutatory, valedictory, and the greeting by the -faculty were given. The choir sang an impressive anthem. The honorary -degrees were conferred with great solemnity. The classmate next to me -said: - -“Priddy, my heart is beating so fast that if we don’t get our degrees -soon, it will burst. Just think if anything should prevent our getting -them--now!” - -“Don’t mention it,” I suggested, in nervous agitation, “please.” - -Finally, however, the dean came down from the platform and we stood. -Then we began a very slow walk around the side aisles, down past the -platform to pass before the dean and receive our degrees. Slowly, ever -too slowly, I drew near, and then, a whispered “Priddy” from the Dean -and the sheepskin was in my hand. - -Immediately I changed the position of the tassel of my cap for I had, -that moment, officially shifted myself from the undergraduate rôle of -the college and entered the long, historic ranks of the alumni. - -When I got back to my seat, my neighbor, who had expressed the fear -that something would occur, whispered with relief: - -“I’m not a religious fellow, Priddy, but I do feel like singing the -doxology, now that I’ve got this!” He pointed to his diploma. - - - - -_Chapter XL. In which the Account Comes to a Conclusion in the Life of -a Relative. Martin Quotes Spanish and Has the Last Word._ - - -After we had been established in a parish for some time, I suggested -to my wife that probably the best Christmas present I could give my -Uncle Stanwood and Aunt Millie would be to make them a personal visit -after all my years of absence and recite to them all the facts of -my education, my marriage, and describe to them the two interesting -members of my family. - -So I arrived at Uncle Stanwood’s house the week before Christmas with -the intention of spending a week with him. I had been asked to preach -the Christmas sermon by Mr. Woodward, the minister, who had started me -off to the seminary. - -My uncle was still living in a mill tenement. “So you’ve got an -education after all!” he commented, putting a loving hand on my -shoulder. “Education has made a difference in you altogether. You are -much different. Sit down and tell me all about it.” - -As for my Aunt Millie, she said, “What did you marry an American for? -Can she cook?” - -Just then the door opened and in slouched the tallest man I ever saw; -slouched past us without a word and threw himself moodily into a chair -at the end of the supper table. His face had been carved--roughly -carved--out of mahogany; it was gaunt, sun-beaten and lined with fret -marks. He laid big, scarred hands on his plate. His shoulders drooped -and yet were massive in strength. His eyes were like distant lights -well back under the shadow of his bulging brows. A look of disgust -seemed to have lingered on his thin, curled lips since his birth. - -He was my cousin Martin who had arrived from England two years before. - -When he rose up to reach out one of his great hands to me, there was a -curious, unaccountable antagonism in his tone when he said, “Oh, this’s -him, eh? He’s the lucky dog, is he?” - -During the recital of my educational experiences which followed, I -noticed that my most interested listener was Martin. When I came to -those parts which had to do with self-support, he was alert in every -muscle. His eyes blazed at me, devouring every word that I said. - -When aunt and uncle left us alone, Martin said: “Priddy, do you think -the world’s treated me--oh, right, just right?” - -“What do you mean, Martin?” I asked. “You’ve got fight in your tone. -What’s wrong?” - -“Did you never ask that, too?” he retorted, hotly. “Did you ever kick -against the goad? I think you did, once. Don’t forget it, Priddy, ever! -You’re not the only chap that ever wanted to get ahead, don’t lose -sight of that. If it comes to matching ambition, I’ve got enough and -to spare. Here you are, not much over twenty, I take it, yet you’ve -got polished by seven years of schooling. Seven years of it! Have you -any more right to it than me? Here I am nearly thirty and what am I? -Blest if I’m anything but a hod carrier! What have I ever been, Priddy? -Did I ever have a chance? I went into the mill at eight and have been -there till this winter set in. God knows it’s little I know in the way -of schooling! I can write my name and read some; but I got it myself. -You know what the mill can be to an ambitious chap. You never felt -it pressing down and stifling you more than I did. I tell you that.” -He actually spit on his hands and rubbed them, as if on the verge of -striking me. - -“The beginning of this winter I said I wouldn’t stand it no longer, -and I won’t! No mill will get me again; not if I have to starve. I -nearly have starved, this winter, trying to keep out. I’ve peddled -shoes, run a baker’s cart, been janitor of a club-room and now I’m -carrying bricks! Maybe you don’t think it’s hard! I wish you had it to -go through. Perhaps you have, only your hands arn’t spoiled like mine -with the frost. Even my feet are lame, this very minute, through frost. -I’m earning a dollar seventy-five a day: good pay, but I shouldn’t -last more than a few years at it and then----. Besides, I want to get -married. She’s waiting. I’ve just got fifty dollars in the bank. Do you -wonder I feel so?” - -On Christmas Sunday a blackboard in front of the church announced that -the “Rev. Albert Priddy, formerly of this church, will preach in the -morning and evening. Everybody Welcome!” - -My uncle took me aside, in the morning, and said: - -“I’m coming out to hear you, Al. Do your best, lad. I’ll be with you. -God knows I don’t deserve all this!” - -It was a very simply arranged church; plain, white-washed walls, and -a cheaply carpeted platform. While the first hymn was being sung, my -Uncle Stanwood crept into a rear pew and kept his eyes down. - -But while I preached, a half smile of pride stole into his face and to -my excited imagination his head seemed to be nodding approval to all I -said. The look in his eyes seemed to be saying, “Show them, Al!” - -I whispered to the minister, “Let me pronounce the benediction and -while we are singing the last hymn, get down the aisle and meet my -uncle. He may get out before you. He’s timid.” - -But Uncle Stanwood crept out before the benediction and I did not see -him again until my arrival home for dinner. - -On arriving home, I was startled by what Aunt Millie did. She came up -to me, patted me lovingly on the head and said, “I’m glad you did so -well, Al. Your uncle’s been telling me all about it. I’ll go and hear -you tonight, too.” - -Martin evidently was interested, for in that belligerent tone of his, -though softened by a light laugh, he said: - -“I suppose I’ll have to go, too, seeing I’m his relation!” - -I left the house that evening somewhat early, because I had to meet -some friends. Martin was blacking his shoes; Aunt Millie was troubling -herself unduly over what she should wear: a superfluous question, as -she had but one Sunday dress and hat. - -On my way to church that night, I could not help feeling that I must -have misunderstood my aunt. I chided myself for not having read her -aright. I began to realize that there was a deep under-current to her -nature--perhaps one of love? - -It was a thought like that that proved my best girding for the evening -sermon. I sat in the pulpit while the church filled; for this evening -service was always well attended. The choir of mill boys and girls, led -by a patriarchal man whose face and hands were white as fuller’s earth, -sang stirring anthems in which we saw the Palestinian shepherds in mute -adoration of the stable miracle. The congregation sang, with great -unction, another Christmas theme. Martin’s head towered at the rear; -but I could find no trace of Aunt Millie. - -After the service, and the greetings of old-time friends, I looked -about for Martin and Aunt Millie. I saw neither. It was somewhat late -when I arrived home. Aunt Millie was waiting for me with a troubled -face. - -“You managed to hide yourself pretty well!” I laughed. - -She cried as she confessed: - -“I didn’t go, Al. I didn’t hear you at all. That’s the plain truth!” - -“Why, I thought I saw you getting ready when I left,” I said. - -“Yes, I was; but I didn’t hear you preach. I couldn’t!” - -“Oh,” I laughed, “you couldn’t? What was the matter?” - -“I started out; but on the way I lost heart. I was afraid that I -might cry out in church, with you preaching, lad. Besides, I’m not -a dissenter. I was passing the Episcopal church and went in there, -instead. I felt more at home. You can understand, can’t you, lad?” - -Then she asked me to sit on the sofa and tell her everything I had -spoken of in my sermon; not to miss a point, but to give it all. She -gave my points commendation, remarking every now and then while her -eyes brimmed with tears, “It must have done them good, that!” - -Uncle sat at the lower end of the room, saying not a word; but -listening, carefully. In the midst of my report the front door opened, -and Martin, taking long, determined strides, hurried through the room -without looking at any of us, closed the kitchen door with a bang, and -left us looking into each other’s faces in bewilderment. - -“Maybe he’s mad at something you said, Al. You didn’t chance to look -his way and talk of ‘coming to God,’ did you?” - -I solemnly averred that I had not been so evangelical as that. My aunt -hurried into the kitchen where she lingered for a few moments. On her -return she said: - -“It’s all right, Al. There’s nothing wrong. He’s just impressed by -hearing you preach, that’s all. He said to me, ‘If education can do -that, for a fellow, I want some of it!’” - -The next morning a heavy snow was falling. Martin would have no work. -After breakfast he asked me if I would go into the parlor and have a -talk, he wanted to ask me something. I readily agreed. - -The former antagonism had gone from his voice as he began to speak. His -words came quietly, curiously, like a child’s. - -“Priddy, what can a chap learn to be in college?” - -“What do you mean? What does a college fit men for?” I asked. - -Martin nodded soberly, his eyes fixed on mine. - -I laughed, “Oh, college will train you for almost any profession; that -is, the professional schools will. You can study to be a doctor, a -lawyer, a forester, a teacher--oh, anything you think of!” - -“What do you think’s the best kind of a thing for a chap to be?” - -“Why,” I replied, in embarrassment, “that depends upon the fellow, you -know.” - -“Well,” said Martin, “what kind of a profession would you advise a chap -like me to take, for instance?” - -I smiled, knowing what all this fencing meant. “Forestry is a good -profession, just now,” I advised. “It’s a new branch to the government -and brings in good money. I am sure you would like to be a forester.” - -“What’s his work, especially?” came the question. - -I explained, as best I knew, the different functions of a trained -forester, emphasizing, “Mind you, Martin, he’s paid for what he knows -and not what he does with his hands. He doesn’t have to chop down trees -and all that sort of stuff; but he knows all about saving the forests, -improving them, doctoring them.” - -“How long does it take a man to learn that trade?” was the next -question. - -“About seven years, including college and professional school.” - -“It would take a fellow like me that long?” - -“Oh,” I admitted, reluctantly, for I felt that this would put a stop -to any ambition that he had, “of course you are not ready for college. -That would mean at least three years more!” - -Martin mused, - -“Seven and three--ten. I’m twenty-eight years old. That would bring it -up to thirty-eight.” - -“Yes,” I assented, “but you must remember that there are a good many -working years left, after that!” - -“I’m not thinking about myself; it’s Nora. We planned to get married by -spring. Of course I should put it off. I wonder if you’d help me?” - -“Help you--how--what?” - -“Help me to explain to Nora; so she’ll wait--wait probably that long!” - -“You can count on me to help you in anything, Martin.” - -“When she knows it’s for her betterment, maybe she’ll be willing,” -interjected Martin, as if in argument with himself. - -I nodded, vigorously. - -“Anyway,” he said with that belligerent tone of his, “she’ll have to -be!” - -Under the inspiration of this conversation, I pulled Martin out of the -house and took him to the public library, where we asked for a bundle -of preparatory school and college catalogues. These we whispered over -and patiently studied until noon. We found that, by unusual labor, -it would be possible for Martin to get his preparation, his college -degree, and his professional training within nine years! As a further -proof of our optimism, we decided that Martin should enter Yale when he -was fitted! - -We found from the catalogue of the preparatory school that Martin had -decided upon, that the term opened within two days. When I advised -Martin to write a letter to the principal and await a reply, he stormed -at me: - -“And probably it would be a week before I heard from him. That would -put me behind the classes--and you would be gone, too. If they aren’t -overcrowded, why, I’ll not wait to write; but just take my fifty -dollars and go. They can only say no.” - -His decision made, Martin began to show me what a decided nature he -possessed. He drew the fifty dollars out of the bank. He bought some -necessary clothes out of the money. The next day he gave notice to the -contractor that he would carry bricks no more. Then he outlined his -scheme to uncle and aunt. - -My Aunt Millie stormed. - -“This education business is getting on my nerves. First it’s one and -then another of you.” Turning on me she said, “Nice way of treating us: -coming to take a good paying boarder from us--and we need the money so, -too!” - -But Martin interjected, “Look here, I did it all myself. Blame me for -it!” - -But my aunt would not be consoled. “And I’d been planning so for the -wedding, too!” she exclaimed. - -As I chanced to be going on a trip to the Seminary at the time, I told -Martin that I could be his companion as far as he had to go. - -“But you’ve got to go to the North End with me and help me explain -matters to Nora. You’ve got a smoother tongue than I have and she’ll -listen to you.” - -So Martin and I started out on our dismal mission. Nora lived on the -top floor in one of the tenements. She was a stout, fair-faced woman -of twenty-seven with a way of casting her head sidewise when she spoke -to me, as if she had trouble with her sight. She stood gazing at us, -at that unexpected hour, from behind the ironing-board. The odor of -burning cloth reached my nostrils, as she stood wondering. She had -burnt the shirtwaist and no amount of frantic rubbing with soap could -take the scar out. - -She dismissed us to the parlor while she put on a more presentable -dress. Martin said not a word to me; but he pointed dumbly to his -photograph in a place of honor on the mantel. - -Nora came into the room exclaiming: - -“Why, Martin, didn’t you let me know? What’s the matter?” - -Martin started to speak; but could not. He nodded to me. - -Carefully, painfully, hesitantly, I outlined Martin’s ambition to -Nora. More than that I explained the reasonableness of it, the prime -importance of it to their later fortunes. I tried to paint in glowing -terms the high station to which Nora, through Martin, might be exalted. -I leaped from point to point with enthusiastic eloquence, when the -theme had mastered me. But when I had concluded, and was looking -eagerly into the young woman’s face for a favorable sign, she gasped, -then in a cold voice she said: - -“Oh, yes, it’s all right for _him_; but don’t I know that if he goes to -college he’ll meet other girls, better looking, better dressed, better -educated than I am, or can ever hope to be. Suppose I don’t break off -this engagement now, how am I to know that he’ll not forget me, throw -me over. Have you thought of that in all your plans?” - -“Martin’s a man of his word, I suppose,” I protested. - -“You’d find me true, Nora,” declared Martin. - -“How long do you want me to wait?” demanded the girl. - -“Only about seven or eight years or so!” haltingly explained Martin. - -Nora leaped to her feet and stamped the floor, angrily, imperatively. - -“You’d keep me waiting seven or eight years; waiting that long for you, -with all the risk! Not me! _Not for a thousand Martins!_” - -That was her answer. We left her without more words. We left her -watching us, crying. Martin commented, when we were outside: - -“Now, if she’d only had more faith in me and made me feel certain -of victory, maybe I’d given the whole thing up; but now--we’ll go -tomorrow, sure!” - -The following evening we sat in the North Station in Boston, awaiting -the train that would carry us on an all-night journey. Every nerve -Martin possessed quivered with pessimism. He scolded, chided, lodged -complaints at everything and everybody. He tried to give me the -impression that I had made a prisoner of him; that he no longer had -any initiative of his own. As we sat in the waiting room he held -humorous monologues the purport of each one being, “What a fool I -am, at my age, to be running out among a lot of kids to get ready for -college. What a fool!” During that hour’s wait, he had resolved four -times to expend that fifty dollars in a ticket to the orange groves -of California. Finally, when he had been brooding in silence for some -moments, with a quick action he pulled out his pocket book, handed it -to me and said, savagely, “Here, take this and keep it safe. No matter -how I beg or what I say, don’t let me have it. To make things sure, -you’d better run and get me my ticket to the school; then I’ll be sure -and not turn back!” - -As our train started from the station it plunged into a heavy, blinding -snow-storm that had been raging throughout the entire day. Once in our -seats, Martin recommenced his tirades against this “foolishness.” But -there were propitious signs near at hand, for his encouragement. A man -was coming down the aisle looking for a seat in whom I recognized a -Seminary comrade of mine. He was a stubby fellow of middle age, with an -ill-kept, drooping moustache. - -“Say, Harlan, old fellow,” I greeted, “stop right here and meet my -cousin.” When he was seated, I talked with him, and, for Martin’s -benefit, to whom I slyly winked as I talked, brought out the fact that -Harlan had been much older than my cousin when he had started out for -an education. Nay, he had been handicapped with a wife and a child! Now -he enjoyed the dignity of the ministerial profession. The moral was -evident to Martin. He braced up and became very agreeable, especially -to my old friend Harlan. - -We talked in low tones until three o’clock in the morning, at which -time the brakeman called out the station where I should leave Martin -to his fortunes. The poor fellow seemed on the verge of tears as he -gripped his suit-case and followed me to the door as the train slacked -up its speed. I looked off from the platform. The storm had not abated. -I could see only a great snowdrift where the station platform should -have been. A street light flickered weakly out on the street. - -As Martin dropped up to his knees in the snowdrift and reached for his -suit-case I whispered: - -“Find a hotel, and let me hear from you, old fellow. Keep up your -courage. If there’s anything I can do, call on me!” Harlan waved his -hand and called, “Never too late to mend!” an aphorism which might have -been pertinent to the occasion, and then the brakeman’s lantern swung. -As the train lumbered through the drifts, I saw Martin bend his head to -the storm, lift his suit-case above the drifts, and go plodding towards -the street light. The station was deserted, and I hoped that my cousin -would find some one to direct him before the storm discouraged him. - -A few months later, I stopped off at the town where I had left my -cousin. He met me at the train, the same serious man I had left, though -with a trace of a smile on his face and more of content in his speech -than before. He guided me past a grocery store and said: - -“I get up at four in the morning, do my studying, then before classes I -go out and take orders for that firm.” - -He led me down a placid street, through the shovelled paths of snow, -and after opening the front door led me into a well-warmed and very -nicely furnished chamber. - -“I do their chores and earn the rent for this room,” he announced, with -a grim smile. “Furnace to look after, paths to shovel, and baby to keep -happy, if it wakens when they want to go to an entertainment.” - -At supper time he led me into the heart of the town into an -eating-house. He had a meal ticket punched by the waitress. - -“This ticket costs three dollars,” he said, “enough to last a week at -three meals a day. I make it last three weeks by scrimping and having a -bottle of milk a day in my room.” - -“How do you like the school?” I asked, pleased with these evidences of -his thrift. - -“Well,” he mused, “they are a lot of kids, to be sure, and I’m quite -a freak among them. ‘Grandad’ Martin they call me. I suppose they’ve -never had so old a man in their classes before. Anyhow, that’s the -way you would argue from their looks and talk. But it doesn’t bother -me--much. I guess we’ll all get used to it, by and by.” - -“How is Nora getting along?” I ventured to enquire. - -“Married!” he snarled, and talked no more about that. - -“What do you think about this opportunity, Martin?” - -“Wouldn’t have missed it for fifty weddings!” he declared. - -Throughout the year I received word from him, couched in various -tempers of letters. Sometimes he was about to throw the whole ambition -over, because as he wrote, his mind was not as fresh as it might be. -Then he would write that the boys wanted him to become a member of -the basket-ball team, but he had refused, because, he argued, so old -a man, and so tall a one, would not do in playing against sixteen and -eighteen-year-olds! In spring, he had trouble with his French. Then -a complication of physical troubles cropped out, as if to test his -patience. Finally, after being confined to his bed by illness, and -having had to forego the final examinations, he decided that he was too -old to keep at it, and that he had too many handicaps. He went to the -West, thus keeping to his old intention, and after he had secured the -position as “boss” of a large gang of men, on construction work, a -“shirt-sleeved, and white collar job” as he termed it, he wrote to me -the following letter. - - “MY DEAR COUSIN: - - “Don’t feel at all that you did me a bad turn by having me go to that - school for a year. It was the most profitable investment I have ever - made! I find that out more and more each day. It has released me, - perhaps forever, from that miserable hand drudgery I always hated, - for in that single year’s contact with polite speech, with teachers, - and with the finer opportunities of life, I was given more confidence - in myself and my opportunities. I am not afraid to approach educated - people any more. I hold my head up higher; I feel myself more of a - _man_. I can even write at the end of my letter, something impossible - before, ‘_Remunda de pasturaje hace becerros gordos_,’ which is a - Spanish proverb out here for, ‘Change of pasture makes fat calves!’ - God bless our schools!” - - -THE END - - - - -TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES: - - - Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_. - - Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. - - Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized. - - Archaic or variant spelling has been retained. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THROUGH THE SCHOOL *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Through the school</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:0; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:1em;'>The experiences of a mill boy in securing an education</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Al Priddy</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Illustrators: Frank T. Merrill</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em;'>Wladyslaw T. Benda</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: August 14, 2022 [eBook #68750]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: David E. Brown and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THROUGH THE SCHOOL ***</div> - -<div class="figcenter hide"><img src="images/coversmall.jpg" width="450" alt="" /></div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h1>THROUGH THE SCHOOL</h1> -</div> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_0"></span> -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i_frontis.jpg" alt="" /></div> -<p class="caption"><span class="smcap">I Appeared before the President Considerably Unnerved</span></p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> -<div class="chapter"> -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i_title.jpg" alt="" /></div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> -<div class="titlepage"> - -<p class="ph2">THROUGH THE<br /> -SCHOOL</p> - -<p><span class="large"><i>THE EXPERIENCES OF A MILL BOY<br /> -IN SECURING AN EDUCATION</i></span></p> - -<p>BY<br /> -<span class="large">AL PRIDDY</span><br /> -<i>Author of: Through the Mill: The Life of a Mill Boy</i></p> - -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i_titlelogo.jpg" alt="" /></div> - -<p><span class="large">THE PILGRIM PRESS</span><br /> -BOSTON<span class="gap">NEW YORK</span><span class="gap">CHICAGO</span></p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="center">COPYRIGHT, 1912<br /> -BY LUTHER H. CARY<br /> -<br /> -Published, September, 1912<br /> -<br /> -<br /> -THE·PLIMPTON·PRESS<br /> -[W · D · O]<br /> -NORWOOD·MASS·U·S·A</p> -</div> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="center"> -TO<br /> - -<span class="large">W. H. S.</span><br /> - -<i>In the same terms and pictures I would employ were<br /> -I in the cheer of his parson’s study giving<br /> -my experiences by word of mouth.</i></p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak"><i>Preface</i></h2> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p><span class="xxlarge">T</span>HESE forty chapters of absolutely real -autobiography are intended to give the -reader faith in American education and to -reconstruct the human struggles and tests of -character which attend the progress of the poor -but ambitious lads through a formal education -for life.</p> -</div> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_ix">[ix]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak"><i>Contents</i></h2> -</div> - -<table> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Chapter I</span></td><td class="tdr"> <span class="smcap">Page</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><i>Fifteen Dollars and Sixty-five Cents Worth of International Travel.<br /> -An Inspiring Reception in Front of Chief Pungo Memorial<br /> -Hall</i></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_3"> 3</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Chapter II</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><i>I Help a Real Poet to Sing his Hymn. My First Chance and How I<br /> -Succeeded with it</i></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_24"> 24</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Chapter III</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><i>Thropper’s Puff Tie. Sounds That Passed in the Night. The<br /> -Possible Advantages of Speaking Tubes. The Scroll of Divine<br /> -History. The Meditations of a Saint. How Thropper Lost his<br /> -Pious Reputation</i></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_36"> 36</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Chapter IV</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><i>Thundering Gymnastics. How to Keep on the Good Side of the<br /> -Young Women with Scriptural Quotations. The Establishment<br /> -of Friendship. Carrying Water for Beauty. How Music may<br /> -be Something More than Music. The Wonderful, Austere M an<br /> -that Thropper led me to</i></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_44"> 44</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Chapter V</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><i>Pungo Hall’s Occupants: Estes Who Planned to Take a Tent and<br /> -Plant it in the Midst of The World’s Sin; of The Little Man<br /> -Who Fled from the Chidings of a ‘D.D.’: of Calloused Hands<br /> -and Showing How “Pa” Borden was Beaten by the Grass<br /> -Widower with The Long Hair</i></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_58"> 58</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Chapter VI</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><i>A Financial Pessimism Taken in Hand by Thropper and Shown<br /> -in its Real Light. A Turkish Rug that Smoked. A Poet in<br /> -Search of Kerosene. The Wonderful Antics of an Ironing-Board.<br /> -Economy at a Tub and Three Waiting for it After Brock’s<br /> -Bath. The Chemical Reduction of a Cauldron of Tomatoes into<br /> -Something Sweet</i></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_67"> 67</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Chapter VII</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><i>An Academic Ride in Five Carriages at Once. A Business Appeal<br /> -Mixed in with the Order of Creation. How We Got Lost in a<br /> -Discussion. Whether it is Best for a Man to Marry his First<br /> -Love. A Sleuth-Dean. A Queen’s Birthday Supper with an<span class="pagenum" id="Page_x">[x]</span><br /> -Athletic Conclusion. Jerry Birch Stands up for Albion. How<br /> -we Tamed him</i></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_80"> 80</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Chapter VIII</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><i>The Doctrinal Temper of the University, and Thropper’s Talk<br /> -about it. Introduces the Select Board of the Pharisees. A<br /> -Prayer-meeting Monopoly Combated by Independants. Jason<br /> -on my Track and How it Came out</i></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_89"> 89</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Chapter IX</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><i>My Trip into the Magic World of the Past. How Appreciation is<br /> -sometimes Worth More than Money. Jason and his Coterie on<br /> -Scent of Terrible Heresies. How God Takes Care of His Orators.<br /> -How a Big Soul can go through Annoyances</i></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_102"> 102</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Chapter X</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><i>The Magnitude of a Postage Stamp. Showing how Desperate the<br /> -Thirst for Money made me. Brock’s Rosy Nose and its Possibilities<br /> -as a Fireplace. How Brock thought he was Fooling<br /> -me and the Other Way About. The Barrow that Became our<br /> -Enemy and how Brock Revenged himself on it</i></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_109"> 109</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Chapter XI</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><i>How I Competed with Patrick Henry and was made Aware of a<br /> -Waste of the Eighth Letter of the Alphabet. How I Condensed<br /> -all my Studies into an Oration. How the Populace Greeted<br /> -my Rehearsal. Striking the Top Pitch</i></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_119"> 119</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Chapter XII</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><i>The Personnel of “The Clamorous Eight” and other Social Matters.<br /> -The “Blepoes” and The “Boulomaies” Invite me into Fellowship<br /> -with a Protest from Jason. Epics and Lyrics of Love.<br /> -“Pa” Borden Speaks for the Benedicts on a Momentous Matter.<br /> -How the Magic Tree Lured Some Unfaithful Ones from their<br /> -Sworn Duty</i></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_126"> 126</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Chapter XIII</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><i>How One Dollar and a Half Secured “The Devil in Society.” The<br /> -Medicine Chest which Became a Tract Depository under the<br /> -Teachings of a New Creed. How I Stuck to Orthodoxy</i></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_135"> 135</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Chapter XIV</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><i>A Chapter Depicting how Strife Existed Between the Pro-Gymnasiums<br /> -and the Anti-Gymnasiums and Showing how baseball, Debates<br /> -and an Epidemic Determined Matters This Way and That</i></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_140"> 140</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Chapter XV</span><span class="pagenum" id="Page_xi">[xi]</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><i>A Ph.D. in a Clay Ditch and the Futility of it. A Can of Beans<br /> -at the Conclusion of a Morbid Meditation. How Thropper and<br /> -I Played David and Jonathan</i></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_145"> 145</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Chapter XVI</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><i>Visions, Hysteria, Dogma, and Poor Lessons to the Front when<br /> -the Revivalists Arrived. How Natural it Sounded when<br /> -“Bird” Thurlow Asked a Flippant Question</i></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_151"> 151</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Chapter XVII</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><i>My Presidential Pose and its Central Place in “The Record.”<br /> -A Wistful Glance and Some Practical Plans towards Eastern<br /> -Education. How the Little Sparrow Brought my Class Colors<br /> -as I Gave the Class “Oration.” Ends in a Fight</i></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_157"> 157</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Chapter XVIII</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><i>Thropper Unfolds Something Better than Canned Foods. A Lesson<br /> -with the Flat Iron. Thropper Proposes that I Chaperone<br /> -Horses</i></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_162"> 162</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Chapter XIX</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><i>A Chapter Which Has to do with a Series of Exciting Affairs that<br /> -Occurred between the West and the East, and Which are Better<br /> -to Read about than to Endure</i></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_171"> 171</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Chapter XX</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><i>My Aunt Millie’s Interpretation of Education. The Right Sort of<br /> -an Adviser Gets Hold of me</i></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_188"> 188</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Chapter XXI</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><i>Over the Sea to a New Educational Chance. How I Revenged Myself<br /> -on the Hungry Days. The Cloistered Serenity of the New<br /> -Place</i></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_197"> 197</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Chapter XXII</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><i>Stoves with Traditions, Domestic Habits, and Greek, “Boys Will<br /> -be Boys”</i></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_204"> 204</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Chapter XXIII</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><i>A Plot Which had for its End the Raising up of a Discouraged,<br /> -Young Preacher</i></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_208"> 208</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Chapter XXIV</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><i>Burner, a Searcher After Truth. How a May-Pole Subdued a Tribe<br /> -of Little Savages</i></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_219"> 219</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Chapter XXV</span><span class="pagenum" id="Page_xii">[xii]</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><i>At the Heart of Human Nature. A Confidential Walk with a<br /> -Dollar Bill at the End of it. A Philosophical Observation<br /> -from the Stage-Driver</i></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_226"> 226</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Chapter XXVI</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><i>The Strange Adventure of Burner into Nothing, and How my Own<br /> -Mind Got into Trouble, and How my Faith was Strengthened<br /> -under the Chapel Window</i></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_235"> 235</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Chapter XXVII</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><i>The Wonderful Summer on the Pleasure Island</i></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_243"> 243</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Chapter XXVIII</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><i>How a Parsonage Suggests a Wife. The Convincing Revelations of<br /> -a Phrenologist Who Examined The Students’ Bumps</i></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_248"> 248</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Chapter XXIX</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><i>It Devolves upon me to Entertain a Guest. The Sentimental Consequences<br /> -Which Ensued</i></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_256"> 256</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Chapter XXX</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><i>A Heretic Hunter. The Orthodoxy of the Seminary Admirably<br /> -Defended. I Contract a Fashionable Disease, and also Receive<br /> -a Very Unsettling Letter</i></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_263"> 263</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Chapter XXXI</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><i>How Some of the Joys of Friendship Came to me in the Tower<br /> -Room. The Orator in the White Vest. How Soon I Lost my<br /> -Diploma</i></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_269"> 269</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Chapter XXXII</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><i>How, Though I was Ready for Service, I was Forestalled by a New<br /> -Trouble, and the very Interesting Plan Which Came Out of it</i></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_276"> 276</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Chapter XXXIII</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><i>Of a Village where Locomotive Whistles Sounded like Lingering<br /> -Music: of the Esthetic Possibilities in a College Catalogue: of<br /> -a Journey over the Hills to the College where we find, besides a<br /> -Wonderful Array of Structures, a Large Room and the Junior<br /> -with his Barnful of Furniture</i></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_282"> 282</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Chapter XXXIV</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><i>My Wife Packs me off to College. The Senior and I Stop at a<br /> -Rock for a Drink, Meet the Advance Guard of Students, Plunge<br /> -into a Bedlam, and Witness the Labors of the Freshmen. The<br /> -Finger-study of Quarles and my Apology Given to the Retired<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xiii">[xiii]</span><br /> -Medical Man who was Specializing in Hens</i></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_292"> 292</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Chapter XXXV</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><i>Hot-Popovers and a Cold Watch in the Station. The Sleigh-load<br /> -of Talent</i></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_315"> 315</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Chapter XXXVI</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><i>A Chapter of Sentiment and Literary Atmosphere, Including the<br /> -Account of Sanderson, the Procrastinator. How Two Prize Checks<br /> -Were Spent. A Parish of Talent</i></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_323"> 323</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Chapter XXXVII</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><i>Tieresias, the Blind Prophet, and Squeem, the Student in the Back-waters<br /> -of College Life. A Night of Grim Fate</i></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_348"> 348</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Chapter XXXVIII</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><i>A Chapter in which a Hero Does a Thing to his Credit</i></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_359"> 359</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Chapter XXXIX</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><i>The Lost Parrot. Academic Burlesque. The Nervousness of the<br /> -Final Minute. A Religious Outcropping in a Non-Pious<br /> -Heart</i></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_379"> 379</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl" colspan="2"><span class="smcap">Chapter XL</span></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><i>In Which the Account Comes to a Conclusion in the Life of a<br /> -Relative. Martin Quotes Spanish, and has the</i> <span class="smcap">Last Word</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_387"> 387</a></td></tr> -</table> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_xiv">[xiv]</span></p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xv">[xv]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak"><i>Illustrations</i></h2> -</div> - -<table> -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">I Appeared before the President Considerably Unnerved</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_0"><i>Frontispiece</i></a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr" colspan="2"><small>FACING</small><br /><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Jason, the Poet, Looked in</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_76"> 76</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Evangelical University was Treated to its First Match Game</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_142"> 142</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Say, How Much Yo’ Want fo’ dat Watch?</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_184"> 184</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">So Arm in Arm the Blind Student and I Walked</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_350"> 350</a></td></tr> -</table> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_1">[1]</span> -<p class="ph2">THROUGH THE SCHOOL</p> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_2">[2]</span></p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">[3]</span> -<p class="ph2">THROUGH THE<br /> -SCHOOL</p> - -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i_ch1_deco.jpg" alt="" /></div> - -<h2 class="nobreak"><i>Chapter I. Fifteen Dollars and<br /> -Sixty-five Cents Worth of International<br /> -Travel. An Inspiring<br /> -Reception in Front of Chief Pungo<br /> -Memorial Hall</i></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">IT was like taking off an old, worn, unadorning -suit of clothes as the Boston Express -whirled me away from the City of Mills. -It hummed with me over the streets on -which I had walked to and from work as -a mill boy. It darted me past the rows of tenements -where sordid and sinful memories lingered. -“Thank God! Thank God!” Out and -away from it all. Away from the hum, the bee-like, -monotonous hum of the mill machines that -overpower the nerves and dull the spirit of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">[4]</span> -workers! Away from the bells and blaring fog -whistles that disturb the sleep of tired, weary, -discouraged toilers; the bells and whistles that -sometimes mean the jubilant clamor of the -mills over their moaning, rebellious workers. -Past the pale faces that waited at the crossings -for the train to pass; faces whose eyes gleamed -with an instant’s wish that the train had them -in it, too! Yes, I was the chosen from among -over twenty thousand workers that day. I was -actually on my way to seek an education! -There, for proof that it was no dream, was my -long green ticket with its dozen coupons in my -hands! There was my brand new suit-case! -How lucky I was! Think of the fellows who had -better mental furnishing than I, who had even -money in the bank, parents who were urging them -to strive for an education, friends who would -loan them money, and yet, they were going to -the mill at that very moment, and would go -tomorrow, and the day after, because they were -afraid to make the break! Then I thought: -“Well, they would have made the break long -ago if they had lived with an aunt and uncle -who wasted their money on drink. That would -frighten them into it. There’s some good in -evil after all. I shouldn’t be on this train today -if my foster parents had been kinder, more -considerate! I guess it’d be a good thing if a -few of the other mill fellows, who are ambitious, -had something like it to frighten them<span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">[5]</span> -off. It’s probably the only way they’ll go out -and make their chance!”</p> - -<p>Then the vision of the country-side, painted -in the glories of Autumn, the flashing views of -cranberry bogs, crowded with sun-bonneted -pickers, called my mind to the new joys of existence. -Here I was, out in the world at last! -Not the romp of a holiday, with the mill room -for <i>next</i> morning, not a vacation of two days -with a return at the end of it; but the beginning -of an education, a start towards a profession, -a great big chance at last to “make -something of myself!”</p> - -<p>“Here,” I said to the train boy, as he was -about to pass me, “give me a packet of that -there gum—the peppermint sort.” That train -boy didn’t know, as I paid him the five cents -by giving him a dollar bill to change, that the -purchase was the greatest luxury I should have -on that trip of fifteen hundred miles.</p> - -<p>While working in the mill, I had never been -able to afford a trip to Boston, so when I arrived -in the station, and realized that I was even going -beyond it, on my first excursion, I said to myself, -“Boston is only the first, small step in -your travel!” The next coupon on my long -ticket paid my fare from the South Station to -the North—in a <span class="smcap">Cab with a Uniformed -Driver</span>!! It was the first time I had been in a -cab, except at a funeral. I was pleased when -the driver took me through the main streets;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">[6]</span> -glad when he had to move cautiously through -congested traffic, because people could see me, -as I sat nonchalantly in the cab. I took care -to see that the blinds were up as far as possible.</p> - -<p>In the North Station, when the cab driver -had taken me to the train, the car that I was -to travel on, to Montreal, was marked off from -its fellows by its salmon color. Awed, impressed, -I went groping through the dim car -until I found a vacant seat into which I comfortably -arranged myself. But as the train -pulled out, I studied my railroad map, and, on -discovering that the Green Mountains would -be on the opposite side of the railroad, I made -haste to change my seat, so that I might -insure myself a view of them; for I had never -seen a mountain in my life.</p> - -<p>That ride of twelve hours, on an express, -did not tire me one bit. I was before the world -with a starved, hungry mind and starved, -hungry eyes. I kept my eyes glued on the out-of-doors. -Yes, I watched both sides of the car -at once. I listened for the comments around -me and if anything of interest was mentioned -I bobbed up my head to look. I watched the -time-table for the stations so that I might know -when the train passed from one state to another -I was actually passing through whole -states—five of them in all! Five states of -the United States of America! There were few -details that I did not observe. I watched the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">[7]</span> -farms, the villages, the back yards of cities; -watched the flying trees, the colors of soil, the -crops that were being reaped, the winding roads, -and the vehicles that waited for us at the -country crossings.</p> - -<p>At noon we were lumbering through the -streets of Manchester, N.H., past the long canal -which flows like a sluggish moat along the dismal -wall of the mill. Crowds of workers were -waiting for us at the crossings; watching us with -looks of envy, I thought. I threw up my window, -leaned back in my seat, and ostentatiously -chewed gum with a smug, proud look, -with which I hoped to show the mill boys how -unconcerned I was about being a passenger on -a Montreal Express!</p> - -<p>It was not until we had cleared the big cotton -factory towns and cities of New England -that I felt entirely like an adventurer, however. -Only by the time the cities had been left, the -big cities, and the small towns were succeeded -by country villages, and the country villages -by vast wildernesses of woods and uncultivated -fields, did I feel satisfied. Then I knew that -if a train wreck should end my journeying, I -could settle down on some farm. I should not -have to go back into the mill.</p> - -<p>By watching my time-table carefully, I knew -when to look for the mountains; but long before -we reached the place appointed for the vision, -my heart was leaping with expectation. We<span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">[8]</span> -had reached the hilly country, and every high -knoll served me for a mountain. But on and -on and on, past soaring foothills, went the -train until what seemed a slate-colored storm-cloud, -a thin veil of atmosphere, caught my -attention. Then, as the train turned a bend, -the foothills dropped away, and there, like a -majestic dream, higher than anything on earth -before imagined, were the mountains!</p> - -<p>Following the delight of the mountains, I -had to think of our approach into another country. -We were actually going to leave the -United States and enter Canada! Immediately -the English blood stirred within me. I -was actually entering the domains of the Queen. -Just over the border, the train stopped at a -little village for water. I spoke to the brakeman -“Please, mister,” I said, “how long -will we stop?” “Eight minutes altogether,” -he replied; “eight sure.” “Are we really -in Canada now?” I ventured. “Yep,” he said -with decision, “this is Canada, sure enough.” -“Then I’m going to get off, for a couple of minutes,” -I said. I didn’t explain to him the -motive I had in getting off. It was to put the -soles of my shoes on FOREIGN SOIL! Unfortunately -there had been a generous rain -that had mixed with the dirt of the village road, -so that when I sought to step on Canadian -earth I was called upon to wallow in Canadian -mud, and that I would not do. “Never<span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">[9]</span> -mind,” I consoled myself with. “This board -walk is a Canadian board walk and will do.” -So I ran a hundred yards into the village along -the board walk and came back to the train satisfied. -I had stepped on Queen Victoria’s -territory, come what might.</p> - -<p>When the darkness shut out the view, even -then I did not keep my eyes from the windows. -I did not know what sights I should get a view -of even in the darkness. But all I saw of towns -were lights, like stars, followed by masses of inky -night. Then we stopped at a Canadian city station. -I pushed up the window, and heard the -great French chatter that went on outside. Not -a word of English could I pick out, neither did -I want to hear such a word. It would have -spoiled all. At last I was in a new country, -among a people who spoke a different language -from my own! I was a real traveler at last!</p> - -<p>At ten o’clock the lights of Montreal, strings -of stars, flashed by the windows. Three miles -away from the station the passengers became -restless. Some of them stood up and waited -during all that time. At last the brakeman -called out with finality, a downward deflection -of the last syllable, as if that ended his day, -“Mon-tree-AL!”</p> - -<p>There my ticket told me I should have to -change. The next stage of my journey would -take me along the border of Canada as far as -Detroit; an all-night journey.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">[10]</span>During the hour that I had to wait in Montreal, -I went on a thrilling, timid sight-seeing. -I recollect to have seen a couple of dim-lit -business streets, silent, ghostly, a couple of -buildings which must have been structures of -importance in daylight, and a sign which could -be read because it was directly in the glare of an -arc light, “National Bank.” Having seen so -much, and satisfied my provincial soul on so spare -a meal, I went back to get on my new train.</p> - -<p>I found myself in a most comfortable car. -The seat was well padded, the back was high -enough to serve for a pillow, and there was no -one in the seat in front. So I turned over that -seat, took off my coat and hat, unlaced my -shoes and put them on one side, leaned back -with a sigh of content, ready for a night’s rest -when—the conductor came down the aisle, -looked at my ticket, and said, “This is a first-class -car and you have a second class ticket. -The next car ahead, sir!”</p> - -<p>I slung my coat over my arm, picked up my -shoes and suit-case and went into the car ahead. -It was a Tourist Sleeping car and was filled, -largely, with a medley of Europeans. Europeans, -too, with peasant manners, with peasant -dirt and peasant breath. There was odor of -garlic mixed with odor of stale rye bread, as -some ate lunches. There was odor of unwashed -clothes mixed with odor of sour milk. Double -seats, leather padded, had been pushed together<span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">[11]</span> -into berths, while overhead shelves had been -let down for upper berths, with thin pads of -mattress for the colonists to find rest upon. -The aisles were littered with paper, fruit remnants, -broken cigarette stubs, empty bottles, -and expectoration. The air was vapid, like a -drunkard’s breath. I waded through it all to -the lower end of the car where there seemed -to be an oasis of cleanliness and order. Here, -though, were men sprawled out in unpoetic -postures of sleep. At the lowest end, even the -train boy had left his basket of fruit and soda -on one side, while he lay for the night, crumpled -up, snorting like a pig.</p> - -<p>I looked around and up for a place to sleep. -There on one of the high shelves, I saw a young -fellow sitting up, eating a sandwich. He saw -me looking in his direction. “Hello, fellow,” -he greeted cheerily, “you’re English, aren’t -you, fellow?” I replied that I was and that -I was wanting a place to sleep for the night. -He said, “These places are for two. Get a -leg up and bunk with me.” He reached down -his hand, braced me as I stood on the edge of a -lower berth, and then I found myself in the bed -with my benefactor.</p> - -<p>He sat there in his shirt, ready for bed, with -a large basket of sandwiches in front of him. -There were more sandwiches together in that -one basket than I have ever seen piled up on -the counter of any lunch room.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">[12]</span>“You aren’t a train boy, are you?” I asked. -“Oh, no,” said the young fellow, “that’s my -lunch. I got a week’s go on the trains yet, so -I brought enough to eat for that time. I’m -going to college away out West. Have one,” -he broke in and pointed to the basket. I had -no scruples in assisting at the reduction of -such a mountain of sandwiches, for I imagined -that a company of soldiers could have subsisted -on them for three days. I ate my fill, and the -young fellow watched me with evident delight. -“I’m going out to college, too,” I explained. -“We’re birds of a feather, eh?” “What college?” -he asked. “Evangelical University,” I -replied. “It’s easy to get through there because -expenses are moderate. I don’t think -I’ll have a chance to get in right away,” I -explained. “You see, I haven’t written them -that I’m coming or asked for a chance even. I -can get out there and get some kind of work, -and when everything’s arranged, get into the -University. A friend told me about it.”</p> - -<p>“Why didn’t you go back with some one?” -asked my friend. “Well, you see,” I answered, -“I couldn’t afford to go the way the others go. -It costs twenty-four dollars and this route -only costs me fifteen dollars and sixty-five -cents.” “Oh,” said the young fellow. “When -you do enter the University what class will -you join?” “I’ll have to join the beginners -with common school branches,” I said. “Then<span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">[13]</span> -I’ll work up into the Academic course to prepare -for college, then go through college, you -see.” “Oh, yes,” he said, “I see.” He then -asked me to help myself to another sandwich. -“You’ve got nerve, anyway,” he commented. -“It’ll be a long pull, won’t it, to do what you -plan? How old are you?” “Oh, around -twenty,” I answered. “I wish, for your sake,” -said the young man, “that you were through -with it; this education business takes a lot -out of a fellow. It’s a fight right from the -start if you don’t have any money. I’m a -sophomore in college. By the way, you haven’t -told me your name, fellow. Mine’s Harlan -M. N. I. Droughtwell. Plenty of initials because -my folks wanted to please both branches -of the family. In full, I am Harlan Micknell -Norman Ingraham Droughtwell.” “And I,” -I replied, “am just Al Priddy. No middle -name. I suppose, though, that really I am -Albert, but it ain’t used much.”</p> - -<p>Harlan put the basket aside, after having put -over the bread a damp towel and closed the -cover. Then he told me to turn in near him. -So we both gave ourselves into the keeping of -the engineer and slept profoundly above the -odors, the litter, the droning aliens:—two -youths college bound.</p> - -<p>I was first up, in the morning. Harlan, on -opening his eyes, proposed that I “dive in” -and he pointed to the sandwiches. First of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[14]</span> -all I wanted to wash my face. I did so at the -drinking tank. I looked around. There was -a stirring among the aliens; just a stirring. -Some were turning over, yawning and giving -guttural explosions of sleepy comment. -Mothers were feeding hungry, lively babies; -but at my end everything was profoundly still. -The train boy’s basket was still where I -had seen it the night before with the fruit -exposed to the air. The boy himself was a -tousled, sleepy, uninspiring bundle of blue and -white. I looked at my berth-mate, the sandwich -man, and noted that he combed his hair -from the side. Immediately I was conscious -that I combed mine down the middle, and I -recollected that my aunt Millie had always said -that I looked like a masher with it in that way. -So I took out my pocket comb and changed -the style of my hair-dressing, while Harlan, -entirely unconscious of having wielded so powerful -an influence over a fellow, sat in his berth -and struggled with his clothes.</p> - -<p>All through the morning we traveled; over -high trestles, through deep cuts, skirting tobacco -fields, whirling through little settlements until -at last we were rolled to the deck of a massive -iron ferry and, still in the cars, were taken across -the lake and landed at Detroit. Meanwhile, -I had parted company with Harlan, who had -told me to “keep right at it,” meaning thereby, -a college education.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[15]</span>Transfer after transfer was made for another -night and a day, each time the trains seemed -to get slower, to stop more at stations, while -the cities grew less frequent. Friday turned -into Saturday, Saturday into Sunday, and by -Sunday, too, we plunged into an overpowering -odor of gas. “Is the lamp leaking?” I asked -the trainman mournfully. “It’s terrible. It -must be leaking. It makes me seasick.” The -man laughed. “Oh, you’re in the gas belt,” he -said. “It’s in the air. You will get used to it. -I can’t smell it at all, though at first it smells -like being right in a gas house, doesn’t it?”</p> - -<p>The gas tinged everything; food and drink. -I felt like going to sleep to lose the sense of it. -But deeper and deeper into it the train plunged, -without mercy. “If you’ve got a piece of silver -about you,” said the trainman, “a watch-chain -or anything of gold or silver, this air will -turn it black soon enough. But you’ll get -used to it,” he added comfortingly enough. -“I shall have to,” I complained, gloomily. -“It tastes as if all the gas works in the world -had exploded about here.”</p> - -<p>Finally I was nearing Groat’s Crossing, the -seat of Evangelical University. The train deposited -me at a station within twelve miles of it, -where I should have to take an accommodation -four hours later. There was nothing to see in -the place where I waited, but glaring brick -buildings and houses on stilts. So I waited<span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[16]</span> -around the hot, splintered platform, seated now -on a truck, watching a group of young men -reading sections of a Sunday paper, or walking -miserably up and down wishing for the train, for -the gas had gotten into my system, and I felt -lonesome, miserable. I might have gone to -sleep in the waiting room, but the seats were -spoiled for beds by having iron arm rests at -intervals of two feet. I tried to thread myself -through these, at full length, but could not. -There was nothing to do, but stand around -and taste gas, until the Groat’s Crossing train -came.</p> - -<p>With great joy I watched the accommodation -come into the station. Only twelve more -miles between me and Evangelical University! -The end of three days’ travel. Three days from -the cotton mills! In that thought I renewed -my spirit. Soon I should at least be <span class="allsmcap">NEAR</span> a -college!</p> - -<p>College! For me! It was the anticipation -of a first watch twenty times intensified. I, go -to college! Look back in the genealogies of -the Priddys, rooted back in Britain’s centuries, -and lay your finger on a single member of it -who ever went beyond the secondary school! -And there was the brakeman calling, inconsequently, -“Groat’s Crossing!”</p> - -<p>I half stumbled from that car, thanking God -that He had allowed me this sweet day. Here -I was on the platform at last. There was no<span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[17]</span> -one about. A Sabbath quiet lingered over -everything. The black splinters on the platform -went like knife blades between the soles -of my worn shoes.</p> - -<p>Groat’s was a very small station. Some sort -of a village lay behind it. I asked a man on -the street corner if this was where Evangelical -University could be found. He pointed away -from the village in the direction of a rutted, -clay road bordered by a line of houses on stilts -which ended in a pasture fence made from dry -stumps interlocked. “The place’s up thar!” -mumbled the man as he moved the morsel of -tobacco from one cheek to the other. “You’ll -run smack inter it ef yo’ keeps ergoin’.” “How -far about?” I asked. “Uh, ’bout a mile or -mo’, I guess.”</p> - -<p>The fumes of gas half choked me. They -drowned out the perfumes from decaying leaves -which lay thick on the streets. It was a land -given over to gas, evidently, for instead of -cows grazing in the flat pastures, latticed derricks -towered over oil and gas wells. In place -of the twitter of Fall songsters reaching me from -the trees along the roadside, came the mournful -creaking of oil pumps and the gasps and barks -from the sputtering engines. A well had just -been shot. A crowd of spectators stood at the -base of a derrick whose latticework glistened -with the black baptism of oil, and the dead -grass on which the spectators stood was soaked<span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">[18]</span> -by a tarry iridescence; the thick, black, greasy -mess which had spouted up from the torn heart -of the underworld.</p> - -<p>I walked along a board walk which gave me -a level path over little brooks, open culverts, -house drains, and masses of surface gas mains. -It took me up a slight grade in a lonesome -part of the road where were neither houses nor -trees. I stood on the crest of the hill looking -ahead for the University. It stood on the open -plain ahead of me, in full sight, Evangelical -University!</p> - -<p>I had never seen a college before. I had -feasted my imagination on photographs of the -world’s leading universities: Cambridge, Oxford, -Edinburgh, and Harvard. I had revelled in -the Tom Brown type of literature which has for -its background armorial gateways, ivy-clothed -turrets in which sparrows twitter all the day; -which showed myriads of mullioned windows -peeping shyly through the branches of sedate, -century oaks; which showed grassy-carpeted -lawns, yew gardens, swans breasting placid, -rose-fringed lakes, lakes girded by pebbled paths -whereon walked pale, lanky scholars in board -caps and mourning gowns, walking with bulky -tomes of Latin on their palms in serene meditation!</p> - -<p>And there the reality of a college, Evangelical -University, spread itself for my contemplation, -a heart-choked contemplation, because<span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[19]</span> -that view shattered a lifetime’s romance! It -brought to mind a group of tenements surrounding -a big square, brick grammar school. The -buildings stood open to the glare of the sun, -for there were no tall trees for shade. The -smaller houses, little cheaply constructed cottages, -stood on cedar posts and were so fragile -that the first tempest might readily twist them -from their anchorages and carry them tumbling -down the fields like empty hat-boxes.</p> - -<p>After the armorial-gatewayed universities of -my dreams had completely melted away, and -the reality in its Puritan, pioneer severity challenged -me, I took a firm hold on my slate-colored -baggage and strode rapidly on towards my -goal.</p> - -<p>“What do you want for ninety dollars a -year?” I argued with myself. “It’s your -chance, and that’s enough.”</p> - -<p>I soon came to a newly plowed road which -led to the first of the university buildings. The -hot sun had not been thirsty enough to suck -all the rain which had fallen on the new road in -the last storm. The clayey earth had mixed -with it and formed a broth which waited for -the first unwary foot to slip from the springy -board walk, which led over it.</p> - -<p>Directly ahead, I saw a salmon-colored, clapboarded -building squat and frail like an evangelist’s -tabernacle, over which I read on a sign -the following explanatory inscription:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[20]</span></p> - -<p class="center">“<span class="smcap">Chief Pungo Hall, 1889.<br /> -Born in Africa. Died Here 1885.</span>”</p> - -<p>With but a mere glance at this Memorial -Dormitory, I had need next to press my teeth -over my under lip, stiffen my gait, bulge out my -chest, and perform all the other affectations of -courage, for in front of Pungo Hall stood a -group of well-dressed young men, all looking at -me! The heart of the horseman who dashed -in the charge of the Six Hundred was a stouter -one in feeling than mine when I charged on those -lolling young men. My kneecaps vibrated -like a cello string. My finger nerves leaped one -over the other. My heart pumped double quantity -of blood to my cheeks. The board walk -dropped from under my shoes and I walked on -a tipping cloud.</p> - -<p>One of the students, in response to my waiting -and my embarrassment, which must have -been as clear to him as an electric advertisement -over a skyscraper, advanced and asked if -he could be of any service to me, saying that his -name was Thropper, James Thropper.</p> - -<p>Now, during the long, three days’ journey, I -had spent much thought in preparation of the -introduction of myself to the University upon -arrival. I had succeeded in framing an introduction -which had both the qualities of completeness -and brevity. I had rehearsed it, -mentally, in many hypothetical contingencies,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[21]</span> -so that I might let them see that I knew, definitely, -what I had come for. But among all the -contingencies I had invented not one of them -had resembled the one in which I found myself: -making my business known to a student. -I had thought of meeting with a gowned don -or a “bursar”—whatever he was—because -I was saturated with Tom Brown. But I -managed to explode my introduction to the -student, with all its brevity, in all its boyish -completeness.</p> - -<p>“My name is Al Priddy. I have come from -the mills. I have not been to school beyond -common fractions. I am nineteen years old. -I am willing to learn. I heard of this place -from a friend. He said there was a chance. -I have only three dollars. I am willing to -work. If you think I can’t be taken in, right -off, I shall be happy to live near here, so that -when I have earned more money I can begin!”</p> - -<p>James Thropper picked up my slate-colored -suit-case and led me before the group of students, -without comment. Then, after he had -introduced me to them all, as “Brother Priddy,” -he signalled to a tall, moustached German. -“Come here, Brock.” The German came to -one side, and Thropper repeated, though not -so completely nor with equal brevity, the tale -I had unfolded.</p> - -<p>“You’ve come to just the right place, Brother -Priddy,” said Brock. “We have plenty of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[22]</span> -students here who arrive without much money -or much education. It’s a splendid place for -getting a start, isn’t it, Brother Thropper?”</p> - -<p>Thropper said, “It’s been a blessing to many -a struggler.”</p> - -<p>“But is there room?” I asked. “I could -wait. It will be nice to live so near a college -and join it—later,” I tremblingly ventured. -“I didn’t come with the expectation of beginning -studies right off, I thought I might go to -work in the glass factory a while and then -when I’d—”</p> - -<p>“That would be a waste of time,” said Brock. -“I think you’ll be able to start right away.”</p> - -<p>“Excuse me—are—are you a professor—sir?” -I enquired.</p> - -<p>“No,” laughed Brock, “just a theologue, -that’s all. I started late, you see.” Then he -explained: “You’ll not be able to do any business -here on Sunday. The President will see -you the first thing in the morning; but you -needn’t fear. There’s no turning of you off -when you’ve come so far. Just remember that, -Brother Priddy. Meanwhile, I think I might -be able to place you at a job that will pay your -board.”</p> - -<p>With a wild leap of the heart, I gasped, -thrilled,</p> - -<p>“Oh, if you only could!”</p> - -<p>“I’m head waiter in the dining-room,” he -explained, “we have a place not filled yet.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[23]</span> -I’ll see you later about it. Better take him -in with you,” he announced, turning to Thropper. -“Yours is a double room. That’s where -the President would put him, anyhow.”</p> - -<p>“My, the gas does smell!” I announced, -merely to say something as Thropper led me -into the dimness of Pungo Hall. “Doesn’t it -spoil the food, when it soaks in it?”</p> - -<p>Thropper laughed.</p> - -<p>“You won’t mind it, after a while. You’ll -get so that you won’t notice it. Here’s the -room, ‘9’. Come in, Priddy!”</p> - -<p>I heard the scraping of a key against the -lock, a frosty light overhead showed me where -the transom was swung at an angle. Finally -there came a click as the key snapped back the -bolt, Thropper threw back the door and ushered -me in my college room, a double room within -a narrow compass of a few feet something. I -swept a pair of greedy eyes over this, the first -substantial step in my educational ambition.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">[24]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="Chapter_II_I_Help_a_Real"><i>Chapter II. I Help a Real<br /> -Poet to Sing his Hymn. My<br /> -First Chance and How I Succeeded<br /> -with it</i></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">THE double bed had two depressions -plainly visible on the mattress -where two previous occupants had -maintained their respective sleeping -rights. The double quilt, patterned -after a gaudy Chinese puzzle, sank into the -depressions of its own, warm weight.</p> - -<p>“The best thing about that quilt,” explained -Thropper, “is that when my eyes get weary -with study or tired from writing, I look at the -combinations of colors, and my eyes are rested. -It’s great for that. By the way, I’ll call you -Al if you’ll call me Jim,” he suggested.</p> - -<p>That bed occupied the major portion of the -floor. Its edge left just a narrow alley between -it and two kitchen tables that were covered -with black oil-cloth. One of the tables—farthest -from the window, in the dim light,—was -bare of books, and Jim said that it would be<span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">[25]</span> -mine. The other had about a dozen text books -on it, some scraps of paper, and an open Bible, -marked with purple and red ink where Jim -told me he was busy emphasizing all the texts -that he might preach sermons from—some -day.</p> - -<p>The chair allotted me was a plain kitchen -affair, as hard as a tombstone; but Jim’s was -fearfully and wonderfully stuffed. There it -stood like a parody on a fluffy Morris, library -chair. It was a kitchen chair grotesquely -stuffed and upholstered within a faded, torn, -and highly colored bed comforter. When Jim -noted that I took an interest in it, he said,</p> - -<p>“Padding made quite a difference in that -chair, Al. It’s real comfortable, though there -isn’t much seat left; it’s so thickly padded. I -was out in the fields one day, and near the fence -I picked up a sheep’s skin of thick wool. I -thought then that I could make good use of it, -so I brought it back, left it on the clothes-line -at the back of the building to let the air sweeten -it, for it was pretty strong; then I came to the -conclusion that I could use it to stuff the chair—real -wool, you know. The comforter was -left in the back room by a fellow and I used -that, too. It’s a real comfortable chair; almost -makes you fall asleep when you sit in it.”</p> - -<p>“You didn’t manage to sweeten <i>all</i> of the -wool, did you, Jim?” I asked dubiously as I -noted the dank odor that came from the chair;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">[26]</span> -an odor that was reminiscent of a junk shop -after a rain.</p> - -<p>“Why,” replied Jim, in good humor, “I -don’t notice it a bit. I think it must be your -imagination.”</p> - -<p>“Well,” I concluded, ungraciously, “probably -it’s like the gas. You’ve got used to -it.”</p> - -<p>Between the gas stove and the wash stand -stood a galvanized water pail, three-quarters -filled and with a fuzzy growth on its oily surface.</p> - -<p>“That ain’t drinking water, is it?” I asked in -alarm.</p> - -<p>“No,” laughed Jim. “That’s in case of fire. -I ought to have changed that water two weeks -ago, but I guess I’m getting lazy.”</p> - -<p>By this time I had my coat off and had accepted -Jim’s invitation to wash the train dust -off my face.</p> - -<p>For this purpose I scraped around in the -soap dish until I had secured two thin wafers -of soap, one a transparent reminder of perfumed -toilet soap, the other a dull yellow, -and odorous with naphtha, which I recognized -as the remnant of a powerful disinfecting and -wash-day soap; used by my Aunt to drive -black oil from overalls. I had to rub these -two antagonistic wafers together to make sufficient -lather for washing. Then, too, I had to -hurry my toilet, for the flowered wash bowl<span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">[27]</span> -had a yellow crack on its under side, through -which the water dripped rapidly while I washed.</p> - -<p>Jim said,</p> - -<p>“Until you get some, Al, you must use my -towel.” He took it down from the wire behind -the stove and let me have it, with the remark:</p> - -<p>“There’s a dry corner, there near the fringe.”</p> - -<p>The window was open, and while I was busy -brushing the dust from my clothes, a gust of -wind came in and I heard a rip on the wall -followed by an exclamation from Jim,</p> - -<p>“There it goes again! The wall will be going -next!”</p> - -<p>On examination I found that the wall paper, -with its highly conventionalized lotus leaves, -had lost its grip on the wall behind the gas -stove and had uncovered a great area of plastered -wall. Jim produced some tacks, and using -a flat-iron for a hammer managed to return the -paper to its place and to keep it anchored there -through a liberal use of tacks.</p> - -<p>He apologized, when he came down to the -floor,</p> - -<p>“All this is miserable enough, Al, and I don’t -blame you for thinking so.”</p> - -<p>“Uh,” I retorted, “I ain’t grumbling. Beggars -can’t be choosers. Besides, I don’t see -what more the college can do for ninety dollars -a year, board, room, and teaching.”</p> - -<p>“‘Tuition’ you ought to say,” corrected -Jim. “I’m glad you’ve got the right spirit<span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">[28]</span> -about this place, Al. You’re right, we can’t -expect any more for ninety dollars! I don’t -see how they can do for us what they can. It’s -worth a mighty lot for you and me to get a -chance, and if education should cost more, -where would you and I be?”</p> - -<p>“That’s just what I think!” I replied with -spirit. “It is just the chance we want. Here -I am, with only three dollars to begin on and a -poor foundation for study in the bargain. What -other place is there where I could be given a -start on such easy terms?”</p> - -<p>“A lot of fellows come here,” commented -Jim, “who don’t look at the matter in that -way—and they soon leave and don’t have -any chance at all. I know you’ll appreciate -the hard scrabble to get the education. Besides, -poor buildings, poverty-stricken rooms, -cheap board, and limited privileges ought to -make us get the most out of our studies. That’s -something.”</p> - -<p>“But suppose they don’t let me begin?” I -gasped; for up to this time I had not let a doubt -of my acceptance at Evangelical University -mar the afternoon.</p> - -<p>“I don’t think they’ll let a fellow like you -go begging, Al,” responded Jim. “You might -as well count yourself one of us, right off.”</p> - -<p>Just then, out in the upper end of the corridor, -went up a high, lisping, effeminate voice, -calling,</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">[29]</span>“Oh, Brother Thropper; Brother Thropper!”</p> - -<p>Jim went to the door and replied,</p> - -<p>“All right, Jason!” Then he turned to me -and whispered,</p> - -<p>“Hardwick is one of the smartest fellows in -the University. He’s a poet, too. He’s got a -hymn set to music in this book,” and he waved -a much worn, manila paper covered Gospel -hymn book. “It’s very popular; sung in many -of the big revivals!”</p> - -<p>With a throb of excitement I waited for the -advent of this real poet. I had seen men who -had called themselves poets in the mill; but -their productions were local in theme, personal -in lines, unpoetic in metre and never reached a -further fame than insertion in the “Original -Line” column of the papers. But I was now -to view a real poet; one whose words were sung -in churches. I was thoroughly subdued when -I heard the poet’s fingers searching for the -knob, outside.</p> - -<p>He was all that the comic papers and the -actors suggest for poets. There was not a bit -of the world about his aspect. In reaching -for the dwelling places of the muses he had -lengthened out until his head, covered with a -thick cluster of curls, roamed through the -higher levels of the atmosphere. He had to -incline his head in order to get through the -doorway. His face had a poetic paleness and -his lips were pulled out as if he were on the verge<span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">[30]</span> -of inspired speech. He wore a clerical vest -and all his clothes were of a very spiritual black. -He carried a mandolin.</p> - -<p>I was formally introduced and on my part, in -acknowledging the introduction, I agreed that -I was “right glad to know” Mr. Hardwick.</p> - -<p>The poet had come to rehearse some hymns -with Jim. The latter produced his guitar; -both musicians sat on the edge of the bed before -a nickel-plated music stand, the Gospel -hymn book was put in place, and to the strumming -of the instruments, the vocalists sang some -revival hymns with such effect as to produce -from me the comment, “My, that sounds fine!”</p> - -<p>Then, growing bold through intimacy, I said,</p> - -<p>“I wonder, Mr. Hardwick, if you will sing -that song you wrote, please?”</p> - -<p>The poet said that he would be pleased to -sing it as a trio, and asked me, when he had -found the place, if I could join in with the bass. -I thought I could.</p> - -<p>So the three of us, I between the two musicians, -sat on the edge of the bed and sang the -lilting reiterations of the hymn,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="first">“There’s a welcome home,</div> -<div class="verse">There’s a welcome home,</div> -<div class="verse">There’s a welcome home,</div> -<div class="verse">For you and me.”</div> -</div></div> - -<p>We were interrupted by the ringing of a bell, -on the University tower, which, I learned, was -the call to the Sunday afternoon preaching<span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">[31]</span> -service. As my roommate was trying to urge -me to attend, and while I was protesting that -my clothes were not good enough, the head -waiter came into the room and said,</p> - -<p>“Priddy, I’m going to give you a try as a -waiter at supper. Don’t go to the preaching -service. I will try to rig you up with an apron -and jacket.”</p> - -<p>Oh, what inspiration those words had in -them! It meant that the University was already -willing to give me a chance to show what -I could do. I should not have to get work in -the glass factory. I should not have to wait -before I could enroll myself in the University. -My chance had come. I cried for joy; tears -of which I was not ashamed, even though Brock, -the head waiter, saw them.</p> - -<p>“I’m only poor, and a big blunderer, without -any manners,” I protested, “but if you -give me a chance, I’ll do my utmost.”</p> - -<p>At five o’clock Brock came into the room carrying -on his arm a well-starched waiter’s jacket -and a patched white apron.</p> - -<p>“I had these on the side,” he announced. -“They are worth forty cents. You may pay -for them when you are able. Don’t be worrying -about the matter. Be over at the dining-room -at quarter past five.”</p> - -<p>After that I moved as if in the midst of a -grand dream. Was I actually in a dormitory, -at a college? Was it true that in a quarter of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">[32]</span> -an hour I should be trying to wait on a group -of real students?</p> - -<p>The dining-hall was a squat wooden bungalow -with a great many windows in it. The -front hall floor bent under my weight as I -crossed it. I unlatched one of the double doors -and viewed the roomful of tables with the dull -reflector lamps hanging above them. White -jacketed students were busy with plates and -plated silver cutlery. Brock, himself in glorious -white, came down the room with a word of -greeting. I was introduced to the student-waiters, -was told that I was on trial only, and -that I should be carefully watched, as there -were many trained waiters among the students -who coveted the position. Brock indicated -two tables near the door, the farthest away from -the kitchen of all the tables.</p> - -<p>“You will wait on them,” he said. “There -will be ten to a table. When they come in, -before the blessing, they will stand behind their -chairs. You must go around, find out what -they want to drink; hot water, tea or cold water, -then you must go to the other end of the room, -get one of the trays and fill it with twenty cups. -Then you must get them served just as soon -as you can. You will find plenty of chores to -do when they are seated.”</p> - -<p>With a wild, thumping heart, and with a -maximum of terror, I heard the first of the -students enter the outer hall. Brock stood at<span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">[33]</span> -the opposite end of the room, near the slides -that connected with the kitchen, his finger on -a Sunday-school bell. The students, well-dressed -young men and women, swept past me, -crowded me, stared at me, stood at my tables; -went to the different parts of the room chattering, -bantering, laughing, and accosting one another -familiarly with such abandon and effect -that I felt like an intruder. No one spoke to -me. The young men and women at my two -tables commented about something in a low -murmur. They cast doubting looks toward me.</p> - -<p>For a minute I was in a panic, then, because -I was tall, I could see Brock’s eyes telling me -to do something. I went through the crowded -aisles, around my tables, saying to each person, -in a trembling, very English way,</p> - -<p>“Will you ’ave ’ot, cold water, or tea, please?”</p> - -<p>I received eighteen orders for hot water and -tea and two orders for cold water. I came out -from the ordeal of having addressed so many -students and went perspiring to the upper end -of the room where the urns and trays were. -I put the weighty cups and the thick glasses -on a tray the size of an ordinary five o’clock tea -table, filled them by twisting the tray under -the spigots of the urns, and with the weighty -load raised as high as my long arms could exalt -it, pushed my way nervously down the aisle, -past the students whose backs were turned to -me, and conscious that all the inquisitive and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">[34]</span> -critical eyes in the world were watching me to -see how I should manage. I was very fortunate -in being able to squirm my way to the lower end -of the room and to reach the vicinity of my own -tables without accident. It helped me, too, -to hear the students singing a hymn. It took -their minds off me, the green mill boy trying -to wait on college tables! Thus encouraged, -I tried a bold thing, which I saw the other waiters -doing. As there were no stand tables to -rest our trays upon, while steadying mine -against my body as it lay on the palm of my -hand, I took off a cup of hot water from the -lowered tray, and tried to reach the cup around -the waist of the young woman who had called -for hot water. The balance would have been -maintained had not the person next to me suddenly -drawn back, jolted the tray from my -hand, and sent the hot liquids streaming down -the skirts and shoes of those in the vicinity. -There followed, too, the crash and thump as -the heavy cups clattered to the floor. The -two glasses splintered into bits, and while the -students were sitting down, I found myself -growing more and more conspicuous until the -seated throng looked up from every part of the -room, to see me furiously red, with tears gathering, -and with untold chagrin over the mishap.</p> - -<p>I waited, among the ruin, for Brock to come -to me, get me by the scruff of the neck, hurl -me outside to say,</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">[35]</span>“Get back to the mill. What right have you -to pretend to know how to act among cultured -people? You’re too green!”</p> - -<p>I <i>imagined</i>, too, that the students at my table -must be delegating one of their number to go -to the head waiter to say,</p> - -<p>“We don’t want that clumsy person bothering -with us. He’s spoiled a couple of fine dresses -and made a regular bothersome mess. Throw -him out! Send him back to where he came -from!”</p> - -<p>But I had mistaken the temper of Evangelical -University. Brock came down, and with -great kindness patted me on the back and said, -encouragingly,</p> - -<p>“Don’t let a thing like that bother you, -Priddy. I know how they crowd. Cheer up, -old fellow.”</p> - -<p>Then the student who had jolted the tray -bent back and said,</p> - -<p>“It was all my fault, Brock. He wasn’t to -blame a bit. It was downright careless of me. -I’m sorry.”</p> - -<p>Then, after he had assisted me in bringing -the hot water and other drinkables to the tables, -Brock took pains to introduce me to the twenty -young men and women, saying,</p> - -<p>“Mr. Priddy, I hope, will see that you do -not go hungry as much as you might!”</p> - -<p>I walked on air after that; for the head waiter -had called me, “Mr. Priddy!”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">[36]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak"><i>Chapter III. Thropper’s Puff<br /> -Tie. Sounds That Passed in the<br /> -Night. The Possible Advantages<br /> -of Speaking Tubes. The Scroll of<br /> -Divine History. The Meditations<br /> -of a Saint. How Thropper<br /> -Lost his Pious Reputation</i></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">SHORTLY after my return from the -dining-hall, Thropper thundered into -the room, in his impetuous way, jerked -his arms out of his coat, tore at his -collar and lifted up the lid of his tin-covered -trunk with every evidence of excitement.</p> - -<p>“What’s the matter—Jim?” I asked, from -my seat near the window.</p> - -<p>“Got a date on, that’s what,” he answered, -half smothered in his trunk. “Miss Ebberd’s -going—church—with me. Lucky—duck, -that’s what! Going down the board walk to—New -Light revival! Say,” he interrupted, -holding up for my inspection a black, puff tie,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">[37]</span> -with an opal stone nesting in the midst of its -folds, “How would this go with a choker collar, -Priddy?”</p> - -<p>“Put it on first, Thropper,” I suggested.</p> - -<p>He fastened it around his high choker collar: -a collar whose pointed fronts might have been -successfully used by Spanish Inquisitors to make -heretics look up continually unless they wished -to have holes punctured under their chins.</p> - -<p>“The reason I wear this tie,” said Thropper, -confidentially, “is because it blocks up my shirt -bosom; hides it and saves washing, of course. -You’ve got to get on to all those sort of tricks -when you work your way through school, -you’ll find, Priddy. Now, how do I look, eh?”</p> - -<p>I thought him a very attractive Lothario -indeed, although I did not venture so far with -an expression of opinion. I merely said,</p> - -<p>“You look slick!”</p> - -<p>As he was leaving the room, Thropper suddenly -turned and in a very apologetic tone -said,</p> - -<p>“I had planned, Priddy, to stay with you -tonight, but you see how it is, don’t you, old -fellow?”</p> - -<p>“Why, certainly,” I agreed. “I wouldn’t -like to have you miss this chance for anything, -Thropper. Go ahead and good luck!”</p> - -<p>“Thanks,” he said. “You can lock the door -when you go to bed if I’m not back. You must -be tired!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">[38]</span>“Yes, I am tired, Thropper. I’ll sit by the -window—and think. Good luck to you!”</p> - -<p>He was gone. As his feet echoed in the bare -hall, I heard him humming, like a happy lover,</p> - -<p class="center">“There’ll be no dark valley!”</p> - -<p>The evening shadows were gathering outside, -as I sat near the window, looking out. From -the village centre came the drawn out stroke -of a church bell. Then the campus was alive -with sounds. The whole University seemed astir. -Some one raised up a window in the second -story, over my head, and a quiet, vibrant voice -called, “Hey, Brother Merritt?” The man in -the next room stopped his strumming on a -guitar, lifted up his window and replied, -“What?” “Going to the service tonight, -Brother Merritt?” To which my neighbor -answered, “No, I’m afraid I can’t. I’m tired.” -A door in the next house burst open and a trio -of young women gathered on the porch. -“That’s only the first bell,” said one. “We -shan’t have to hurry.” “I’m glad of that,” -replied another, “for the board walk is just -simply terrible in places: full of holes that we -might trip in if we had to run.” Then their -pattering footfalls could be heard growing dimmer -and dimmer in the distance on the board -walk. Little groups of young men hummed -hymns as they, too, passed Pungo Hall on their -way to the revival. Others laughed and argued.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">[39]</span> -I heard the fragment of one discussion in which -three earnest-toned young men were indulging: -“Saint Paul did make a failure in that -Mar’s Hill speech!” said one, loudly. “It all -depends on what you mean by ‘failure,’” replied -his antagonist; “true, the Greeks might not -have been strongly enthusiastic at the time, -but it seems to me that God would use that -speech for—No!” The argument was swallowed -up in the twilight and the distance. A -group of young women swept by the gloom -which hung like a mystic veil between me and -them. I heard only one sentence of their conversation, -“Fried potatoes—ugh!” They were -succeeded by a procession of late starters who -slipped by shrouded in the gloom, a happy, -familiar, shadowy procession ignorant of the -lonesome lad who sat back of a window and -envied them their evening’s excursion. The -last of the footsteps died down on the board -walk, as if the last of my generation had left -me to occupy the world alone. But the stars -came out for friendliness, ruling over the silences -of the campus and rendering it more silent. -The tolls of the church bell announced the beginning -of the service. When the double stroke -had been given for a last warning, the silence -was about me once more. Suddenly the -troubled cry of a sheep from the back pasture -broke out on the night, a plaintive bleat as if -a dog or some prowling beast of prey had been<span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">[40]</span> -scented. Then, through an open window in -the next house, I heard the voice of a girl as it -read something, followed by a deeper voice -which said, “Oh, yum, I’ve been dozing, Grace!” -That was followed by a hand which drew apart -the curtains, and soon two girls’ heads were -outlined against the golden glow in the room, -and one remarked, “Oh, what a stupid night!” -I hurriedly dodged my head into the room, -drew down the window shade and lighted the -flaring, hissing blaze of gas.</p> - -<p>The whole room was cheapened when the -powerful gas light shone on it. The crowded -space, filled with the tawdry effects of my roommate -and myself: the rack of dusty photographs -of people I had never seen, the stuffed chair, -the bed quilt, the water bucket; all those things -oppressed me. I turned off the light and threw -myself on the bed determined not to undress till -Thropper’s return. I felt the need of Thropper. -It seemed to me that he would cheer me, hearten -me, be a companion. I began to speculate about -Thropper in a dreamy sort of way. Overhead, -some one began to walk back and forth, -back and forth, monotonously, humming a -tune unknown to me. I listened for the melody -hoping to discover that it would be something -with which I was familiar, so that I could -hum it too. But it was suddenly interrupted -by a terrific yawn. Then the man upstairs -said, “Oh, Oh-h-h!” and I heard the clatter as<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">[41]</span> -a pair of shoes fell on the floor. The man was -going to bed. I began to wonder who it was -that had been walking and singing and going -to bed over my head. I also speculated on the -social value of a speaking tube which should connect -our rooms. Then a long, long silence, -broken at last by a clatter in the hallway and -at last Thropper’s cheery voice,</p> - -<p>“Well, you couldn’t wait to undress, eh, -Priddy?”</p> - -<p>“Oh,” I mumbled, “got back?”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” he laughed. “Isn’t it time?”</p> - -<p>“What time is it?”</p> - -<p>“Nearly ten.”</p> - -<p>“I must have been asleep, Thropper. The -sounds sent me off.”</p> - -<p>“You were homesick, I’ll bet,” he laughed. -“That’s a fine description of it.”</p> - -<p>“It wouldn’t be surprising, would it?” I -asked.</p> - -<p>“Not a bit,” he said, “but you just wait -till you get to know the folks about here, and -you’ll get over that.”</p> - -<p>“Did you have a good service, Thropper?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, fair,” he replied. “Fair. Miss Ebberds -didn’t particularly like the sermon.”</p> - -<p>“But she enjoyed the walk to and from it,” -I laughed.</p> - -<p>“Well,” he said earnestly, “I know I did.”</p> - -<p>While he was preparing himself for bed, he -said,</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">[42]</span>“When I went out I forgot to tell you about -the Scroll. You might have had a good time -with it. Have you ever seen one?”</p> - -<p>“Scroll?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“What is it?”</p> - -<p>Thropper plunged into the heart of his trunk -again, and this time extracted a black, leather -case. He opened the front, turned a knob -and unfolded a scriptural panorama of chromo -pictures, depicting the thrilling events which -took place in Eden, first of all, and then continuing -through the murder of Abel to the -Flood.</p> - -<p>“I was agent for this last summer,” said -Thropper. “Look through it, Priddy, it’s quite -interesting.”</p> - -<p>The Scroll had unfolded to Sinai accompanied -by a running comment by Thropper, which, -itself, was a panorama of the exciting adventures -of a Scroll agent, when he heaved a sigh -and said,</p> - -<p>“Oh, um!”</p> - -<p>I looked up in time to see him throw himself -on his knees at the bed-side, to bend his head -in a cup made by his hands, for his evening -prayer.</p> - -<p>The Scroll brought before me the Tabernacle, -the Temple, the victory of David over the -Giant in the midst of a profound silence. -Thropper was still engaged in his devotions as<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">[43]</span> -devoutly, as deeply, as any Augustinian monk. -The panorama of the Divine Plan unfolded the -adventures which befell the prophets and came -at last to the Birth of Christ, when I looked -around again to find Thropper still kneeling at -the bed-side. To me it was a display of the -prayer-spirit unusual and I was just investing -my roommate with all the pious dignity of a -Saint, when a loud, long-drawn snore came from -him. He had fallen asleep! I shook him. He -drawled, as he crept into bed,</p> - -<p>“I’m glad you wakened me, Priddy. I fall -asleep quite often. One night I nearly got -frozen to death. I didn’t have a roommate. -Thanks. Turn off the light, won’t you.”</p> - -<p>After the Crucifixion I closed the Scroll and -snuggled into bed with Thropper. My first -day in Evangelical University had ended.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">[44]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak"><i>Chapter IV. Thundering Gymnastics.<br /> -How to Keep on the<br /> -Good Side of the Young Women<br /> -with Scriptural Quotations. The<br /> -Establishment of Friendship.<br /> -Carrying Water for Beauty.<br /> -How Music may be Something<br /> -More than Music. The Wonderful,<br /> -Austere Man that Thropper<br /> -Led me to</i></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">I  LINKED myself to the following day’s life -by clutching the gaudy comforter in both -my hands while I sat up in bed, startled -by a thundering that shook Pungo Hall.</p> - -<p>“What’s—that?” I gasped, turning -towards Thropper, expecting to discover that -the vibrations had brought him up in alarm.</p> - -<p>“It’s only ‘Budd’ doing his gymnastics,” -he muttered, drowsily, “what time?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">[45]</span>“Six.”</p> - -<p>“Better get up and go over to the dining-room -at half-past,” he explained. “Say,” he added, -lifting up his head, “you wouldn’t mind letting -me know at twenty minutes past, would you, -Priddy?”</p> - -<p>“Not at all, Thropper.” He dropped half under -the clothes and in a surprising manner was soon -invested in all the dignity of thorough repose.</p> - -<p>From that moment until the clamor of the -rising bell, at half-past six, the heart of Pungo -Hall was turned into a huge alarm clock, for -first in this corner, then in that, on this floor -and then on that, intermittent clatterings of -clocks brought intermittent yawns and mutterings -as the different students were signalled -by their unsleeping timepieces. Every noise -seemed to pierce from room to room as if it -went through telegraphic sounding boards. -Splashings, jumpings, muttered prayers, readings -aloud, animated conversations: these -increased as half-past six drew near. The -Monday morning, with its new week of study, -demanding a fresh enthusiasm after the Sabbath’s -interruption, was not being approached -in any business manner. Over the banister, -leading to the top floor, a voice exclaimed, so -that all could hear, “Say, Headstone, how fine -you looked last night with Her!” To which an -answer came from a suddenly opened door, -“Thank you!” Then over that banister, into<span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">[46]</span> -the laundry basket, in a dark corner of the hall, -the bed wash was hurled accompanied by dull -thuds.</p> - -<p>“Got your quotation?” asked Thropper, as -he dressed.</p> - -<p>“Quotation?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, Bible verse for the tables. You’ll -probably be asked to give one. You see, it’s -a sort of custom for Bible verses to go the rounds -of the tables, in the morning. You don’t have -to have one, but it fits in nicely, if you have -one. Especially if you’re a waiter.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, of course I’ll take one,” I said.</p> - -<p>“Only just remember and not do what one -waiter did, Priddy: take that verse and quote -it: ‘Let your women keep silence in the -churches.’ It would get you in wrong—with -the young ladies.”</p> - -<p>“Why?”</p> - -<p>“Well, so many of them are going to be evangelists -and ministers and missionaries: ever so -many of them. You see how they would be -liable to take it.”</p> - -<p>“We had better keep on the good side of—the -ladies,” I laughed.</p> - -<p>Thropper winked.</p> - -<p>“Betcher life,” he replied.</p> - -<p>Just then the head waiter peeped in at the -door to say,</p> - -<p>“Brother Priddy, are you coming across to -the dining-room? I’m going over.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">[47]</span>Eager to face my responsibilities of the day -in the leadership of somebody I accompanied -the tall German across the road and into the -dining-room.</p> - -<p>“Black for breakfast and supper. White -for dinner,” announced Brock. “I mean the -kind of coats that are to be worn,” he explained.</p> - -<p>While I arranged my two tables for twenty -people with plates, knives and forks, milk in -granite-ware pitchers, sliced bread, corn bread -left over from the previous night’s meal, tomato -butter, and dishes of crisp, browned, fried -potatoes, the other waiters came in and greeted -me with hearty,</p> - -<p>“Morning’s!” “Howdy’s!” and “Hello, -Priddy’s!” which had the effect of making me -feel in strong fellowship with them, although -our acquaintance was but a day and a night -old, at the utmost. Brock smiled at all these -evidences of friendship, and whispered, as he -showed me how to arrange the breakfast -things,</p> - -<p>“Things are going well, eh?”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” I muttered, “if I can manage not to -drop another tray!”</p> - -<p>Then the breakfast bell brought the hurried, -chattering, hungry crowd of young men and -women into the room again, though, at this -meal, they were less formidable in their every-day -clothes. Some brought books, others writing -pads. Fountain pens and pencils projected<span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">[48]</span> -from the outer pockets of the men, and were -stabbed in the hair of the women.</p> - -<p>My tables were soon lined with students. -They, too, seemed to have met me, long ago, -in the remote past and to some of them I must -have been at least a third cousin or present at -a family party, so freely and lavishly did the -greetings come: greetings that put me at my -ease because I felt that they came from sincere -hearts.</p> - -<p>The floor was ready to bend under the weight -of the crowd that stood waiting behind the -chairs for Brock’s signal to sit. Like a stern, -powerful, determining Ruler, the head waiter -stood at the opposite end of the room, with his -eye on his watch, not willing to press his thumb -on the Sunday-School bell until the instant seven -o’clock arrived. Eyes looked longingly on the -hot, fried potatoes. It was no use. Seven -o’clock was a minute off. Some rumbled the -legs of the chairs. To no purpose. The German -had patience. Finally the snap of the -bell sent every man and woman to the table -accompanied by the roar of scraping chairs, -thumping feet, and expressions of satisfaction.</p> - -<p>Near the head of my first table sat a very -young, pink-cheeked Southern girl possessed -of charming, gracious ways. Her “Mr. Priddy, -please, a spoon,” was as musical as ever a request -could be. It made me feel sorry that -the spoon was not gold instead of German metal.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">[49]</span> -Consequently, when she asked me for a third -glass of water during the first five minutes of -breakfast, it was no small happiness for me to -secure it, as speedily as possible, for her. But -on my return with the third glass her neighbor -asked for one. On my return with that, the -Southern girl had her glass emptied. So it -went for ten minutes: each one of them drinking -amounts of water sufficient for ducks or -geese to swim in—it seemed to me. Finally, -on picking up a fork some one had let fall on -the floor, I saw several glasses, full to the brim -with water, under the Southern girl’s chair. -She had been initiating me. With a broad wink -at the others, I very slyly sprinkled some -pepper on the glass of water before her when her -head was turned and then waited for results. -They soon came. She reached for her glass, -took a sip, and then commenced to choke.</p> - -<p>“What is the matter, miss?” I asked, “will -you have some more water?”</p> - -<p>She looked at me in resentful astonishment, -at first, and then seeing that the others at the -table were laughing, she joined in with them, -saying,</p> - -<p>“Who peppered the water?”</p> - -<p>“Was there pepper in the water?” asked one -across the table.</p> - -<p>There the matter ended, although, when in a -spirit of boastfulness I recounted the experience -at the waiter’s table, Brock chided me by saying,</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">[50]</span>“You will have to be careful. We must have -discipline, brother Priddy!”</p> - -<p>Thropper was waiting for me, after breakfast, -when the call to chapel sounded: the first -exercise of the day. We joined the procession -of students which moved swiftly towards -the central building. Into it the procession -hurried, racing against the tolling of the bell. -Then followed a tiresome climb up three pairs -of stairs to the topmost room of all, used for a -chapel. An attic room, square and dimly -lighted by dormer windows. The roof girders -overhead clung together like knitted arms bent -on holding together such a load of humanity -as trusted to them. Against the wall, opposite -the door, spread a broad platform with a -semi-circle of male and female faculty arrayed -on it. Before it, and awed into respectful -silence by it, spread a fan of students, sitting in -chairs, by groups. I sat at the heart of Evangelical -University. This chapel, in its plainness, -its bareness, its poverty, formed the pivot -on which the life of the University swung; for -here the religious faith and doctrine which were -the most eagerly sought gifts of the place were -received. Here, in these simple chairs, was -where men and women found God: the highest -advertisement of the University.</p> - -<p>The doors closed out late-comers. A hymn -was sung. This has been said, and echoed many -a time: that a hymn was sung. But this first<span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">[51]</span> -hymn I heard, proceeding from over a hundred -hearts, should not be plainly, unemphatically -said to have been merely sung. If each word -be trebly underscored and trebly emphasized, -then, one may say, a hymn was sung that morning, -for to me, the first bar of melody seemed to -be the onrush of an Angelic symphony through -a suddenly opened door of Heaven! Were they -common men and women who were singing with -such resonant exultation! The boarded ceiling -and the huge square attic room throbbed -with it. Rapture, adoration, victory, joy unspeakable -weighted down each note as the -melody unfolded itself. The reliant basses, -anchored to the background of the melody—a -resonant, manly anchorage—made sudden -excursions into the higher realms of the theme, -but not to displace the tenors whose shrill -praises were the nearest to what a hammer -stroke on a bar of silver would produce. The -dulcet altos, as rich depths of throat as any -one might expect, entwined themselves in and -out of the sopranos’ soaring, singing as if to -keep those higher voices from too suddenly -darting past the doors of Heaven and surprising -God. That was no mere singing of a hymn. -It was a hymn for the love of the hymn; singing -for the pure love of singing. Or, better, a spiritual -exercise that could certainly be no more -willingly or much better done in a morning -rehearsal of the Court melodists!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">[52]</span>“Wonderful!” I gasped to Thropper, whose -tenor had added much to the dignity of that -part.</p> - -<p>“They do sing well, don’t they?” he commented.</p> - -<p>A demure little woman in black, with a very -set, white face, came to the reading desk and -read a scripture lesson. Then the sober Dean, -whose eyes knew every thought in that room -and said so, gave some notices. There followed -a prayer whose outstanding character was -earnestness of expression, of theme, of length. -Then the whole service was embroidered by -three verses of another hymn, after which we -fell in orderly lines and marched through the -open doors, where an electric gong broke up -the line into unorganized groups, scattering for -the classrooms.</p> - -<p>“Now for the President’s office,” announced -Thropper, abruptly.</p> - -<p>But a sudden pang of fear whipped across -my thoughts.</p> - -<p>“Oh, suppose I can’t enter, Thropper!” I -exclaimed. “It has tasted so good, thus far!”</p> - -<p>He patted me on the back, in his manly way, -did Thropper, and heartened me by saying,</p> - -<p>“Well, Priddy, if you like the first taste, I -guess you’ll stay for the whole meal—if you -are hungry!”</p> - -<p>“Thanks, old fellow,” I said. “Take me to -the President!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">[53]</span>He led me downstairs into a very busy office -where some young women were typewriting, -inscribing books, and where one dudish young -man with up-combed, wavy hair, was flirting -with a pretty, tan-cheeked girl who was supposed -to be engrossed in the task of trimming -a window shelf of geraniums.</p> - -<p>Thropper was told that the President was -engaged and that we should have to wait our -turn. So we sat in high-backed chairs, in line -with three others, where I waited with a palpitating -heart that began to spell panic if -my turn were delayed much longer. To increase -this threatened panic of courage, Thropper -began to whisper terrible things about the President: -how he was a wonderful reader of books -and had a mentality and memory so well disciplined -that he was able to read an entire -page at a mere glance and be able to pass an -exacting examination on its contents a day -afterwards! Thropper also whispered in an -awe-struck voice,</p> - -<p>“The President just feeds on learning! He -can speak in ten different languages, read in -fifteen, about, and think in twelve: so they say. -You mustn’t fool with him or tell him any funny -stories! He’d never get over it, Priddy. Now, -come on, it’s your turn. I’ll introduce you and -leave you with him!”</p> - -<p>My sensitive imagination enkindled by all -that Thropper had fed me on, in the waiting<span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">[54]</span> -room, I appeared before the President considerably -unnerved. He sat behind his desk, waiting -for me: the embodiment of every austere -report I had heard. His mouth twitched; -twitched all the time. His eyes shone as -brightly as those of an aroused lion from the -dark mask of a cave. It was a race between -his mouth and his eyes: the mouth slipped in -and out, lip over lip, lip under and over lip, -while those two small eyes snapped back and -forth with electric suddenness. His gaunt features -had the pallor of death. A world of woe, -of hunger, of intellectual dissipation could be -read in him. He tried to compose his features -into a smile of welcome when he saw me, but it -seemed so unusual a thing for those ascetic -signs to be disturbed by the intrusion of anything -pleasurable, that the first attempt ended in a -sad failure. He did not try again. His voice -was tired when he spoke. It had neither -vibration nor health in it. I stood before that -presence chilled, uninspired, while a strong -temptation to flight pulled on my courage.</p> - -<p>“Sir,” began Thropper, fingering his cap, -“I’ve brought Mr. Priddy in. He came yesterday, -and I’ve been letting him share my room -till he saw you.”</p> - -<p>“‘Had seen,’ you should say, sir,” corrected -the President, “if you are after the proper -tense of the verb. You may go.”</p> - -<p>Thropper sighed deeply as he left, probably<span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">[55]</span> -over the grammatical correction just imposed -on him.</p> - -<p>A seat was indicated and I was asked to place -myself in it. Then the President said,</p> - -<p>“Just tell your story in your own way till -I interrupt you, young man.”</p> - -<p>Thereupon I went into such minute details -about myself, that I soon brought from the -official a grunt of impatience.</p> - -<p>“No,” he said, “I’m not a bit eager to know -how many times your family has moved about -the country. I want to know the salient things -about you yourself.”</p> - -<p>“I’ve been working in the mill till last week,” -I said. “I always have been eager to get an -education. I haven’t been able to save any -money. I heard about this place. I came on. -If you can’t take me, then please let me live -here; just live here, it will do me good even if -I don’t take any studies. I can work out and -earn my board, I promise you. I have been -earning my own living for a long time now, -sir.”</p> - -<p>“How much money have you brought?” he -asked.</p> - -<p>“Three dollars,” I said. “But you don’t -need to take me in yet, sir,” I explained, hurriedly, -for I felt that he would surely turn me -off.</p> - -<p>“A young woman came here, last year, with -just four cents in her pocket and only her own<span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">[56]</span> -strength to rely upon, young man,” replied -the President. “Her own strength and God to -rely upon, I should say, sir.”</p> - -<p>“Yes?”</p> - -<p>“There are several here who, at middle age, -have arrived with wives and families and hardly -more than enough to keep them a week, save -their own strength and God’s.”</p> - -<p>“Yes?”</p> - -<p>“There is one student here who, at forty-five, -has given up his position in business to begin in -the lowest grade of study, with arithmetic, that -he may receive an education.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> - -<p>“So that you, with your youth, your three -dollars, your opportunity, ought really to get -along fairly well here.”</p> - -<p>“If you take me, sir?”</p> - -<p>“Do you think we would turn you off, young -man?”</p> - -<p>“You mean that you’ll give me a chance, -then?” I cried, in great exultation at his quiet -words.</p> - -<p>At last a faint smile did untangle itself from -his austere line.</p> - -<p>“You are already earning your board in the -dining-hall, I understand.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> - -<p>“That leaves merely the small item of tuition -and room rent. I think that you will be -able to find enough work about the campus<span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">[57]</span> -and in the village to arrange for the payment of -that. If not, you should be able to earn enough -next summer to do it.”</p> - -<p>“Just the thing, sir,” I cried. “I’ll do it! -Here is the first payment.” I handed him the -three dollars.</p> - -<p>He waved his hand.</p> - -<p>“Keep them for necessities,” he said. “There -is no hurry. God is back of us, young man, -and will raise up friends for us. I want you -to work hard and make of yourself a useful man -in the world. We have no luxuries here. It is -plain living and high thinking: the two essential -equipments of manhood, I believe. If you -will share our hardships faithfully and work -hard, we welcome you to us. That is all. Now -we will see about your list of studies.”</p> - -<p>After fifteen minutes’ appraisement of my -intellectual attainments and of my intellectual -aim, the President made me out a list of subjects -with such diverse studies on it as: Beginning -Grammar, Church history, elementary -arithmetic, Jevon’s Logic, elementary Latin, -typewriting and zoölogy! I hurried from the -office, with the card, to attend my first class, -the first real step in my higher education, the -class in Church history!</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">[58]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak"><i>Chapter V. Pungo Hall’s Occupants:<br /> -Estes Who Planned to Take<br /> -a Tent and Plant it in the Midst<br /> -of the World’s Sin; of the Little<br /> -Man Who Fled from the Chidings<br /> -of a ‘D. D.’: of Calloused Hands<br /> -and Showing How ‘Pa’ Borden<br /> -was Beaten by the Grass Widower<br /> -with the Long Hair</i></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">EVERY scar that a sin may leave, every -phase of ambition made possible in -a democratic world, every type of -dramatic character: these I found in -Pungo Dormitory. As to a shelter -from the world’s temptations had come firm-lipped, -tense-browed men in middle life. As -to the door which led into serviceable adventures, -had come stout-hearted, finely-fibred but poor -youths. Evangelical University meant more -than a place where one could get a formal education.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">[59]</span> -To some it meant a haven from a -rough sea: a sea so rough, indeed, that but for -the harbor must have wrecked them inevitably.</p> - -<p>The sea, for instance, on which Estes, in Number -18, had found such tempestuous experiences. -To imagine Estes you have to think of two small, -very glistening black eyes shining through a -forest of beard like hut lights gleaming like -faint stars in the midst of a dense grove. That -was all you noticed, at first, about him, for his -body was insignificant, unimportant. The little -knobs of cheek that came between the eyes and -the black beard shone with a dull red glow, -like flesh that the winds and the frosts had -hardened and tinted. When on the campus, -Estes crowned his blackish head with a cow-boy’s -sombrero, worn at a rakish, foppish slant, as if -he were trying to be reminiscent of a Mexican -señor. A man to be called merely a <i>poseur</i> when -met on the campus or in the classroom, with -his arithmetic, his grammar, his English history, -and his black teacher’s Bible in the crook -of his arm; a thirty-seven-year-old man with -his foot on the first rung of the educational ladder. -To most of the students he was known -only in the rôle of “elementary student.” But -in the confidence of his chamber, among his -selected friends, when he opened his record, it -was akin to the opening of furnace doors to show -the furious white heat of a man’s sinful passion -and the dark, twisting, sulphurous smoke of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">[60]</span> -criminal deceit. He had betrayed men and -women in selfish conspiracies; had drowned his -wit in seas of alcohol; had abandoned his mother -and family to the cruelties of poverty and illness; -had stolen money and honor from his -fellows; had mixed in the cheap and petty evil -sports of sailors and tramps; had roamed through -the land in the guise of an Indian doctor selling -watery and greasy medicaments under a -hissing, gasolene torch to confiding purchasers; -had held responsible positions in shops; had—there -seemed to be no end to his adventures in -which the coloring always turned out to be the -fact that in all of them he had introduced elements -of sin, of criminality, of cruelty. They -always ended against those grim stone walls! -After walking through the pages of several -high-strung romances of vagabondage and -clap-trap he had turned to Evangelical University -as to the mould for a new character -which was to form him over, not only into a -socialized being, but into a serviceable, spiritual -servant; for after he should have had ingrained -on him the elementary knowledge of Grammar, -Bible, and History, he planned to take a tent -into the world, set it in the midst of the slums -for a season, and nightly exhort bad men to -become good with the same fervid impulsiveness -with which he had formerly exhorted them, -under the yellow blaze of gasolene lamps, to -buy pills and medicine-cure-alls.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">[61]</span>In room “20” dwelt a student of an opposite -type who embodied in an eloquent degree -the strength and adventure to which ambition -may attain. “Dr.” Upwell was a little -north-of-Ireland Scotchman, past his forty-third -summer: an ordained clergyman in an -energetic denomination. He was one of those -unfortunate men—of which there are a sad -number in the pastorate—who, in a moment of -illogical frailty had succumbed to the temptation -which a letter offered, of securing for a -trivial sum of dollars the dignified, honorary -degree of “Doctor of Divinity.” At first the -privilege of adding two capital “D’s” to his -name, on his letter heads, his visiting cards, his -church advertisements in the Saturday evening -paper, and on the gold-lettered sign in front of -his church, had been highly appraised. Those -two “D’s” had added almost a furlong to his -mental egoism. He felt himself admitted to -the highest peak where dwelt the chosen theological -giants. But finally, after much thinking—for -Upwell was at heart an honorable man—conscience -had asserted itself with a flaming -manifestation that shrivelled up this mental -egoism and left inside the poor man’s mind a -mass of smoking, smouldering remorse which -no amount of “Poohing” could quench. Conscience, -in that sure way it has, and blunt, kept -saying: “You are not worthy of the ‘D.D.’ In -the first place, you are ill furnished with education.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">[62]</span> -You have never been under the discipline -of a school. What you have is merely -the results of desultory home reading. You -have never accomplished anything worthy of a -‘D.D.’ honor. You are minister to a handful -of farmers, in an isolated community, in a -church which pays a salary of five hundred and -fifty dollars a year—when it does. You have -never made more than four speeches in Conference, -and they were in debate—remarks from -the floor, in which the Chairman found you ‘out-of-order’ -twice! You have played no heroic -part in social reform or made any spiritual -stir. The degree was purchased because you -were selfishly ambitious. It was sold to you -in cold blood by a college that funded itself, -partly, by such sales. Suppose that Peter, -when you came to the gates of Heaven, should -ask you, ‘Upwell, give me name, dignities, and -titles!’ what would you reply? ‘Chadworth -Upwell, Doctor of Divinity!’ with a host of -angels to laugh at you? Not so. You would -feel cheap, miserable!”</p> - -<p>Thus stung more and more into remorse, the -little Scotchman had finally been driven out to -seek a place where, at least, he could be worthy -of his ill-gotten honorary degree. He had -come to Evangelical University to fill the mind -with theology, ethics, history, and literature, -so that at the end of a year or two there might -be some degree of merit and fitness when he<span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">[63]</span> -placed “D.D.” after his name! Of course, -Upwell did not put it in that bald way, but from -the persistency with which he rolled the “D.D.” -under his tongue, while criticizing the possession -of it, it was not difficult to know that he -would never bury it.</p> - -<p>In Pungo Hall I came face to face with young -men to whom the gates of educational privilege -had been closed until they, like myself, -were on the threshold of young manhood. -They had come from the hearts of coal mines -and breakers, bringing their life’s dreams with -them, and an indomitable purpose. Every -penny they spent for books and board had -been earned by the sweat of their brow. They -had come, many of them, from far-away farms -and from the Southern mountain fastnesses -where life’s expressions of hope and desire were -to be seen in crude form; where they found that -it took the “breath of an ideal to blow the -dust off the actual.” Hands I shook, in fellowship, -that were scarred from hard toil, calloused -through contact with the tools of labor.</p> - -<p>The comprehensiveness of the curriculum of -Evangelical University was shown in the case -of the Borden family. I became intimately -acquainted with the head of the family, Julius -Borden, while cutting sugar-cane on the University -farm. Julius was a pale edition of -Falstaff: fat, self-sufficient, self-important, with -a scraggly yellowish moustache half screening<span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">[64]</span> -his pouting lips, and with a triple chin constantly -slipping like a worm back and forth over the -folds of the points of his collar. Mr. Borden, -even at forty-two, after the discipline of business, -married life, and children, took himself -too seriously. He spoke with hesitating precision, -though not with grammatical fluency, -as if he had predetermined that no word should -ever come from the depths of his profundity -that did not aptly fit into the seriousness of -life. The merest word I flung at him became -a challenge that could be answered only when -the hoe had been put down, the moustache -pulled, the brows contracted in thought, and -the throat cleared. When I greeted him with -a trivial, “How do!” he could not trust himself -to reply with audible words; he wanted me to -take his acquiescence for granted—I could -see it by the surprised look in his eyes. As he -had been a success at the grave-stone business, -had been married the longest of any of the married -students, and possessed the most children, -he seemed to realize that these were tokens of -superior power when compared to our bachelor, -or the other married students’ bridal, limitations. -He fairly withered our proffered suggestions -or theories or criticisms, with his -weighty authoritative, “I’ve seen so much, -you see!” It was, in his own estimation, equal -to a hurricane from the Talmud blowing on the -chaff of the Apocrypha. By reason of this constantly<span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">[65]</span> -paraded wisdom, Julius soon became -current on the campus as “Pa” Borden.</p> - -<p>He had given up his grave-stone business; -had brought his money, his wife, and two children -to the University for a “family fitting” as -he termed it; much as a farmer goes to the general -store with his family to be clothed, shoed, -and candied. The wife, at her marriage, had -just graduated from a high school, so that she -entered the collegiate department of the University, -on her way towards an A.B. to be -earned outside of the chicken-raising in which -she indulged. Jack, a quick-witted lad of -twelve, found a place in the elementary classes, -by the side of Estes, two Porto Ricans, a Japanese, -a missionary’s little girl, and several other -students who had to commence at the bottom -of the educational scale. Edith, a romantic-eyed -daughter, who wore Scotch-plaid dresses -and Sis Hopkins’ braids, was plunging through -the College Preparatory division close on the -heels of her mother. The father, least of the -family in school discipline, had to humble himself -so low as to take his place with a backward -grass widower in a “B” section of the grammar -class because of his tendency to forget, after -a day, the relations and distinctions between -verbs and nouns and the various other members -of the grammar family. But Julius saw to it -that besides the baneful necessity of his humble -place in the grammar class he came to a proper<span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">[66]</span> -level in those studies in which he could express -his preference. He revelled in the Bible class, -the Historical and the Oratorical classes to his -heart’s content, but though he shone creditably -in them, he never could quite clear himself -from the “B” section of the grammar class; -grammar being his thorn in the flesh, as he testified -in one evening’s prayer-meeting, when the -Apostle Paul and his historic affliction was the -lesson. Even the backward grass widower, who -had a thick mass of shining curls and intended -becoming a temperance “orator” finally graduated -from the “B” section, thereby heightening -the shame of poor Julius, who seemed predestined -to do poorly with the science of speech, -and forever linger in the shadow of the “poor-doers.”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">[67]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak"><i>Chapter VI. Financial Pessimism<br /> -Taken in Hand by Thropper and<br /> -Shown in its Real Light. A Turkish<br /> -Rug that Smoked. A Poet in<br /> -Search of Kerosene. Wonderful<br /> -Antics of an Ironing-Board. Economy<br /> -at a Tub. Three more Waiting<br /> -for it After Brock’s Bath. The<br /> -Chemical Reduction of a Cauldron<br /> -of Tomatoes into Something Sweet</i></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">MY capital of three dollars was very -quickly expended. After I had -spent the last quarter of a dollar -for writing paper and pens, my -pockets were as empty as they -were the hour I bought my suit from the -Jewish merchant. I stood penniless in the -first week of my educational career: a realization<span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">[68]</span> -that brought out every atom of self-distrust, -philosophical pessimism and gloomy -foreboding. I had been completely dependent -upon nickels and half dollars previously. I -had not moved without they paved the way. -Nothing of enjoyment and privilege had -been secured without money. Theatres, games, -parties, trips; these had always made their -call on my spending money. Now I stood facing -an academic career absolutely without a penny -and with no possible hope that in the outside -world there would ever be any benefactor to -forward one. I was stranded. I thought of -the students who relied upon monthly checks -from home or from friends. I thought of the -students who had their own bank accounts -which would carry them through the school. -I thought, with a kindling of envy, of the students -who the previous summer had earned -the following year’s expenses. I secured a -minimum of comfort from such reflections. -They plunged me deeper and deeper into the -gulping pit that sucks enthusiasm out of life.</p> - -<p>Thropper found me, standing by the window, -indulging in such a dispiriting review of my -prospects. In his bustling way he shouted:</p> - -<p>“Well, Priddy, what’s the row now, eh?”</p> - -<p>“I shouldn’t be—here,” I choked.</p> - -<p>“Well,” he exclaimed, “I thought you’d get -’em—soon.”</p> - -<p>“What do you mean, Thropper?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">[69]</span>“Homesick blues, that’s all. You’ve got -every symptom showing, Priddy. They’re on -you, all right.”</p> - -<p>“I’m not homesick, Thropper,” I blurted out. -“I have no reason to be homesick. It’s not that -at all. I’m fretting about money: that’s all.”</p> - -<p>“The root of all evil,” he mocked.</p> - -<p>“Wrong there, Thropper.” I half smiled, -cheered beyond measure by his banter. “I -heard a preacher say that the Bible said, ‘The -love of money is the root of evil.’”</p> - -<p>“Well,” bluffed Thropper, “what’s the difference? -Wherever you find money you find -the love of it. They are synonymous.”</p> - -<p>“I’m in no danger from either, about this -time, Thropper. I haven’t a cent to my name, -and as I search the future I don’t see a prospect -of any except I give up the University.”</p> - -<p>“That needn’t worry you, Priddy!”</p> - -<p>I looked at my roommate in amazement. -He was not smiling. In fact, he was looking -very seriously at me.</p> - -<p>“Not worry me?” I gasped. “That’s comforting, -to be sure!”</p> - -<p>“What have you got to worry about?” he -asked.</p> - -<p>“What—worry about?” I stammered, not -falling in with his mood.</p> - -<p>“Yes. Tell me!”</p> - -<p>“In the first place,” I explained, “you know -that I had but three dollars—three—t-h-r-e-e,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">[70]</span> -three, d-o-l-l-a-r-s, dollars; three dollars—to -begin my education with.”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t think I told you that I shall never -expect any help from the outside; that if I stay -here I shall have to rely entirely on what I can -earn with my own hands.”</p> - -<p>“I see.”</p> - -<p>“Well!”</p> - -<p>“Well?”</p> - -<p>“Well!”</p> - -<p>“Well?”</p> - -<p>“Isn’t it clear, Thropper?”</p> - -<p>“Isn’t what clear?”</p> - -<p>“The predicament I’m in.”</p> - -<p>“Predicament?”</p> - -<p>“Of course!” I retorted, impatiently. “What -else is it for a fellow to be stranded as I am? -You surely wouldn’t call it a blessing, would -you?”</p> - -<p>“I might!”</p> - -<p>“What!”</p> - -<p>Then Thropper, without another word, deliberately -turned inside out each pocket that he -owned and deposited in my hands the following -items: A well-worn ink and pencil eraser, a fountain -pen, a stub of a Dixon’s indelible pencil, -some blurred pencil notes, a half-dozen toothpicks, -a crumpled letter, a bunch of keys, a -bachelor button, two handkerchiefs, and fifteen -cents in two nickels and five coppers.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">[71]</span>“There,” he sighed. “That’s all. There’s -not a penny in my trunk. The money represents -my worldly fortunes—until I go out and -earn more. I, too, have to rely upon my own -efforts. Shake, Priddy!”</p> - -<p>The big-hearted fellow reached for my empty -hand and gave it a vigorous shaking.</p> - -<p>“You’re not bad off!” he declared. “Let -me tell you why. You see,” he went on to explain, -“after you’ve got in the swing of things -here, you become somewhat of a social or economic -philosopher. You’re rich, Priddy!” He -smiled benevolently on me.</p> - -<p>“What do you mean?” I demanded.</p> - -<p>“You’re English, aren’t you?”</p> - -<p>“Of course.”</p> - -<p>“That accounts for it, probably.”</p> - -<p>“Accounts for what?”</p> - -<p>“Your high and exalted estimate put on -money necessary to get you through college. -I understand that across the water it is only -the rich and the noble who are welcomed to the -colleges; that the mass of workers have come to -respect education accordingly. At least, that -is the idea one gets through the books and magazine -articles which have to do with English -college life. Whether it is true or not is another -matter. Anyway, Priddy, you’ve got to understand -that things are different in America. Our -colleges are democratic and extremely practical. -Now take yourself, for instance; you<span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">[72]</span> -have come out here regarding it impossible for -you to move hand or foot towards your education -without money in your pocket. Things -are so arranged that you don’t need to give yourself -much trouble on that account. You say -you’ve got no money and that you ought to get -away from here, on that account. That’s the -way thousands of plow boys and machine tenders -are arguing, only they say, ‘We haven’t -any money; therefore we’ve no chance to get -to college.’”</p> - -<p>“I know that’s so,” I interrupted.</p> - -<p>“You see this arm,” and Thropper made a -sledge-hammer of his right arm, bringing his -clenched fist down on his table. “That represents -my endowment of good health and -strength. How much is that worth, in terms of -dollars earned in a year during spare time, -Priddy?”</p> - -<p>“Why—I—”</p> - -<p>“Sixty-five dollars during school terms last -year, outside of vacations: sixty-five dollars -earned at odd jobs during Saturdays and odd -hours,” he said. “All the spare cash I was -called upon to spend. Of course in the summer, -by canvassing stereoscopic views, I cleared -sixty-seven more, above my expenses. That’s -what the arm stands for. Its strength is convertible -into cash almost any day that I care -to go out and earn it—keeping on with my -studies, too, of course.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">[73]</span>“But I’m earning my board by waiting on -table,” I urged; “that does not touch my tuition -and room rent, Thropper.”</p> - -<p>“Which amounts to about thirty dollars outside -of board,” he laughed. “You aren’t worth -much if you can’t earn that in a year and keep -on with your studies, Priddy. I think you’re -lucky, that’s what I think, in earning your -board so easily. That’s the big item!”</p> - -<p>“But what can I find to do? I can’t leave -the campus. I have to be around for the meal -hours.”</p> - -<p>Thropper went over to his desk and secured -a brown-backed account book, and read off the -following list:</p> - -<p>“Stacking books in the library, twelve cents -an hour. Wheeling Professor Dix’s invalid -aunt in wheel chair, twelve cents an hour and -dinner. Scrubbing floors in University Hall, -twelve cents an hour. Weeding garden, cutting -sugar-cane, thawing frozen gas pipes, grading -lawn, kneading bread, cleaning black-boards, -ringing bell, watchman, running washing-machines, -errands, pruning trees, dusting Professor -Harvey’s insects; all twelve cents an hour, -Priddy. The list of my chores for last year. -Possibilities for you, my boy!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I see!”</p> - -<p>“Feel better, now?”</p> - -<p>I smiled and then said, feelingly, to my roommate:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">[74]</span>“Thropper, you’d be worth ten dollars -an hour in a hospital bracing up discouraged -financiers; that you would!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I don’t know,” he answered, pleased -with what I said. “I’ve been up against it -myself, Priddy. I understand, that’s all.”</p> - -<p>“Have been up against it?” I gasped. -“Thropper, I guess you should put it in the -present tense: <i>are</i> up against it. Here is your -fifteen cents, your present fortune. What are -you going to do about money?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, me?” He felt under his table and -brought out to view a tin lunch box made to -resemble a bundle of school books. “I’ll have -that filled on Saturday morning at six o’clock, -put on these—” he rumbled behind his clothes-screen -and threw a pair of dirty overalls on the -floor and a soft, black shirt—“and go to my -regular Saturday job in the glass factory. A -dollar and fifty for the day; regular as the week -comes around. That’s the way I take care of -myself, Priddy!”</p> - -<p>“But when I work for the University I don’t -get cash, do I, Thropper?”</p> - -<p>“No,” he said, “it goes on your bill. But you -won’t find it hard to get along without money -here,” he said, “there isn’t much that you can -buy, outside of clothes and a lecture in the village -once in a while. You’ll soon become accustomed -to getting along without cash, all right.”</p> - -<p>When Saturday morning arrived, it was a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">[75]</span> -distinct surprise to hear Thropper moving in -the room first, for he usually had droned while -I prepared for the day’s work. I opened my -eyes. The alarm clock on the table told me -that it was half-past five. I watched my roommate -as he donned his working clothes and put -on a slouch hat.</p> - -<p>“An Englishman would call you a ‘navvy,’” -I smiled.</p> - -<p>“I should think an American would call me -a tramp!” he replied. “But you ought to see -some of the Bulgarians I have to work with!” -He spread out his hands expressively to indicate -that whatever the Bulgarians did look like, he -had not the rhetoric available at that moment -with which to describe them.</p> - -<p>There came a knock on the door and in -response to Thropper’s cheery “Come in!” -there appeared another “tramp” with his lunch -box; a tall, high-cheek-boned Southerner, named -Tripp, who drawled,</p> - -<p>“Best be gettin’ deown, Thropper!”</p> - -<p>So with a good-bye, Thropper left the room, -turning to tell me that if I found time, I might -clean up the room—in his absence.</p> - -<p>“Be sure and shake the Turkish rugs,” he -laughed, pointing to the patches of well-worn -carpet that were used for rugs. “When you -shake them you’ll find them very Turkish; -they smoke!”</p> - -<p>By the time the early lunch for the workers<span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">[76]</span> -had ended, there were seven “tramps” who -went to the glass factory with Thropper. Included -among them were two students, whom, -judged by their excellent dress and their social -graces on the campus, I had thought were none -other than the sons of wealthy parents.</p> - -<p>When the Bible verses had been given at the -tables and after the last slice of fried potato -had been scraped out of the dish, the students -hurried from the room and disposed themselves -for work.</p> - -<p>As I left the dining-hall, I saw young women -with duster caps on their heads, leaning out of -dormitory windows shaking rugs; others I found -hurrying down to other dormitories with bundles -of laundry. When I arrived in Pungo Hall, -I was greeted with the thumping of brushes, -the clatter of furniture, and the shouts of the -men as they called to one another above the -clouds of dust that were being hurled from -the rooms into the hallway.</p> - -<p>A knock came on my door as I started to -sweep the room, and Jason, the poet, poking his -long neck around the corner of the door-post, -asked in the most concerned way imaginable,</p> - -<p>“Brother Priddy, is the kerosene can here?”</p> - -<p>“Why—no, I haven’t seen it. What do -you do with kerosene? Don’t you burn gas?”</p> - -<p>Jason blushed, and then replied,</p> - -<p>“Oh—we—er—use the kerosene for -beds!”</p> - -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i_076fp.jpg" alt="" /></div> -<p class="caption"><span class="smcap">Jason, the Poet, Looked in</span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">[77]</span>“Beds?”</p> - -<p>“To subdue those fiery creatures who domicile -in beds!” he affirmed.</p> - -<p>“Oh, bugs!” I blurted with such roughness -that it must have made his sensitive and poetic -nerves clang.</p> - -<p>At eight o’clock a group of students, with -clean collars and well-pressed clothes, came down -from the University building, each carrying an -ironing-board, to be sold in some nearby town. -This ironing-board was entirely unlike every -other ironing-board invented by man or woman. -It was the product of the fertile and practical -mind of our mathematical professor; its chief -virtues being, as described in the prospectus, -that “it stands up like a soldier, kneels down -like a camel, and folds up like a jack-knife!” -With all its novelty, it was extremely practical -and, the agents reported, sold well. A large -number of useful citizens are out in the serviceable -centres of life, who, if they ever choose -a coat of arms will have to adorn their shield -with an ironing-board—“rampant,” for to it -they owe much of the financial lubrication which -smoothed their passage through the school.</p> - -<p>Hurrying after the same train were three -young women, each armed with a book, on their -way to make fifty per cent from literary householders. -At different hours of the morning other -students went to the village where every sort -of task from house-cleaning to raking up dead<span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">[78]</span> -gardens was undertaken. Evangelical University -was at work.</p> - -<p>The head waiter, Brock, came into the room -as I was cleaning it and said:</p> - -<p>“Priddy, has any one been in after the tub?”</p> - -<p>“The tub?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, and the rubbing board!”</p> - -<p>“I didn’t know those things were here.”</p> - -<p>“Your roommate and I have a whole laundry -set on shares. Look in my room and you’ll -see the irons; the flat-irons.”</p> - -<p>“No, the tub and the board are not here,” I -reported, after a search.</p> - -<p>The tall German went into the hall, raised -his voice in a great, resounding shout:</p> - -<p>“The wash tub! Who has it?”</p> - -<p>A door at the end of the hallway opened and -a voice replied:</p> - -<p>“Just rinsing out my shirt, Brock. Have it -in a jiffy!”</p> - -<p>A few minutes later Brock called to me from -his room. When I presented myself before -him, I discovered him with his sleeves rolled -up, busily engaged in pouring hot water from a -kettle over some shirts and handkerchiefs.</p> - -<p>“Any white things of yours, handkerchiefs -or shirts, Priddy,” he announced, “might just -as well go in with mine.”</p> - -<p>So we shared the wash that morning. After -they had been rinsed, I carried them to the rear -of the building and hung them on a double<span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">[79]</span> -wire line where the gas-laden air from the sheep pastures -hummed through them and the sun -burned them dry in an hour.</p> - -<p>That same afternoon, after having expressed -to Brock my desire for extra work in the hours -when I was not on duty in the dining-hall, I -found myself standing over an immense cauldron -under which blazed a hot camp-fire. In -the cauldron were bushels of tomatoes and -many pounds of sugar. With a long ladle I -stirred the concoction until nine o’clock that -night, save for the interruption of supper, and -by that time I had the satisfaction of seeing it -turn from a vivid pink to a dark red until it -turned into a tarty, pasty preserve, not unlike -strawberry damson in appearance. That night -there went on the University records, against -my name, “To seven hours’ labor, at 12 cents, -.84.” I had paid that much, that week, towards -my tuition.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">[80]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak"><i>Chapter VII. An Academic Ride<br /> -in Five Carriages at Once. A<br /> -Business Appeal Mixed in with<br /> -the Order of Creation. Is it Best<br /> -for a Man to Marry his First<br /> -Love. A Sleuth-Dean. A Queen’s<br /> -Birthday Supper with an Athletic<br /> -Conclusion. Jerry Birch Stands<br /> -up for Albion. How we Tamed<br /> -him</i></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">THE terror that at first had been -imposed upon me by the sense -of my own ignorance, a terror which -had led me to think that at twenty -years of age no ambitious youth -could at all fit into the educational scheme, -died down quite rapidly at Evangelical University.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">[81]</span> -The curriculum there was no arbitrary -imposition, as it is so commonly in the -Four-Hundred-Dollar-a-Year University, into -which a student must fit himself willy-nilly, -and to which he must either conform or not -approach. The Evangelical University curriculum -was made to bend to the needs of an -illiterate man of forty and to the advanced -demands of the graduate who sought his doctorate -in Philosophy. Its principle was that -of intellectual service to fit the needs of all -who come whether poorly fitted, old or poor. -Estes, “Pa” Borden, myself and many others, -who certainly would not have had the -chance for inspiration offered us in hundreds -of dignified schools, especially on such terms, -were given our lifetime’s chance in Evangelical -University.</p> - -<p>But it must have looked chaotic, intellectually -riotous, to a dignified dean of a classic -university, and, no doubt, he would have had -much in criticism of the university to offer, -from his proper angle, after looking on the -manner in which the students mixed their -courses.</p> - -<p>In my first term I spread myself through the -common school, the business, the college preparatory, -the collegiate, and the theological -divisions of the University! It was akin to -taking an academic ride in five carriages at -once! When the professor dismissed me from<span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">[82]</span> -the college class in logic I went immediately -into the basement, where I joined the grammar -class, and from the grammar class I went to -the theological department and recited on -Church History. From that class I went into -the scientific department and was heard in -zoölogy, and from zoölogy I found my way in -the business department where I practised on -the typewriter.</p> - -<p>Though I came before this intellectual privilege -with a hungry mind, yet, threaded throughout -it all were the complaints of the professors -in regard to the limitations under which they -worked. The professor of science constantly -unfolded to us, who met him in zoölogy, a -pet dream of his which comprehended a future -benefactor who should increase the number of -specimens in the museum. The English professor -was embarrassed frequently by the inadequacy -of the library. In our Bible classes, the -President would take us into his confidence, -the day after a faculty meeting, and descant upon -the hardship, the embarrassing, financial hardship, -of meeting the expenses of the school. -There was no lack of dignity to this proceeding, -for each one of us felt under obligations to the -University, knowing well enough that whatever -financial sacrifices the faculty underwent, -were sacrifices made in order that we might -receive an education. So the President was -within the bounds of propriety and discipline<span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">[83]</span> -when he concluded his report with his customary: -“And so, young ladies and gentlemen, if -you are acquainted with any business men or -wealthy person who might be made generous -by our worthy appeal, kindly hand me their -names and addresses after class. Mr. Stanton, -you will please describe the order of creation -as given in the first book of Moses!”</p> - -<p>But it was not long before I had to realize -that I had put myself under an exacting discipline -by coming to Evangelical University. -We had a dean who in effectiveness and as a -sleuth would have been the dean of deans had -an international society of them existed. The -presence of young men and women on the -campus rendered the Dean’s duties doubly -hard. The rules were rules of a Mede. His -surveillance was that of a man who felt an austere -obligation to over a hundred anxious -parents. No one, except by special permission, -could be out of his room after half-past seven -in the evening, save on society nights or on Sundays. -For the enforcement of this rule, the -Dean depended upon the reports of student -monitors, but mainly upon his own vigilance. -Every dormitory was always in danger of a -visit from the Dean, and as the students in the -dormitories were prevailingly men and women -considerably beyond their ’teens, there was -no inconsiderable disobedience of this rule; it -made us feel too much like little children who<span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">[84]</span> -are put to bed while the daylight lingers on the -earth. I soon had a taste of the common -experience. One evening three students met -with Thropper and me to indulge in a heated -and loud discussion on the question: “That it -is best for a man to marry his first love!” We -started it at half-past six and once on the line -of our pros and cons all sense of time and -existence went out of mind. We heard not -the inrush of students as the last bell rang, nor -heeded the brooding silence that had come over -the campus. We lived only in our arguments -on that “love” issue, and Thropper was in the -midst of a very final story of first love coming -out happily when tested by marriage, when -three knocks were heard on our wall, given by -the student in the next room: That was the signal -that the Dean was stirring. Instantly the -window was opened, our three visitors leaped -out, and a few seconds later, when the Dean -knocked on the door, Thropper met him innocently -with the proposal, “Have a chair, sir?” -and the Dean, glancing about merely said, with -a pleasant smile, “I just thought I’d look in, -that’s all.” When he left, we knew that when -he went to the rooms of our three friends, upstairs, -he would find them in their shirtsleeves -poring over their books. I often saw him in -the twilight or under the glow of lighted windows, -this Dean performing his duty which, to -a man of his fine, academic temper, must have<span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">[85]</span> -been so incompatible: a tall, ungeared, gaunt-faced, -tight-lipped man, stooped and stealthy, -searching the campus with his glinting eyes, -squaring his jaws as he approached windows -where law-breakers were gathered, post-haste -after delinquents!</p> - -<p>I chanced to be one among a half-dozen stout -English hearts; at least they were English hearts -when somebody proposed that it might be a -patriotic act for us to celebrate, in a fitting, -English manner, the birthday of Queen Victoria. -On account of the un-American aspect -of the proposed celebration it was deemed injudicious -to ask the consent of the Dean, for we -felt sure he would prohibit it. We were determined, -however, to conduct a celebration that -would be quiet, dignified, and memorable, -without having in it any semblance of disorder. -We also resolved to hold it on a Saturday evening, -when the rules were not so strictly upheld. -To this end, then, we persuaded the master of -the dining-hall, who was also chef and baker, -to fall into our scheme, though he was a loyal -American. We engaged him to fry the steaks, -and also gave him an English recipe for chipped -potatoes.</p> - -<p>On the night of the celebration we met in a -student’s room in the ell of Pungo Hall, in the -rear: a quiet, isolated room which also had the -double virtue of being a wash-room with a -stove in it! Over this the chef worked, quietly.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">[86]</span> -We blanketed the windows so that no one could -peep on the scene. The table was spread and -the seats occupied. Before us, on a white platter -and in white dishes, were the steaks and the -chips, surrounded by coffee, cake, and candy. -After the meal, the chairman proposed speeches -which had for their theme the greatness, the -majesty, and the high repute of the “glorious -Queen.” At the conclusion of these speeches, -we tried to sing a reminiscent snatch of “Rule -Britannia,” but had, finally, to compromise on -“God Save the Queen.” The college bell had -struck eleven when one of the party proposed -that it might waken us up if we went out on -the campus and exercised ourselves by holding -a jumping contest. On account of the lavishness -of the feast and the heartiness with which -we had partaken, we were ready to fall in with -this proposal.</p> - -<p>In front of a little cottage in which a few students -had double rooms, we leaped and jumped -very quietly for some minutes, speaking in whispers, -for it was nearly midnight, on the verge of -the Sabbath. But suddenly we were startled by -a loud voice calling from one of the windows, “I -have your names!” The heartless monitor had -spied on us. We were undone. Heartlessly, -guiltily, we went back to our rooms. The damage -had been done. We had been caught breaking -the dread laws of the University. Nothing -could keep us from the wrath of the Dean.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">[87]</span>We indulged in our prayers and our Bible -study and our church attendance the following -day with little enthusiasm, for when we chanced -to meet one another we asked the same question, -over and over, “What will he say?” For -we had our heart in it. We were not flagrant -despisers of order. We cared for the respect of -our Dean.</p> - -<p>On Monday morning we assembled in chapel -for the usual morning service. The Dean led -the service. We were expecting that during -the notices he would say, reading from his -book, “I wish to see Mr. Priddy and Mr. this -and Mr. that,” and so on through the list of -Englishmen, “at the conclusion of chapel.” -But not so. In place of the customary sermon -of ten minutes, he delivered a very Patrick-Henryish -philippic against certain unnamed -students who had so far forgotten themselves as -not only to be unpatriotic towards their adopted -country, and had not only demeaned themselves -by an unlawful “<i>revelry</i>,” but had even been -indulging in sports at midnight, on the verge of -the Sabbath, and thereby rendered themselves -unfit to give God the highest, most efficient -service on the holy day. The unexpectedness -of it, the fierceness of it, the lurid interpretations -put on our innocent feast, its coloring into -a “night revel,” and the charge of impiety, -unnerved me. I sat riveted to my chair, in -a cold sweat. I felt as must a murderer in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">[88]</span> -his sober moments when he realizes to the full -the enormity of his deed. The Dean concluded -his philippic, during which he had not -mentioned a name, by this oracular notice:</p> - -<p>“I want each one of those revelers to meet -me after chapel, in my office.”</p> - -<p>All eyes were sympathetic towards the Englishmen -as we gathered at the Dean’s door. In -his sanctuary he further explained to us the -extent of our crime, making it, to the mind of -Jerry Birch, a stubby, vigorous-minded Briton, -treason. Jerry flared forth in an attempt to -prove to the Dean that he (the Dean) was an -enemy to the Queen, and that an appeal might -properly be made to the British ambassador, -and—but here we cautioned Jerry to stop. -We finally tamed him into quietness, and the -Dean dismissed us with the warning to show -ourselves peace-respecting Americans from -then on.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">[89]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak"><i>Chapter VIII. The Doctrinal<br /> -Temper of the University and<br /> -Thropper’s Talk about it. Introduces<br /> -the Select Board of the Pharisees.<br /> -Prayer-Meeting Monopoly<br /> -Combated by Independents. Jason<br /> -on my Track and How it Came out</i></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">EVANGELICAL UNIVERSITY was -founded by a minister of intense religious -convictions and its policy was -directed by a Board composed of men -characterized by religious zeal. The -University stood committed, also, to the Christianization -as well as to the education of its -students. In its advertisements, special emphasis -was laid on “annual revivals,” “personal, -religious work of students,” and other evidences -of a flourishing religious atmosphere.</p> - -<p>Now in this, Evangelical University stood in -line with hundreds of efficient institutions, but -it went a step farther, and not only made its<span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">[90]</span> -boast in regard to its Christian background, -but it also gained repute as the exponent of a -particular, very sectarian, very dogmatic, and -intense doctrine; namely, that not until a particular -emotional experience had been secured -was a Christian a substantial and serviceable -Christian. “The triple-birth doctrine,” as -Thropper christened it, “being natural birth, -spiritual birth, and extra-spiritual birth.”</p> - -<p>There were several students in the University -who were there merely for its intellectual -privileges and who did not believe in this intense -doctrine of “the triple-birth.”</p> - -<p>Thropper said to me, one night, when we -were discussing this matter:</p> - -<p>“Priddy, I’ll guarantee that out of all the students -here, you will not find more than five in -all that do not profess to have a religious experience. -Now that ought to satisfy the University, -but it won’t. That isn’t enough. Until -every one believes heart and soul in its doctrine -of the ‘triple-birth,’ and gets emotionalized, -the whole place will be turned upside -down. Now I have always thought myself a -religious fellow. I belong to the church. I am -trying to live a Christian life. I have a Christian -home in which I have always been trained -piously and well. But they have given me no -rest since I came here. They pray for me every -year and struggle with me, and quibble about me, -all in order to get me to go through the ‘triple-birth,’<span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">[91]</span> -which may be all right for them, but does -not appeal to me. Yet, because I don’t go over -to their way of thinking, they can’t regard me -as a religious man. I’m not the only one, -either. There are others whom they bother -in the same way. If we were out and out -heathen, they couldn’t be more alarmed over -us. If we were unsocial atheists and immoral -beings, their enthusiasm and concern would be -worth while, but when some of us are to be -preachers and respect everything that is true -and helpful and yet have to be prayed for in -public and hounded from pillar to post by them, -why—”</p> - -<p>“Who do you mean by ‘they’ and ‘them,’ -Thropper?” I asked.</p> - -<p>“Oh, certain of the students who are enthusiasts -on the ‘triple-birth’ doctrine,” he replied. -“They mean well enough, and are good folks, -but I can’t agree with their peculiar doctrines and -I tell them so, right out.”</p> - -<p>“But a few students can’t carry off the whole -situation, Thropper.”</p> - -<p>“Can’t, eh? Well, you see, as this is the -particular doctrine for which the University -officially stands, the few aggressive students -who preach the idea are really in the majority. -There’s a little set of them, led by Jason, the -Poet, who roam through the life of this University -like a little group of heretic hunters in some -medieval community, with all power and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">[92]</span> -authority back of them.” He sighed, deeply. -“They make life miserable for many,” he -said.</p> - -<p>I laughed at him.</p> - -<p>“Why, Thropper, don’t take it to heart so; -just go along your own way, tolerantly, knowing -that if some of us can’t actually agree, we -can respect one another’s differences—if they’re -not vicious.”</p> - -<p>He regarded me as if I had lost my wit.</p> - -<p>“That sounds nice, that does, Priddy, and it -is good sense, too, but it’s wasted here, old boy. -You and I and some others may find consolation -in it, but Jason and his Board of Pharisees -would have their tongues cut out and their -right hands severed before they would rest easy -with us differing from them, standing outside -their particular doctrines. You don’t know -Jason. Besides, wait till you have been here a -year and then you will see so many things -take place under the direction of the University -that it will be impossible for you not to -know that you are <i>persona grata</i> here only when -you swing over to a full acceptance of the doctrine -of the ‘triple-birth’: there’ll be the annual -revival when a whole, intense week will be -devoted to hardly anything else but a propaganda -of that doctrine. There will come the -weekly prayer-meetings, the talks from visiting -exponents of the doctrine; oh, they won’t -let you rest easy in your differences, Priddy.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">[93]</span> -Wait till Jason and his crowd get on your -track!”</p> - -<p>“You talk as if they were going to be the worst -sort of meddlers, Thropper.”</p> - -<p>“Didn’t you hear me call them the Board of -the Pharisees? Did you think I didn’t mean -that for a good description, Priddy? Well, -what were Pharisees always doing? Meddling. -Telling the people to be holy by washing the -dinner plates thus and so; telling the people -that God was found by wearing this and that. -Well, that’s what Jason and his crowd are -busy doing about here, through the year. The -sight of a gold ring on my finger fairly dilated -the nostrils of one of them; he set about praying -for me and urging me day after day to stop -wearing it because it was the symbol of ‘carnal -pride,’ and he quoted ever so much Scripture, -too.”</p> - -<p>After that I noted with especial interest the -monopoly exercised by Jason and a small number -of the students—male and female—over -the multitude of religious meetings that embroidered -the week of study. The two noon -prayer-meetings, the after-supper services, the -Thursday evening university service, the many -missionary meetings, the Bible study classes, -the Sunday morning “search” services: in all -these the tone was given by the fervid and dogmatic -Jason and his followers. Wherever a -religious interest of any sort chanced to be<span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">[94]</span> -organized, one was certain to find on its list of -officers some representative of Jason, the Poet. -Thropper and I, and several others among the -students, formed “independent” circles for -prayer and Bible study, where we could, for -once a week, at least, have our own, special -beliefs prevail.</p> - -<p>One November morning, as I was leaving the -dining-hall, Jason met me at the door.</p> - -<p>“I should like to have a word with you, -Brother Priddy,” he announced.</p> - -<p>“Certainly,” I replied.</p> - -<p>“I have been considerably burdened for you, -lately, Brother Priddy.”</p> - -<p>“Eh?”</p> - -<p>“You have been the subject of my prayers.”</p> - -<p>“How is that?”</p> - -<p>“Because I think, though you may not realize -it, that Satan is trying to lead you astray,” -he answered, solemnly.</p> - -<p>“That’s interesting, I’m sure.”</p> - -<p>“It’s terrible!” he half shuddered.</p> - -<p>“But—er—what especial act of mine, -Jason, has brought out this—er—burden for -me?”</p> - -<p>“Carnal pride!” he exclaimed.</p> - -<p>“Pride?” I gasped. “I didn’t think I had -anything or had done anything to be proud over—that -I know of.”</p> - -<p>“I thought you did not see it,” he announced; -“that is the deceitfulness of sin, it blinds us.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">[95]</span> -That is why I came to you—to warn, you -understand.”</p> - -<p>“Then you will relieve the tension I am suffering -from at this minute,” I retorted, “by telling -me just what it is to which I am blind, and -which is sinful. I am sure I stand ready to -renounce anything that is liable to stand -between me and God, Jason.”</p> - -<p>His severe, but intensely spiritualized features -relaxed at that declaration. He nodded -his head and rubbed his pale hands.</p> - -<p>“I am glad that you are open to the truth, -Brother Priddy,” he crooned, with satisfaction. -“I have especial reference to that watch-chain -of yours and to that scarf-pin.”</p> - -<p>“What!”</p> - -<p>“That and that,” he reiterated, pointing first -to my watch-chain and then to my scarf-pin.</p> - -<p>“Nonsense,” I exclaimed. “What in the -world are you making this bother over?”</p> - -<p>“That watch-chain and the pin are ornaments -and personal adornments, not necessary -to the person. They are expressions of -pride which lies in the heart to corrupt it. -Therefore you will never find peace with God -until you have discarded them.”</p> - -<p>“Those things expressions of pride?” I -gasped, “why, that chain is gold-plated and -didn’t cost more than a dollar and a half, and as -for the tie-pin!” I laughed. “Well, I paid -ten cents for it, opals and all, in a Five and Ten<span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">[96]</span> -Cent Store, Jason. Not much to grow proud -over.”</p> - -<p>“It is not the price, Brother Priddy, but the -principle.”</p> - -<p>“But I swear to you, Jason, that I don’t -give those things a thought.”</p> - -<p>“No, granting that they don’t hurt you,” -went on Jason, persistently, “they are liable -to lead others into pride. It is the weak brother -you must think of.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t think there’s much danger of others -finding much to emulate in my jewelry or dress,” -I answered. “I do recognize the force of what -you have to say about the weak brother, Jason, -and if, for a minute, I imagined I was doing anything -or wearing anything that would hurt the -life of another in any appreciable degree, why -I’d renounce it quickly enough, you can wager!”</p> - -<p>“I never indulge in wagers,” protested the -literalist, “it is ungodly. I still persist in asking -you to give up that jewelry on the ground -that in all things we should walk soberly, as -the Bible enjoins.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I’ll think it over, Jason,” I said, walking -hurriedly away.</p> - -<p>When Thropper returned from his trigonometry, -I recounted my experience with Jason.</p> - -<p>“Well, your days of quietness are gone now, -Priddy,” he declared. “You’ve got a Pharisee -on your trail who will keep it until your -days are made miserable.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">[97]</span>“But why doesn’t he cut off his beautiful -curls and be consistent?” I protested. “Why -doesn’t he throw off that peculiar vest and that -military coat? He’d be consistent if he did! -Talk about offending the weak brother! If a -dude wouldn’t be jealous of those finely cultivated -curls, I don’t know a dude. I’ll wager -Jason is always looking in the glass, at himself!”</p> - -<p>“Oh,” smiled my roommate, “you just tell -him about his coat and his curls and he’ll have -his explanation ready. Those curls are sent -by the Lord. As for his coat and vest; they -are simple, without the fancy incidents common -to our coats! Don’t try to beat him in a quibble, -Priddy. He’s got you before you start. Can -you quote over half the Bible word for word -without once looking at it?”</p> - -<p>“No-o!”</p> - -<p>“Jason can! Are you able to read it in -Hebrew and in Greek?”</p> - -<p>“No-o-o!”</p> - -<p>“Jason is! He’s got you when it comes to -Biblical quotation and can fit a passage even -to so common an act as eating a dish of creamed -toast!”</p> - -<p>“But I shan’t give in to him—that is, -unless I really see the force of his arguments, -Thropper.”</p> - -<p>“Oh,” smiled Thropper, “he’ll give you forceful -arguments enough, that’s the hang of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">[98]</span> -fellow. He knows so much! I tell you, Priddy, -when you employ logic, biblical lore, and a fanatical -sincerity in trying to persuade an innocent -little greenhorn like you—to give up a -watch-chain and a tie-pin, why, the greenhorn -is bound to go under!”</p> - -<p>“We’ll see!” I declared, as the conclusion of -the subject.</p> - -<p>The next day, Jason found me in a corner of -the library busy with my Latin. Without a -word he edged over to me, pulled a little black -book from his pocket, opened it at a marked -place, fixed it on the chair handle before me, -indicated the marked passage with one of his -long, white fingers and left me to myself. I -put aside my Latin and investigated.</p> - -<p>The book was the writing of John Wesley, -and the place marked was a passage in a sermon -on “The Wearing of Ornaments” or some -such theme. In any case, that was the subject -treated in the marked passage. It was a reiteration -of the arguments Jason had advanced, -but coming from so noted and often quoted an -authority as the founder of the Methodists, -it considerably sobered my impressionable -senses. I had no sooner closed the book, than -out of the unseen the Poet flitted to my side, -and with a whispered, “Forceful, isn’t it?” Jason -took up the book and returned to his study.</p> - -<p>A day or two later he brought into the dining-hall -a little green bound book, printed on cheap<span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">[99]</span> -paper and entitled, “The Victory of Selina -Bostwick—Evangelist.” As he handed it to -me, Jason said,</p> - -<p>“Sister Bostwick is well known to me. I have -sung for her in tent meetings, near Chicago. -She is a saint of God. I want you to read the -place I have marked, if you cannot find time to -go through the whole book.”</p> - -<p>In the privacy of my room, when Thropper -chanced not to be around—for I did not want -him to see me reading Jason’s book—I read -the extract. It recounted, in a very rambling -manner, the “third-birth” of Miss Bostwick—who, -by the way, had been so inconsiderable a -person as a seamstress who exhorted in revival -services. The tale went on to show how, as a -young girl, Selina had been especially addicted -to wearing gaudy jewelry: stone-tipped hat-pins, -glass ornamented combs, two rings, one with a -cluster of imitation rubies, the other a plain -band, which had been her mother’s wedding-ring, -and various brooches and fancy studs. -These, it seemed, had entirely prevented Selina -from entering into the deeper faith in God, and -for proof argued that so long as she fastened -her heart on those trinkets she had never once -been able to preach or exhort in meeting or -revival. Then the day came when she plucked -them from her and threw them in her trunk. -From that day on, she had gone into the world -preaching and exhorting successfully!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">[100]</span>When I returned the book to Jason, he entered -into a long discussion with me, and by the -subconscious seriousness he had created in my -heart over the question of ornaments and the -kingdom, and because I was getting weary of -the theme, and also because the tie-pin and the -watch-chain were becoming eyesores to me, I -finally said,</p> - -<p>“Oh, I’ll stop wearing them, I guess!”</p> - -<p>Jason rubbed his white hands and patted me -on the shoulders.</p> - -<p>“There is joy in heaven over one sinner that -repenteth,” he quoted.</p> - -<p>“I’m not a sin—Oh, don’t let us get into -any more arguments over the matter,” I corrected, -eager to be out of the reach of my persecutor. -“Here they are; both of them to be -put in a drawer—or something.”</p> - -<p>I pulled out the tie-pin and unfastened the -watch-chain. Then I was perplexed.</p> - -<p>“But, Jason,” I remonstrated, “I have to -carry this watch, you know. The watch-chain -was handy. It kept me from losing the -watch. What am I to do, if I don’t have this -chain? It seems to me that I had best keep -wearing it. What do you do for your watch?”</p> - -<p>As he pulled out a gold Waltham I felt like -asking him if it would not be more consistent -for him to wear a nickel-plated one, but remembering -Thropper’s comments, I expected Jason -would argue that it was more economical to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">[101]</span> -buy a gold watch on account of its wearing -qualities and reliability, so I kept the protest -to myself. Jason’s watch was attached to a -woven black chain, which, he said, he had made -from a long shoe-lace!</p> - -<p>“I’ll make one for you, too,” he added generously, -“if you’ll get a long lace.”</p> - -<p>The next day I gave him the lace, and after -dinner, we sat in the reception room, where in -ten minutes, he wove for my watch a chain as -artistic as a shoe-string chain may be. After -he had fastened it in my button-hole and to my -watch, he said:</p> - -<p>“Well, Brother Priddy, the weak brother will -not have cause to stumble now, will he?”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">[102]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak"><i>Chapter IX. My Trip into the<br /> -Magic World of the Past. How<br /> -Appreciation is sometimes Worth<br /> -More than Money. Jason and<br /> -his Coterie on Scent of Terrible<br /> -Heresies. How God Takes Care<br /> -of His Orators. How a Big Soul<br /> -can go through Annoyances</i></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">THE strangeness of my life had worn off -by winter. I knew every man and -woman by name and character, -and they knew me. The daily routine -of class work and waiting on -table more and more took the novelty from my -existence. I was getting the maximum of -inspiration from my studies. Leaning back in -my chair, under the hissing, flaring gas flame, -with drowsy Thropper opposite me in his sheepskin -upholstered chair, I went forth into the -new worlds where Cæsar led his mailed Romans<span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">[103]</span> -and his following of slave kings, where the gaudy -coronations and noisy wars of ancient England -were enacted; into the world whereon Christ -scattered the seed of faith out of which grew, -stone by stone, dipped in martyrs’ blood, the -magnificent cathedral Universal Church. With -the guidance of the professors, I pierced into -the living, animal world where tooth and fang -and claw were in contest and where the divine -finger was busy sorting moral law out of it. I -was being daily disciplined in the use of language -and in the finer esthetic appreciations of -it, under the direction of the English teachers -and the Oratorical Professor.</p> - -<p>There were many, who with me, went in confidence -to our teachers and gave them our thanks -for their sacrificial services. Of all the service -that I have seen men and women render, that -done by the faculty of Evangelical University -measured up to the finest. They were men and -women of liberal culture; trained, many of them, -in our most prominent institutions. Every day -that they lingered at the University teaching -us was a sacrifice. They were sadly underpaid. -There was no endowment from which to guarantee -them their salaries. Some of them worked -with us, out of sheer enthusiasm, claiming that -their wages were the gold of our thanks and outspoken -appreciations. They were willing to -economize and live in poorly furnished homes, -in order to awaken in those of us who had had<span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">[104]</span> -little opportunity, the first spark of intellectual -response.</p> - -<p>One of our teachers took me aside, in the privacy -of his empty classroom, for the purpose of -assisting me with a back lesson. I had occasion -to remark,</p> - -<p>“Professor, you aren’t giving yourself a fair -chance, here, are you? Some of the students -have been saying that you have had more than -one opportunity to better yourself.”</p> - -<p>The kindly eyes of the man glistened with -tears, for he was very readily responsive to his -feelings, and he said,</p> - -<p>“Albert, I cannot better myself. There is -no higher privilege in this world than to invest -what God has seen fit to give us in the way of -privilege or attainment in other lives that thirst -for what we have! There are men in colleges, -whom I know, surrounded by their books in -pleasant college communities, fitted to a delightful -social and intellectual life, teaching in classrooms -filled with students who do not have to -fight for a living as do the students here, yet -they are not happy men; not one-tenth so happy -as I am teaching you boys and girls! No, sir! -All that those positions that have been offered -me could have done would have been to ease -me from financial worries, and relieve me from -a few hours of instruction; but there is nothing -in this wide world, Albert, can equal the work -I am privileged to do with such as you, to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">[105]</span> -inspire you for useful service. It is missionary -work; but missionary work pays the highest -wages. I have the first chance at men in the -making!”</p> - -<p>It was not alone the poverty of the university -equipment and the inadequate compensation -they received which intensified the nobleness -of our teachers’ characters, but also their -endurance of some of the petty, trivial annoyances -they suffered from the dogmatic Jason -and his few followers. For even into the classrooms -religious, doctrinal quibbles were carried -by those stern and unyielding students. The -little coterie went on strike in the English -department when the Professor refused to debar -Shakespere and Burns from the reading courses, -in response to the charges drawn up and presented -by Jason’s clique that those writers had -unreadable passages in their works. Some one -replied, that on this basis, Jason had better -stop reading the Bible for the same reasons. -To this Jason replied that “The Bible is the -Bible, but Shakespere is only Shakespere!” -But the more acute issues between Jason and his -followers and the curriculum were to be found -in the scientific and theological classrooms. -Here the conflict between “science and religion” -as the Church History termed it, became pointed, -tragical. I can still see them, the two followers -of Jason, standing before the scientific professor -after class had been dismissed. They are on<span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">[106]</span> -scent of a terrible heresy! Aggressively they -quiz the able exponent of science, as follows:</p> - -<p>“You said in this recitation, professor, that -the world was created in millions of years?”</p> - -<p>“I did!”</p> - -<p>“But the Bible says plainly, that God created -it in six days and that He rested from his -labors on the seventh day!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, the Bible, in that part is not to be taken -literally—it—”</p> - -<p>But he could get no further. Two shocked -faces were before him, and one of the students -interjected,</p> - -<p>“Why, we have to believe the Bible!”</p> - -<p>“We shall stick to the Bible!” added the other -in support.</p> - -<p>“But let me explain,” began the professor, -patiently, “you see the early Hebrews possessed -no real science—”</p> - -<p>“But, professor,” interrupted one of the -students, “God revealed it to them and—”</p> - -<p>“We will not discuss the matter further at -this time,” interrupted the teacher.</p> - -<p>“But what shall we do when the examination -comes around,” asked the first speaker, -“if you tell us to give the age of the earth, we -shall either have to say that it is millions of -years old or that it was made in six days?”</p> - -<p>“Of course,” added the second student, with -finality, “we shall have to stick to the Bible -statement, even if you mark us down!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">[107]</span>“Rest easy in your minds, young men,” -retorted the severely tried professor, “I don’t -think I shall call on you to undergo such a -martyrdom!”</p> - -<p>Even the professor of elocution was not -exempt from this little band of literalists. Some -of this band had so firm a confidence in God -that they “could leave with Him” what they -were to speak, how they were to speak it, and -the sort of gestures that should accompany -their exhortations, for they were preparing -themselves for the church. “Pa” Borden was -the leader in this sort of thought. He had -done some exhorting before becoming a member -of the University, and he summed up the case -quite well when he said, in his heavy, sober -way,</p> - -<p>“What right has any man, I don’t care who -he is, to improve on what God has done, I’d -like to know? It will be given us in that day, -says the Bible, what we shall say and how we -shall say it. What more do you want?”</p> - -<p>So this little band of the sons of the prophets -stood apart from the kindly and helpful criticisms -of the professor of elocution, and continued -their old practise of yanking their stiff arms, -standing on their awkward feet, speaking from -tight throats, in stubborn loyalty to their faith -in God’s oratorical interest in them.</p> - -<p>The patience, the Christian patience, of the -professors carried them past such trivial, but<span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">[108]</span> -real annoyances with the same nobleness with -which a true-compassed ship goes straight to -its port despite the little chips that tap against -it. For every one of these quibblers over doctrine, -there were several appreciative, awakening -minds, leaping at the truth. The professors -centered their real efforts on the majority of -those who could face the truth no matter in how -startling a dress it first presented itself. In -such, these deep-hearted, sacrificing teachers -found their real reward: lasting gratitude.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">[109]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak"><i>Chapter X. The Magnitude of<br /> -a Postage Stamp. Showing how<br /> -Desperate the Thirst of Money<br /> -made me. Brock’s Rosy Nose<br /> -and its Possibilities as a Fireplace.<br /> -How Brock thought he was Fooling<br /> -me and the Other Way About.<br /> -The Barrow that Became our<br /> -Enemy and how Brock was Revenged<br /> -on it</i></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">IT was a morning in early December. An -unsealed letter lay on my table, a Christmas -greeting to a mill friend. I had -written it the previous night. When the -morning dawned, I realized that I had not -enough money with which to purchase a stamp -for it. A feeling of utter miserableness took -hold of me. There I stood, working my way -through school successfully, from week to week -without any difficulty, and yet when it came to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">[110]</span> -forwarding a message of greeting to the outside -world I was a pauper! That strong term mastered -me. I knew that for the mere asking -Thropper had a stamp waiting for me, but I -resented the thought of charity, the humiliation -of asking for the gift of a postage stamp. -After chapel I went into the President’s office -and on being shown in, made the following -announcement.</p> - -<p>“Please, Doctor, I think I had better leave -the University. It is no use!”</p> - -<p>“What is the matter now, young man?” he -enquired, gently.</p> - -<p>“I’ve got to earn some cash, sir. You know -that I shall never have any by working for -the University; it all goes on my account. I -need some clothes, and just at present I need a -stamp. I haven’t handled any money since -my three dollars was spent; it is almost three -months since then.”</p> - -<p>“But you don’t have to run away from your -education, do you?” asked the President, bending -on me his searching eyes. “I thought -you would stick to it!”</p> - -<p>“But what can I do, sir?” I demanded, “I -am busy waiting on the table, and cannot leave -the campus to earn money. I give all my spare -time to the University. If I could work a -week or two at outside tasks I might get some -money on hand.”</p> - -<p>“There need be no trouble about that,”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">[111]</span> -agreed the President. “Get some one to take -your place in the dining-hall on Saturdays, and -I will see if there are any jobs you can do.”</p> - -<p>The following morning, in chapel, the Dean -read off my name as one of the students that -the President wished to see, in his office.</p> - -<p>“There is a load of bricks on a siding of the -brick-mill—you know where that is, of course,” -he said. “Brock has taken the contract for -loading a car at something or other a thousand—which -means about twenty cents an hour, I -believe. He is quite willing to take you with -him on Saturday, if you care for the work.”</p> - -<p>Inwardly I thought of my frail muscles hurling -rows of brick through the air on a winter’s day—and -felt doubtful about the adventure, but -the President was waiting for his answer, so -I said hastily,</p> - -<p>“Anything at all, sir, that will bring me in -a real, substantial piece of money. It will -look big enough when I do see it, sir!”</p> - -<p>Thropper was eager to take a day off from -the glass factory and so was able to take my -place at the tables. I had a conference with -Brock, relative to the proposed loading of the -car of bricks.</p> - -<p>“Can you manage it?” he asked dubiously, -scanning his eyes doubtfully over my frail -physique.</p> - -<p>I was in a desperate mood just then, and with -an accent in my voice that scorned even the suggestion<span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">[112]</span> -of any mental, physical, or moral incapacity, -I declared,</p> - -<p>“Can I?”</p> - -<p>Then scanning Brock’s ungeared physique, -I asked in turn,</p> - -<p>“How about yourself? Seems to me you -are a near rival to a centre-pole yourself, -Brock!”</p> - -<p>He grinned, guiltily.</p> - -<p>“I used to exercise with dumb-bells—once -upon a time. It is long since. I am afraid -that the daily exercise of pressing the button -of the call bell hasn’t done well by my muscles.”</p> - -<p>“I’ve watched the Portuguese load schooners -with bricks many a time,” I affirmed.</p> - -<p>“Your experience might help—some,” he -declared, “the man who engaged me told me -how to place them in the car and all about the -number of rows and the count. I’ll be able to -manage that part of it. I hope that you and -I, Priddy, will be able to succeed with the brick -end of it.”</p> - -<p>“The way the brick loaders do,” I explained, -“is to pass them from hand to hand four or -five bricks at a time—just like passing ball, -you know!”</p> - -<p>“Um, um!” nodded Brock. “But what -about the sharp ends of the bricks? They cut -gashes in soft hands, of course.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, we’ll wear thick gloves,” I explained, -“something to protect the hands.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">[113]</span>“We should have to wear gloves under any -circumstances,” said Brock, “the weather we’re -getting is very far from a summer day!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, we’ll manage all right,” I affirmed, for -the mere thought of a possible dollar and a -half in cash set my brain in a whirl of incaution -and illogical optimism. In that mood, if the -President had offered me his place for a week—for -a cash wage—it is doubtful if I should -have refused him.</p> - -<p>By half-past seven the following Saturday -morning, Brock and I, bundled in the oldest -garments we had been able to borrow or beg, -with quadruple thicknesses of old socks covering -our hands, for mittens, and with lunches -put up in pasteboard boxes, left the village center, -walked down a frozen turnpike, until we -came to the lonesome, neglected brickyard -with its Egyptian tombs of piled brick, yet -unsold. A covered freight car had been left -on the rusty siding; the car stood off from the -nearest brick-pile separated by a gap of two -yards. It was a dreary and very cold prospect, -for the north wind surged down over the frozen -pastures, and hummed and wailed through the -black latticework of an abandoned oil-well on -the opposite side of the track.</p> - -<p>“Your face is blue to begin with,” mumbled -my companion from behind the folds of his -cap.</p> - -<p>“And your nose would make an excellent<span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">[114]</span> -danger signal on the rear end of a train,” I -retorted. “When my hands get cold, which -they are rapidly doing, I’ll warm them over -your nose!”</p> - -<p>“Better get to work,” suggested Brock, -“before we freeze to death in this miserable -place. Worth twenty cents an hour for this -work, eh?”</p> - -<p>“Worth a dollar an hour, I think,” I replied.</p> - -<p>We fixed some stout planks into a run-way -between the top of a brick-pile and the freight -car, after the door had been unbarred. We -found a shallow and creaky barrow under a -shed. After helping me fill it with the first -load, Brock tried to wheel into the car what we -had put in. He gained the edge of the plank, -and the ill-balanced load dumped over on the -ground.</p> - -<p>“We put in too many, to begin with,” suggested -Brock. “Next time we’ll reduce the -load by half. I forgot they were so heavy. I -was too ambitious.”</p> - -<p>The next load went across the planks successfully, -and after they had been dumped on the -floor of the car, Brock said,</p> - -<p>“I’ll pack these in the car the way the man -told me, and then when the load is properly -started, we can take turns with the barrow.”</p> - -<p>At first it was exciting and warm work, but -after the first warm glow had died down in the -blood, my body began to stiffen with the exposure.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">[115]</span> -Then my muscles, ill-treated by excessive -and continuous lifting of the loads, began -to tighten and shoot with pain. But at first, I -did not care to let Brock know, Brock, who was -snugly shielded from the wind, with the easier -and less straining task. But he must have -noticed me gasp in with a load for he suddenly -leaped to his feet and said,</p> - -<p>“Your turn here, now, Priddy. Give me the -barrow!”</p> - -<p>I flung myself to the dusty floor of the car -when he relieved me of the barrow and never -lifted a hand until I heard him coming with his -first load. Then I picked up a brick and fitted -it in one of the rows, and tried to say cheerfully, -when he entered,</p> - -<p>“Is that placed right, Brock?”</p> - -<p>“All right, Priddy,” he replied, and then -went out whistling with the barrow.</p> - -<p>With the change in the task, I recuperated -somewhat, and worked on with the thought -warming me, that every hour added twenty -cents in cash to my credit. When the first -twenty cents had been earned, I took heart -and said to myself,</p> - -<p>“Well, I shall be able to buy that stamp for -the letter!”</p> - -<p>Brock ceased whistling after his fourth load. -I took a look at his face. It was pale and -strained.</p> - -<p>“Hadn’t you better take a breathing spell,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">[116]</span> -Brock?” I suggested. “It comes hard when -one isn’t used to it. That barrow wheels hard, -too. We ought to have brought some wheel -grease.”</p> - -<p>“I guess I will sit down a few seconds,” agreed -Brock. “It’s quite a lift—at first, but I think -we’ll manage the job, don’t you?”</p> - -<p>“We’ll try!” I commented, grimly.</p> - -<p>So we passed the barrow from hand to hand, -the loads growing smaller and smaller as the -noon hour approached, and the need of rest -and change becoming more and more imperative. -When half-past eleven arrived I proposed -that we eat our lunches; not so much for the -mere satisfaction of hunger, but for the opportunity -of absolute rest for an hour. Brock -assented to the proposition the instant it had -left my lips. In fact, he dropped his barrow -in the middle of the plank; an act on which I -commented by that fragment of an old song:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="first">“For I’ve worked four hours this day, this day,</div> -<div class="verse">For I’ve worked four hours this day.</div> -<div class="verse">Keep your whiskers on, till the morning, John,</div> -<div class="verse">For I shan’t work another minute longer!”</div> -</div></div> - -<p>We closed the doors of the car, sat in a far -corner and munched our bread and cold meat -as if it had been a luxury from a king’s banquet -table. Then after our meal, in spite of -the chilliness of the car, we stretched ourselves -on our backs and gave our strained, worn muscles -the opportunity of relaxation.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">[117]</span>“How do you feel?” Brock demanded after -an interminable silence.</p> - -<p>“Cold, tired, weary and sick!” I replied, -throwing the mask off. “Let us either wheel -that old barrow again or go back to the -University.”</p> - -<p>“Well,” muttered Brock, dispiritedly, “our -backs can’t really get much worse, Priddy. -We might as well finish a day’s work. If we -leave now we’ll be unfit for work for another -week anyway. We might as well get all we -can out of it while we are about it.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, that barrow! If it were a thing of flesh -I’d stab it for my worst enemy!” I cried.</p> - -<p>“We worked too steadily,” suggested Brock. -“We were too ambitious. We’ll loaf along this -afternoon and take more frequent rests. You -pack the bricks for awhile. I’ll wheel!”</p> - -<p>“Lucky you proposed to wheel first,” I muttered, -“for I’d have gone on strike if I’d been -the first.”</p> - -<p>Brock looked knowingly at me, showed me -the blisters on his hands and said,</p> - -<p>“I know just how you feel!”</p> - -<p>Numb, dispirited, weary and backsore, we -worked until four o’clock in the afternoon. At -that time, Brock was just coming across the -bridge with a reduced load, staggering under -it. I called out to him,</p> - -<p>“I’ll not handle another brick!”</p> - -<p>“Neither will I!” he replied, losing his grip<span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">[118]</span> -and the handles of the barrow so that it fell -to the frozen ground with a resounding thud. -“I’m done!”</p> - -<p>When we reported at the office of the brickyard -owner, and Brock had given the computations -of the work we had done, my heart -throbbed warmly for the first time since early -morning when we were each handed a dollar -and ten cents in real cash!</p> - -<p>“This is the first money I have handled for -three months!” I could not help exclaiming in -the office.</p> - -<p>“Do you mean it?” asked the contractor, -interestedly.</p> - -<p>“I do, sir!”</p> - -<p>“Then any time between now and the end -of the month that you want to earn a dollar -or two come to this office and I’ll have some more -bricks for you to load.”</p> - -<p>I looked with a smile towards Brock. Brock -returned my gaze with a hearty laugh. Then -he said, holding out his swollen hands, for the -man to view,</p> - -<p>“No, thanks!”</p> - -<p>And I, I said,</p> - -<p>“Cash is good and I need it, but I think I’ll -leave the handling of bricks to the Portuguese.”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">[119]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak"><i>Chapter XI. How I Competed<br /> -with Patrick Henry and was made<br /> -Aware of an Uneconomical Waste<br /> -of the Eighth Letter of the Alphabet.<br /> -How I Condensed all my<br /> -Studies into an Oration. How the<br /> -Populace Greeted my Rehearsal.<br /> -Striking the Top Pitch</i></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">BY the middle of the year I had obtained -such a grip on study that I was bold -enough to incorporate two extra subjects -in the week’s routine. Besides -that, I conceived the idea of reading -English history outside of class and then securing -permission to pass an examination on it, a -scheme in which the teacher acquiesced. I -felt that I must make up for lost time and -hungrily, voraciously threw myself at the privilege -which fortune had brought me. I began -to realize in my own mind what men called<span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">[120]</span> -“enthusiasm in his work.” Every day seemed -to me a momentous day of opportunity: a day -in which I might atone for the educational privilege -I had missed up to my twentieth birthday. -When I saw Aborn, stately, gifted, and on -his way towards his Master’s degree at twenty, -I was made to realize how long a road I had before -me and how energetic I should have to be -in order to get anywhere in education from my -elementary and preparatory studies. So I put -in my studies an investment of interest and -patient attention which I had put in no other -work that I had ever done.</p> - -<p>The most outstanding interest that I had -was the class in oratory. This class met on -the top floor, under the rafters, in a room -directly off from the chapel. It resembled the -studio of a poor artist with its gray northern -skylight and little windows high above the -bare floor. The class included young men and -women. Nearly all were preparing for religious -work, as ministers, missionaries, and evangelists. -One student, a shock-haired young Westerner -with “temperament” and “personality,” who -generally sat in the pose of an actor, was planning -for the career of a public reader.</p> - -<p>After the preliminary weeks of physical gymnastics -and throat clearing, and after we were -able to say “Oh!” without making the flame -of a candle flicker, we began on the real excitement -of speaking Orations; I began with the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">[121]</span> -traditional Patrick Henry, of course, and naturally, -after long and patient rehearsals in my -room credited myself with the fact that if the -author of that thriller should chance to come -into the oratorical studio on the morning when -I planned to recite it before my professor, he -would feel that his forceful utterance had passed -into no mean mouth!</p> - -<p>The morning on which I was scheduled to -speak duly arrived and with it an increase in -my confidence that I should do well with it: -the confidence without which no orator yet—in -school—ever did much. I stood out before -the class, struck my pose—left foot at an angle -from the right and slightly in front with the -weight on the right foot to maintain balance—and -attempted to recreate the atmosphere, the -thrill, and the historic eloquence of the Virginia -Convention where the oration had had its -birth, before the innumerable army of school -lads had passed it on from generation to generation. -Applause greeted my effort and I sat -down in a flush of happiness. However, the -professor, after crediting me several points of -excellence, brought up a criticism that plunged -me into a sweat of guilty self-consciousness. -He said,</p> - -<p>“Mr. Priddy, why is it that you aspirate -your words so? I know you were born in England, -but you have been in this country for some -time now. There were several places in the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">[122]</span> -oration where you placed ‘h’s’ where they should -not have been placed, and where you left them -off when they should have been retained!”</p> - -<p>It was the first time in my whole life that -anybody had called my attention to that fault. -I said,</p> - -<p>“Will you please give me samples, sir?”</p> - -<p>“Well,” replied the professor, consulting his -tablet, “you said ‘w’ile’ instead of ‘while,’ -and ‘<i>H</i>i’ instead of the pronoun ‘I.’ And ‘w’at’ -instead of ‘what,’ and ‘Forbid it, <i>H</i>almighty -God,’ and you declaimed that passage, ‘Is life -so dear or peace so sweet as to be purchased -at the price of chains and slavery?’ became -‘<i>H</i>is life so dear <i>h</i>or peace so sweet <i>h</i>as to be -bought <i>h</i>at the price of chains and slavery?’”</p> - -<p>I felt angry at myself, chagrined. There -trooped into my guilt-smitten consciousness -the innumerable times I must have put ‘h’s’ -where they had not belonged and left them off -where they should have been retained.</p> - -<p>“Nobody ever told me—about it before, -sir!” I exclaimed.</p> - -<p>“This is just the place to get rid of the habit,” -replied the professor. “I am here to help you. -I think that when you get rid of that habit -you will make a fair showing in public speech. -Now that you are aware of it, you will be on -your guard.”</p> - -<p>I made known my discovery at the waiter’s -table at noon, and instantly my friends poured<span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">[123]</span> -out for my consideration a whole museum of -sentences I had originated in their hearing and -over which they had secretly smiled. It seems -I had said, “’Ave you got your ’at, Brock?” -and “Will you ’ave another <i>H</i>egg, please?” -and “Look <i>h</i>out for this ’ot water!” When the -waiters saw that I took the criticism in good -part and was eagerly anxious to rid my speech -of that defect, they were instant and sometimes -severe in their criticisms; with the result -that in a very short while I gained the advantage -over my “h’s” and somewhat tamed them.</p> - -<p>With the mastery of my “h’s” and the daily -discipline in the oratorical class came an overmastering -desire to make a public speech. I -thought that if I could accomplish that I should -vindicate myself so far as I had gone in my -education. It should be the first milestone in -my school career. The opportunity was given -in a proposed oratorical contest to be held in -the village church. I took Thropper into my -confidence as I prepared my original oration. -Into this I tried to exemplify every admirable -rule of rhetoric and every stern rule of logic and -every manner of long, short, periodic, balanced, -and climactic sentence I was then learning in -Rhetoric. I marshalled historical allusions, read -widely in the library hour after hour. Then, -when I had put myself through this profitable -discipline and had typewritten my manuscript—the -final triumph of my educational career<span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">[124]</span> -thus far—I was ready for rehearsals. After -I had practised alone and as the evening of the -contest drew near, I asked Thropper if each -evening after supper he would accompany me -into the woods and listen while I delivered -my oration. He consented, cheerfully enough. -That same evening he accompanied me to the -pastures in the rear of the University. I -poised myself seriously on a stump, while Thropper -stood with his back to the wind in a waiting -attitude. I had not delivered more than two -paragraphs of my speech before there came a -yell from behind me and a half-dozen students -ran shouting, applauding and screaming before -me. When the crowd of interrupters had -exhausted their animal spirits, I said to them, -addressing them from the stump,</p> - -<p>“I’ve a good mind to invite you to stand out -there near Thropper and listen!”</p> - -<p>“Why not?” they demanded.</p> - -<p>“If you can’t address a bunch of farmers -like these,” smiled Thropper, “you won’t be -able to stand up in church before three hundred -people and give it. Go ahead!”</p> - -<p>I did, and the result was that the students -rallied about me at the end, carried me on their -shoulders, shouting, mockingly,</p> - -<p>“Hail to the new Webster!” and to show their -approval of me, they sat me astride a rail and -would have given me a ride home on that conveyance -had not Thropper prevented it.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">[125]</span>The evening of the contest arrived and with -it the seating of seasoned, experienced, graceful, -prize-winning orators, in comparison with whom -I knew I should not and could not under any -stretch of the imagination be placed. I wanted -to give a speech in public, that was the height -to which my expectancy went, but, of course, -I had to set before me the prizes that were offered -and be prepared for “accidents.” When my -turn came and I faced that illimitable sea of -white faces, I felt my feet slip from under me -while I seemed to float above this conscious -world. Then I picked out an interested face -in the far, far corner of the church. At him I -threw my strident voice, determined to make -him hear what I had to say. The result was, -in Thropper’s words, “Priddy, it seemed that -you placed your pitch on top of the highest -mountain in the world, and after that it was a -scream, that’s all, old fellow. That was due -to inexperience.”</p> - -<p>But this failure was atoned for when the -judges especially commented on the “careful -thought,” “the good English,” and “the excellent -form of the written oration” and when -they marked me in second place on the literary -side of the matter, I felt repaid with my first -adventure into public speech. I felt that I -had vindicated the struggles I had set before -me, through the long years, to go through the -school.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">[126]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak"><i>Chapter XII. The Personnel of<br /> -“The Clamorous Eight” and other<br /> -Social Matters. The “Blepoes”<br /> -and the “Boulomaies” Invite me<br /> -into Fellowship with a Protest from<br /> -Jason. Epics and Lyrics of Love.<br /> -“Pa” Borden Speaks for the<br /> -Benedicts on a Momentous Matter.<br /> -How the Magic Tree Lured Some<br /> -Unfaithful Ones from their Sworn<br /> -Duty</i></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">THE routine of that winter’s work was -embroidered with many interesting -social experiences. For though -many of the students were stern in -religious doctrine and practise, -hearts were youthful and recreation was -sought. Thropper belonged to a “Bachelor’s -Club,” a facetious group of married and unmarried<span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">[127]</span> -male students who met every now and -then for the avowed purpose of upholding the -dignity of bachelordom! Thropper also joined -a “Moustache Club,” whose members met and -compared lip sprouts and looked forward to -the day when they would be sufficiently mature -to be called “moustaches.” These two institutions -were more satirical than practical; -outlets for the humor resident in the students. -But the “Clamorous Eight” was a real institution -of the noisiest, most untamed spirits of -the school, seven of whom were young men -and the eighth member a young, gum-chewing, -blondish, hobbledehoy girl in the Business -department. What we knew of the charter -of the “Clamorous Eight” was in their shoutings, -their numerous practical jokes, their songs, -and their rebellions against the University rules. -If anything of an unlawful nature occurred, -like the throwing of a live rooster into the sleeping -room of a sedate female monitor or the -placing near the chapel door of a stuffed dummy, -suspicion of its own, fluent accord fixed itself -first of all on the “Clamorous Eight,” and hung -there with tenacity until every member had -been through a “Faculty sweat.”</p> - -<p>There were two rival literary societies in the -University and the students were supposed to -be portioned out between them. The “Blepoes” -or “The Seers” and the “Boulomaies”—“The -Willers” sent their agents after me and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">[128]</span> -made a bid for my membership. These were -not secret organizations, for such an institution -was considered sinful by the University -authorities. Their gatherings were open to the -public and each student was supposed to attend -the different meetings before deciding which -society he would join. Jason, who considered -even these literary meetings harmful to the morale -of the students, on hearing that I had been -asked to join one of them, sought me out and -for a long mournful hour tried to make me -promise to keep my name off their rolls, “For,” -he whined, “they are of the Devil, brother -Priddy!”</p> - -<p>“What makes you think so?” I demanded.</p> - -<p>“They joke in their meetings and tell light -things and for every idle word God will hold -us accountable!”</p> - -<p>“But jokes and light conversation have their -places in life, haven’t they?” I persisted.</p> - -<p>Jason looked at me with his round, poet’s -eyes growing rounder in wonderment.</p> - -<p>“Lincoln couldn’t have borne the weight of -the Civil War if it had not been for jokes and -fun—at times,” I concluded.</p> - -<p>“But the Bible says that for every idle word -we shall have to give a full account,” said Jason. -“Are not jokes idle words?”</p> - -<p>“They don’t—eh—” I stammered, limply.</p> - -<p>“The Bible is true, isn’t it?” went on the -logician.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">[129]</span>I gave up in desperation.</p> - -<p>“Look here, Jason,” I cried, “you might get -me to give up wearing a watch-chain and a -tie-pin, but you aren’t going to stop me from -joining one of these societies. I want social -life and I’m going to have it, jokes or no jokes. -I’m not so good as you on logic or Bible, but you -aren’t going to stand between me and a few -pleasures. Don’t some of the faculty belong -to the Blepoes and the Boulomaies? If they -can join without scruples—and they are Christian -men and women—I can join. So it’s no -use arguing the matter with me, Jason. I -think I’ll send in my name to the Blepoes for -the next meeting.”</p> - -<p>And I did join myself to the Blepoes and partook -of their suppers, their programs, and even -went so far one night as to appear on the platform -myself, before a blackboard on which I -drew sketches to illustrate a temperance address, -and at the conclusion of which I recited with -great fervor and many gestures, Kipling’s -“Recessional.”</p> - -<p>That winter, too, though far outside of love, -and even the thoughts of love, in the seriousness -of my tasks, I looked on little epics and little -lyrics of love between man and woman. Thropper -himself had Cupid’s dart in his heart and -his rhapsodies concerning his “luck” and his -“happiness” and “her wonderful sweet spirit” -were only a few of many indications of the depth<span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">[130]</span> -to which he had fallen in love. Those of us -who were not enamored of love had to be diplomatic -in making engagements to walk or exercise -with the boys, for there were times and -seasons when Thropper and his fellow-lovers -devoted themselves exclusively to their fiancées. -For instance, there was lecture night -in Pubbets Junction, six miles away, and on -that evening, under chaperonage, the couples -would seat themselves in carriages and not be -back till midnight, returning to tell the bachelors -and maidens the next morning the expressive -points of the lecture and any exciting -episodes of the trip, like the adventure of the -wheels up to the axles in mud and a plunging -horse pulled out by a nearby farmer, the adventure -which befell Thropper and his love when -they were on their way to hear Sam Small -lecture. Those among us, like myself, who were -not concerned with sentiment, held various -speculative conferences, on Sunday evenings, -as to how this and that student would mate. -We had precedent to argue from, for we had -seen Donald Bryce, a laughing-eyed Evangelist-to-be, -pick out Clara Trine, an athletic and -extremely conscientious Missionary-to-be. We -had seen one of the “Clamorous Eight,” a light-haired, -flush-cheeked banker-to-be, sort out -and become deeply attached to the female -member of the “Eight,” the blondish hobbledehoy, -whom we judged, like grocery store<span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">[131]</span> -sages, would at least fit herself to spend quickly -enough what money he should chance to make -as a banker.</p> - -<p>These loving couples considerably colored -our social life and often made the University -picnics problems. When the first touch of -spring pervaded the gassy atmosphere and, -at least, suggested the scent of coming flowers -and grassy banks, notice was given out by -Brock one Saturday morning that the usual -spring trip to the river would be undertaken -and that each one who went should go to the -kitchen and prepare a lunch from materials -that would be furnished by the cooks.</p> - -<p>After the breakfast a meeting of the excursionists -was held in the reception room, presided -over by Brock, who announced,</p> - -<p>“Now, friends, this year—mind you, this -year, we are going to keep together. In the -past, on our excursions, there has been altogether -too much coupling up and going off alone. That -has spoiled more than one excursion and it is -not the fair thing. Is it?”</p> - -<p>A chorus of “Noes” gave emphasis to his -protest and appeal.</p> - -<p>“This time, though,” he went on to explain, -“we are to keep together. No matter if you -are in love with the sweetest girl on earth and -can’t be alone much under the University rules, -you are not to wander off when we get out of -bounds and not come around to the main<span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">[132]</span> -party again until lunch time and then go off -and not return till it is time to come home. -What have you to say about it, Brother Borden?”</p> - -<p>“Pa” Borden, thus appealed to, raised his -pompous head, cleared his throat after the -best mode of the orator, and said,</p> - -<p>“I’m married myself and maybe shouldn’t -have much to say on the matter. I agree with -everything’s been said: agree with it hard!” -and to give oratorical force to his last word, -he brought his plump fist down on the centre -table, thereby spilling half the water out of the -glass which held in it a sprig of geranium.</p> - -<p>A representative of the Benedicts having -been heard, Thropper, as representing the unmarried -was asked for his opinion. He replied,</p> - -<p>“Of course we ought to keep together. I’m -certain of it, Mr. Chairman. That’s all I need -to say!”</p> - -<p>At nine o’clock the excursionists started for -the river forty-five people strong. To prove -the sincerity of the social aspect of the excursion, -Thropper and the other lovers separated -themselves from their beloveds and walked, -sacrificially, either with other young women or -mingled freely with the male members of the -party! Thus two by two and three by three -we walked down the rutted, soggy lane past -the root-fenced sheep pastures where the woolly -young lambs squeaked and bleated like crying<span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">[133]</span> -children, down past the grove where the wood-choppers -were measuring cord wood; past dismal, -wind-swept forests of burnt stumps and rusty -underbrush, over which desolation huge vultures -soared, and pivoted themselves in wait -for prey; past clayey roads over which mud -boats were dragged by struggling horses and -oxen, past pig-pastures torn up by the sniffing -snouts of the ruminants. Then we entered a -fresh, dampish wood-path which led us along -the rocky bed of a river over which a thin -stream of water churned with great energy as -if to impress us with its importance. At last -we entered a cleared grass space over which the -sun held itself and lighted gloriously the deep -pool of water the river had become. Here we -deposited our lunch boxes and began to arrange -our games. So far the party had remained -one, much to the admiration of Brock. But -now, after the lunch boxes had been unloaded, -a rearrangement of the party began to take -place. Thropper, who had been walking and -talking with me, hurried over to the side of his -beloved, and said:</p> - -<p>“There’s a magic tree farther along the -path, growing right through a big boulder, -about which there’s a legend of Indians. -I’ll tell you about it!”</p> - -<p>That was all. They two passed out of sight -while the angry Brock gazed speechlessly after -them. That was the signal for other couples<span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">[134]</span> -who wanted to see the “magic tree,” and to -such an extent did the defection of the lovers -take place, that before long only two couples -remained with the bachelors to share the games -we tried to play.</p> - -<p>By the lunch hour, however, they came from -their expeditions from this side and that, unapologetic -for leaving us, came to eat their lunches -and then go off again, paying no heed to Brock’s -impassioned appeal to their <i>esprit de corps</i>. -When the hour for the return to the University -arrived, the couples returned and then -either went ahead, arm in arm, or loafed behind, -immersed in their own thoughts; leaving us -bachelors to amuse ourselves by bantering -flings at them, which, however, were no more -than peas aimed at the mailed shell of an -armadillo.</p> - -<p>“It’ll be the same over again next time!” -growled Brock. “These lovers—oh!”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">[135]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak"><i>Chapter XIII. How One Dollar<br /> -and a Half Secured “The<br /> -Devil in Society.” The Medicine<br /> -Chest which Became a Tract Depository<br /> -under the Teachings of a<br /> -New Creed. How I Stuck to<br /> -Orthodoxy</i></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">THE spring was full upon us, with the -return of the birds, the tang of the -new plowed soil in the sugar-field -where the “University Mare” -tugged listlessly at the plow whose -blade sliced through the clayey earth leaving -back of it shiny, damp slices on which the birds -stood and pecked up the exposed grubs and -worms. The dynamite wagon with its frail -springs and its dangerous load jogged by along -the turnpike on its way to newly-bored oil-wells. -Flocks of sheep with an accompanying -host of maximum-legged lamblets passed over -the turnpike on their way to the railroad-cars, -to be followed by grunting packs of hogs directed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">[136]</span> -by sapling-armed drovers who in one minute -of speech profaned the whole English language. -Chugging traction-engines, hauling plows and -harrows and on their way to hundred-acred -wheat and corn fields, passed in the night-time -with their shrill whistle-screams for water and -their explosive puffing and puffing as if no breath -in their steel bodies could successfully spurt -them through the soft mire.</p> - -<p>Thropper said to me, one afternoon,</p> - -<p>“Priddy, how would you like to sell books?”</p> - -<p>“Sell books, Thropper?”</p> - -<p>Thropper nodded.</p> - -<p>“What for?” I asked, interestedly.</p> - -<p>“For money, of course, Priddy! What do -you think?”</p> - -<p>“It takes talk to sell books, Thropper!”</p> - -<p>“Then you ought to make a success at the -business, Priddy!”</p> - -<p>“What’s the book?”</p> - -<p>“‘The Devil in Society, or High Life in -Washington by an Ex-Congressman,’” quoted -Thropper.</p> - -<p>“Sensational, then?”</p> - -<p>“A moral book—with a lesson,” laughed -Thropper, “pepper to make you know that it -stings, you see, Priddy. Fifty per cent on each -one. Buy them for seventy-five cents, sell for -dollar and a half. Easy money, everybody -wants the book on sight. I’ll loan you three -dollars for four if you want. Sure to sell them!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">[137]</span>“Anything to get some cash,” I cried. “Besides -this would take me on Saturday trips into -the surrounding towns. That would be quite -an adventure after staying here throughout -the winter. Will you show me the book?”</p> - -<p>“‘Pa’ Borden will bring one around tonight. -He’s the general agent,” declared my roommate.</p> - -<p>In the evening, before the half-past seven -bell had signalled silence and study, “Pa” -Borden had displayed the book to us. It was -a lurid green cloth-bound affair in which the -glue showed in the web of the cloth, printed -with blotched, worn type on the cheapest of -cheap paper and interspersed with amateurish -wood-cuts of which I recall a drunken revel -in a ball-room and some ballet-dancer-garbed -women on a seashore with wooden waves indicated -by wavy lines. I was no connoisseur of -literature at the time and took as solemn truth -“Pa” Borden’s words that “anything that -was of the Devil ought to be showed up, even -if it cost a dollar and a half!” I allowed Thropper -to get me four of the books and placed myself -under his instructions for a week during -which time I learned how to point out the chief -items of interest in the illustrations when they -were upside down, to give a kinetoscopic view -of the table of contents, and to end by flashing -the record of previous sales before the astonished -housewife’s eyes before she could make up -her mind whether she wanted the book or not.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">[138]</span>The following week, then, after engaging a -substitute waiter for the day I accompanied -Thropper to Pubbets Junction to place “The -Devil in Society.” The first door on which I -knocked chanced to be that of a Christian Science -Reader, a very highly cultivated and sweet-spirited -woman who, the minute I announced -that I was agent for a book entitled “The Devil -in Society” immediately knocked my “patter” -<i>hors de combat</i> by announcing, firmly, that -there was no such thing as a Devil and that -it was all a delusion of mortal mind, adding -various other remonstrances of a philosophical, -semi-philosophical, and dogmatic nature which -I was in no mood or mind to combat. Besides -bewildering me in the intellectual meshes of -that new doctrine, the woman made me sit in -her office and listen to a fascinating recital of -her household’s progress from a drug-store of -drugs to an empty medicine chest: to a radical -change in the family temper from semi-pessimism -into a real sunburst of glorious, mellowing -optimism: to an intricate and involved -interpretation of the Old Testament and then -in a very cloudy but, to me, excitingly suggestive -denial of all facts that men and books had told -me were positive and real. All this, of course, -was the precursor to an attempt to proselyte -me to the faith of Christian Science. After -she had shown me the empty medicine chest, -which she was then using as a store-house for<span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">[139]</span> -all sorts of Christian Science literature, I told -her that I had learned a great deal that was -both new and novel, that I would think it over -seriously, but that I should never believe in -anything but orthodoxy. Then I called at the -next house and many other houses, so that by -noon, when I met Thropper at a candy store, -where we lunched on a glass of milk and some -Washington pie, I had sold two books and earned -one dollar and a half. In the flush of that success, -I returned to the University, ready to -repeat the excursion the following and several -other Saturday mornings. According to Thropper’s -epigram, “The Devil in Society” meant -dollars in our pockets!</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">[140]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak"><i>Chapter XIV. A Chapter Depicting<br /> -how Strife Existed Between<br /> -the Pro-Gymnasiums and the Anti-Gymnasiums<br /> -and Showing how<br /> -Baseball, Debates and an Epidemic<br /> -Determined Matters This<br /> -Way and That</i></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">NEXT to its faith in religion an -extreme abhorrence of matched -athletic games pervaded the ruling -spirits of the University and -found its sanction in the charter -of the institution. In the Bleponian and Boulomanian -literary societies the characteristic -discussion for heated and vigorous debate, -next to the eternal question: Does Love or -Money Rule the World? was: Are Athletic -Contests Moral? The charter and advertisements -of the University said very emphatically -that they were not and should not be tolerated -by Christian people. Jason and his Board of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">[141]</span> -Pharisees agreed with the University. On the -other hand, there were many young men and -women who had an opposite mind and took -issue on every occasion with Jason and the -authorities. Thus one could find them on -every occasion in the springtime when the -fields and the paved paths lured forth whatever -sporting proclivities nature had deposited -in the blood, Jason and his followers firmly -insisting that under no consideration should a -contest of any sort—even a game of checkers -or “Pit” be countenanced, as it led to gambling, -and, if not to gambling, then to unchristian -feeling. This feeling became acute when the -students began to discuss the necessity for an -athletic field and a gymnasium: a very hypothetical -discussion remote and probably ever -to remain remote, for the University had need -of money for more impending goods than -gymnasiums. But Jason’s party argued as if -the gymnasium were about to be built, and said -that it would only lead young men into racing -for prizes!—and competing for wagers! The -party was called the Anti-Gymnasiums.</p> - -<p>Thropper and I aligned ourselves to the Pro-Gymnasiums, -for, as Thropper said to me:</p> - -<p>“My kneecaps fairly creak for need of stretching. -As for my arm joints and muscles, they -pain me on the least provocation. I need -proper, systematic exercise.”</p> - -<p>The Pro-Gymnasiums were thoroughly represented<span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">[142]</span> -by “The Clamorous Eight,” whose -faces and veins throbbed with healthy, well-exercised -blood; in fact, they were eight who -cared for little else beyond exercise of muscles.</p> - -<p>The program of the Blepoes one Friday evening -was devoted to the debate of the question: -“Resolved: That the Bible Prohibits Athletic -Contests.” Larry Thomas, who debated for -the Pro’s and who was almost as well versed in -biblical lore as was Jason, argued well, basing -his strongest rhetoric on Paul’s words: “I so -run that I may receive a prize,” and “I box, -not as beating the air,” but, as Larry paraphrased -it, freely, “to give a knock-out, pure -and simple, a plain indication that Paul believed -in the prize-ring and the running-track!” The -Anti’s, realizing the force of these quotations, -attempted to minimize their power by arguing, -“Oh, Paul was only using the common terms -of his day; the ordinary experiences of unchristian -men, to represent to them the Christian -life. That was all. He was not giving sanction -to sports.” This explanation, the judges -informed us, considerably helped the Anti’s, -but the debate was declared a draw.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i_142fp.jpg" alt="" /></div> -<p class="caption"><span class="smcap">Evangelical University was Treated to its First Match Game</span></p> - -<p>One Saturday morning when the air was -crammed with the warmth and lassitude of -early summer, and a considerable number of -Pro-Gymnasiums were playing scrub baseball, -one of the “Clamorous Eight,” in a fit of healthy -rebellion against the University, proposed:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">[143]</span>“Say, fellows, this knocking out a ball is -too tame. Let’s choose up sides. There’s no -harm in it!”</p> - -<p>Thropper, who was not working that day, -and myself, were among those enjoying the -sport, and in the excitement and thoughtlessness -of the minute we consented. I was placed -in the field, Thropper went in the catcher’s -box. We even engaged the services of an umpire, -though few were found from whom we -could select a capable official. Many of the -Pro’s dared not come into the game, but stood -off ready to look on an incident that should -become historic, like a Civil War or a French -Revolution: the first matched game ever played -on the University grounds!</p> - -<p>Jason looked on the opening of the game with -horror. To him it seemed that the Evil One -had just made his bold appearance in the morale -of the institution. When he heard the umpire’s -decisions and saw the sides changing positions, -and realized at last that the whole event had -actually developed into a matched game, he -hurried to the home of the Dean and gave notice -of the rebellion that he had scented. Instantly -the authorities came, ordered the game -disbanded, took our names for Faculty discipline, -and we left the field to the Anti’s, who -sincerely believed that Satan himself had been -flouted.</p> - -<p>But even the anti-match spirit of Jason and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">[144]</span> -his band could not eliminate from their joints -and muscles the need of exercise, and while -they argued against the advent of contested -sports, they could be found on the cinder walk -after supper, previous to the evening prayer-service, -leaping, bounding, twisting, and jumping, -Jason in competition manifesting the grace -of a rheumatic frog.</p> - -<p>Shortly after this an epidemic of disease -broke out in the village. The University was -quarantined—even from attendance at the -village church services. The momentousness -of this is plainly evident when it is remembered -that it was these church services which gave -to the University lovers their chance to walk -together, sit together, sing and pray and talk -together; consequently the quarantine imposed -a severe restriction upon the poor unfortunates.</p> - -<p>When Sunday dawned, glorious with the summer -sun, some of the members of Jason’s clique -together with their young ladies took their -black-bound Bibles and sat under the campus -saplings for Bible study: two in a class and -every sapling shade occupied.</p> - -<p>But the Dean, who hated sham of every sort, -interrupted these classes and the next morning -in chapel he had some very emphatic and -pointed remarks to make on the subject: “The -Sacrilege of Pretending to Study the Bible when -You are Doing Nothing but Make Love!”</p> - -<p>It was the Pro-gymnasiums’ turn to laugh then.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">[145]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak"><i>Chapter XV. A Ph.D. in a<br /> -Clay Ditch and the Futility of it.<br /> -A Can of Beans at the Conclusion<br /> -of a Morbid Meditation. How<br /> -Thropper and I Played David<br /> -and Jonathan</i></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">THE first summer vacation brought -joy to a majority of the students, -but to me it merely meant a lonely -isolation for three months on the -campus where I was accustomed to -watch my friends move back and forth hour -after hour through the day. They went out with -tents: the Evangelists. They went out with -books: the canvassers. They went out with -brawn and health: the miners and farmers. -They left me alone to share the solitude of the -campus with the few professors who were not -going to conferences, and with the superintendent -of grounds, whose assistant I was to be.</p> - -<p>The winter’s struggle, though pleasant, had<span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">[146]</span> -left me tired and listless. I needed a rest, -but saw no possibility of any. I had few good -clothes and no money. Any adventure into the -world would have been utter folly. So I began -to scrub floors in the University building, to -mow the grass, and trim the flowers. I painted -and scraped and hung wall paper, all in the -silences of the dormitories once full of merry -sounds, the recollections of which doubled the -loneliness I suffered from.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile I made my home in the little -room where we had held our feast in honor -of Queen Victoria’s birthday. In it stood the -stove on which I cooked my own meals: canned -goods, tea, and sundry fries of bacon, eggs, -ham, and potatoes. Here, too, I washed my -clothes.</p> - -<p>During a lull in the work, one of the married -students, who had been given his Ph.B. at -commencement asked me to go with him to the -outskirts of the village where some eight-inch -gas pipes were to be laid. He wanted me to -join him at the shovel! At the time I weighed -but one hundred and twenty pounds. The -foreman put us in a clay ditch under a scalding -July sun with a gang of knotted-muscled, tanned -Irishmen to whom the picking of dried lumps -of clay and the shovelling of heaps of it were -mere items of a day’s work to be done mechanically, -but for my friend and myself tasks for -Titans. The Irishmen at my heels kept passing<span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">[147]</span> -me, doubling on me, until, after a two days’ -attempt, with the lure of twenty-five cents an -hour for the prize, my friend with his Ph.B. -and I with my ambitions fell out of the race -and rode wearily back to the village and to the -University, where for days neither of us was -fit for even so simple a task as lifting a pound -weight; the excessive strain had undermined -our strength.</p> - -<p>While recuperating, I was given food by the -superintendent and spent most of my time -wandering into the woods or through the sheep -pastures where my uppermost thought was: -“What is the use of all this? It is weariness and -a vanity of the flesh. Give up your education! -You must have money and strength, money and -strength, money and strength!” And then the -thought of my classmates would obtrude itself -and I saw them in visions at their tasks, at -their homes, in the full enjoyment of work, -companionship, and wages. I seemed to hear, -borne on the summer wind, above the bleating -of the sheep, the exhortations of the evangelists -in their tents which were crowded with -farmers, paying heed to the gospel, and I was -envious of them. I thought of the miners -deep under the earth, black with their toil -but happy in earning a substantial wage; -strong, oh, so strong! My fight for an education, -when contrasted with their natural endowments -of strength and friendships, seemed puny,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">[148]</span> -futile. In such a way did the black demon -Despair lay its sharp claws on my spirit and -make it bleed. I would start back across the -field, not heeding the innocent, questioning -gaze of the sheep as they packed off and watched -me go, not watching the swift circlings of the -sombre vultures high above my head, but going -back to my lonely room feeling that I should -never have another flash of happiness flood my -life again. Then I would get out the can-opener, -uncover a can of beans, and warm them -on the stove for supper.</p> - -<p>But everything has its end, even as my homesickness -and discouragement had their ending -when the students came back once more, bringing -others with them. They came back flushed -with eagerness for another year’s work; eager -once more to invest themselves in sacred ties -of friendship. Thropper came back with a -hundred dollars: his summer’s earnings. I -reported that I had just managed to pay my -last year’s tuition and my summer’s board: -I could enter upon my second year of education -with a clean slate.</p> - -<p>Once more the round of studies, prayer-meetings, -and chores commenced: this time with less -of novelty. The approach to winter brought -with it the same questions of how to earn cash. -To this end I went into the woods for a day and -tried to chop down trees, but my arms were not -attuned to axe swinging; after my first cord<span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">[149]</span> -had been cut I had to abandon the quest for -dollars in that healthful but too vigorous work. -I returned to the University and assisted the -baker with bread and pies and the janitor with -the university floors; the money to be credited -against my account on the books.</p> - -<p>But I realized at last that I was in the midst -of inestimable privileges. The studies awakened -me to the possibilities of culture and mental -fitness. Some of my last year’s friends had -entered upon the pleasant vocations of teaching -and business for which they received a moderate, -but, as it appeared to me, a flattering -compensation. Thropper—ever on the alert -with inspiration—comforted me one night -when my empty pockets had induced a pessimistic -frame of mind, by saying:</p> - -<p>“Now look here, Priddy. Suppose you don’t -have any money and have to scrimp on things. -Here you are privileged to take extra studies -every day; a millionaire’s son couldn’t do more. -You don’t have to lose a term of study, either. -You are going along through the schedule about -as comfortably as any one. That’s worth a -good deal. There’s Harry Lane—got plenty of -money, but you know he was compelled to drop -out for a term on account of bad eyes. You’re -lucky, old fellow!” and the good-natured fellow -gave me a staggering, but well-meant, clap -on the shoulder that knocked every ounce of -pessimism out of my system.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">[150]</span>“I am in luck, Thropper. I know it!” I -declared, and then went to my study with new -courage. “The only trouble about the whole -matter, Thropper,” I declared, after some -moments of quietness, “is that I am making -the fight alone—no one to rely on if I get stuck, -you know. The other fellows can depend upon -more or less from friends—I can’t; all those -bridges are cut behind me!”</p> - -<p>Thropper closed his book with an energetic -snap.</p> - -<p>“You Chump!” he exclaimed, with a melting -light in his clear eyes, “what do you think? -That you haven’t won any friends since coming -to the University? That’s where you’re -wrong: sadly out of tune! All you have to do, -any day, is to say the word and you can get -any amount I have on hand!”</p> - -<p>I jumped to my feet and said, very gently, -“Thropper, you’re all right!”</p> - -<p>Then, without another word, for the situation -was getting close to the edge of tears, -Thropper threw himself in his stuffed chair and -I sat on the edge of the bed, under the hissing -flare of the gas, both of us as busy as could be -with the next day’s lessons.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">[151]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak"><i>Chapter XVI. Visions, Hysteria,<br /> -Dogma, and Poor Lessons to the<br /> -Front when the Revivalists Arrived.<br /> -How Natural it Sounded<br /> -when “Bird” Thurlow Asked a<br /> -Flippant Question</i></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">THEN the annual winter revival was -announced. Upon this event the -University centered all its prayers, -its hopes, its attention, as the banner -event of the year. In the -church papers where the advertisement of the -University appeared, the annual revival was -featured. Several of the students had been -sent to the institution by their parents principally -for the spiritual benefits that might come -to them in the atmosphere of the revival.</p> - -<p>The whole air began to stir with the throb of -revival preparation. A spiritual census of the -students was taken, not officially or in any -stereotyped way, and all the energy of Christian -effort was brought to bear on creating<span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">[152]</span> -the right, psychological mood for the time -the evangelists should arrive. The prayer -bands wove in extra meetings and increased -their unction. Neglected, after-supper prayer-services -were suddenly filled. Bands of earnest, -zealous men and women roamed from room to -room holding spiritual inquisitions over “The -Clamorous Eight” and any others who were -thought to need special portions of grace.</p> - -<p>“I’m heartily in favor of Christian effort,” I -said to Jason, one day, when we were talking -over the coming revival, “but take last year -and think how many hours were lost to study -and given to the meetings! I should think -that those things might be left to camp-meetings -and churches—there were three long revivals -in the village last winter—and we ought to -center our precious time on study!”</p> - -<p>Jason declared, emphatically and finally, -“Brother Priddy, what are <i>heads</i> compared to -<i>souls</i>?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I don’t object to any sort of efforts being -indulged if people are to be made Christian, -Jason, but according to what you said in the -prayer-meeting last night, there are only three -in the whole University who do not make any -profession of religious faith: just three, and yet -two whole weeks are to be set apart to the -Evangelists who will come and preach the ‘third-birth -doctrine’ and other dogmatic matters. -That is what I protest against.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">[153]</span>Again Jason answered with his inclusive, -“Brother Priddy, what are <i>heads</i> compared -to <i>souls</i>?”</p> - -<p>By the time the revivalists appeared it had -been announced in the prayer-service that not -one of the students stood “outside the Christian -fold.” The revivalists had a clear chance, -then, to preach the special doctrine of “the -third-birth,” without any further parley.</p> - -<p>The revivalists were a man and his wife, -both of them uneducated, whose chief claim -to merit in their field lay in the fact that they -were said to be “filled with the Spirit.” In -spite of the bad grammar, the mixed figures of -rhetoric, traces of demagogism, and an excessive -<i>ex cathedra</i> tone, the revivalists were given -full power in the meetings. All interests in -pure scholarship were crowded aside. The -valedictorian, the temperance orator who had -won the interstate oratorical prize, the professors, -and the humble seeker after knowledge -were subordinated to the zealot, the exhorter, -the unctuous pleader.</p> - -<p>In morning chapel the time was generously -lengthened to accommodate the doctrinal exhortations -of the revivalist and his wife, who -spake not so much of practical concerns, but -entered into a bewildering maze of Scripture -quibblings, text jugglings, super-rational conclusions, -and a daze of fantastic analogies. -When the closing bell sounded, the speaker<span class="pagenum" id="Page_154">[154]</span> -would turn to the President and say, familiarly—even -commandingly, “Well, brother, studies -can wait on the Lord, can’t they?” and the -President had nothing to say but, “Yes.” The -morning exhortations infringed on our nine -o’clock classes so that often they had to be -discontinued; much to the reluctance of the -professors who had to bear the brunt of the -intellectual disqualifications of students at graduation -time.</p> - -<p>As the meetings continued, in the evenings, -the enthusiasm increased. When emotions were -running at flood the meetings were carried well -into the night and Thropper and I often did not -reach our room until eleven o’clock—with all -opportunity for study taken away. But again -the professors had to lose, for if any of us were -backward with lessons the next morning, by saying, -“Professor, I was at the meeting last night. -I did not have any opportunity to study,” a -proper adjustment was made in our favor. For, -as Jason had said, the theory at that time was, -“What are heads compared to souls?”</p> - -<p>At the conclusion of the first Thursday -evening’s meeting, the revivalist and his wife -let it be known that “At last God is blessing -us!” High tide had been reached. That meeting -had been given into the hands of the students -after the leader had preached for an hour -on a doctrinal theme. A hymn was started by -a young woman. She stood while she led the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_155">[155]</span> -singing and at the conclusion she still stood erect, -with her eyes fixed on the ceiling. She had -thrown herself into a trance and spoke in a -jumble some words nobody could decipher but -which were understood to be a “revelation.” -That was the signal for a wild demonstration. -Jason leaped to his feet and after shouting, -“God is with us! Emmanuel!” he sat shivering -in his seat as if his body were in the grasp -of angry spirits. A group of young women -paraded down the aisles and before the pulpit -waving their handkerchiefs and shouting in -shrill ecstasy. Suddenly one of the young men -near me burst into lamentations and tears, -moaning as if his heart would break. Meanwhile -the evangelists knelt at the front of the -platform in prayer; praying for people by name. -Then the young man who had been crying suddenly -darted to his feet and broke into a torrent -of wild, hysterical laughter and ran to the -upper end of the room clapping his hands. -Hymns of different sorts and tunes had broken -out in different parts of the room, making a -musical Babel. The young woman who had -had the trance came into consciousness again, -and, on the urgence of the revivalists, ascended -the platform from whence she described a vision -fit to be framed in Miltonic verse. At eleven -o’clock hands were joined, a hymn was sung, -and after a benediction from “Pa” Borden, -we went back to our rooms.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">[156]</span>Then the revivalists with their honors full -on them departed, and the emotional tension left -us. It was a distinct relief, like a bit of bird’s -chatter after the epic storm, to hear “Bird” -Thurlow shout across the walk, one morning, -“Hey, Paddy, going to take Miss Adee to the -lecture next Wednesday?”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">[157]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak"><i>Chapter XVII. My Presidential<br /> -Pose and its Central Place in “The<br /> -Record.” A Wistful Glance and<br /> -Some Practical Plans towards<br /> -Eastern Education. How the<br /> -Little Sparrow Brought my Class<br /> -Colors to me as I Gave the Class<br /> -“Oration.” Ends in a Fight</i></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">IN the spring, when announcements of -Commencement and Graduation were in -the air, a gathering of four members of the -collegiate department, as many members -of the preparatory division, two business -students, and five who could not be classified by -reason of their slowness to master their studies, -met in response to a call, sent out by the Seniors, -for the members of the Freshmen Class to elect -officers, and after due deliberation made me -their president.</p> - -<p>With this honor thrust on me, I was immediately<span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">[158]</span> -in a dilemma, for the main purpose of the -class organization was to have each member’s -photograph in the Senior’s “Record,” a souvenir -book of the University life. Had I been other -than the president, I should not have fretted -about my inability to afford a visit to the picture -gallery, but there I was: due to have my -picture in the middle of the group. I was in -despair until finally I thought of little Jack -Borden, who owned a three-dollar camera. I -told him my predicament and he consented to -make a snap-shot of me for ten cents that should -be fit to be in the center of a group of “gallery -ones” as he termed those that the official photographer -would take.</p> - -<p>As Jack had no photographer’s background, -he snapped me with my back to the flowered -wall paper, and when the finished picture was -handed me, there I sat, outlined against a mass -of conventional crocus leaves and a picture of -“Pa” Borden hung on the wall above my head! -I was told by one of “The Record” Committee -that the picture would never be fit to reproduce -with such a background: that it should be in -relief against a plain one. I returned to my -room in despair, but finally resolved to cut my -picture out from the wall paper and paste it on -a piece of plain, black pasteboard. After going -over the outline with the scissors I finally succeeded -in accomplishing the feat and the picture -went in the middle of the group, an undignified,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">[159]</span> -flat, ill-posed, and somewhat jagged outline of -myself, most conspicuous as “the president.”</p> - -<p>As the year drew to an end, and the students -began to talk so emotionally of home and friends, -I began to feel that I had been long enough in -exile from my eastern home and friendships. -I also began to wonder if now that I had learned -the art of working a way through school I should -not be more comfortable in Massachusetts. I -had heard the graduating students talk of -“Dartmouth” and “Boston University” and -“Yale” and “Harvard,” with a sort of worshipful -accent, not far short of reverence. One or -two graduates in the past, so the local legend -ran, had even attained to post-graduate work -in Yale and Harvard! Therefore, as I heard -this talk, listened to this semi-worship of New -England education, and realized that it was my -home, my own environment, I also asked myself -the question: “Why not go and complete -your education in that atmosphere?”</p> - -<p>I mentioned this fact to Thropper. He said -to me:</p> - -<p>“I have often wondered, Priddy, why you -came away out here for your education when -you have such good schools in New England. -I should think you’d be able to work your way -along out there and get some mighty fine chances. -I just wish I had been an Easterner!”</p> - -<p>“I’ve a good mind to go East when school -closes, Thropper, and try. I must confess I<span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">[160]</span> -feel lonesome, homesick out here. I miss the -ocean and the hills. I can’t help it. I suppose -I run the risk of not getting to school next year, -though, if I break off now!”</p> - -<p>“Not if you’re willing to work as you have,” -said Thropper. “Though I’d hate to have you -go. I thought you might be my right hand -man when I marry, next fall!”</p> - -<p>“Marry?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, in September. Oh, you’ll get an invitation -even if you won’t be able to attend, -Priddy,” he added, solemnly, “I wouldn’t try -to keep you from going East even with my -wedding. Try it, old fellow. You owe it to -yourself, now that you’ve got such a good start -here. This place doesn’t pretend to be in competition -with the big Eastern institutions. -Evangelical University is concerned mostly with -giving a fellow a start towards them. The faculty -would be only too glad to have you leave -here, if they knew you were going to stick to -your education in the East.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll do it, Thropper!” I replied.</p> - -<p>The busy season of Commencement was -ushered in: a busy time even for those of us who -were far, very far from graduation. My “class” -voted that I represent them with an oration on -“Class Day.” No classic, intellectual, or sentimental -event was Class Day at Evangelical -University, but, rather, a Western outflow of -burlesque and banter. Every day for a week I<span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">[161]</span> -practised my “oration” in the attic of the University -building. In this speech I had put, as -all previous Class Day orators had made a practise -of putting, puns, alliterations, pompous -passages, personalities, and much bathos. I -tried to perfect myself in its delivery, not knowing -just what experiences I should encounter on -the day I should speak it.</p> - -<p>A wild, untamed, yelling, crowding procession -filled the chapel hall, each class in a section by -itself and the “orators” seated on the platform.</p> - -<p>It came my turn. I stepped to the front and -raised my hand for the first word when suddenly -the class next above mine yelled, poked up -slang signs, and then from the square ventilator -hole high above my head darted a sparrow -with a trailing streamer of our class ribbon -fluttering from its tail. At every sentence, -nearly every word, I had to pause on account -of the yellings, the banter, and the interruptions -caused by flying hats and scudding pieces of -pasteboard. After about a half hour of disciplined -posing, I finally concluded the “oration” -amid the admiring plaudits of my class. Thus -orator followed orator, each one outdoing the -other with satire, pun, and rhetorical nonsense. -To the accompaniment of a thudding fight which -was taking place between the representatives of -two classes over our heads where the bird had -been sent down, Class Day came to an end, and -my active life at Evangelical University likewise.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">[162]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak"><i>Chapter XVIII. Thropper Unfolds<br /> -Something Better than<br /> -Canned Foods. A Lesson with<br /> -the Flat Iron. Thropper Proposes<br /> -that I Chaperone Horses</i></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">“HOW are you going to get back to -Massachusetts, Priddy?” asked -Thropper when I was shuffling -some photographs which I had -taken down from a wire rack on -the wall.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I’ll have to try to get work in a factory -or on a farm about here,” I answered, -“until I earn my fare!”</p> - -<p>“Have you any definite work planned for, -yet?”</p> - -<p>“No, but I thought I’d go out this afternoon -and see what I might pick up. I could keep -this room and board myself, Thropper.”</p> - -<p>He made a wry face, and blurted out:</p> - -<p>“Warmed over canned beans, ugh!”</p> - -<p>“What do you mean, old fellow?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">[163]</span>“Boarding yourself—canned soups, canned -meats, canned everything—ugh!”</p> - -<p>“That’s what your wife will feed you on—at -first, while she learns to cook, Thropper,” -I laughed. “Perhaps you’ll prefer canned -things!”</p> - -<p>“Is that so?” he retorted, with some show of -heat. “Well, that’s all you know about things. -<i>She</i> can cook already: you just wait till you taste -some of her cooking. Canned things—ugh!”</p> - -<p>“Well,” I sighed, “I’ve little choice!”</p> - -<p>“How would you like to spend the summer -at a neat little hotel in Michigan?”</p> - -<p>“Thropper!”</p> - -<p>“And room in a little cottage in the midst -of a little grove of pines, near little sandhills, -among a little group of the finest fellows in the -world—college students?” continued Thropper, -with a smile.</p> - -<p>“A little bit too much imagination in your -little talk, my dear little fellow!” I retorted.</p> - -<p>“And go down to the beach every day for a -bath among the big waves, and go boating and -fishing; seeing the great crowds of excursionists -and vacationists!”</p> - -<p>“Go on,” I gasped, “have it out, Thropper, if -you particularly enjoy the stunt!”</p> - -<p>“Food,” continued my roommate, “well, let -me see: strawberry shortcake à la much, mutton -chops with bacon à la juicy, calves’ brains -on toast à la delicious, hashed browned potatoes<span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">[164]</span> -à la second helping, and for desserts: cream -and jellies, sherberts and pies—”</p> - -<p>“—À la imagination, eh, Thropper,” I interrupted.</p> - -<p>My roommate’s rugged face was overspread -with a grin. He clapped me over the shoulder -and said, continuing his whim:</p> - -<p>“To enjoy many beautiful, moon-lit hours, -watching the glint of the phosphorescent waves -as they twinkle like fairy lights over the broad -expanse of Lake Michigan; to—”</p> - -<p>“Look out, Thropper,” I exclaimed at this -poetic outburst, “or you’ll be crowding the -spring poets out of a job!”</p> - -<p>“To roam at will through the shady groves, -over the sand dunes, to hear the orchestral music, -the light plash of the waves against the pier -while you hold a fish-line in the water; to loll -on the fragrant pine needles and read, muse, -rest, and be inspired: what do you think of that -for a program for the next three months, -Priddy?”</p> - -<p>“Ask a Mohammedan what he thinks of Paradise -or an exiled Prince what he thinks of a -Kingdom, Thropper?”</p> - -<p>“Then,” continued Thropper, “the whole -experience not to cost you a cent: rather you -are to be paid at the rate of four dollars a week: -wages for a treat like that, Priddy: what do you -think of <i>that</i>?”</p> - -<p>“It is impossible for me to think about such<span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">[165]</span> -a prospect, Thropper, my imagination is intoxicated!”</p> - -<p>“Then you will go!”</p> - -<p>I looked at Thropper as if he had parted with -his senses.</p> - -<p>“What an actor you are, Thropper. One -would imagine you serious in all this!”</p> - -<p>“Of course I’m serious!” he announced. “I -am merely offering you the chance to go with -Brook and myself to Macatawa, Michigan, to -wait on table at one of the hotels there.”</p> - -<p>“Oh!”</p> - -<p>“But all the things I have enumerated, -Priddy, are facts and not dreams. The work -is very easy: six hours a day; two hours a meal, -with the interims filled with all sorts of good -times. What do you say? Our railway fares -and steamer passages will be sent and later -will be deducted from our wages. Will you -go?”</p> - -<p>“Do they let the waiters eat calves’ brains on -toast, Thropper?” I asked, seriously.</p> - -<p>“Extra orders which are not taken,” he -responded.</p> - -<p>“Of course I’ll go, old fellow. It will be a -wonderful chance, won’t it?”</p> - -<p>“It will give you a good chance to get a rest, -Priddy,” he averred, solemnly. “Your poor, -pinched body needs it!”</p> - -<p>“When do we leave?”</p> - -<p>“In two days; soon as Brock gets word to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">[166]</span> -the hotel that we are coming. I can lend you -some collars and things till we get there.”</p> - -<p>“The first month’s wages are to go for -clothes,” I announced. “All aboard for Ma-cat-a-wa: -last call for dinner!” I cried, and then -Thropper and I, sharers of confidences and of -dreams, linked arms and waltzed crazily around -the room—for sheer joy.</p> - -<p>One week after having waltzed with Thropper -over the creaky boards of the dormitory, I found -myself adjusted to a new phase of existence, -delicious and inspiring in its every aspect. -After a lifetime spent in the midst of places -where toil and only toil held the boards: after -twenty years’ vision of strenuous tasks done by -those about me, in mills, shops, and on the -street, at last I found myself in the midst of a -place set apart to idleness: where the indolent -were given the palm branch, and where work, -for a wonder, found itself, even by honorable -people, spurned as a thing out of place.</p> - -<p>The six hours’ work a day put at my command -all the recreational advantages of the -resort: the shapely sand dunes, the boardwalks -through cool, shaded pine groves, the -smooth, sandy, slippery beach down which one -walked past artists’ studios, soap box shanties, -and pretentious pillared cottages. And the -water! We bathed by day and by night. In -it we fished and raced. Over it we rowed in -boats that were tossed like light corks from<span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">[167]</span> -engulfing wave to engulfing waves, while the -life-boat man from the pier kept a sharp eye on -our adventure. By its edge on a moon-light -night we built a chain of fires and in the flames -of them we roasted marshmallows, sang songs, -and passed all sorts of banter.</p> - -<p>In the dining-hall I met my fellow waiters -and waitresses: college students, all of them, -from different parts of the country. The orchestra, -at dinner, played complimentary college -tunes in our honor: our guests broke down all -perfunctory relations and intimately entered -into our ambitions. While waiting for the -arrival of guests at breakfast the waiters stood -under a wooden canopy in the hotel yard and -ironed napkins and towels. Of course neither -Thropper nor I were very expert in the laundry, -but that did not excuse us from it. One day the -Irishwoman, who was proprietor of the hotel, -came and investigated the laundry. She paid -particular attention to the manner in which I -conducted the flat-iron over the towels. After -watching me for some moments, during which, -for a woman, she maintained a severe and terrible -silence, during which perspiration poured -down my face, she suddenly exploded with -laughter and said:</p> - -<p>“Ah, ah! You should see Mister Priddy use -his iron. It’s a rale treat. He is that gentle -on the cloths! I want you all to come around -and take a lesson. You girls now,” she indicated<span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">[168]</span> -some of the college girls, “have been doing -it wrong all the time!” She laughed loudly, -as they gathered about my board.</p> - -<p>Taking the iron gingerly in her massive, red, -and scarred hand, the Irishwoman very gently -tipped the back edge of it on a towel and deliberately, -though exactly, drew the iron backward -several times, lifting it from the board to carry -it forward.</p> - -<p>“That’s the way Mr. Priddy says you ought -to iron!” she shouted, her burly face reddening -with merriment, as she noticed my chagrin. -“It’s backwards and not forwards that you -should iron, all of ye!” and then she sat down on -a bench in the midst of a most industrious crowd -of laughing boys and girls. After the fun, she -took the iron in hand in an endeavor to show me -the true, laundry method of using a flat-iron.</p> - -<p>All the tricks, the horse-plays, the trivial but -welcome expressions of fun that crowd themselves -into a college life, were indulged at the -hotel by the waiters and waitresses. A group -of Michigan students lived in a long, loosely-built -shanty in the yard, on the doors of which -they had painted its name: “Lover’s Roost,” -and the better to carry out the fancy of its -being a roost, the boys were in the habit of -receiving expected visitors, who came to inspect -their quarters, perched on the upper beams, -above the partitions, flapping their hands and -crowing like lusty, gigantic roosters!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">[169]</span>The season rushed past in its merry whirl. -Tired muscles relaxed, taut nerves slacked, -weary bodies gained repose, there on the sand -dunes, amid parties, fêtes, musicales, and picnics. -The first chill winds from the lake wafted -hordes of people back to work, and soon left -the hotel nearly unpeopled.</p> - -<p>As the day approached when I should have to -leave, I found that I had saved but a trifle -out of my earnings: the money had gone for a -much-needed, but not expensive, ward-robe. I -counted over my change and found that I did -not have enough money left with which to -purchase a ticket for so far away a place as -Massachusetts. I mentioned the matter to -Thropper. He, in turn, in that generous way -of his, began to plan for me. One day he -came and said:</p> - -<p>“Priddy, you know Gloomer, the fellow from -Indiana State University; well, if you go down -to Indianapolis with him, he’ll see that you get -a chance to go on a freight train as far as New -York; from there you’ll have enough to get -home, won’t you?”</p> - -<p>“Yes. A freight train, you say? As a tramp, -riding on the axles?” I gasped, with an inward -shudder at the thought of such a desperate ride.</p> - -<p>“Of course not!” declared Thropper. -“You’d go in the caboose. We’d send you with -a load of horses, you know. You’d be the man -in charge; to feed them.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">[170]</span>“But I don’t know anything about horses, -Thropper.”</p> - -<p>“You don’t have to know anything about -them,” he said, with a smile. “It’s just a technical -way of expressing it. You see, when the -horse-dealers send a carload of horses East, -they are entitled to a representative to go -along and take care of them. You’d be the -representative. Gloomer could give you a line -to an Indianapolis sales stable. They’d do the -rest—as far as New York. What do you -say!”</p> - -<p>In a wild moment of incautious self-confidence, -I responded:</p> - -<p>“Anything to get to New York, Thropper.”</p> - -<p>“It’s settled, then,” he responded. “Albert -Priddy, horse chaperone, I salute thee,” and he -gravely saluted me. “When will his lordship -occupy his caboose?” he went on in good-humored -raillery.</p> - -<p>“As soon as I can get it!” I replied.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">[171]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak"><i>Chapter XIX. A Chapter<br /> -Which Has to do with a Series of<br /> -Exciting Affairs that Occurred<br /> -between the West and the East,<br /> -and Which are Better to Read<br /> -about than to Endure</i></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">THROPPER accompanied me to the -wharf in Chicago where, so far as -I was able to judge, we were to part -forever. The manner of our parting -was as follows:</p> - -<p>Thropper insisted on carrying my suit-case, -though his own was loaded to excess. On crossing -a street to enter the railroad station, I half -stumbled, blunderingly, under the heavy hoofs -of a dray horse which a swearing driver had -pulled shortly into the air, when Thropper, by -a lunge at my back with his heavy suit-case, -startled me into such action, that I lurched -ahead and away from danger.</p> - -<p>“Thanks, old fellow!” I called, above the -roar of the traffic.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">[172]</span>My train was announced, and as I gripped my -suit-case, Thropper blurted out:</p> - -<p>“Well, Priddy, I wish you luck: plenty of -it!”</p> - -<p>“Well,” I stammered, in return, “you’ve -certainly been good to me, Thropper. I shall -never forget it!”</p> - -<p>“I shall miss you, Priddy!”</p> - -<p>“Maybe I shan’t miss you, old fellow!” I -said hoarsely, for I was on the verge of tears.</p> - -<p>“God bless you!” cried Thropper, with an -effort. “God be with you!”</p> - -<p>“Make a man of yourself, old fellow!” I -replied.</p> - -<p>One moment of profound, tearful silence, -with our hands tightly clasped, and then I broke -away and ran as fast as I could towards my -train, pretending by that action that I might -be in danger of losing my train, though my -only intention was to be by myself, where, unseen, -I could baptize this parting from Thropper -with unrestrained, heartfelt tears.</p> - -<p>The brick-paved and marvellously wide -streets of Indianapolis were oppressively hot -when I arrived in the city, with Gloomer’s -letter of introduction to the sales-stable manager -in my possession. I had to spend two days -in the city before a regular auction day arrived -when it would be possible for me to make a -contract with the manager. I had been told -that the psychological time to approach the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">[173]</span> -horse-dealer would be at a sale when a carload -or two of horses would be made up.</p> - -<p>During my wait, I had to harvest my cash -diligently, for fear of getting stranded on the -way. The four dollars in my pocket seemed -indescribably trivial when measured against -the gigantic journey I had between Indianapolis -and New York City. I went on a side -street and searched among the cheaper lodging-houses -until I found one whose red, illuminated -sign told me that beds there were fifteen cents -a night. I went in, talked with a wizened-faced -tramp of a man, and was shown up a flight of -back stairs into a large, dirty-papered room, in -which stood a wooden bedstead with dampish, -musty coverings. As I slept that night, I was -awakened by loud quarrelsome voices in the -back kitchen, and from what I heard, I realized -that I was sleeping in a thieves’ lodging-house. -After that, I found myself waking up in nervous -fright every few minutes, expecting to see the -door open while some villain entered with a knife -or gun to strip me of what little I owned! It -was a night of horror, of wakeful, excited, dread. -I was afraid to sleep, and yet I kept waking, -hour after hour, with the consciousness that I -had given in to sleep, and had made it possible -for some one to overpower me. Then early -morning dawned, without any accident befalling -me, and I seized upon an excuse to leave. I -went downstairs very stealthily and confronted<span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">[174]</span> -three ragged, evil-faced men who were sitting on -chairs, smoking with the landlord. I emptied a -half-dozen soiled collars on the table and said:</p> - -<p>“I haven’t time to have these laundered, -and don’t need them. You may have them—if -they fit. I wear fifteens. I have to leave -early. Here is my lodging fee for the night. -Good morning!” and without another word I -rushed from the house, hoping that the men -would imagine that my excitement was due to -fear of losing a train rather than to any dread -of them!</p> - -<p>The only sight-seeing I accomplished in -Indianapolis came in a long walk I took past -the freight yards, at the end of which I came to -a tomato ketchup factory, where, for two hours, -I watched a carload of ripe and otherwise -tomatoes unloaded in barrows and carted into -the store vats. Then I hurried back to the -stables, for a sale was due for late afternoon, -and my heart was centred entirely upon the -hope of securing the ride to New York City.</p> - -<p>Guided by the snap of whips and the strident -calls of the auctioneer, I entered a dim vault -of a place, where the sale was in progress. After -the glare of the sun had worn itself out of my -eyes, I found myself on the outer edge of a large -group of horse-dealers, watching the animals -put through their paces and holding up fingers -to the auctioneer.</p> - -<p>After the sales had been concluded, I approached<span class="pagenum" id="Page_175">[175]</span> -a cubby-hole, which was filled with -stale tobacco smoke through which I had a -view of lithographs of race horses. The manager -of the stables sat at his desk, apparently -not busy, but eloquent in cigar smoke over the -sales he had made that day. He had a blown, -raw face, as red as his sunset shirt bosom and -dotted with unshaved blotches of bristles. His -thin nose had been turned aside by a blow of -some sort, his mild blue eyes might not have -been out of place in a woman’s head. However, -on seeing me hesitate, and probably knowing -from my abject, petitioning manner, that I -was after some favor, he flavored the air with -an oath and tacked on an impatient demand as -to my wants. I thereupon unfolded what was -in my heart, and in the nervousness of the -moment, instead of handing him Gloomer’s -letter of introduction, gave him, instead, my -pocket comb. Then I thought he would horse-whip -me, but, instead, he laughed, and said:</p> - -<p>“Well, you’re a thoroughbred, ain’t ye! -What’s this?”</p> - -<p>I thereupon exchanged the comb for the letter, -which he took with some show of interest. -After reading it he said:</p> - -<p>“Why, I’d ship you to Jericho, if I was sending -hosses that fur, but only thing I can do’s -to send ye to Buffalo. You’ll mebbe get another -haul from there, though I can’t say.”</p> - -<p>I thought of the small amount of money in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">[176]</span> -my pocket, and of the distance at which I -found myself from home, and then said:</p> - -<p>“I was told that you might be able to ship -me to New York, sir. I need the lift. I have -less than five dollars.”</p> - -<p>“Sorry, kid,” he muttered. “Buffalo’s best -thing in the ring for a week or more. Good day, -sonny!”</p> - -<p>“But I’ll take the chance to Buffalo,” I -gasped, fearful that he would turn me off entirely. -“I’ll be very thankful for that much -of a ride, sir.”</p> - -<p>He opened a drawer and wrote several items -on a yellow way bill which he handed to me.</p> - -<p>“Shove that in yer pocket and skedaddle, -sonny,” he said. “I wish yer joy in yer ejucation, -though I don’t in hang know what ye’ll -do with it when yer got it; plant corn, in all -likelihood. S’long! Train leaves at half-past -six: freight yard. Numbers of the cars on the -pass!”</p> - -<p>At six o’clock I appeared in the terminal -freight yards with a bag of three-cent egg sandwiches -under one arm and with my slate-colored -suit-case bumping against my shins. It was -not until I reached the yards and beheld the -illimitable maze of tracks and the innumerable -dragon-like trains of freight cars and the hive -of busy, shifting engines that were making up -trains, that I realized how wise I had been by -coming a half hour early. I asked a switchman<span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">[177]</span> -where I should find the freight which left -for Buffalo at half-past six. Then I realized -still more acutely that my difficulties were only -begun, for after he had whirled the lever over -and allowed the section of shunted cars to rattle -past, he turned to me and with a very decided -and pugilistic gesture, asked me if I would -not immediately consign myself and all my -ancestors to a very negative theological place. -I stumbled over the switches and as I went -felt the hot, resentful glare of the railroad crews, -as they refused me the information I sought -and spiced their refusals with peppery idioms. -They would have buffeted me had I not been -armed by the pass. Finally, knowing that I -was in danger of losing my train, I entered the -switch-house and after I had gulped a stomachful -of pipe-smoke, one of the men told me that -I should find the train if I would look for the -numbers of the cars which were written on the -pass. So I went out in the dim twilight and -tried to match numbers, which to my startled, -nervous imagination looked like 54679900993259 -and 563780533255555555573275, but which, -in reality, were an inch or two shorter! Finally -I found the two numbers, and then I eagerly -ran down the length of the train until I came to -the caboose. I climbed up the steps, opened -the dusty door and was immediately greeted -by the angry gaze of the conductor and brakemen -who were busy with some sort of schedules.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_178">[178]</span>As I humbly presented my pass to the conductor, -and when it was made known to the -crew that I was to be their guest in the comfortable -caboose, they immediately gave me a -lurid and explicit welcome: one that made me -shiver. Genealogical connections of a hitherto -unknown nature were ascribed to me; to them I -appeared as one of the brood of imps from that -negative theological place, and various exciting -and blood-bringing adjectives were loaded on -me that made my flesh quiver. The conductor, -after generously and minutely explaining -how undesirable was my presence in that caboose, -going into the minutest details of my -personal limitations, sent me, shuddering, over -to the opposite side of the car, as far away as -possible from his presence, where I found a -padded window seat which was to be my bed -overnight.</p> - -<p>When the train started, and the crew were -sitting around with nothing to do, I tried to -enter into conversation with one of them. But -I was <i>persona non grata</i>; of a different caste, I -was told to “hang my lip on the clothes-hook,” -a grewsome feat and quite a poetic conception. -The window, a little square one, was high above -my head. I stood on the seat in the attempt -to look through it into the night. Immediately -I was told to “switch off.” Then I made -myself comfortable for the night by spreading -myself at full length on the seat. After a time,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_179">[179]</span> -the fumes of the lamp drugged me into a doze, -and then the thunder of the freight and the dull, -dull rumble of the train crew’s voices sent me -off into a fretful, but long sleep. In the -morning, when I opened my eyes, and looked -out of the back door window, we were passing -stations in Ohio. The morning was very -pleasant, and thinking that a whole night of -my presence might have made the train crew -tolerant, I ascended into the lookout, above -the roof of the caboose, where, from the -cushioned seat, I could make a splendid observation -of country through which we were passing. -But my joy was short-lived. Immediately the -thunders of the conductor called me down and -I was sternly ordered to “sit down where you -belong,” a command which was followed by -a descriptive phrase which linked me to a low -and disreputable order of creation.</p> - -<p>By nine o’clock we brought up in the Cleveland -yards, where a new caboose and a new -train were to be fastened to the freight. I -was told to “grab” my belongings and “git the-twelfth-letter-of-the-alphabet -out of this!” -which I did, and found, when I got to the ground, -that the freight train had gone off and left the -caboose standing in the yard. Then I went on -a frightful, heart-thumping search for the two -cars with the long numbers on them: not spending -any time to be rebuffed by the yard men. -I leaped from track to track and searched car<span class="pagenum" id="Page_180">[180]</span> -after car until, at last, I found the numbers I -wanted, and by following out the length of the -train, came to the new caboose.</p> - -<p>In this second caboose I resolved not to irritate -the crew, and to this end I made myself -comfortable in my allotted place, took off my -boots, put on a pair of tennis shoes, and read a -book I had in my suit-case. When the train -finally entered the Buffalo freight yards I was -hurried out, as the conductor wanted to lock -the caboose without the loss of a minute. When -I got to the ground, in my hurry, and after the -conductor had locked the door and left me -standing dazed, I found that I had left my -shoes in the caboose. But no amount of search -for the conductor succeeded, and finally one of -the railroad men told me that I might as well -give up the search, especially as the caboose -had been whirled out of sight by a switching -engine. So I went into the city with my suit-case -and my lean purse, determined to visit -the sales stables and stock-yards, until I should -find a chance to ride on to New York City. I -realized that if I should ever arrive in New -York I should not have enough money to carry -me home, but I followed a blind instinct which -seemed to tell me that, New York attained, -“something would turn up.”</p> - -<p>In one of the back streets of Buffalo I found -a Temperance Hotel, where beds and rooms -were fifteen cents a day. The hotel had in its<span class="pagenum" id="Page_181">[181]</span> -frowsy lobby a group of unkempt men who -seemed to be temperate in one thing more -strikingly than another,—work, for during -any part of the day I found them there tipped -back in the chairs holding their conferences on -momentous matters. I left my umbrella with -the clerk for collateral, and told him that further -security for my board would be my suit-case -which was certainly worth thirty-five -cents. I had a good thirty-cent dinner in the -dining-room, and then went out to visit the -stock-yards of the city.</p> - -<p>When I saw the multitude of cattle pens, -near the railroad, and saw them filled with -sheep and cattle, I estimated that in them alone -were two hundred and fifty possible trips to -the end of the world; but when I entered the -lobby of the Stockman’s Hotel and tried to get -the influence of the cattle-buyers towards a -pass, they would have nothing to do with me. -Thus rebuffed, I went the rounds of the sales -stables, of which there were many facing the -stock pens. In these I was told there were -no sales on just then, but that if anything turned -up they would see what they could do. That -gave me hope, so I said that I would call on -them during the next day.</p> - -<p>During this wait I found that my money was -nearly gone. I had fifty cents on hand for -board. I asked a disreputable fellow, near -the Temperance Hotel, where I could get some<span class="pagenum" id="Page_182">[182]</span> -cheap meals. He pointed to the next street -and told me that they had three-cent meals in -some of the eating-houses there. That evening -I indulged in a three-cent supper. It consisted -of a dish of beans, a slice of bread, some -“butter” and a cup of coffee. I went to the -same place for breakfast the next morning and -for three cents secured a cup of coffee, a doughnut, -and a dish of stew. That morning a heavy -rain began to fall, and, for the first time, I began -to miss the shoes I had left in the caboose. I had -on a suit of good clothes, so that the worn tennis -shoes on my feet were all the more startling; but -when the streets were filled with running brooks -of rain through which I was forced to walk, -it was not merely a matter of appearance with -me, but a matter of comfort. On my way to -the stock-yards to see what the sales stables -could do for me, my feet were uncomfortably -soaked to the skin. The canvas tops of the -shoes were like mops. Every step I took on -the sidewalk was the cause of a soggy, moppish -slop. I expected the first policeman to -arrest me as a suspicious character.</p> - -<p>I went from stable to stable, and at each one -asked in a tremulous voice if they were about -to send any horses to New York or Boston in -the near future, but neither sales nor shipments -were being made. I tried to interest some of -the stock-drovers in the cattle yards in my -affairs, but evidently I bored them. I paid<span class="pagenum" id="Page_183">[183]</span> -another, desperate visit to the Stockman’s -Hotel, but the cattle-buyers would not give me -a word of encouragement towards a pass to -New York City.</p> - -<p>After this I returned to the heart of the city -and began to plan against absolute starvation. -Even with three-cent meals I could not have -a much longer time to eat unless I obtained some -more money. Then I felt the bulge of my -nickel-plated watch, in my vest pocket. I had -paid a dollar for it and had used it for two -years. It had been purchased second-hand -from a mill friend and had originally cost -not more than three dollars. I hurried to a -pawn-broker’s shop and said, eagerly, as I -handed the shopman the weighty time-piece:</p> - -<p>“You can have this at your own price—I -don’t care how much you offer. I need the -money!”</p> - -<p>He tossed the watch in the palm of his hand, -then laughed, and as he handed it back to me -he said, impatiently:</p> - -<p>“G’wan! It ain’t wuth a flea! I wouldn’t -buy dat t’ing fer junk! Git!”</p> - -<p>Disconsolately I passed out, with the shopman’s -scornful eyes on me, and the gaze of a -burly negro and his wife following me. I had -no sooner reached the sidewalk, however, than -the negro came out and said:</p> - -<p>“Say, how much yo’ want fo’ dat watch?”</p> - -<p>The negro’s wife appeared, and from their<span class="pagenum" id="Page_184">[184]</span> -excessive interest in the watch I knew that they -would purchase it if I should put out an enticing -price. I cogitated in my mind as to how -much I might have to pay for a pair of second-hand -shoes, and then said:</p> - -<p>“Fifty cents! Keeps good time, too, see!”</p> - -<p>The negro took the watch in his hand, and -evidently it was the enormous size of it rather -than its efficiency as a time-keeper that interested -him, for he spent more time gazing on its -back than he did in contemplating its works. -He thrust his hand into his pockets and gave -me a fifty-cent piece which, just then, looked -as round and golden as a harvest moon, but -more tangible.</p> - -<p>I hurried from the negro as swiftly as I could -in fear that he might repent and ask for a -return of the precious coin. I hastened down a -side street, made a spiral through a maze of -streets, and then felt that the half dollar belonged -to me. I next began a search for a -pair of shoes. There were rows of them in a -Jewish cobbler’s window, so I went in. The -Jewish woman, who was in charge, in the absence -of her husband, asked me what size I -wanted, and then pulled out for my inspection -a pair of iron-clads that would not have been -amiss on the feet of Ulysses when he started out -on his wearing travels, and they surely would -have lasted him through all his strenuous adventures.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i_184_fp.jpg" alt="" /></div> -<p class="caption"><span class="smcap">Say, How Much Yo’ Want fo’ dat Watch</span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_185">[185]</span>“Fifty-four cents!” announced the woman.</p> - -<p>I told her that I could not spend a cent more -than fifty for foot-wear else I should have to -go without supper, and that wet feet were more -comfortable than an empty stomach.</p> - -<p>We then entered upon an oriental haggling -during which I found it imperative to credit -myself with every virtue of honesty and candidness, -and during which she called on every -prophet to witness that the shoes should not -go for a cent less than fifty-four. I held up my -soggy tennis shoes and tapped them on the -floor so that their miserable splash should strike -a compassionate chill in her hard heart. I -told her my lifetime’s history; gave her a most -pathetic list of my adventures; descanted with -fervor on the unkindness of men towards one -who was trying to make his way, and then the -shoes were mine!</p> - -<p>I had to learn to walk over again when the -dry shoes were on. I half stumbled at first -with the weight, but I felt that at last I could -go on the main street of the city and pass -among respectable people without having harsh -comments made.</p> - -<p>After my three-cent supper, I hurried to a -church where a prayer-meeting was in progress. -After the meeting I made a confidant of the -minister, who took me before a group of men; -the total result of which was that they lent me -ten dollars on a note which I later paid, or<span class="pagenum" id="Page_186">[186]</span> -tried to pay, but they refused to accept the -money and sent me back my note. A scalper’s -ticket to New York City took nearly all of the -ten dollars. I returned to the “hotel” where -I sold my umbrella and out of the proceeds paid -my room rent and bade good-bye to the men -who lounged there. The New York train which -I had to take did not leave Buffalo until two -o’clock in the morning. As I went through the -quiet streets, the scavengers were out, with -bags on their shoulders, fingering the refuse -barrels that lined the curbs in front of hotels -and eating-houses. It was a glimpse of poverty -that made me shudder, and which by comparison -made me feel quite aristocratic.</p> - -<p>The conductor accepted my scalper’s ticket -without comment, though he might have put -me off the train on the least suspicion. I took -off my heavy shoes, leaned back in the seat and -fell asleep without a care to distract me while -the express hummed smoothly through the -night.</p> - -<p>As soon as the train arrived in the New York -station I had to hurry across the city to the -steamboat wharves in time to board the Providence -steamer for the dollar ride into the Fall -River zone. Though I had never been in the -metropolis before, and though I stood for a -thrilling moment in the very midst of its wonders, -impelling poverty drove me across the city -like a slave-master’s whip, and I boarded the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_187">[187]</span> -steamer with merely an impressionistic glance of -some ferry-houses, some wholesale fruit houses, -a dilapidated horse-car, some street corner blockades, -a whiff of Hester street, and the East -River bridges. After a night in the forward -part of the boat, sleeping in a berth which might -have been the confines of a barrel, while a -drunken man next to me kept up a periodic, -loose-mouthed protest to a man in the upper -berth that he wished he wouldn’t snore so loud -and keep everybody awake, I was put ashore -in Providence. From there I was taken by -trolley into Massachusetts and home. When -I arrived in New Bedford I had thirty-five -cents remaining in my pocket. But I was -home! And ready for the next step in my education, -whatever that should be.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_188">[188]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak"><i>Chapter XX Aunt Millie’s Interpretation<br /> -of Education. The<br /> -Right Sort of an Adviser Gets<br /> -Hold of me</i></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">I  HURRIED—with a feeling of pride—in -the direction of the tenement where my -aunt and uncle were living. It was nearly -noon. I would surprise my aunt! I -knocked on the door. My Aunt Millie -stood before me.</p> - -<p>“Hello!” I cried. “How are you?”</p> - -<p>She gazed on me with evident surprise, and -with a mixture of suspicion, which she put in -her first words:</p> - -<p>“I thought you were out getting made into -a gentleman—at one of those schools?”</p> - -<p>“Why, aunt, I’ve had two years of education—so -far. I mean to have more.”</p> - -<p>“But where’s that fortune you’ve made?”</p> - -<p>I gasped.</p> - -<p>“Fortune? I’ve only got thirty-five cents -and I’m in debt for that!”</p> - -<p>“It’s a failure, then?” she asked, maliciously.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_189">[189]</span>“Of course it isn’t a failure!” I insisted, desperately. -“Two years of it have helped me -very much. I mean to get more of it, aunt!”</p> - -<p>“But you look poorly dressed, and you tell -me that you’re poorer than the day you went. -I always thought education meant getting along -in life!”</p> - -<p>“It does mean getting along in life,” I argued, -“but not necessarily getting along in money—or -even good clothes. It has to do with the -mind—with the thinking powers—eh—”</p> - -<p>She burst into mocking laughter and said:</p> - -<p>“Oh, that’s it? Then maybe you’ll not be -needing bed and board now that you’ve had two -years of education,—is that the state of things?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, you don’t understand, aunt. Of course -you can’t do much in the world with only two -years of it. It needs several years of it before -you can really get a position in which money or -prestige may be made. I’m only just on the -way: in the first stages.”</p> - -<p>“Then why aren’t you in it? What have -you come back to us for? I suppose you are -short of money and want us to help you along -in your brainless undertaking, eh?”</p> - -<p>“Have I asked a cent from you during the -last two years, aunt?” I asked with some show -of spirit. “Haven’t I earned my own living -even when I have been at home? Is it likely -that I’ll ask you to help me through now?”</p> - -<p>“It wouldn’t do any good if you were to ask<span class="pagenum" id="Page_190">[190]</span> -us,” she said, firmly. “We have debts enough -in the house now to drive us to distraction.”</p> - -<p>“Of course,” I said, “it will be some weeks, -probably, before I can shape my plans. You -will let me stay here?”</p> - -<p>“There,” she sniffed, “he’s coming the soft -soap act on, now! I thought you had something -up your sleeve. So you want me to board -you free of charge for some weeks, eh, while -you lord it around without working?”</p> - -<p>“I shall have to plan just what to do next!” -I announced, feeling that this last touch to my -already heavy load would break me. “That’s -all. I shall be going off to some sort of a school -if it’s possible.”</p> - -<p>“Two days free: that’s as long as you can -stop without board,” she announced. “I never -was for this hair-brained business. It’s taken -your earnings away. After two days you must -pay board.”</p> - -<p>I knew it was fruitless to argue with her any -further and I longed for the noon to arrive when -I could have Uncle Stanwood’s more comforting -greetings.</p> - -<p>My uncle came in and was extremely pleased -to greet me, and my return so unexpectedly -considerably upset him.</p> - -<p>“Two years of learning, steady,” he commented. -“That’s good. You are the first -Priddy to get such a chance. Make the most of -it. Two years is a good beginning. I can notice<span class="pagenum" id="Page_191">[191]</span> -a difference in your speech and your manner -already. Keep on, Al!”</p> - -<p>“His learning hasn’t given him any silk shirts -or gold-headed canes, has it?” scoffed my -Aunt Millie.</p> - -<p>“Don’t heap it on the lad,” chided my uncle, -“it’s taken a lot of courage and perhaps suffering -for him to get through as he has. We -haven’t done anything towards it, Millie; so -we shouldn’t have much to say!”</p> - -<p>Then my uncle asked a perfectly natural and -innocent question.</p> - -<p>“What are you aiming to be, Al, when you’re -through with the schools?”</p> - -<p>Tremblingly I whispered:</p> - -<p>“A preacher, I think!”</p> - -<p>If the world had cracked or the moon had -leaped into the middle of our kitchen, my aunt -could not have been more startled than she -appeared to be at that announcement. She -instantly rallied her powers of ridicule and -sarcasm and indulged in the following monologue -that had little savor of love in it:</p> - -<p>“Oh, oh! That’s the lay of the land, is it? -A parson! A Priddy a parson! A fawning, -hypocritical parson! A tea-drinking, smirking -thing in black. Why, at least, didn’t he choose -to be a lawyer or a doctor or something worth -while? I thought he had brains!”</p> - -<p>“Millie!” thundered uncle. “Shut up! Do -you want to crush the lad?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_192">[192]</span>But she was not to be stopped. She grew -almost hysterical in her tirade.</p> - -<p>“I suppose he’ll be hurling his sermons at -us, so sanctimonious and pious!”</p> - -<p>“Hush, aunt, please,” I pleaded, “don’t -shout so loud, people will hear and wonder what’s -wrong!”</p> - -<p>“There,” she went on with a dry laugh, -“just hear that low voice: it’s just the voice for -a parson!” Then she posed before me in dreadful -mimicry, with her finger tips touching in -front of her and an affected, upward cast in -her eyes, while she cried, ingratiatingly:</p> - -<p>“‘Be good, be very, <i>very</i> good, my dears! -Do right like me and get to heaven!’” and then -releasing herself from this display she suddenly -roared, “You old hypocrite, you! The idea, -<i>you</i> a parson!”</p> - -<p>“God knows,” muttered uncle, “it is to be -wondered how a lad brought up with us could -ever turn his eyes in that direction!”</p> - -<p>At that my Aunt Millie cast on her husband -a frown and said, snappishly:</p> - -<p>“Aye, you old sinner. Your conscience is -working now. No wonder you talk like that!”</p> - -<p>During the dinner, while my aunt was in the -pantry, uncle bent towards me and whispered:</p> - -<p>“Come out with me after dinner, Al. We’ll -talk there!”</p> - -<p>At half-past twelve we left the house together -and sat down on some logs on an empty lot<span class="pagenum" id="Page_193">[193]</span> -near the mill where uncle said, after I had -recounted to him my two years’ experiences:</p> - -<p>“But what can you do now? It seems that -you have cut yourself off from everything by -leaving that school. You have nothing to go -to now!”</p> - -<p>“Oh,” I replied, “there are scores of places -that I might go to in the East here, if I only -knew where to look. Rather than be idle, I -might go to the local high school and work during -the spare time for my board and clothes. -Then there are free academies and preparatory -schools where I might get a chance. I will -begin to look around. Mr. Woodward, the -minister, might know of some things. I mean -to see him this afternoon. I shall try to keep -on with my studies somehow.”</p> - -<p>“Why don’t you go into the mill for awhile -and then get some money by you, Al. It would -make it easier for you?”</p> - -<p>“But I can’t spare the time, uncle. I ought -to keep right in with an unbroken school career. -It can be done if only the right place be found. -I am all at sea, just now, but I shall inquire. -I know I shall find something.”</p> - -<p>We talked until the one o’clock whistle -sounded, and then I went in the direction of the -minister’s house to consult with him concerning -my future.</p> - -<p>Mr. Woodward was minister over a little -church of mill people, one of those underpaid<span class="pagenum" id="Page_194">[194]</span> -men who not only preach faith but express it -in many kindly but unheralded services to society. -He obtained congenial work for overworked -factory girls, sent tired mothers into the -country in the summer season, sent invalids to -hospitals, inspired mill lads in self-culture, and -kept his own busy mind furnished with the -latest and most scholarly information in social -science and theology.</p> - -<p>When I rang his door-bell my heart nearly -failed me with the thought that as he had never -had the privilege of attending a college or a -theological seminary, he might be unable to -give me any advice on my immediate problem.</p> - -<p>But after we had sat in his study for an hour, -and he had sounded me on my past experiences, -and when I had concluded with a very pessimistic -exclamation,</p> - -<p>“But I guess I’ve thrown away my chance -by leaving Evangelical University, Mr. Woodward. -I don’t know what took possession of -me, I’m sure. It was such a whim, especially -when I was doing so well out there!”</p> - -<p>The big Scotchman stood up, laid his heavy -hand on my shoulder and exclaimed,</p> - -<p>“Albert, I think I see you continuing the -fight from now on, if I can possibly do anything. -You must have courage and faith; -they are more to you than money.” He swept -his hand across his eyes as if to sweep back the -years and said, reminiscently,</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_195">[195]</span>“Oh, if I’d had your chance, lad! You don’t -know what it cost me to lose my chance! -Listen!” He then recounted to me his own -experience in search of an education and -unfolded dramatic incident after dramatic incident -for my encouragement. He showed me -himself by a peat-bog fire, in the north of Ireland, -amidst poverty, struggling with his few -books. He showed me himself, an immigrant -landing in New England, where he began to -work in the flare of a furnace. Next he showed -me how his chance for going to college had -been cut off by his marriage. That was followed -by the picture of him, sitting in a room -through the day learning Greek and theology, -while his wife went into the mill to earn the -money for rent and clothes and books. The -memory of those severe struggles which had -cost nerve and health brought tears swimming -into his kindly eyes. He said, in conclusion,</p> - -<p>“Why, if I were in your place, lad, I’d black -boots to get to a college, I would. Don’t lose -a day. I know a theological seminary in high -standing where you can get as good a training -for the ministry as may be secured anywhere -in the United States, where your mind will -awaken and where you may not feel ashamed -after graduating from it. From there you can -go to a college, entering the Junior year. That -will mean five years more, Albert, five years of -blessed privilege, which I shall envy you, lad!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_196">[196]</span>“But I have no money, and it must cost -money to enter the theological seminary,” I -insisted. “I should have to get there, and there -would occur several expenses for books and -things when I get there.”</p> - -<p>“I can get fifty dollars for you on a note, -which I will secure. Trust me,” replied Mr. -Woodward. “I mean that you shall go ahead. -The world can’t afford to let one of its ambitious -lads slip up. It’s not good economy. -Fifty dollars will start you off. The expenses -at the seminary are trivial. There will occur -opportunities for self-help. In the summer -you may get a church. Come to me tomorrow -afternoon. I’ll get busy with the telephone and -telegraph right away. The Seminary opens -this week. Come tomorrow, lad, and I hope -to have good news for you. I feel that you’ve -got your chance!”</p> - -<p>As I left him standing at the door, gazing -after me, I hurried home whistling; thinking, -too, what an overturn of emotion can occur in -a single day.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_197">[197]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak"><i>Chapter XXI. Over the Sea to<br /> -a New Educational Chance. How<br /> -I Revenged Myself on the Hungry<br /> -Days. The Cloistered Serenity<br /> -of the New Place</i></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">THE following afternoon when I arrived -at Mr. Woodward’s house, I -found a young man with him, whom -he introduced as Mr. Blake, a Congregational -minister from a nearby -town, whom he had invited in to talk to me -about the Seminary.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Blake graduated there a few years ago -and can tell you all about it,” added my friend.</p> - -<p>“Had you better not show him the telegram -you have from the President of the Seminary?” -suggested the young man.</p> - -<p>Mr. Woodward smiled, and showed me a -telegram which read,</p> - -<p>“Send the young man at once!” and bore -the signature of the Seminary President.</p> - -<p>Then Mr. Woodward put his hand into his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_198">[198]</span> -pocket and brought out from thence a cluster -of crinkling bills.</p> - -<p>“Hold your hand, Albert,” he smiled. “It’s -money!”</p> - -<p>He counted into my hand fifty dollars and -said,</p> - -<p>“If you are energetic, this is all the money -you will have to borrow for awhile. I am glad -for you, my lad. Now I have to attend a funeral. -You go out for a walk with Mr. Blake -and come back with him in time for supper. -We’re to have an informal celebration together.”</p> - -<p>I led Mr. Blake to the Point Road, the peninsula -which juts out like a forefinger from the -south end of New Bedford into Buzzard’s Bay. -We walked along the grassy foot-path, near the -low wall, past the shimmering sea, the flying, -croaking gulls, and a parade of scallop boats. -My companion had a very ambitious moustache -which was trying hard to mature, and he -had a trick of unconsciously aiding the ends by -pulling them as he talked. While he interjected -theological shop talk, and had a long dissertation -on Textual Criticism versus Literal Inspiration, -when he found that I had been in -such a conservative theological atmosphere as -Evangelical University, and though he prattled -familiarly the names of Renan, Weissmann, -Schleiermacher, and Ritschl, I found inspiration -in the man himself, for I kept thinking to -myself on that walk, “He has attained to what<span class="pagenum" id="Page_199">[199]</span> -you are after.” We came to a grove of spruces -that had grown on the edge of some rocks by -the side of the road. Here, a quartet of blue-bloused -Chinamen were celebrating some sort -of a holiday by playing strident tunes on queer -pipes and tom-toms, joining in with their falsetto -voices. Mr. Blake and I found a secure -place on some ledges, from which we could throw -pebbles at the white gulls that walked up and -down the beach in lady-like fashion.</p> - -<p>When we returned, at the supper hour, we -sat down with Mr. Woodward at the table, -where both men set my head to whirling by the -confidence with which they recounted my future -enjoyment of the Seminary. Had it not been -for the crumpled fifty dollars in my pocket, -the entire experience would have had the shape -of a dream, for only two days before I had stood -before my critical aunt with no plans and with -thirty-five cents for my fortune. My freight -ride and Buffalo experience seemed years back, -in a dim haze.</p> - -<p>On arriving home, I pulled out the fifty dollars -and showed the amount to my aunt and -uncle.</p> - -<p>“Where did you get all that?” gasped my -uncle.</p> - -<p>“Borrowed it,” I replied. “I go to a theological -seminary in two days.”</p> - -<p>My aunt wanted to know what sort of a lunatic -I was to borrow money on which to get an<span class="pagenum" id="Page_200">[200]</span> -education. Her theory yet remained, that only -those with large fortunes were entitled to an -education.</p> - -<p>But from the shining eyes of my uncle, I -gathered that he felt glad over my prospects, -as I unfolded them to him.</p> - -<p>Two evenings later I sat on the hurricane -deck of a steamer that was to carry me to the -Seminary city. I watched the golden dome of -the State House dwindle to the size of a -noonday sun. I watched the waves from -our paddles wash the edges of innumerable -islands. We passed the lighthouses: huge -warning fingers flashing their diamond lights. -Our bow foam swirled over the low-lying decks -of loaded coasters. Then we entered the silences -of the ocean: even the sun left us and we swirled -into night. The dismal echoes of bending bell-buoys -reached our ears out of the darkness. -The chilly, night wind threatened us with influenza, -so we hurried into the cabins where, -under bright lights, people were chatting, -and where, in a far corner, a musician was tickling -the popular tune from the piano:</p> - -<p class="center">“All the Stars in the Sky, Dear, Speak through the Night of You-u-u!”</p> - -<p>When the glistening negro, in spotless white, -rushed through the cabin, waving a pink-bordered -towel and muttering to the ceiling or -to the thick carpet, as if it were no concern of -his, that this was “the last call for dinner,” I<span class="pagenum" id="Page_201">[201]</span> -felt that I would adventure into the considerable -menu a dollar would bring me, if for nothing -else but to atone for those hungry days -of three-cent meals in Indianapolis and Buffalo!</p> - -<p>The next morning the steamer was poking -its prow insistently through the sea and through -a drizzling rainstorm. We were near land again -and passed bleak islands hardly bigger than a -man’s hand on which were exiled lonesome, -bleating sheep. Then we left the bays back of -us and entered the mouth of a river roadway -whose banks were lined with golden foliage. -We passed a grim, grey fort and then stopped -at a quiet town whose roofs were buried in tall -trees, which in turn were topped by the spires -of two old-fashioned churches which seemed to -be telling the townspeople in which direction -God was to be found. The river roadway -deepened and narrowed and twisted as we -ascended it. Then we left the autumn beauties -of tree and shrub and passed between ice-houses, -factories, and tenements until a bridge marked -the limits of navigation and we were put ashore -in the Seminary city.</p> - -<p>The steamboat wharf was the front porch to -a large city which began at the summit of a -hill to the south, crowded the hillside, wandered -into the valley, and ascended another hill and -continued on it as far as the eye could reach. I -walked over the cobbled street in front of the -wharf shed, made my way past long rows of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_202">[202]</span> -cordage and commercial houses, and came out -into a triangular market-place, shut in by low-set -brick and wooden houses, cheap hotels, -fruit, fish, and sailors’ clothing stores. The -market-place was thronged with wagons and -stalls. In one section the hay wagons were -massed and over them groups of stablemen and -citizens argued until load after load had been -sold. In another section, with their backs -forming an aisle through which I walked, were -the butcher-carts offering roasts, strings of sausage, -coral strings of frankfurts, and whole sides -of pork. Back of them were the vegetable carts -with loads of squashes fresh from the fields and -heaps of greens. After walking through this -noisy market, I came to the main business -street of the city, lined with stores and humming -with cars. Then I walked up a hill past -residences and dying grass lawns, until, in a -triangular fence which followed the parting of -two streets, I had my first view of the theological -seminary.</p> - -<p>The seminary was separated from the modern -houses about it not only by the fence, but also -by its age, its soberness, its shaded walks, and -its ample stretches of lawn. Behind the leaves -of the trees I saw one of those mill-like dormitories -which our stern, eighteenth-century forefathers -loved to build when they planned colleges -and seminaries. The whole aspect of the place, -as I entered the gate, was one of monkish<span class="pagenum" id="Page_203">[203]</span> -repose, of academic sedateness. The drab paint -on the porches of the dormitory and covering the -professors’ houses, the dignified layers of brick -in the chapel, all said, as plainly as you please, -“Don’t laugh here!” All my early dreams concerning -how colleges and places of learning -should look, were realized. The very bricks in -the buildings seemed to be after a theological -education.</p> - -<p>As I put my foot on the porch a young man -met me, asked me if I was “Mr. Priddy,” and -on learning that I was, he escorted me immediately -over to the president’s house, where the -final arrangements for my matriculation in -the Seminary were completed. An hour later, -under the guidance of Burner, who was an upper-classman, -I was purchasing an oil lamp, a parlor -stove, a ton of coal, a wash basin, two coal-hods, -and sundry decorations. Two hours after -that I had unpacked my belongings in a double -room on the fourth floor of the dormitory, -and when the chapel bell sounded for supper, -Burner conducted me into a very old-fashioned -Commons, on the walls of which were paintings -of ships and shipwrecks. Here I was introduced -to the students and then found myself -eating voraciously of the fare that was set before -me.</p> - -<p>The next morning, I was awakened by the -piping of a little bird that sang on the window -ledge, under the open window.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_204">[204]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak"><i>Chapter XXII. Stoves with<br /> -Traditions, Domestic Habits, and<br /> -Greek, “Boys Will be Boys”</i></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">THE apocalyptic hope of the students -who were domiciled in -Therenton Hall, the Seminary -dormitory, included steam heat -and running water; for neither of -those modern conveniences had been installed up -to that time and students had to carry hods of -coal up four flights of stairs; and were compelled -to convey pitchers of water the same distance. -Each one had his own coal bin in the vaulted cellar -and also owned a kindling pile which he watched -with suspicious and amusing jealousy. Besides -that, ashes had to be raked from stoves, carried -downstairs, and sifted—by the thrifty—in -a far corner of the cellar, where lay the dormitory -ash heap.</p> - -<p>The parlor stoves, coal-hods, water bowls, -and pitchers, the personal possessions of the -students, were handed down from class to class, -in many instances, until the most trivial price—say<span class="pagenum" id="Page_205">[205]</span> -a dollar for a six-foot stove—gave a -profit of ten cents and three years’ use to the -senior who sold out. The stove I purchased -for two dollars was a giant of a stove, high, -bulky, and lavishly decorated with ring-a-rosy -cherubs, covered with a thick coating of stove -polish until they had ceased being an angelic -silver and had become an Ethiopian black. -I mention this stove because its sheet-tin girth -was hallowed by hoary traditions, and if it -could have spoken it would have kept me -cheered for many hours by a recital of the -different escapades in which it had figured at -the hands of the theologues. The rust on its -bands, for instance, was due to the fact that -some students had plastered it with a swaddling -of sticky fly paper. The dent immediately -under the hood had been made by a -flying theological treatise which had been aimed -originally at the head of an intruder, who insisted -on keeping one of the stove’s former -owners from a study of Hebrew nouns. The -broken foot, which rested on some thin wafers -of wood, was caused by the attempt on the part -of some students to reverse the stove during the -absence of another owner who was paying court -to one of the young women in the city.</p> - -<p>We attended to the dusting and care of our -own rooms with more or less thoroughness. -Some of my friends chose to sleep and study -amidst dust and disorder rather than to endure<span class="pagenum" id="Page_206">[206]</span> -the strain and toil of a sweeper, a beater, and -a duster for a Saturday morning. When we -went to a city prayer-meeting or a lecture, we -would usually dangle our greasy kerosene cans -as far as the corner grocery and leave them to -be filled. In fact, so inextricably interwoven -with our intellectual concerns were our domestic -habits, that I had not been in the dormitory -very long before I caught myself entering my -Greek class holding fast to a coal-hod, which I -had taken the trouble to carry along the walk -and into the recitation building, while I had -unconsciously propped my Greek Testament -very snugly behind the lower banister, under -the impression that it had been the coal-hod.</p> - -<p>One Saturday morning, Providence or Fate—whatever -it would be at a theological seminary—arranged -a <i>mise en scène</i> which called -attention, in an effective way, to the inconvenience -of permitting the students the use of coal-hods -and wash bowls. The President was -entertaining a gentleman who had been the -first donor to our new and splendid gymnasium. -He had escorted the benefactor through the bathrooms, -the bowling-alleys, over the running-track, -and had taken him among the equipment, with -evidences of great pleasure. I had occasion to be -leaving the gymnasium in their wake. I saw the -President throw open the door which led into the -lower hall of the dormitory and heard him say, -“This is our dormitory—” or something to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_207">[207]</span> -that effect, and he stepped back to allow the seminary -benefactor to precede him into the dignified -precincts of our domicile. Then he followed, -and one may imagine how he must have felt, -as he gazed upon a chaos of coal, of wood, of -water, and of broken crockery, which lay like -the trail of a sloven over the hall and over the -first flight of steps; echoes from the preceding -night, when the top floor had engaged the lower -floors in a counter demonstration of noise, smash, -and confusion.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_208">[208]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak"><i>Chapter XXIII. A Plot Which<br /> -had for its End the Raising up of<br /> -a Discouraged Young Preacher</i></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">ONE day I was sitting in the apparently -deserted library, looking over -the new books which were always -kept on a side shelf, at the entrance -to one of the alcoves, when I heard -a heavy, most disconsolate sigh, coming from a -hidden corner in the rear of the room. The -sigh was followed by the rustling of book leaves. -I continued my investigation of the new books, -but was once more interrupted by that same, prolonged -sighing. It was just such a sigh as -Dante must have heard proceeding from the -lips of those unfortunate creatures who stood -in neither hope nor despair. I decided to investigate, -and, for that purpose, went down the -alcove from which the sighing seemed to have -come, and there, with his back turned to me, -seated at one of the reference tables, with his -head resting woefully on his spread out arms, -sat Amos Tucker, an upper-classman.</p> - -<p>I hesitated to approach him, at first, and pretended<span class="pagenum" id="Page_209">[209]</span> -that I had come into the alcove for a -book. Then again the sigh proceeded from the -limp heap at the table, and, throwing all restraint -to the winds, I went to the table, touched Amos -on the shoulder, and said,</p> - -<p>“Are you in trouble, Tucker?”</p> - -<p>He raised his tearful, grey eyes to me, and -said,</p> - -<p>“They say I’m not fit to be a preacher!”</p> - -<p>I sat down beside him, for from his manner -I knew that he welcomed me to be his confidant.</p> - -<p>“Who says so? Any of the students?” I -asked.</p> - -<p>“No, it wouldn’t matter if it came from them: -the church says so!”</p> - -<p>“What church is that, Tucker?”</p> - -<p>He sat up in his chair and replied,</p> - -<p>“I have just started to preach, this year. I -have been out for two Sundays in a little place -where they give me seven dollars, out of which -I have to pay a dollar and a half for expenses. -It’s not that I care a snap about the money, -though, but I want a place to call my parish. I -feel that I ought to preach. Well, I’ve got a -letter from the committee this morning, telling -me that they will have to get along without -me; that they cannot have me any longer for -their minister.”</p> - -<p>“What reasons do they offer?”</p> - -<p>“That’s it!” he responded, with a catch in -his voice, “they have had the bravery to tell<span class="pagenum" id="Page_210">[210]</span> -me the exact reason. It is this: they tell me—oh, -hadn’t you better read for yourself,” and he -handed me the last page of a letter, explaining,</p> - -<p>“It’s all on that one page: all that you want -to know.”</p> - -<p>I read:</p> - -<p>“You can never make a preacher, we feel—excuse -us for telling you so frankly—you have -no voice, you do not read well, your grammar -is poor, your themes are not interesting. Your -last Sunday morning’s talk on ‘Conscience’ -was beyond our understanding. Several good -supporters have threatened to forego their -subscriptions if we have you another Sunday. -Will you kindly suggest some one to come to -us next Sunday and oblige, yours in Christian -sincerity, etc.”</p> - -<p>“Blunt, isn’t it?” he half smiled.</p> - -<p>“The idea of asking you to send them somebody, -after that!” I gasped.</p> - -<p>“Oh,” he sniffed, “it’s all in Christian sincerity, -you know!”</p> - -<p>“Well,” I added, “there are other places, -Tucker. Cheer up!”</p> - -<p>Then a most discouraging change came into -his eyes, he nodded his head, and replied, with -vigor,</p> - -<p>“The trouble of it is, Priddy, what they say -is all true, every word of it! I have a terrible -voice and can’t seem to get my words out. I -don’t know much about grammar; never had<span class="pagenum" id="Page_211">[211]</span> -much of a chance on the farm. I’m not quick -to learn like so many here. I have to plod and -plod and plod. As for interesting sermons, -why, if they aren’t interesting I do the best I -can!”</p> - -<p>I wanted to ask him, then, why he persisted -in entering the ministry, but I couldn’t find courage -to do so, but he had read my thoughts, for -he said, immediately,</p> - -<p>“You wonder why, if I know all this, I enter -the ministry, and fight against hope? Well, -I’ll tell you. I have felt, right along, that I -might break down my handicaps. At least I -thought I would give myself a thorough trial, -no matter how bitter the disappointment of -failure might be. I didn’t mind losing two or -three places at first, if I could finally master -myself. It was a sort of inherent vanity of -mine that I could succeed. But this—this -seems to be a judgment on me, I guess. I -think I’ll pack up and go out and become—oh, -anything that pays day wages. At least, -I can try to be a good layman!”</p> - -<p>“Why don’t you try it another year?” I suggested. -“Things might turn.”</p> - -<p>“How can I stay here if I can’t earn some -money by preaching?” he asked. “If no church -will take me, why, I shall have to leave the -Seminary.”</p> - -<p>“I wouldn’t leave before having a good talk -with some of the professors,” I suggested. “I<span class="pagenum" id="Page_212">[212]</span> -think you have the sort of a spirit which will -finally prevail, Tucker.”</p> - -<p>“Oh,” he replied, “I haven’t got much spirit—now—after -that letter. They might have -borne with me a month or two longer—perhaps -I should have surprised them.” Then he -laughed, bitterly. “You can’t guess why I -came into the library with my troubles, Priddy, -can you?”</p> - -<p>“No.”</p> - -<p>“You see this!” and he indicated a large, -open book, on which his tears had been falling. -It was a huge, ancient tome, with metal bands -and chipped leather binding. The leaves were -yellowed, and from them came a dampish odor -of musty age. It was a Latin edition of “The -Book of Martyrs” opened at the page where the -fanciful wood-cut showed heaps of flaming -fagots, blazing in Smithfield market, directly -under the bare feet of a woman, tied to a stake -and holding to her breast a crying infant.</p> - -<p>“There is a story about here,” went on -Tucker, with a smile, “to the effect that a former -student in the Seminary, when discouraged, -would come into the library and pore over these -dismal, grewsome pictures, and persuade himself -that his own sufferings were trivial when -compared with the sufferings of these martyrs! -I thought I’d come and try it, too, but it only -intensified my own misery!” He shut the great -book with such an explosion that the dust<span class="pagenum" id="Page_213">[213]</span> -issued from it and gleamed in the rays of the -sun which streamed in through the window.</p> - -<p>“But I’d stay on till the end, Tucker,” I -persisted. “It’s worth trying—if you feel -that you have a call to preach!”</p> - -<p>“I have the call clearly enough,” he insisted, -evidently cheered by my confidence in him. -“If I could only persuade others of it, though, -I should feel happier.”</p> - -<p>“Probably you’ll have another chance to -preach before you expect it,” I said, in conclusion, -and left him with the intention of speaking -in his behalf to some of the students, who -might be able to encourage him in a substantial -manner.</p> - -<p>I went, quite naturally, to Burner, the upper-classman -who had manifested an interest in -my arrival. The big student heard my version -of Tucker’s experience without comment, -and then, after a moment of thought, answered,</p> - -<p>“Don’t you bother yourself any further about -him. I’ll do all I can. This is an upper-classman’s -work, and it needs, too, some fine work -by the professors. It wouldn’t take much to -drive Tucker off. By the way, don’t mention -to him about your conversation with me. I’m -sure he’s got the stuff in him for a preacher. -He needs practical encouragement and he shall -have it. You just watch!”</p> - -<p>Two days later, while I was in the gymnasium, -practising alone with the basket-ball,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_214">[214]</span> -Tucker appeared on the floor in his gymnasium -clothes, and, apparently, in a very happy frame -of mind. As he stood opposite to me and caught -the ball as I threw it to him, he said,</p> - -<p>“Priddy, I’m going to preach on Sunday; -another chance to botch it.”</p> - -<p>“Good for you,” I declared. “Where are -you to preach?”</p> - -<p>“For Burner,” Tucker explained; “he wants a -Sunday off. Do you know whether he preaches -from manuscript or not, Priddy?”</p> - -<p>“I think that he does read—I know he -does. I recollect to have heard him declare -that it was only by reading that one could get -logical sequence: his pet hobby.”</p> - -<p>Tucker held the ball in the air for a second -and sighed, audibly. “That makes it somewhat -easier for me, Priddy. You see, even if -I ramble on with notes, so long as I don’t read -my sermon word for word, the congregation will -give me credit for it, and I may have a chance. -Anyway, I mean to keep on, even if I am rebuffed -again.”</p> - -<p>The following Sunday morning, while Burner -was shaving, he said to me,</p> - -<p>“I hope that Tucker has a sermon with some -logic in it. Anyway, he will get back encouraged. -Deacon Herring will see to that!” He -turned his face from the glass and smiled at -me through the lather.</p> - -<p>“What do you mean?” I demanded.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_215">[215]</span>“I have written a letter to my deacon—about -Tucker and the tight place he’s in,” -explained Burner. “Told him all the facts and -asked him to work with us to save a good man -for the Lord’s cause. After his sermon, no -matter how good or ill it is, Deacon Herring -will go up to Tucker with a radiant face, tell -him how glad they are to have him along, and -invite him to preach the following Sunday. -Meanwhile the deacon will forward to me a -carefully written, frank criticism of Tucker, -from which we can diagnose his troubles, fairly, -and then get some of the professors to work on -his case. Oh,” and Burner’s face was gleaming, -“I guess if there’s any good points under -Tucker’s skin, we’ll uncover them!”</p> - -<p>It was an unusual edition of Tucker who -returned the following day. I walked with -him, arm in arm over to the Commons.</p> - -<p>“There, Priddy,” he chattered, “at last I’ve -found somebody who thinks I’m called to preach. -They want me to supply Burner’s pulpit again -next Sunday! He’s to have another day off. -Tired, he told me. That’s the best sort of -appreciation, isn’t it?” he added.</p> - -<p>Burner said nothing to me or any one else -about the personal sacrifice he made in giving -up two Sundays to the discouraged Tucker, -but I knew that the money he gave up was -much needed. Burner, meanwhile, received -the diagnosis from his deacon, and reported<span class="pagenum" id="Page_216">[216]</span> -matters to one of the professors to whom Tucker -looked with great reverence and respect. The -result of this came out in a diplomatic invitation, -sent by the professor, for Tucker to come -and have a talk about his affairs—a perfectly -natural request for the professor to make.</p> - -<p>It did not take the professor long—armed -as he was by Burner’s report-to get from -Tucker a statement of his situation. Finally, -the professor set himself to work, not only -on the written sermons of Tucker, but also -on his enunciation, his gestures, and his habits -of thought.</p> - -<p>“The professor’s helping me wonderfully,” exclaimed -Tucker to me one day, as we took a walk -into the outskirts of the city. “He’s landed -ker-plunk on my worst faults, just as if he could -read me like a book. You’d laugh at the sort -of mournful stuff I’ve been giving from the pulpit! -It’s quite plain to me now. I’ve been too -depressing. That’s been one thing. No wonder -the people didn’t want some of the stuff I’ve -been guilty of giving. It’s optimism they want, -Priddy, <i>optimism</i>! The professor’s proved that, -all right! Just you wait till next Sunday, when -I preach for Burner. I’m to have a sermon, -entitled, ‘Rejoice, and again I say, Rejoice!’”</p> - -<p>“What have you been preaching on, Tucker?” -I asked.</p> - -<p>He smiled, as one who could afford now to -smile at past faults.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_217">[217]</span>“Judgment, and Conscience, and the Inheritance -of Penalty, and such-like,” he said. -“Heavy, eh?”</p> - -<p>“I’ve no doubt you had some good ideas on -those subjects, Tucker, though, as you say, -they are a trifle doleful, one after the other.”</p> - -<p>“Got thinking in a groove, Priddy, that’s -what the professor thought. But, of course, -I’ve other faults. I don’t speak up—just -whisper: no life or action. But,” he went on -with a confidential smile, “I’m working hard -on that, too. Mean to brighten up on those -things next Sunday; though reformation can’t -come in a day or a week.”</p> - -<p>The next Monday a most encouraging report -came to Burner from his deacon. Among other -things, the old man said in his letter,</p> - -<p>“There were not many out to hear him, for -they had not cared for his preaching of the previous -Sunday: but to those of us who had heard -him the first time, his second appearance was -startling. First of all, he seemed to have confidence. -That was the striking thing. Then, -in his effort to make himself heard he kept on -a high-pitched note, which was somewhat monotonous, -but more effective than his former -timid whispering as if he were afraid of bursting -the ear-drum of a gnat which sat on his -desk. He fanned the air like a windmill in -an effort to remedy lack of action: but that -was a good sign. It argues well for the young<span class="pagenum" id="Page_218">[218]</span> -man when he gets on the middle ground. But -his sermon! He really gave us a cheering -word; that made most of the others, who were -there, like him. Personally, he would be glad -to know in what a different way I have taken -the application of his sermon, to ‘rejoice, and -again—rejoice.’ I wish him the best of success. -There is hope for him. I am getting one or two -people, who told me they like what he had to say -about rejoicing, to write notes of appreciation -to him.”</p> - -<p>“Twenty dollars well spent!” concluded -Burner, with a smile. “At the rate, he is going -Tucker will have a church of his own, over which -he will cast his blessing. He has confidence—now!”</p> - -<p>Late in the spring, Tucker found himself enjoying -somewhat of a local reputation among us, -for he was a decided success, by that time, on -his preaching expeditions. He said to me,</p> - -<p>“Priddy, the other people think I’ve got a -call—now. I had a narrow escape, didn’t I?”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_219">[219]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak"><i>Chapter XXIV. Burner, a<br /> -Searcher After Truth. How a<br /> -May-Pole Subdued a Tribe of<br /> -Little Savages</i></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">BURNER, the upper-classman, though -not my roommate, and by his upper-class -privileges under no sentimental -obligations to me, became my constant -companion. He was a tall, -thick-set man with a very heavy black moustache, -much older than myself and dominated -by a very heavy but sincere temperament. He -had been a real estate agent and a country -auctioneer up to his thirtieth birthday. Then -he had studied for three years, privately, with a -high-school principal, and later he had come to -the Seminary to put himself under training for -the ministry.</p> - -<p>Burner almost frightened me by his hunger -and thirst after knowledge, for in him I looked -upon the epic grandeur of a mind, long starved, -completely awake. All the outstanding, amazing, -bewildering intellectual problems of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_220">[220]</span> -Universe and God, had solutions which Burner, -with a sense of his limitations, sought to master. -I had seen students of books before, -prize scholars, in Evangelical University, but -I had never beheld the workings of an awakened, -mature mind. Books and the teachings -of the masters were merely the starting points, -the paths of departure, for Burner. He sought his -path to God and God’s mind by his own charts. -He was his own authority in thought, an independent -ship under full sail exploring unmapped -territory. He would sit in his Morris chair, -in a secluded corner of his room, with his bony -fingers propping up his gaunt chin, and with blazing -eyes try to think out, in his own words, from -a synthesis of his own observations, why God -permitted evil. One night he rushed into my -room with almost fanatical eagerness and compelled -me to listen while, from a newspaper -item which told of a father who had given some -of his blood to his sickly child, he gave an eloquent -theory of the Divine Fatherhood, suggested -by that analogy. All his studies, in -language, science, and philosophy were focussed -upon his thought of God. They were not merely -a discipline, or parts of a necessary curriculum, -but the means to an end, the roads over which -he went to a completer knowledge of his faith. -The most unrelated and even trivial items of -truth aroused his mind to action and set him at -work on the most intricate and abstruse doctrines.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_221">[221]</span> -He was critical down to the fine points -of sharpening a pencil: he was intolerant of -those who got their conclusions from text books.</p> - -<p>“I’m doing my own thinking,” was his favorite -sentence, “basing it on careful reading and -minute information and nearly always I find -that I get conclusions, after hard thought, that -I might have secured, second-hand, from books. -But oh, Priddy, what a treat it is to be in the -Seminary, filling in the mind after it has been -starved all these years!”</p> - -<p>“It must be a tremendous inspiration to you, -Burner,” I said, “you seem to enjoy it so!”</p> - -<p>“Enjoy it!” he gasped. “I revel in it! Just -think how blank my mind was when I came here! -I thought they wouldn’t take me. I had never -been to college, and had little preparation. -When they did take me and give me my chance, -I resolved to make up for lost time, Priddy. -Other seminaries would have refused me, and -I should never have gone into the ministry. -Of course it is the biggest inspiration that has -ever come to me. It is my first real chance!”</p> - -<p>I soon learned that I had found in the East -what I had found in Evangelical University, a -professional school that was willing to bend to -the service of the ambitious but unprepared -student. But in the Seminary there was more -point and breadth to the teaching; the studies -were more thorough, intellectually more<span class="pagenum" id="Page_222">[222]</span> -satisfying; so, with Burner and with many others -who, like myself, had never been to college, I -began the exciting adventure into disciplined -truth.</p> - -<p>It was rich fare to which I was invited, during -that first year: the tough meat, Hebrew, -which even moderately digested, meant exegetical -strength in Old Testament lore, the tenderer -portions of Greek which nourished one’s -New Testament appetite; entrées of psychology -and philosophy; well-baked and spiced -Church history, and a various dessert of special -lectures comprising every viand from the art -of preaching to nerve-stirring appreciations of -social movements.</p> - -<p>The social life of Evangelical University had -been so narrow that I was ready to appreciate -the broadness of that permitted us in the Seminary. -The professors had us in their homes -for teas and dinners. The intimate touch between -us and our teachers formed part of the -discipline of those years. There was hardly -any sign of that academic aloofness which I had -always supposed to be characteristic of eastern -institutions. I ran into the room of a sick classmate -one Saturday morning, only to find him -being nursed by the professor of theology. -The utmost freedom of thought was given us -in the speculations of the classrooms. It was -an atmosphere where bigotry and dogmatism -could not live overnight. Our lives, by being<span class="pagenum" id="Page_223">[223]</span> -linked to that of the Seminary, began to be -linked to the life of the city; for the churches -and the people showed us many thoughtful -courtesies, took us into their circles, and made -many winter evenings merry and profitable.</p> - -<p>I still had to rely upon my own efforts for -money, but the days of loading brick, raking -lawns, making furnace fires, were gone now, and -I was enabled to earn money in a more professional -way. I was given the task of organizing -some children for one of the smaller -churches of the city. One hundred of them -met me on Sunday afternoons, in the body of -the church, where for an hour we tried to get -along harmoniously together and incidentally -learn some concrete definitions of the Kingdom -of God. I tried to preach through pictures on -a blackboard and through objects like keys and -nails, knives and flowers. Many of the little -ones were not used to church etiquette, so I had -to wander away from the Kingdom of God -many times to instruct some of them concerning -the necessity of taking off caps in church, -of the inhumanity of pulling one another’s -hair braids, of the injudiciousness of poking -pins in one another’s necks. Often, too, when -the neighborhood, after a Sunday feast of -mutton and peas, was enjoying its mid-afternoon -slumbers, some of the boys would whirl -the church bell and make startled men and -women imagine it was the fourth alarm of a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_224">[224]</span> -fire. I had to correct that practise. We held -several socials during the year, socials of a -unique character. My assistants would keep -the door locked in the little chapel until the -oil lamps had been lifted out of danger. The -popcorn and candy would be put on tables in -heaps and the signal of admission given. Into -the room the horde of yelling, scrambling children -would come and fill it with all manner -of wild romping. The refreshments would be -given, there would follow another wild frolic, -and at half-past eight the children would go -home persuaded that they had had “a dandy -time! Three helpings of popcorn and all the -lemonade you could drink!”</p> - -<p>When the first of May arrived, I announced -a picnic for the children, and though the day -was cold, more than our actual membership -appeared—with individual lunches. When we -arrived at the grove I had to stand guard over -the lunches until the noon hour. Then, after -an afternoon of disordered fun and fight, I managed -to secure order on the way home by permitting -the children to hold the ribbons of the -May-pole and to trail behind in orderly procession, -singing, as we entered the residential section -of the city, very piously and earnestly, -“Onward, Christian Soldiers!”</p> - -<p>Meanwhile the arched elms on the seminary -campus leafed out and shaded the walks with -cool shadows. The students met after supper,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_225">[225]</span> -threw off their coats, and played ball until -darkness. The robins began to perch on my -bedroom window ledge and waken me by their -dulcet flutings long before breakfast. The -fumes of burning leaves came through the open -windows from the campus. It was spring and -it was graduation time for the seniors.</p> - -<p>It was the season of the year when at Evangelical -University the students, like Thropper, -would be planning to earn money during the -coming vacation by taking subscriptions for -“The Devil in Society” and similar objects; -but my summer was to be one full of inspirational -and serviceable possibilities. It had been -arranged for me, by the seminary president, -that I should take two schoolhouses in a far-away -district and preach during the long vacation. -At last I was to actually enter upon my -chosen profession.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_226">[226]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak"><i>Chapter XXV. At the Heart<br /> -of Human Nature. A Confidential<br /> -Walk with a Dollar Bill at<br /> -the End of it. A Philosophical Observation<br /> -from the Stage-Driver</i></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">A FOUR hours’ journey by train, each -minute going farther and farther -away from thickly settled country, -and then I found myself waiting on -a depot platform for the stage-driver -who was to conduct me to Upper and Lower -Village, twelve miles from the railroad.</p> - -<p>I looked around and when my eyes lighted -on a wooden-legged man, seated on the front -seat of a democrat wagon, I knew that I had -found the conveyance. I went over to him and -said,</p> - -<p>“Are you going to Upper and Lower Village?”</p> - -<p>He aimed some colored expectoration over his -horse’s ear, watched it alight upon a fluttering -piece of paper, and then, satisfied with his -marksmanship, he said, gruffly,</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_227">[227]</span>“Ef you’re th’ Elder, why, I got a seat. Jump -in!”</p> - -<p>The day was excessively hot, and we sat -under the full glare of the sun. We left the -little railroad village and plunged on through -the churned-up swirls of choking dust straight -into the isolation of this world, into a part of -New England where whole townships have not -even yet attained unto the dignity of names, but -like prisoners with their suffrage taken from -them, must be known by mere numbers.</p> - -<p>The forests had been leveled, and there were -innumerable acres of deforested land covered -with rusty branches which had been left after -the choppers had trimmed the logs. After -several miles, we came to wide stretches of plain, -covered with blueberry bushes.</p> - -<p>A dip in the road, and we had plowed -through the last inch of dust: the wheels of the -democrat rattled merrily over the stone road -of Lower Village. Word had been telephoned -from the first farm we had passed that “the -new Elder was on the stage with Bill.” The -women boldly stood at their doors watching; -from behind many windows I saw intent faces -engaged in taking a comprehensive glance at -me. I maintained a stolid attitude, and pretended -not to be aware of the intense and continuous -surveillance to which I was subjected. -We thundered over a wooden bridge, went up -a steep hill, and drew rein at a long veranda,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_228">[228]</span> -which “Bill” informed me was the “Office, -whar you git down.”</p> - -<p>A tall, timid octogenarian, in shirtsleeves, -whose thick trousers were drawn up tightly -above soil-daubed shoes, introduced himself -as “the deacon” and conducted me to a little -house down a lane which ended in a pasture. -The hot air of the day was fragrant with the -odor of sweet-smelling foliage. Crows were -screaming in the distance over the tops of -some burnt pines. A woman, tall and thin and -pale, welcomed me with all the hospitality with -which a mother would welcome a son. I knew -from that moment that I had a pleasant summer -before me.</p> - -<p>The two villages were nothing more than -single rows of houses on either side of a main -road. That road went inland for miles and miles -through immeasurable solitudes, where no man -dwelt. We were at the end of the world, -apparently.</p> - -<p>Then began my missionary experience. I -was passed from home to home, sometimes -staying but three days in one place: the object -being both economical and social. The cost -of my board, under this arrangement, was -very light on each household, and as each hostess -was not satisfied unless she gave the “Elder” -the very best cooking she could produce, my -short stay did not permit any embarrassment -to the menu. But more especially this arrangement<span class="pagenum" id="Page_229">[229]</span> -made it possible for me to know nearly -every family in my parishes intimately, as the -association with the families at the table was -the means of establishing more than a perfunctory -friendship. They learned some of my -shortcomings, and I was made aware of their -needs. When, in the latter part of the summer, -I was boarding in Upper Village, in the -shadow of the mountain, and went down to -Lower Village for a Wednesday evening meeting, -one of the households expected me to creep -into the house with the eldest son, go into the -pantry and “steal” huge slices of blueberry -cake. This done, the husband and wife would -come into the kitchen, have a hearty laugh, -and before I started back for my boarding-place, -we would have our serious talk over matters -of faith and life.</p> - -<p>There were few well-to-do farmers in the -community. The distance was too great from -the railroads for the injection of much social -life. The winters were filled with days when -life was grim. Had it not been for the telephone -and the mail, the life of that back-road -would have been without any great attractions. -But the very isolation of the villages, and the -absence of many social opportunities through -the winter, like a church and preaching, made -these farmers the prey of traveling fanatics, -who imported here and there the most fanciful -conceptions of religion and sought, by all manner<span class="pagenum" id="Page_230">[230]</span> -of persuasion, to turn people into Mormons -and “New Lights,” “Holy Ghosters” and -“Disciples.” It did not take long to see that -some of these perversions had taken root in -some homes, and I found myself having to -attempt the feat of constructing a positive and -less fanatical doctrine: a feat which at the time -I did poorly enough, but which I took pleasure -in attempting. But it was not formal doctrine -or intellectual discriminations which those parishes -needed as much as it was a social man, to -impart into their midst, after the austere winter, -a joke, a song, a story, and a friendly hand-clasp. -If I had preached no sermon, but merely -gone from home to home, from field to field, -telling men and women and children that I -was their friend, I believe that I should have -accomplished the major part of the needed -ministry.</p> - -<p>The meetings were held in the upper rooms -of two very solidly constructed schoolhouses -four miles apart. Our meetings had to be -announced in two kinds of time, for some set -their clocks by the sun, while others set them -by the Standard, sent over the telephone wires. -The dim, chalky atmosphere of the rooms was -always colored by rich green ferns and assortments -of wild flowers. Even though the -flowers were bunched in the necks of mustard -bottles, tumblers, and cream jugs, and not -always arranged according to Japanese art,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_231">[231]</span> -yet the thought that the sense of beauty in -religion found expression even in wild flowers -apologized for all else. When the hob-nailed -boot and the plow, year in and out, are uprooting -and crushing field flowers, it marks the high -tide of esthetic appreciation when the wearers -of the hob-nailed boot and guiders of the plow -take pains to pick those flowers and add them -to their hymns, their prayers, and sermons in -praise to God.</p> - -<p>No small, narrow opportunity was mine, -such as in my gloomier moments I had ascribed -to a country pastor. Preaching a sermon -formed but a fraction of my duty. There were -young men and women who sought advice -about the outside world, and their business -chances in it. There were business colleges, -academies, hospitals, and mills to propose to -the restless ones, who, like young birds, were -to try life on their own wings.</p> - -<p>Entwined in the pastoral work, were many -social pleasures that made my body strong and -rested my nerves: adventures over the high hills -for soul-subduing vistas of mountains and lakes; -trout fries by the side of meadow brooks; picnics -by the river; visits to bark-peeling camps, -over corduroy roads, and encampment on a -lake shore where at night the wild birds gave -voice and were interpreted to us by a guide.</p> - -<p>The golden-rod lined the dusty road at last, -and the purple flowers took the place of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_232">[232]</span> -lighter summer ones, and it was time for me to -return to the Seminary. The services were -crowded that last Sunday; mothers brought -their babies and did not care if the little ones -did compete with me, in voice. I knew what -was in the faces, as they looked intently on -me, as I preached. They were thinking that -this would probably be the last preaching they -would hear until the following summer, unless -some stray, itinerant evangelist strolled that -way and opened up the schoolhouse for an evening. -There were many tearful farewells, and -then the people went out into the night. It -was a clear night of stars and chill. As I left -the schoolhouse, having bade good-bye to the -janitor, for I was due to leave on the next morning’s -stage, a young farmer stepped out from the -deep shadow of an oak near the flag-staff and -accosted me with,</p> - -<p>“Say, Elder, do you care to go up the road a -piece?”</p> - -<p>I responded that I should enjoy a walk and -a chat with him.</p> - -<p>While we walked between two walls of trees, -our way dimly outlined by the faint flicker of -the stars, my friend said,</p> - -<p>“I’m one of the bashful sort, Elder. You -know that; but I didn’t want you to leave without -having me tell you how much you have -helped my folks this summer. The time you -come in our house and played and sang at the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_233">[233]</span> -organ for us, and cheered us up with a laugh, -why it made things different in our house. -Since mother died, we’ve been having a hard -row to hoe, and you don’t know how much we’ve -appreciated the cheering up you give us. It -gets terrible lonesome out here through the -winter, and I want to thank you for all that -you’ve done!”</p> - -<p>We took a long walk through the night, paying -no attention to distance; but sharing confidences -in true brotherly fashion. Then we -turned about and when we came to the crossroad, -in front of the schoolhouse, we clasped -hands, and as he hurried, without another -word, into the darkness towards his motherless -home, I felt something crisp in the palm of -my hand. When I returned to my room and -had a light I found that he had given me a -dollar bill for a thank offering.</p> - -<p>The next morning I had my baggage on the -stage, this time for a return. Bill, with his -wooden leg, greeted me, for by this time we -were old friends. The word of parting was -given at the post-office, and the democrat -rattled down the grade and over the bridge. -This time a continuous flutter of handkerchiefs -and aprons, and a continuous hearty shout from -the men and boys, followed our passage through -the two villages and then we drove into the -dusk of the road through the blueberry barrens, -Bill aiming expectoration at every soap sign<span class="pagenum" id="Page_234">[234]</span> -within reach, and confiding in me, on the -way, the fact that he had loved once and -“lost,” which he seemed to take in a very -philosophical mood, for he concluded with this -phrase, “You can’t get the hang of wimmen, -anyhow!”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_235">[235]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak"><i>Chapter XXVI. The Strange<br /> -Adventure of Burner into Nothing,<br /> -and How my Own Mind Got into<br /> -Trouble, and How my Faith was<br /> -Strengthened under the Chapel<br /> -Window</i></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">ON my return to the Seminary I found -Burner in the throes of intellectual -despair. The big fellow was sitting -in his room, half buried in the depths -of the green Morris chair, his bony -fingers prodded into his working brows.</p> - -<p>“What’s wrong, Burner?” I demanded.</p> - -<p>“I’ve been thinking back too far,” announced -the serious fellow.</p> - -<p>“Thinking back too far?” I gasped.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” he muttered. “I’ve nothing to stand -on, now.”</p> - -<p>“What do you mean?”</p> - -<p>“I’ve thought away all substance—now!” -he moaned, in despair. “I can’t even conceive -a God!”</p> - -<p>“Burner!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_236">[236]</span>“Horrible, isn’t it, Priddy?”</p> - -<p>“What do you mean—explain, so that I -can get this thing by its head,” I suggested.</p> - -<p>Burner seriously gathered himself together -in his chair, sipped from a glass of water, and -then began,</p> - -<p>“Probably I do too much thinking; maybe -that’s what’s the matter, Priddy. When I -left here, last June, and went out for the summer, -I began to try to think through substance; -I thought I might do it, sometime. I got to -thinking about it, when I took my walks over -the hills, and kept thinking about it, but, somehow, -I couldn’t get my thought back of the -material. When I got back here, last week, I -was sitting in this chair, when all of a sudden -I did think back of God; and conceived all -reality as being so immaterial that nothing -exists: no, nothing!” he shouted, “not even—God!”</p> - -<p>“Can’t you think back again—to him?” I -demanded, making an effort to be of some assistance -and comfort to the disconsolate man.</p> - -<p>Burner stood on his feet, and paced the floor, -excitedly, and said as he gestured with his -hands,</p> - -<p>“I’ve got to be honest—with truth, no matter -how far it leads me!”</p> - -<p>“Yes!”</p> - -<p>“Just think how horrible it is; I’ve thought -back till I’ve struck nothing—nothing!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_237">[237]</span>“Come, it’s not so bad as that, Burner, is -it?”</p> - -<p>“I shan’t be able to preach, to study, to -believe anything!” he declared. “How can I -when there is nothing to preach, to study, or -to believe?”</p> - -<p>I could not conceive a more pathetic restraint -on a man who sought to get his living by preaching -and study.</p> - -<p>“Perhaps some of the professors might help -you back—at least as far as a belief in God,” -I suggested, timidly.</p> - -<p>“Oh, if I only could get back there,” he -pleaded, “I would pray about the matter, but -I can’t pray to nothing, can I?”</p> - -<p>I began then to realize how much a dilemma -a philosophical honesty could create.</p> - -<p>“You are too serious, Burner,” I proposed. -“You ought to take some things for granted; -not seek to explain everything, you know.”</p> - -<p>He looked at me through astonished eyes,</p> - -<p>“I will take nothing for granted that cannot -bear the test of logic!”</p> - -<p>“There,” I cried exultantly, “your intellectual -adventures have brought you into German -Rationalism: that’s just what’s the matter with -you, Burner. You’re not the first one that has -been caught. It is a passing experience. Keep -on thinking, old fellow, you’ll come back after -a time. It looks serious now, but it’s only a -phase. Read the biographies of some of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_238">[238]</span> -saints; it will help you back to a positive faith, -I’m sure.”</p> - -<p>So I left him with that comfort, hoping that -he would not leave the Seminary in his intellectual -excitement, for I felt sure that his -Rationalism or Agnosticism or whatever form -of mind he was in, would pass and give way to -something with more color and inspiration in it.</p> - -<p>Our studies for the second year were more -practical and philosophical than those we received -during the first year. I was ready to -appreciate the value of the studies more after -my summer’s experience as a missionary. The -intellectual honesty and sincerity of Burner -was indicative of the spirit which one of the -professors, who later left us, engendered in us. -One incident will illustrate the temper of his -art of teaching. Our class, in its first year, -had approached this man’s recitation with a -feeling of fear, for his astute mind and his -impassive manner in the classroom, and withal, -his absolute fearlessness in bringing up the -other side of an affirmative, had not reacted in -his favor. Even before we knew him, we had -him placarded, in our minds, as an unbeliever! -One day when we came into his class we found -that some one had written on the blackboard, -the professor’s name with this legend after it:</p> - -<p class="center">“Professor —— Atheist!”</p> - -<p>When he came into the classroom, and saw that, -I thought he would burst into tears; a look of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_239">[239]</span> -patient wonder came into his eyes, and he -merely said to me,</p> - -<p>“Mr. Priddy, will you kindly take the eraser -and give us a clean blackboard!”</p> - -<p>Our first class under this teacher was one in -psychology. We met and his first question -was,</p> - -<p>“What are we to study?”</p> - -<p>Instantly one of my classmates replied,</p> - -<p>“Psychology!”</p> - -<p>“What is psychology?”</p> - -<p>My classmate, who had read the definition -in the day’s lesson replied, confidently,</p> - -<p>“‘The study of the mind and the processes -of the mind,’ sir.”</p> - -<p>“Ah, and what do you mean by the mind? -What do you know about the mind? Have -you ever seen one?”</p> - -<p>My classmate stammered,</p> - -<p>“Why—eh, no, sir.”</p> - -<p>“Then perhaps some one else will inform me -what we are here for?”</p> - -<p>No one was willing.</p> - -<p>“Then you will return to your rooms, gentlemen,” -said the professor, without a trace of a -smile, “and come tomorrow at the same hour -and tell us what we are to study during the -year. I really must know. We cannot get -along until I do.”</p> - -<p>The next day, some of us met, before the class -and conspired to teach that professor his lesson.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_240">[240]</span> -We memorized the definitions and the -explanations so that it would be impossible for -us to slip. Then we entered the classroom.</p> - -<p>“What are we here for, gentlemen?” began -the professor.</p> - -<p>Instantly the answer came from the corner,</p> - -<p>“To study psychology, sir.”</p> - -<p>“Will any one tell me what is meant by -psychology?”</p> - -<p>“‘A study of the mind and the processes of -the mind, as such,’” responded another student.</p> - -<p>“‘As such.’ What is meant by that, sir?”</p> - -<p>One of my classmates undertook to explain -that “as such” meant that the “states of the -mind” were to be studied as “states of the -mind,” and not as—eh—</p> - -<p>“Mince pies?” asked the professor, with a -slight, serious elevation of his eyebrows.</p> - -<p>For the next five minutes he went around -the class involving each one of us in our own -ignorance until it was impossible for him to -get a reply to any one of his questions.</p> - -<p>“Too bad,” he muttered, seriously. “I really -don’t see how we are to get on. This won’t do. -You had better go back to your rooms and come -tomorrow and see if we can let in any daylight -on this matter. Good afternoon, gentlemen!”</p> - -<p>We resolved that we would not study a single -word for the morrow; but that we would go into -the class and have no information to offer. We -would see how the professor would like that!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_241">[241]</span>The following afternoon, pursuant to this -plan, when the professor had greeted us, his -first question was,</p> - -<p>“What are we to study? Can any one tell -me?” It brought no response.</p> - -<p>He looked around the room in great astonishment -and went from man to man, asking,</p> - -<p>“Can you tell me?” and each time getting -a decided and belligerent negative.</p> - -<p>Then a smile of satisfaction lighted up his -sober face and he said,</p> - -<p>“There, gentlemen. Now that you have -made up your minds that you know nothing -about psychology, I am ready to begin to teach -you!” and from then to the end of the year -we sat under instruction that was masterly, -inspiring.</p> - -<p>This spirit of thoroughness and critical -honesty was needed during the second year, -for we were constructing a personal faith: a -task more serious than the mere acquisition of -historic facts or encyclopædic knowledge. But -the teachers were patient, kindly, and watched -us let conservative and traditional habits of -mind go, not in any spirit of intolerance. There -were many times, that year, when I found myself -almost duplicating Burner’s misery, by -sitting in my room and wondering, after I had -let go my traditional habits of thought about -God and the Bible, what I should do without -faith. But as one conception went, another,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_242">[242]</span> -larger conception came, and I found a nobler -faith than I ever had before. The self-distrust -and miserable vacancy of doubt, were, as I had -blunderingly told Burner, mere phases towards -a positive faith. One winter morning, after -a night of mental struggle, during which I -suffered fully as much as I had ever suffered -from any physical hardship, I went out on -the campus to walk about in the crisp air. -The students had just gone into the chapel for -morning prayers. I stopped under the windows -and heard the drone of the parlor organ. -Then, on the quietness of the morning, the -manly melody came to my ears: a hymn resonant -with a man’s faith, and bringing peace to -my doubts. “Oh, Love That Will Not Let Me -Go,” they were singing, a monkish, monastic -tinge to it, coming from male throats,—only -the tenor was too boyish for a monk, too thrillingly -rampant in its ambitious soaring after -God over the high notes. But it soothed me -and I went in the strength of that hymn for -many days.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_243">[243]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak"><i>Chapter XXVII. The Wonderful<br /> -Summer on the Pleasure Island</i></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">MY next opportunity of earning -money for my education came in -a call to preach on Sundays in a -little church sixty miles from the -Seminary at a fashionable summer -resort. The compensation to be ten dollars a -week: compensation for three days’ absence from -the Seminary, one hundred and twenty miles -of travel and expenses, and the nervous exertion -of preaching twice and teaching a Sunday-school -class, not excluding pastoral work whenever -opportunity should offer!</p> - -<p>These weekly journeys began when I arose -on Saturday morning at five o’clock, drank a -hastily prepared cup of cocoa, and hurried off -to the station for the six o’clock train. Then -the train would start on its way through the -snowdrifts, puffing and gasping down white -aisles through rows of stiff, stately pines whose -hands held puffy clouds of snow, and then followed -a slow passage through miles of birches -bending low under the weight of wet snow like -robed saints humbled by too great a weight of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_244">[244]</span> -glory. The railway trip was followed by a -steamer journey of eight miles through a heavy, -sad sea which never seemed to have any light -in it, and in whose icy surface pretty grey and -mottled gulls were not afraid to dip their palpitating -breasts. The steamer put me ashore -on an island whose centre was loaded with a -serried row of little mountains. At the landing -I found a stage and drove for eight miles over -the island to my parish. The stage horse rushed -us down dipping roads that threaded between -precipitous mountain sides, whose summits -were desert rocks and at whose feet had crumbled -cliff after cliff of red rock, spread out like a -rusty iron yard. Then the road became a -climb until some highlands were attained and -we sped through a little fishing village which -nestled close to a mysterious, secluded cove, -guarded by stern, fretted cliffs, a place where -Stevenson would have had a cave of smugglers -or the anchorage of a rakish pirate craft. Then -came a turn in the road, where, behind a fringe -of thick, old gold birches and in the midst of -some dead oak stumps, nature had placed a -cathedral pile of gigantic slabs of stone, one on -another, as if to show to man what the angels -of strength could do once they started to build -with stone. Next followed a bewildering ride -over a spiral road up a steep hill on which stood -aristocratic summer homes. At a lookout -where the road took a sudden dip, one saw the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_245">[245]</span> -cold ocean far down below with its heavy, -listless breakers pounding wearily against the -iron cliffs, as if saying, “Why do the poets insist -on our ceaselessly trying to shatter this -cliff? I wish they would let us rest through the -winter, till the summer visitors come: then I -will pound like Vulcan’s hammer to please -them!” In the distance, little dismal islands -stood in the sea like burnt dumplings in gravy. -Over them the gulls were screaming and wailing, -adding to the solitude and the winter’s -dreariness. Then the stage slanted down the -hill and after a long, twisting ride drew up -before the village post-office, where I met my -host and was duly welcomed as the new minister.</p> - -<p>Back and forth, week after week, returning -to the Seminary on Monday evenings, I accomplished -my journeys faithfully. Each week -besides my studies I had to plan for the church. -There was little time for idleness, for the hours -of recreation were taken up in travel. On -these trips I took a book and tried to have it -read on my return.</p> - -<p>But my reward was near at hand. The -summer arrived, and with it an inflow of wealth, -honor, and leisure to my parish. A wonderful -transformation came over the island—the -Pleasure Island. Boards were unscrewed from -cottage windows. The dead grass gave way to -green carpets. Lifeless sticks budded with -colored foliage. The dead sea and the listless<span class="pagenum" id="Page_246">[246]</span> -waves became animated with restless energy. -The sun kissed the roads into smoothness and -lined the highways with flowers. Fresh painted -steamers, with flying banners, whistled into the -wharves and unloaded crowds of visitors. Steam -yachts lay at anchor in the cove. The white -wings of yawls and catboats were dipping in -the breeze. The mountain paths had been re-charted -and were filled with adventurers. The -pine groves and the quiet cliffs lured tired men -and women to their restful silences. Trout -fishers rubbed oil of camphor over their faces -to restrain the ambitious stings of flies and -mosquitoes, and sought the brook pools where -Walton’s classic trout waited to be played with. -My little rustic church became filled with city -people, who not only sat in the pews, but sang -in the choir, decorated the pulpit with flowers and -grasses, and served on responsible committees.</p> - -<p>Then, too, my rest and opportunity came, for -we had a list of distinguished clergymen and -professors who were to occupy my pulpit every -Sunday morning, for the resort was very rich -in clerical talent of a willing and gracious sort. -We had so much professional talent indeed, that -one morning near the post-office I beheld two -bishops, two university presidents, two professors, -and a world-famous author standing on less than -two square yards of ground!</p> - -<p>We left the doors and the windows of the -church open while the noted men preached, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_247">[247]</span> -their voices had to vie with the song birds who -perched on the waving trees outside the windows. -The sea tang blew across the church, the sweetest -of summer incense.</p> - -<p>I had little enough to do, for the people were -too busy with pleasure to be at home: they -wanted me to sit on the cliffs with books and -take a rest—on a salary.</p> - -<p>But there came calls to preach on some of -the outlying islands to which I was carried -on different Sunday afternoons in a launch.</p> - -<p>Then they all left us, tanned, virile, rested: -the whole community took itself to the decks -of the island steamers and was carried to the -trains. The tennis courts were closed. The -shutters were fastened over the display windows -of the flower stand. Many pews were -empty in my little, rustic church. The flowers -and shrubs were bedded in straw. Soon the -snow and frost and bleakness of winter would -spread over the island. My second pastorate -ended, too, for I had received a call to supply -a larger church much nearer to the Seminary, -a church where I intended to preach after my -graduation from the Seminary.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_248">[248]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak"><i>Chapter XXVIII. How a Parsonage<br /> -Suggests a Wife. The<br /> -Convincing Revelations of a Phrenologist<br /> -Who Examined the Students’<br /> -Bumps</i></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">ON the return to the Seminary, to enter -upon my senior year, the first men -I missed were Burner and Tucker, -who had graduated the previous -summer. Burner wrote me a very -interesting letter from the precincts of a prominent -New England university to the effect that -he was a member of the junior class of that -institution, that on Sundays he preached in a -very delightful country town; that he was -having a rich feast in college fare; the courses -in animal psychology, metaphysics, especially -in relation to the fundamentals of faith, holding -the fullest fascination for him. Tucker, able -at last to do a preacher’s work, not only to his -own personal taste, but also to the gratification -of his parish, was giving himself, sacrificially, -to the work of dignifying the life of the -people who had called him. He wrote me that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_249">[249]</span> -he felt his special work in life to have two phases -to it: that he should remain unmarried in order -that, like a monk, he could do God’s work with -singleness of purpose, and that he should go only -to struggling, discouraged parishes where the -small salaries and the hardships formed a sufficient -missionary challenge: parishes in which -he should labor until they were transformed and -able finally to pay a salary on which a permanent, -married man could settle among them and give -them the fullest, freest service.</p> - -<p>“I am setting myself,” concluded Tucker, -“to be a mortgage-lifter, parsonage-getter, and -salary-raiser for other ministers who are to -follow me!”</p> - -<p>The parish to which I ministered during my -last year in the Seminary, and in which I planned -to settle immediately upon graduation, was in -a seaport town of a quaint type: buried back -in the rugged coast lines of the Atlantic. The -Embargo Act had been like the chilling breath -of petrification on the East Indiamen, the Ceylon -traders, the China brigs, and the many -other ships which had gone out from its port. -The wharves to which of old time these sea-rovers -had been tied when in port had rotted -until, in my day, the water-front was outlined -by their black, damp, soggy ruins. Here and -there, outside the precincts of the town, half -buried among young saplings and deep grasses, -could be seen the piles and planks of a once<span class="pagenum" id="Page_250">[250]</span> -stout wharf. In the village itself, almost everything -pointed, with an index finger, to the past -as the scene of the town’s glory. The hotel -in which I stayed, in stage-coach days had been -a tavern, and from the porch of it the landlord, -wearer of a blue military coat with brass buttons, -had fed the wild birds and pigeons. The -house had an office-boy who was seventy odd -years old, a man whose clothes and speech were -tinctured with reminiscences of the sea and the -past glory of the village. As one tipped back in -one of the hundred-year-old chairs, which were -whittled, by loungers’ pocket knives, to skeletons -of rungs and seats, one saw slow-pacing -oxen, nodding their heads in two-four metronomic -time, pulling loads of sun-dried, salted -codfish from the outdoor driers to the packing -factory. In the parlors, on the hillside, were -many interesting relics of the past, left by the -race of sea captains and ship-owners almost -extinct. There were trinket boxes made from -scented, oriental woods, and little Ceylon gods -of brass and porcelain. There were Japanese -ivories and vases and draperies. There were -ebony ornaments from savage islands and carved -novelties, the product of barbarous intelligence.</p> - -<p>The old families, remaining in the village, -were of that splendid Puritan sort who serve -God with mind, heart, and purse, and while -the older men and women remained at home, -the sons and daughters, blessed with their heritage,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_251">[251]</span> -had gone out into the world to do no small -share of the brilliant and serviceable tasks for -which honor and wealth are given. When the -bells on the two churches rang, on Sunday -mornings, one waited for the other, so that they -might ring in antiphonal brotherhood, seeming -to say, “Good morning,” and to reply, “Good -morning,” in praise of the doctrinal harmony in -the parishes where, in the by-gone years, opposing -pulpits had been girt about with demoniac -lightnings and surmounted by the wild-eyed -heresies of dethroned angels.</p> - -<p>In addition to the salary for my preaching, -a white, green-shuttered, iridescent-windowed -parsonage, perched on a summit of grass terraces, -stood ready, as my home, whenever I -should want it; in other words, as members of -my parish phrased it, “when I should bring -Mrs. Priddy!” Now a twelve-roomed house, -rent free, perched on grass terraces, guarded -on one side by a syringa and on the other side -by some red currant bushes, says nothing to a -young bachelor theologue, about to graduate, -but, “How about a wife?” As there was no -ignoring such a house, there was no ignoring -its consequent,—a wife. The two, like a -“neither” and “nor,” went together. Probably -that is why parishes generally see to it -that there is a parsonage, especially where young -ministers are concerned: that such a concrete -suggestion will work on the mind and heart<span class="pagenum" id="Page_252">[252]</span> -of their minister, through the night hours with -all the terror of an inescapable dream, in the -day hours as a thing to be accounted for -whether or no. There is, perhaps, no suggestion -more haunting can befall a young, bachelor -minister, than an unoccupied, Colonial parsonage, -standing on a summit of terraces, unoccupied! -If he rents it to outside parties, it is one -way of saying to your parish, “I am too cowardly -to marry!” If he permits it to remain empty, -he has to spend many precious hours explaining -to the church committee and their wives his -good reasons for having it empty, and there -are so few good reasons that the task is no -desirable one.</p> - -<p>However, Destiny, using a strange mouthpiece, -showed me a clear path in the matter. It -came about in this wise.</p> - -<p>The lower floor, in the east wing of Therenton -Hall, at the Seminary, was devoted to social -purposes. It was the meeting-place of the -students immediately after supper, where all -sorts of recreations were indulged. A song, a -piano solo, a burlesque, or a bit of clever mimicry -was usually in order in that place. It was -ostensibly a reading-room, where, on the tables, -were to be found magazines of interest to theological -students.</p> - -<p>It was in this room where our freak visitors -came to describe to us their specialties: men -who came and tried to woo us from study to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_253">[253]</span> -strange, emotional cults; men who came and -told us, to our faces, with prophetic fearlessness -of consequences, that by our alignment to -the Seminary, and to <i>any</i> institution of learning, -we were making ourselves heretics and outcasts. -One evening, at the supper table, in -Commons, Bobbett announced that “Professor -Hoyle, a fellow that feels bumps, a phrenologist, -would be in the reading-room, ready to -read our capabilities, our faults, and our destinies -for twenty-five cents a head, special -price to theological students from the usual -fifty-cent rate. No satisfaction, no pay!”</p> - -<p>Town lassies, in medieval Europe, never -flocked to palm-reader or card-turner, with -more curiosity or “pooh-poohing,” than did we. -On the way through the yard, the same critical -faculties which we had brought to bear on -“hallucinations” and “superstitions” in our -studies of psychology and savage religions were -brought to bear upon our impending interview -with “Professor Hoyle.” Certainly the majority -of us, by the time we had entered the parlor, -were there on account of no other emotion than -the wish to bring to bear on this man’s acts -our trained, critical, scientific acumen; though -it cost us twenty-five cents!</p> - -<p>The “professor” was waiting for us, a tall, -slightly stooped, well-dressed young man. He -made no claims, no speech. He merely said,</p> - -<p>“Come up, one following another, and after I<span class="pagenum" id="Page_254">[254]</span> -have examined you and made a note of my -findings, I will write out each one’s report on -paper and if it does not suit, why none need pay.”</p> - -<p>One after another then we filed into the chair -and had those pliant, nervous, cold fingers steal, -subtly, over our cranial topographies. Silently, -quickly, skilfully, bumps that nature had placed -on our skulls, and bumps that basket-ball and -parallel bars had induced, were sorted out, -interpreted, and their meanings put on a pad of -paper, against our names. Then, after some -moments of scratching, the “professor” handed -each one of us his report. Laughingly they -were received, laughingly they were perused, -and then looks of startled wonder were the rule, -for in some unaccountable way, the “professor” -had managed to find strange true interpretations -of us. He informed one student -that if the latter had not planned to become a -minister, he would have done well at mechanical -engineering, a vocation in which the student -had had some proficiency. There were some -intimate revelations for each one of us, true appraisals -of temperament, inclination, and habit. -But it was the unknown things over which we -smiled, the mysterious future, which we were -ready to believe on account of the truthfulness -with which he had told our present. Instantly -the parsonage on the summit of grass terraces -came into mind, as the last words of my phrenological -report read:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_255">[255]</span>“Love: brown-haired young woman.”</p> - -<p>I paid my quarter, willingly, and went to my -room, linking an unknown, unnamed, intangible -“brown-haired young woman” with the -waiting parsonage.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_256">[256]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak"><i>Chapter XXIX. It Devolves<br /> -upon me to Entertain a Guest<br /> -and the Sentimental Consequences<br /> -Which Ensued</i></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">THEN, as if in conspiracy with the -traveling phrenologist, the Seminary -itself made “the brown-haired young -woman,” concrete, before my eyes.</p> - -<p>As the emotional revival had -been the feature, the advertised feature of -Evangelical University, so Lecture Week was -the unique, advertised feature of the Seminary. -As the Revival was doctrinal, controversial, -and excessively unintellectual, so Lecture Week -was undoctrinal, constructive, and preëminently -intellectual. Lecture Week was, par excellence, -one of the most inspiring intellectual treats of -a week’s duration to be found within the bounds -of the Atlantic and Pacific oceans. For the -special lecturers of the year pooled interests -and appeared together. These lecturers were -preëminent men drawn from the ranks of highest -achievement: specialists of high, world-wide<span class="pagenum" id="Page_257">[257]</span> -repute on preaching, social service, and <i>belles -lettres</i>. They were men for whose speech and -thought any student would gladly put aside -treatises on oratory and explanations of social -movements and interpretations of literature, -and give himself entirely into their safe-keeping. -Three words were inscribed over those precious, -inspiring weeks: “Golden Speech,” -“Ripe Thoughts,” and “Impressive Personalities!” -Students were never the same in -ambitions after the lecturers had shuffled their -notes into their leather pouches and left: I had -one student preach for me the Sunday following -one such week, and there, before the eyes of -my parishioners, some of whom had been in -attendance on the lectures, appeared an excellent -facsimile of the noted divine who had given -the course on preaching; the student stroked -back his hair exactly as the noted man had -done, he leaned over the pulpit in perfect -accord with the latter’s peculiar and distinguishing -trait; even some of his climaxes and -intonations of voice followed those used by the -famous preacher in his most forceful oratorical -moments. I think this student was not alone -among those who played the sedulous ape to -the Lecture Week speakers. I know that -more than once I caught myself thinking that -probably a change in method to that of Dr. -Gladden’s conversational ease might impress -my audience à la Dr. Gladden.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_258">[258]</span>During that week the Seminary became a -generous host to the country ministers, not -only sending the poorer ones an urgent invitation -to the feast, but following very closely that -gospel which urges one to go out into the highways -and compel them to come, for she aided -some by railway fares, helped others by having -the fares reduced, and when she had them into -the city, gave them free lodgings in the dormitory -and in the gymnasium, with students for -chambermaids and professors for general managers -of departments.</p> - -<p>The result, in my senior year, for Lecture -Week, was inspiring. The heroic preachers -from the isolated parishes, who in true poverty -and in chastity of heart hold up God’s light -amidst a darkened, back way, came to us in -their brushed-up frayed frock coats and white -percale ties to find themselves somewhat surprised -at the city ministers, who not only did -not wear white ties during the week-days, but -had even left their frock coats at home to appear -on the campus more like doctors on holidays -than sedate ministers of the gospel. However, -in heart, neither frock nor sack coats made a -difference, for it was astounding how boyish and -playful the faces of both city ministers and -country missionaries became in the interim of -lectures, or at night when in the midnight -hours some sedate man would get out of his cot, -skulk past the snoring brethren who were arrayed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_259">[259]</span> -in a row on the cots in the gymnasium, and -either by rolling a thundering bowling ball at -the pins, or by some other act of deliberate -mischief, awaken Babel!</p> - -<p>Morning, afternoon, and evening the city -people united with the seminary members in -crowding the lecture hall; school-teachers, -women’s clubs, college professors and college -students, librarians, esthetic clerks, intellectually -inclined mill-workers, doctors, lawyers, -and church people,—these were in evidence -always, for the lecturers’ names, and the three -poles of their thought—religion, social service, -and letters—made a universal appeal. In fact, -it must have somewhat embarrassed the speakers -to have been called in to lecture to theological -students and find before them all the Gentiles -of the city. In any case, the speakers who had -been so uninformed as to head each separate -lecture, whether on “The Pastor in his Study,” -“The Turmoil in Society,” or “The Supremacy -of Browning over the Saxon Heart,” with the -usual, “My Dear Young Men,” were compelled, -on appearing, to make it read, “The Citizens of -this City, Visiting School-teachers and Professors, -the Faculty and my Dear Young Friends -of the Seminary! Ahem!” and then go ahead -and wonder how the Barbarians would be interested -in what was intended for the Greeks! -It was, in all, a reincarnation of a medieval -monastery acting as light-bringer, with this<span class="pagenum" id="Page_260">[260]</span> -difference, that the Seminary’s light was a Welsbach -burner and no smoky fish-oil one that made -a fog!</p> - -<p>The visiting clergymen who had overrun -the privacy of the Seminary left, and the -parishes in the back places were to ring with -the echoes of Lecture Week, and from many -and many a dried-up well in the mind and -heart of a minister who had never had money -enough for timely books or visits to inspiring -conferences, was to be flowing living, leaping -water for months after. One missionary pastor, -however, had been left within the precincts of -the Seminary, a missionary whose work lay -far back from the railroad, amidst the heavy, -drifted snow roads in winter and amidst the -serenity of the isolated hills and fields in summer; -a missionary preacher who had been to -a college, but not a theological seminary, and -one who evidently strongly believed in equal -suffrage—for this minister was a “brown-haired -young woman.” She attended our classes -in company with an elderly woman student -and was present when our homiletical professor, -to make his instruction clear as to how -we should engineer a wedding, took a long -and short man, called one the bride and the -other the groom, and had them plight their -troth before us, <i>ex more</i>.</p> - -<p>One evening I sat at a supper table in the -family hotel to where I had transferred my appetite,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_261">[261]</span> -when I was surprised to see the busy little -woman manager guide the “brown-haired young -woman” over to my table and say, without a -lift of the brow, as she came,</p> - -<p>“She is a minister and you are to be a minister, -I think you ought to sit at the same -table!”</p> - -<p>She left the young woman sitting opposite -me at the table, not being aware that we were -strangers to each other. But there we were, -and it seemed as if the phrenologist’s ghost -must have been wandering near, though by -that time I had put his report out of mind -entirely.</p> - -<p>Suddenly it was rumored about the Seminary -that I had in charge the entertainment -of our guest, the missionary, and students -stumbled over us in the most unexpected -places, as we took our walks over the city. -Curious persons began to speak about the -usefulness of a wife who could herself take to -the pulpit! It was even reported about the -Seminary that some day she would be writing -my sermons!</p> - -<p>When the missionary had returned to her -parish a sharp watch was kept over the mail -box at the foot of Therenton Hall stairway, for -it was expected that probably some correspondence -would take place between the missionary -and myself. Some letters did pass -between us, though those from the missionary<span class="pagenum" id="Page_262">[262]</span> -conveyed to me the fact, expressed in clear, -unequivocal language, that she was wedded to -her mission and felt that her whole life and -sympathy belonged to her people, despite any -personal wishes of her own. The matter had -reached that stage when examination and graduation -week drew near, a time which brought -suffering with it.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_263">[263]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak"><i>Chapter XXX. A Heretic Hunter.<br /> -The Orthodoxy of the Seminary<br /> -Admirably Defended. I Contract<br /> -a Fashionable Disease, and also<br /> -Receive a Very Unsettling Letter</i></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">THE fifty-year-old elms are budding; -the shapely Norway maples are -bursting into May leafing; the sun, -after having melted away the ice -and packed snow in the north corners, -is now pouring down over the sloping -field in front of the dormitory porch; the snow -shovels which the students have used through -the snowy winter months in clearing gridirons -of paths—a task which they have chosen by -lot—these tools of winter have been packed -away in remote corners of the vaulted cellar. -There is a slack fire kept in the stoves, a -sure sign of a seminary spring. One or two bicycles -are seen leaning against the steps of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_264">[264]</span> -chapel, waiting for their owners to come from -class and take a ride over the hills. Nature -has set the campus for loafers, but the professors -have chosen the dramatic month of May -for the hard grind of final examinations! Just -about this time the students begin to debate -very seriously on this matter, of acute interest—to -them: “Resolved: That Examinations -Do Not Gauge the Mental Fitness of a Student,” -and substantiate their proposition by -the following proofs:</p> - -<p>“That examinations induce nervousness, prohibiting -the student from actually expressing -what is actually in his mind.</p> - -<p>“That all knowledge cannot be put on paper, -for it is possible for a man to profit by study -and yet not be able to give proof of it when -asked.</p> - -<p>“That examinations depend upon memory: -that all students are not perfect in memory—” -and the many other usual arguments which -examinations, from the earliest times, must have -had against them.</p> - -<p>But, in the Seminary, these examinations on -paper, while almost decisive, were supplemented -by oral examinations, made in public, with full -liberty given to any visitors, especially visiting -ministers, to ask questions. Immediately it -is seen what a heresy-hunting, heretic-discovering -opportunity these oral examinations gave: -for if ever a study has brought men’s thumbs<span class="pagenum" id="Page_265">[265]</span> -into the screw and men’s necks into nooses, and -caused the suspicions of men to flame into -white heat, has it not been Theology?</p> - -<p>For two years I had sat with my fellow -victims in the little chapel where our hymns of -praise and our prayers had been wont to ascend. -Class by class we sat, the lower classes unimportant -in dramatic possibilities because they -were to be examined merely on Hebrew and -Church History, and surely it would have taken -a persecutor with a keener nose than Hildebrand -or a Scotch vestryman to cull a heresy -on the Trinity or the Virgin Birth from a <i>hiphil</i> -or a <i>hophal</i> or a padrigram with a <i>kametshhatauph</i> -in it! In fact, after a minister has -been away from the Seminary a few years, he -attends these oral examinations in Hebrew, -merely to nod his head at the recital of every -jot and the pronunciation of every drunken -row of consonants, as if it were a matter of -every-day understanding with him, and needed -no comment! At least, it seemed so to me as I -watched during my first experience as a participant -in an oral examination in Hebrew. -Neither is there much of a chance for heresy-hunting -in Church History, for is it not, in -itself, a record of heresy after heresy? But -“the senior class in Theology!” The mere -announcement of such an event is enough to -lure from his tombs every theological ragger -who ever drew breath. Think of the chance:<span class="pagenum" id="Page_266">[266]</span> -to be given <i>carte blanche</i> with eight young students -who are ready to be quizzed on their -theology!</p> - -<p>The senior class sit in their students’ chairs -hardly comprehending what they face. Perhaps -because they are young and have a certain -amount of <i>bel esprit</i>, in any case, they sit -ready; each one ready to take up arms in defense -of the orthodoxy of the seminary of that -present year against the orthodoxy of the seminary -forty, fifty, or fifty-eight years ago; a -clash which may have in it every element of -theological tragedy. That there may be need -of it is clear, for in the second settee of visitors -sits a white-haired, stern-faced minister, who -had stopped progress before Darwin wakened -the world, or ever First Isaiah was said to have -a double, or before such startling queries as -“What Sage Influenced the Psalter?” and -“Did the Code of Hammurabi Help Moses?” -began to be made. He antedates those novelties: -is strongly entrenched, unwilling to lend his -ear to them lest Zion’s song be not heard. Traditions -of this man have been handed down to -the seniors, who now sit ready for his ringing -challenge. They know he is waiting eagerly -for them, to follow every word, every answer -that has in it any deviation from the straight -doctrine of <i>his</i> senior year!</p> - -<p>The examination begins. First the professor -asks some questions that will indicate the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_267">[267]</span> -range and character of his instruction. The old -man jots down something in a note-book, which -he holds in his hand, for he is experienced in -these matters. Then the cross-examination ensues. -The old minister asks, first of all, in a -bewildered voice,</p> - -<p>“Do you mean to say, young gentleman, -that the first sin was not done in the Garden -of Eden, as exactly recorded? Does the Seminary -teach that?”</p> - -<p>The student replies, at length, showing, in -terms of modern research and science, exactly -what he means: that he has not denied the -terrible fact of sin nor of its penalties, etc.</p> - -<p>But, in the audience sit some younger men, -recently graduated, who, by skilfully injected -questions, deflect examination into constructive -and spiritual channels, bringing out from -the students the rich faith that they have -to preach and the helpful doctrine that they -mean to proclaim to men, and the examination -closes with only one man imagining that faith -is on its last legs through too much wisdom.</p> - -<p>These parlous times of test, of trial were approaching -for me, and I had my class note-books -in order on my desk, for a review, when one morning -I awoke suffering agony from the then fashionable -ailment—appendicitis; just at a time when -the papers were reporting that some Philadelphia -society women were compelling doctors to -operate on them as a new fad! The student<span class="pagenum" id="Page_268">[268]</span> -across the hall opened his medicine-closet and -made me a very stout and vigorous mustard -plaster; but that did not avail. Then the doctors -were asked in and gave out the news that -I should have to be operated upon immediately. -Visions of graduation melted in thin -air. While a carriage was secured, I dictated -two short letters, not knowing whether they -would be my last. Then I had my friend read -me a letter which the missionary had sent. It -was a letter to the effect that she felt that our -personal feelings should be put aside in order -that she might devote herself to God’s work. -It pleaded that we should bring our correspondence -to an end, in order not to heighten -the tragedy to which the matter had reached. -The words were like knife blades driven deep, -and causing a pain more acute than that physical -pain which had brought me next door to death.</p> - -<p>As the students carried me downstairs and -put me in the carriage, they saw my face contorted -and purple with physical agony.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_269">[269]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak"><i>Chapter XXXI. How Some of<br /> -the Joys of Friendship Came to<br /> -me in the Tower Room. The<br /> -Orator in the White Vest. How<br /> -Soon I Lost my Diploma</i></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">FROM the ether cone which a house -surgeon had held over my nostrils I -breathed unconsciousness and peace. -I awoke in a tower room, with a -semi-circle of bright windows letting -in the morning sun on me, and with a quiet-motioned, -white-capped nurse watching me as -I struggled free from grim dreams and tried -to regain my right mind. The merest turn of -the eyes toward the low windows permitted me -to see the May day outside: a day in which -salmon fishers came in boats up the river and -patiently, skilfully lured giant fish from the -deep waters to their bags.</p> - -<p>The little, bare room was soon colored with -gifts of flowers from friends in my parish, -from my classmates in the Seminary, and from<span class="pagenum" id="Page_270">[270]</span> -the missionary. Letters of consolation and good -cheer, visits from the president of the Seminary, -who told me not to fret about examinations, -because I should graduate, and cheering -minutes with my class friends took the edge -from my suffering. One morning a delegation -of little children came bashfully into the room, -and after standing in a row before me, each -waiting for the other to speak,—for they represented -the children whom I had organized in -the mission church, two years before,—one of -them, a little girl, stepped forward and with a -quick thrust put on my white coverlet a paper -bag, saying:</p> - -<p>“Mr. Priddy, we’re sorry you’re sick and hope -you’ll soon be well. We chipped in for those -and hope you’ll like ’em, please.”</p> - -<p>When they had left the room, the nurse opened -the bag and discovered one half-dozen maximum-ripened -bananas.</p> - -<p>But graduation! Should I be in the hospital -while my classmates enjoyed the festivities, -the sobering joys, the inspiration of that event? -The doctor, who with his trail of a clinic examined -me each morning, had been given a word by -the President, for though a stern man in appearance -and very blunt in speech, he would turn, half -fiercely, in mock ferocity to my nurse and say,</p> - -<p>“This young man <i>must</i> be ready for the sixth -of June. Remember, he is not to be in this -place on that day!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_271">[271]</span>Though he never smiled as he said this; yet -because he said it I imagined him as the best -friend I had ever called friend, for the sixth of -June was the day of graduation!</p> - -<p>From the fragments of news which came to -me, day by day, I knew that the Seminary was -shaping itself for the graduation exercises. The -oral examinations had been held; the visiting -alumni had met for their annual meeting; the -reception, in one of the professors’ homes, had -been given; and on the morrow, in the evening, -my classmates would stand before the pulpit -in the brick church while the President handed -them their diplomas.</p> - -<p>Graduation morning found me shaved, expectant -and nervous, sitting at one of the windows -watching a little girl cruelly strip a tiny sapling -of its first glorious flowers. Suddenly the nurse -came into the room, with a knowing smile, and -said that there was a stranger to see me!</p> - -<p>There followed the scrape of a foot along the -rubber-carpeted corridor and into the room, -dressed in demure black, came the missionary! -She had followed the leading of her heart and -had come down to cheer me on for graduation, -for a strange dream had come to her the night -I had been smitten down, a dream that came -before any news of my illness had reached her, -in which some spirit of warning had whispered -that I was suffering, in danger of my life! Then -the mail had brought her the truth, and there<span class="pagenum" id="Page_272">[272]</span> -she stood before me to share the honors of the -day sympathetically with me.</p> - -<p>By ten o’clock two classmates rattled into -the hospital yard in a carriage; came into my -room, their arms loaded with my best clothes.</p> - -<p>“You’ve got to graduate with us!” they exclaimed. -“We’ve been together through the -years, and we can’t afford to have the line broken -now!”</p> - -<p>One half hour later, supported by them, I -was placed in the carriage and carried triumphantly -to my room in the dormitory, where I -was to remain quiet and patient until evening, -when I should go down to the brick church for -my diploma!</p> - -<p>From the lofty height of my dormitory -window I could look down on the house-tops -of the city and see the hazy hills far, far against -the distant sky-lines. I could also look down -between the veil of elm leaves and see the processions -of visitors and the hurrying forms of -my classmates, as they passed over the tar -walk, under the shady arch of the trees towards -the gymnasium, where a banquet was to be -served in honor of my class.</p> - -<p>There was a clatter outside my door, and the -classmate who had been chosen to deliver the -speech for us in the gymnasium appeared in -my doorway with a hearty,</p> - -<p>“How do I look, Priddy?”</p> - -<p>No groom ever did better with a frock coat,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_273">[273]</span> -a white, flowered vest, a brilliant tie, and neatly -combed hair, and I told him so. He then left -me for the momentous occasion in which he was -to figure after dinner, when he would stand up -at the head of all the tables, strike his pose, and -in his best manner—with an incidental throwing -back of his frock coat to display his grand -white vest—give the felicitations, the thanks, -the hopes, and ideals of our class.</p> - -<p>So I sat apart from the revelry of the day, -with a beating, thankful heart, waiting for the -arrival of evening. After supper a student came -into the room, fitted me into the best collar that -I had, fastened the groomish, white silk tie -skilfully about it, put the golden links into my -new cuffs, and then helped me insert myself -into my new frock coat!</p> - -<p>“There,” he cried, stroking the front of my -coat and then standing back for the effect, “I -think you are ready to be escorted down to the -church by the missionary; she will meet you -in the reception room. Good luck to you, -Priddy!”</p> - -<p>I was so faint that I walked through the great -congregation of visitors and friends as through -a blur. I took my seat in the front of the -church with my classmates and saw only the -array of palms and flowers on the communion -table. I needed to marshal every ounce of nerve -and strength in order to get through the service -without accident. A terrible fear rushed into<span class="pagenum" id="Page_274">[274]</span> -my heart, as my head kept whirling like a top -and leaving me exhausted, a fear that I should -tumble from my seat and spoil the exercises.</p> - -<p>One after another of my classmates crowded -past me, ascended to the pulpit, and delivered -his speech. Next my name on the program, -and the subject of the speech on which I never -wrote, was a star, followed by the note: “Excused -on account of illness.”</p> - -<p>After the addresses, the President came down -from the pulpit throne and we stood lined up -before him, with the vast audience at our backs. -I could not listen to the words of parting that -our mentor gave us, for I felt every minute that -I should tumble back like a stricken ninepin; -bowled over by my insufficient strength. -Sweeps of pain, of cold and heat went through -me like differing winds. Slowly, ever so slowly, -the diplomas were handed us, seeming to take -a day or more, and every minute I felt like -stopping the solemn service and asking to be -allowed to go back to my seat.</p> - -<p>Finally the last of the diplomas were given, -we turned our faces to the congregation, walked -nervously back to our seats, and waited for the -exercises to be concluded.</p> - -<p>The organ thundered its exultant recessional, -the people crowded into the aisles and intercepted -us as we struggled through, seeking out -sweethearts, friends, parents, whose congratulation -we sought first. The missionary was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_275">[275]</span> -waiting for me near an exit door, anxious for -me, as I saw by her face. I had just shown her -my diploma, with its blue silken bow, when -suddenly the Dean tapped me on the shoulder -and politely requested my diploma, saying,</p> - -<p>“You may have it again, Mr. Priddy, -after you have completed your deferred -examinations!”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_276">[276]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak"><i>Chapter XXXII. How, Though<br /> -I was Ready for Service, I was<br /> -Forestalled by a New Trouble,<br /> -and the Very Interesting Plan<br /> -Which Came Out of it</i></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">THEN the reward of the years came -to me: I had my whole time to -give to my parish, I had my home -in the parsonage and a wife—the -“brown-haired young woman”—to -preside over it. Though Evangelical University -had nurtured narrow, dogmatic, and discontented -versions of faith in me, and though -the first months of instruction in the Seminary -had witnessed the destruction of these versions -of faith, finally had come the larger world -of faith, without narrow bounds, with deeper -reaches and a much brighter sky. Like Burner, -I had been called upon to pass through skeptical -valleys, and to climb over high walls -which bruised the spirit, but it was only to -climb to the top of a lofty faith, at last, in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_277">[277]</span> -which I seemed to behold the world of men, -spite of their common sins, tending towards the -central place—God’s garden. I felt that I -could go into the pulpit and preach on themes, -which instead of arousing the hostility of men, -as the doctrine of Evangelical University seemed -destined to do, would by their breadth, optimism, -and freedom from Phariseeism win the -repentant consent of men. I had gone into the -Seminary tutored by Evangelical University to -be afraid to let the sun shine on religion’s chief -doctrines, I had come from the Seminary believing -that the flood of light intensified the beauty -of religion. So, at last, I had the opportunity -of testing on community life this doctrine which -comforted me with an inexpressible comfort. I -bent to my work, with my wife at my elbow, as -proud of my chance as any king called suddenly -from obscurity to a kingdom.</p> - -<p>I occupied a study whose front window overlooked -the trees and gave me an excellent view -of the sailing ships and steamers which dotted -the bay. I had my typewriter in one corner, -my desk in the centre of the room, and an -abundant supply of manuscript paper on which -I intended writing years and years of sermons -for that parish.</p> - -<p>One day, in spring, my wife insisted that I consult -a specialist about a throat affliction which -had been interfering with my parish duties. I -sought one out and had him make a thorough examination<span class="pagenum" id="Page_278">[278]</span> -of me. Gravely he plied his tools and -searched my throat, and gravely he announced,</p> - -<p>“You will have to bring your pastoral work -to an end, sir. Your throat will have to be -cared for. You must go, immediately, to a -dry climate, among the high hills, and use your -throat for a year or two with great economy. -That is all. There is no better remedy.”</p> - -<p>I gazed on him with startled eyes.</p> - -<p>“But I’ve just got settled down,” I insisted. -“I have no money saved. I have just married. -Is there no other remedy?”</p> - -<p>“None,” he replied, “I am sorry to say. -You will have to do as I prescribe or lose your -voice altogether. It is very serious.”</p> - -<p>Late that afternoon I appeared before my -wife. She had been planting some old-fashioned -flowers in the garden. She saw by my downcast -countenance that I had bad news.</p> - -<p>“What has he told you?” she enquired. -“Don’t quibble with me, please!”</p> - -<p>“We’ll have to say good-bye to this place,” -I began, miserably. “It’s all at an end: this -fine dream!”</p> - -<p>“Have to leave?” she echoed, faintly. “Is -that it?”</p> - -<p>Then I reported to her what the specialist -had told me.</p> - -<p>“And we’ve planted the garden!” I concluded. -“We shan’t be able to stay here long enough to -reap it!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_279">[279]</span>There followed some moments of silence, -during which the full shock of the news had time -to hurt her, and then she proved herself to be -one in that sisterhood of wives who in proposing -a comfortable escape from a domestic difficulty -bravely commit themselves to hardships: for -she said, with a smile,</p> - -<p>“There, now, this will give you a chance to -get to college!”</p> - -<p>I looked at her with great astonishment.</p> - -<p>“But we cannot afford to go to college,” I -protested.</p> - -<p>“Oh, can’t we?” she smiled. “Well, I suppose -it may be possible for you to get a little -church to supply near a college, and I will -stay at home through the week, keeping an eye -on the parish work while you study for your -degree.”</p> - -<p>“I had never thought of that!”</p> - -<p>“You will have to be idle if you go to a parish, -you might as well use your time in getting a -college degree,” she insisted.</p> - -<p>In two weeks’ time I had written to the Dean -of an old New England college, of great reputation, -and, on the strength of my seminary study, -was informed that I should be eligible to enter -the junior class at the college the following -fall. With that matter settled, I soon learned -that I might supply a country church, some -miles from the college, and let my wife occupy -the parsonage. The financial end of college<span class="pagenum" id="Page_280">[280]</span> -thus concluded, I resigned from the church: -the church in which all the sentimental ties of -student days, ordination, and marriage were -merged.</p> - -<p>An old seaman came and boxed my household -goods, and as he worked, tried to blunt the sting -of the task by reciting to me in great detail, -how Moses, after becoming the wisest man -among the Egyptians, likewise became the -greatest war general of his time.</p> - -<p>“How is that?” I asked.</p> - -<p>“Well, you see,” said the seaman, “the -’Gyptians was allus goin’ over the sands of the -desert to battle, and the sands of the desert was -filled with biting snakes, and the men died by -whole companies from the glare of the sun, so -Moses, he invented some red umbrellas and -give one to every soldier and took ’em onto -the blazing, snake-ridden floor of the desert. -Result was, when the snakes seen the glaring -umbrellas they was scart off, and the men was -covered from the hot blaze of the sun, and went -into other lands and won big victories under -that same Moses!”</p> - -<p>“Where did you learn that?” I asked, in -great curiosity.</p> - -<p>He mumbled the name of some strange-sounding -history, and then returned to his work, -for which I was paying him twenty cents an -hour. That legend had cost me fifteen cents; -it had taken him a full three-quarters of an<span class="pagenum" id="Page_281">[281]</span> -hour to recount it with its frills and the many -interjections.</p> - -<p>Then my wife and I, feeling like the first man -and woman leaving Eden, bade a tearful good-bye -to the house, to the parish, and went forth -to a new educational adventure, one that would -have its own peculiar hardships, pain, and -pleasures.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_282">[282]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak"><i>Chapter XXXIII. Of a Village<br /> -where Locomotive Whistles<br /> -Sounded like Lingering Music: of<br /> -the Esthetic Possibilities in a College<br /> -Catalogue: of a Journey over<br /> -the Hills to the College where we<br /> -find, besides a Wonderful Array<br /> -of Structures, a Large Room and<br /> -the Junior with his Barnful of<br /> -Furniture</i></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">TO a bird the north New England -hill country whither our adventure -took us might have resembled in -shape a crumpled pie crust. In -one of the depressions lay our new -parish: the horizons high and lifted up by -reason of the hills which girt it closely about. -All the exits from the village were over roads<span class="pagenum" id="Page_283">[283]</span> -that sloped upward. Only the river had an -even course as its shallow body bruised itself -in rushing over the sharp, white rocks which -tried to hold it back.</p> - -<p>The village was composed of groups of neatly -painted cottages branching from an elm-shaded -green around which stood the town buildings: -the drab-painted pillared church, the post-office -and general store, the glaring red brick -townhouse, the mill-like school building, the -parsonage, the doctor’s residence, the postmaster’s -house, and the farm of the first select-man.</p> - -<p>The two fine contributions to the national -reputation that a majority of our parishioners -were sending into the markets, were golden -bars of butter and finely-fed beef. Very -quietly the people were giving themselves to -these tasks, having but little touch with the -great world outside.</p> - -<p>It was difficult for me, in the midst of such -rustic peace and isolated civilization, to realize -that twelve miles back of the hills lay a famous -college whose traditions had gone out into -every part of the country during the century -and a half of its existence. Its name had been -reverently spoken in so far away a place as -Evangelical University. The history of the -United States cannot be written without mention -and eulogy of some of its noted graduates. -During those July days, while we were establishing<span class="pagenum" id="Page_284">[284]</span> -our household goods in the parsonage, -I caught myself sniffing the east wind, as if -eager to slake my curiosity by catching the -flavor of the college. My enthusiasm was unbounded -over the possibility of at last attaining -unto a college education: the trade-mark of -American culture. My wife and I had promised -ourselves to drive over the hills as soon -as the house had been established, so that -together we might have our first view of the -institution and that I might confer with the -dean and arrange my schedule of studies for -the first term. I waited impatiently for that -day to come.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile, during the lulls in house settling, -I took the college catalogue and selected a -course of studies. It was an enticing feast -before which I sat: I felt like a lad having to -choose from fifteen nectar flavors of ice cream, -only the courses of study from which I had -the privilege of choosing went into the hundreds. -Almost every theme of my desire was -spread before me; explorations into literature, -social life, fine arts, science, language, and -economics. Old yearnings could be abundantly -gratified at last: a formidable list of professors -and a more formidable list of studies awaited -my option. Evangelical University had given -me the foundations of an education, the Seminary -had given me the technical knowledge of -my profession, at last I had come to the studies<span class="pagenum" id="Page_285">[285]</span> -that should broaden my outlook, extend my -habits of thought beyond the narrow groove -of my vocation, and link me to the great world-thought. -I put down Italian so that at last -I might, with my own ears, hear Dante speak -to me through his euphonious and inspired -Cantos, and I chose a course in which Goethe -should at last be met face to face. I also determined -to test my theology in a science course -to find out for myself if God and the forces of -Nature were actually engaged in undying warfare. -I chose, also, a course in composition, -which had in it all the lure towards authorship -and the fascination of literary creation. My -technical studies in the Seminary had prepared -me to secure from the college the highest inspiration -I should ever receive from books.</p> - -<p>Early in the month of August, my wife and I -started from the village in a buggy for a drive -over the hill roads to the college. My wife -reminded me, during the drive, of the strangeness -of the situation: of the fact that five years -previously she had received her degree from -her <i>alma mater</i> and that she was now on the way -to witness the matriculation of her husband. -Midway on the route we drove through an -abandoned village, past a once commodious -church, a mill, and several houses, all storm -bent and in forsaken ruin. We rode along -sand-rutted highways which seemed to take -us farther and farther away from living creatures.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_286">[286]</span> -We passed acres and acres of stumps -showing where the axes and saws of woodsmen -had left a permanent scar in the forestry of the -back-roads. Then we emerged on the first -street of a quaint, slumberous town whose green -and drab-shuttered white houses hid demurely -behind screens of elm and of maple. On the -outskirts of this village we found ourselves on a -sandy plain which sloped down towards a wide -river. On the opposite bank, set like gleaming -red and white flowers in a bed of green, were -towers, windows, houses, chimneys: acres of -them, a mile distant, scattered over a narrow -elevated plain behind which rolled hills far -to the North, to the East and to the South, -their sky-lines lost in clouds.</p> - -<p>“It’s the college!” I exclaimed, dropping the -reins for further, excited contemplation. The -patches of red and the hundreds of gleaming, -sun-blazing windows, were dormitories and academic -halls. The white blotches were innumerable -houses surrounding the college buildings. -One had to pick them out from the lavish -clusters of shade trees whose leaves left cool, -dark shadows on the buildings.</p> - -<p>Fifteen minutes later our horse had dragged -us toilsomely up a steep roadway on either side -of which were a few scattered houses, the outposts -of the college town, and brought us right -into the midst of the college campus itself, a -very green oasis surrounded by a hollow square<span class="pagenum" id="Page_287">[287]</span> -of college structures. Yes, the Fence was there, -a double line of it with the grass worn off where -Seniors’ sacred feet had rubbed! just as in my -boyish speculations I had always conceived a -college with its Fence. Very near the green, -too, lay a solid stone sarcophagus of a drinking -fountain: just the sort which, in my boyish -speculations and boyish reading, I had seen used -for the baths of recalcitrant Freshmen and too -obtrusive Sophomores. Over on the north -side a snow-white meeting-house fronted us with -a stiff, proud chest, and with its hexagonal -bell-tower rising above the roof like the smoke-stack -of a railway engine, made one expect to see -it start puffing forward over the campus, with -a very tiny, Greek-pillared vestry accompanying -it, like a colt engine, destined, sometime -later, perhaps, to grow into a meeting-house, -like its companion. Across the street from -where we had entered stood a brick tavern, -under whose canopy an old coach waited -equipped with glass doors, outside seats, and -with thick leather straps to keep the pliant -springs from sending the body of the coach -leaping off the wheels at the “thank-you-ma’ams.” -To the left we discovered a huge -square brick structure with a fenced-in roof -faced by a spacious walled-in porch, with pillar-supported -roof which, we learned, was the -combined college club and commons.</p> - -<p>Screened by the arching trees and massed in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_288">[288]</span> -companies of twos and threes, fives and sixes, -were recitation halls, a Renaissance museum, -a stone chapel, a power house, numerous dormitories, -a snow-white observatory, a gymnasium, -and last, a stone tower crowning a knoll -and dominating the campus.</p> - -<p>The dean gave me my papers, approved my -courses of studies, and then sent my wife and -me on an inspection of available dormitory -rooms, for I should have to reside at the college -six days out of seven.</p> - -<p>After the penury of Evangelical University -and the quaint compactness of the Seminary, -the broad acres, costly, comfortable buildings -and lavish size of the college gripped my -imagination. We threaded our way past a set -of dormitories, through a wooded road, and -entered a rustic park where Commencement -festivities were held every June. We passed -sedate rows of professorial residences fronted -by hedges and smooth-clipped lawns. Over to -the south we viewed a fenced-in athletic field; -a mass of green with ovals and straightaways -of black cinders, and with bleachers and a -grandstand at one end: the place where, fully -as much as in the college buildings, the culture -of youth went on: the culture of health, of -muscular skill, and of moral temper.</p> - -<p>A janitor—a young man with a broad forehead -and gentle ways—extracted a bunch of -keys and showed us into a very old dormitory<span class="pagenum" id="Page_289">[289]</span> -where were single rooms, double rooms, quadruple -and sextuple rooms; according to taste, -but no room which met with my approval, -especially when the dormitory bore such a -sinister name as Demon Cottage, a corruption -of Damon Cottage. The janitor, who turned -out to be, himself, a graduate of the college, on -learning that I was an aspirant for the ministry, -promptly advised me to examine a room in the -Christian Association building. This we did, -and when he had guided my wife and me up -three flights of stairs and thrown open the door -of a massive, square room, with shop windows -for light, I said,</p> - -<p>“Isn’t this the college Socialistic Hall, or the -band practise chamber?”</p> - -<p>“No, this is merely a double, dormitory -room,” he admitted. “Sixty dollars a year -for each occupant with an extra bedroom over -there and an enormous storeroom through that -door.”</p> - -<p>“Well,” I concluded, after some discussion, -“a flat-full of furniture would hardly furnish -the center of the room, but there’s sure to be a -good circulation of air, and that is important. -I think I’d better take it.”</p> - -<p>When we returned to the campus we discovered -a group of canvas-clad students punting -a football while a group of Freshmen, with -eyes bulging out of their heads, looked on in -worshipful wonder, for Ellis, Barton, and Chipman,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_290">[290]</span> -three of the Varsity team, were in the -advance guard of athletes engaged in early -practise.</p> - -<p>The janitor had sent us to “Durritt’s Barn” -where, he informed us, we should be able to -pick up a team load of dormitory furniture at -second-hand for very little money. “Durritt’s -Barn” was actually a barn attached to a pleasant -little house which had been transformed, by a -very energetic Junior, into a second-hand furniture -store. The Junior, whose name I learned -was Garden, presented himself from behind a -bewildering mass of dusty rugs, topsy-turvy -mission chairs, and sectional book shelves, and -picked his way to us through a narrow aisle -made by massed heaps of bedsteads, mattresses, -chiffoniers, tables, and desks. When -we expressed amazement at his business audacity -in having such a mass of second-hand -furnishings on his hands, he informed us that -we had not seen it all and then he led us up a -stairway to the loft where we discovered another -heaped up mass of material.</p> - -<p>“I shall have it all sold by the time college -has opened,” said the Junior. “In fact, I shall -not have enough for the demand.”</p> - -<p>“Where do you get the furniture?” demanded -my wife.</p> - -<p>“From the Seniors,” replied Garden. “They -sell it for next to nothing during Commencement. -It is a profitable business—while it<span class="pagenum" id="Page_291">[291]</span> -lasts. It gives me an excellent chance for earning -my way through the college. Now, how -would that iron bedstead suit you, for your -room, Mr. Priddy, and that felt mattress, -which goes with it: three dollars for the whole?”</p> - -<p>After informing him that he did not have in -his stock a rug expansive enough to cover the -floor of my spacious apartment in Association -Hall, we compromised on a very limp, red -carpet rug which would resemble a bandanna -handkerchief when spread out on my room -floor, but which was actually the broadest floor -covering I could purchase. A half hour later -I paid twelve dollars and a quarter for the bed, -the rug, a chair, a small book shelf, and a tied-together -chiffonier with most of its brass handles -missing.</p> - -<p>After having left the moving of the furniture -in the hands of Garden, my wife and I were -once more driving over those lonesome, sandy, -rutted roads, in the midst of the profound -silences of remote civilization. Again we passed -through the deserted village. Two hours later -we were back in the parsonage ready, next, to -pack my trunk preparatory to the opening of -college.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_292">[292]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak"><i>Chapter XXXIV. My Wife<br /> -Packs me off to College. The<br /> -Senior and I Stop at a Rock<br /> -for a Drink, Meet the Advance<br /> -Guard of Students, Plunge into a<br /> -Bedlam, and Witness the Labors<br /> -of the Freshmen. The Finger-study<br /> -of Quarles and my Apology Given<br /> -to the Retired Medical Man who<br /> -was Specializing in Hens</i></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">“HERE I am, in our honeymoon year, -packing you off to college,” commented -my wife, as she folded -some towels and handed them to -me to put in my trunk. “It takes -me back to the day when my mother did it for -me.”</p> - -<p>“And you’re to have the hard end of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_293">[293]</span> -business,” I replied, “staying in this house -alone and keeping an eye on the parish. Not -much of a honeymoon to that through the long, -winter days, while I am in the swirl of college -events, with all the fellowship one can desire.”</p> - -<p>“But there’ll be holidays and Saturdays at -home, for you,” she answered. “I shall see -you once a week at least, for you will have -to preach here every Sunday. We’re working -together, now,” she added, quietly. “If there’s -any suffering, any hardship, any self-denial involved, -I am willing to undergo it, else I would -not have married you!”</p> - -<p>In her voice ran an undertone of tragic feeling -and for the first time I began dimly to -realize, in the midst of my own opportunity -for a college education, that in this little home, -back over the hills, my wife would be waiting, -and waiting, through the long hours of the -day and night, for the two years’ study to be -at an end: the study which would break up our -home and separate us during the first days of -our married life. I vowed then to give it all up: -to plunge into the pastoral work: to send word -to the college dean that he must not expect me.</p> - -<p>“No, not that: not that!” protested my wife. -“It is your chance, take it!”</p> - -<p>As I descended from my pulpit the following -Sunday morning, I was introduced to a quiet -youth who was recommended to me as a Senior -in the college. That afternoon my new<span class="pagenum" id="Page_294">[294]</span> -acquaintance came down to the parsonage and -willingly permitted me, in my curiosity, to -question him concerning the traditions, the -customs, and the personnel of the college. I -asked him some very trivial and laughable -questions, I remember, because, at the time, -I had some very curious and perhaps too -exalted notions concerning colleges, especially -colleges of the high standard of the one in -which I had just matriculated and to which I -was to journey on the morrow.</p> - -<p>After our conversation, the Senior promised -to call for me next day and escort me to the -college: a proffer which I was glad to accept.</p> - -<p>That September Monday morning was a very -pleasant one in the Northern country. The -maple groves on the hill slopes made one think -that God had let fall his color pots, for the -leaves of the trees flamed with reds, with -yellows, and with blacks. The mail wagon -drove up to the parsonage door and collected -myself, the Senior, and my trunk. My wife -stood at the door telling me not to forget this -and that, with true motherly solicitude. Then, -with a dash through the dust, the wagon wheeled -us on our way across the river to the train -that should carry us to within four miles of -college.</p> - -<p>The Senior said, as we changed at a junction,</p> - -<p>“The train that will get us to college does -not go for some hours. Are you fit for a four-mile<span class="pagenum" id="Page_295">[295]</span> -walk? We can eat lunch on the way. I -have some in my suit-case.”</p> - -<p>I agreed that I was ready for the walk, so we -left the town precincts by walking through a -lumber yard.</p> - -<p>Our travel took us over a cinder path between -the ties and switch rods of a railroad. At the -right, far below us, flowed a very wide and swift -river, whose surface twinkled through the shields -of pine and white birch which lined the bluff. -Here we met several young men walking slowly -and engaged in earnest conversation.</p> - -<p>“Those are students!” the Senior whispered, -“out for a walk.”</p> - -<p>When some mill whistles at a remote distance -announced the noon hour, the Senior conducted -me to a grove of stiff, tall pines where on the -brown, fragrant needles he spread a lunch of -sandwiches, jelly, and pears.</p> - -<p>Then we took up the walk again, passing on -into the wilderness of trees and rushing river. -At a turn in the track we came to a high cliff -whose outer surface was stained with moss and -glistened with dampness. The Senior stopped -before a niche out of whose cool interior spouted -a stream of ice-cold water, bringing to mind -the rock which Moses struck with his wand and -which slaked the thirst of the children of Israel.</p> - -<p>“Nearly every student who passes this way,” -the Senior announced, “gets a drink of this -water.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_296">[296]</span>Ten minutes later we walked into the station -and I was amazed at the heaps of trunks that -covered the platform. Drays were doing their -best to reduce the pile by carting them away -in enormous loads. As we made our way -around the trunks there dashed into the station -one of the coaches I had seen near the tavern -on my previous visit; this time topped by a -group of healthy-faced, shouting students, wearing -tan shoes, flannel trousers, and flapping caps -such as clowns, in the circus rings, wear with -such comical effect. This coach was quickly followed -by another, similarly loaded with students -come down to greet the arrival of classmates -and friends.</p> - -<p>At last I was able to realize the task that was -on my hands if I were to fit into the college life, -for scores of students passed us or trailed after -us as the Senior and I walked up the hill. How -should I ever succeed in remembering their -names, in entering into the acquaintance of a -small number of all those students? And the -trains were bringing more!</p> - -<p>On top of the hill, just before entering the -campus, some fraternity houses, lavishly appointed, -had their verandahs filled with students, -singing snatches of songs and bantering one -another. Then there flashed into view again, -the campus and the business street, only on -this occasion it was a far different campus and -a very different business street from what I<span class="pagenum" id="Page_297">[297]</span> -had seen on my previous visit. The sidewalks -were thronged with students, some leaning -against shop windows, others sitting on -steps, while others roamed along engaged in -conversation. On the campus, keeping to the -paths, were groups of Freshmen walking timidly -enough past Sophomores in sweaters and negligee -attire and past Seniors in graver dress and -mien. On the front lawn of a dormitory four -neatly-dressed youths were beating rugs and -as their energetic actions continued they were -half smothered in the clouds of dust.</p> - -<p>“I should imagine that they would don -rougher clothes while they dust rugs,” I commented -to the Senior.</p> - -<p>My companion smiled, knowingly,</p> - -<p>“They have no chance to change clothes,” -he replied. “They are Freshmen which some -of the upper-classmen have picked up from the -campus and compelled to do that work. It will -be the Freshmen’s turn, next year, however, so -that it isn’t much of an imposition. Now you’ll -see some fun. Watch that football man with -the sweater!”</p> - -<p>The football man in the sweater had come -out of the dormitory and had gone over to the -Freshman who was working more energetically -than his fellows, and said to him,</p> - -<p>“Say, Freshie, what’re you sleeping on the -job like that for, eh? Do you want the Sophs. -to give you a black mark so soon?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_298">[298]</span>He glared with mock savagery at the bewildered -Freshman, who replied,</p> - -<p>“Please sir, I am working very hard, sir!”</p> - -<p>“If you call that work, then,” stormed the -football man, “I wonder what you do when you -loaf? Die probably, eh?”</p> - -<p>“I thought, sir—” persisted the Freshman, -but he was cut short by the football man who -said,</p> - -<p>“Just carry that up to my room, put it -straight, set the furniture in place, and then go -to work and copy those marked extracts from -the coach’s note-book which you’ll find on the -desk. Hurry and have it done in two hours’ -time!”</p> - -<p>As the football man ended those savage -orders, he turned away with an amused smile -and as he came towards us he winked and said -to the Senior,</p> - -<p>“That young cuss’s got the making of a fine -kid in him, even if he is the son of a several -hundred thousand dollar Senator. Just watch -him make the dust fly! Ain’t he a peacherino, -though!”</p> - -<p>The Senior informed me, after the football -man had strolled away, that the fagging was in -full force just then and that the Freshmen took -it in good humor, and, in fact, would have considered -themselves not actually at college had -that feature been omitted.</p> - -<p>The different noises that filled the air made a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_299">[299]</span> -Babel. From dormitory windows came shouts, -cornet practise, and various moanings which, -at a quieter time, would have been differentiated -as vocal trios and duets. Down the business -street, from the upper floors where some of the -fraternities had rooms, the sounds of clanging -piano rag-time tried to merge with explosive -bellowings of happy, singing fraternity men. -On the College Club porch a jostling crowd of -students could be seen, shaking hands, telling -summer experiences, and knocking chairs about -in the anxiety to get at one another. The shop -windows were gay with college banners, souvenirs, -books, picture cards, college photographs, -and sporting goods.</p> - -<p>I found the furniture I had purchased from -Garden heaped before my door and a half hour -later I had it scattered lonesomely over the floor -of my large room. From my open window I -could look down on the stir of life on the campus. -Night deepened, and with it came an increase, -rather than a quieting of the noises, as if Youth -were bound to have one last, gleesome frolic -before the sedate masters of Books curbed their -liberties. In the darkness of the night, sitting -at the window, exactly as I had done at Evangelical -University six years previously, I had an -alien feeling as I listened to the sounds which -soared up to my ears from the gloom below. -Demon yells, demon howls of acute misery, -throbbings of mandolin strings, the hoarse tooting<span class="pagenum" id="Page_300">[300]</span> -of a fish horn, a piercing falsetto voice under -my window trying to sing,</p> - -<p class="center">“O, O, O! Dear, dear old days, love!”</p> - -<p>the clanging of a hand bell and intermittent revolver -shots. These were only a few of all the -riot of sounds spreading through the night air, -over the campus and bursting out of the dormitory -windows on every side of me. While I sat -wondering how a hundred or so of faculty could -ever bring seriousness out of such a chaos of -youthful energy, I heard a chug underneath my -window as a truckman hurled a trunk to the -sidewalk: my trunk. Immediately I went on -the campus, discovered two Freshmen, and -with all the abandon of a Junior that I could -muster for the occasion, I coolly invited them -to assist me in carrying the heavily loaded -trunk up the three flights of stairs. So conformed -to the fagging custom were the Freshmen, -that when one of them unfortunately -sliced his finger on a loose nail and I commiserated -him on it, he said, keeping his grip -on the trunk, meanwhile,</p> - -<p>“Nothing at all, sir. Nothing at all.”</p> - -<p>Next morning the trio of bell chimes, in the -tower of the college chapel, hurled clanging, -throbbing scales-of-three over the quiet campus. -Immediately from the doorways of dormitories, -boarding clubs, and the Commons, appeared -chatting groups of students who took the paths<span class="pagenum" id="Page_301">[301]</span> -across the campus towards the first chapel service. -From the North, the South, the East and -the West they hurried; hundreds and hundreds -of well-dressed youths, arm in arm or four and -five abreast as they walked.</p> - -<p>The choir, transepts and gallery were soon -crowded, almost to suffocation. The morning -sun in trying to break through the windows -into the dimness merely glorified the pictured -saints, and prophets, shepherds and sheep. -The gowned organist played a part of the grand -finale of The Pilgrim’s Chorus. The gowned -figure of the President arose and stood silent a -second while a wave of reverent stillness swept -through the chapel. Scripture followed hymn, -and a simple prayer was followed by a general -confession. Then the organ burst into a triumphant -recessional, and the students noisily -crowded down the aisles into the open air. The -day’s work was begun, having had invoked on -it the blessing from the Author of all Truth, -and the Creator of that World which throughout -the days and years, has had such fascination -for students and professors, of Science, of -Art and Faith.</p> - -<p>In the confusion of the multitude of students, -most of them strangers to me, I felt the futility -of my social ambitions. In Evangelical University -and in the theological seminary I had -been in the midst of small groups of students, -whose names, characteristics and acquaintance<span class="pagenum" id="Page_302">[302]</span> -could be compassed in a few short weeks. -But the vast procession of young men which -blackened the greensward of the campus that -morning dismayed me. It seemed that mere -hand-shaking and saying to each individual -member of it, “I am glad to know you!” would -demand months and months of time. It was -a new experience, too, after the simple democracy -in my previous schools, to have those -who were my classmates and college associates, -pass me without a word of morning greeting, -without a lift of the eyes.</p> - -<p>But that was only the first day!</p> - -<p>The second morning, as I sat in the chapel, -I chanced to have my attention attracted by a -curious fingering of paper. It was the student -next to me who had some blank sheets of paper -in his hands which he shuffled intermittently and -over which he kept passing the ball of his forefinger. -The organ had not ceased its prelude, -and the students had not ceased entering the -chapel, so I paid a stricter attention to the -strange recreation of my companion. Though -he shuffled his blank papers with great skill -and fingered their surfaces with scientific regularity, -his eyes—wide, staring ones,—were -kept fixed on the President’s pulpit—never -once did they turn on my inquisitiveness or -towards the papers.</p> - -<p>One of the students then slipped by me and -took a vacant seat next to this shuffler of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_303">[303]</span> -papers. As soon as he was seated, however, he -bent forward and said, to me,</p> - -<p>“Your name’s Priddy, isn’t it? I’m Sanderson, -the monitor who keeps the attendance of -this section. By the way, have you met -Quarles? Quarles,” he said to the student -who was shuffling the papers, “meet Priddy, -your classmate!” Quarles, without taking his -eyes from their fixed stare on the President’s -pulpit, extended me his hand, and said, in a -very quiet voice,</p> - -<p>“I’m glad to meet you, Priddy! I’m blind, -as you probably know.”</p> - -<p>I expressed my amazement that he should -be in college.</p> - -<p>“Oh,” Sanderson exclaimed, “it doesn’t seem -to bother him any. I notice that he’s getting -on for Phi Beta Kappa. He makes us hump!”</p> - -<p>“Then you are able to take the regular -studies!” I gasped.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said Quarles, “the regular studies!”</p> - -<p>“Of course,” I went on, “you omit mathematics, -languages, and such things!”</p> - -<p>“Why should I, Priddy?” asked Quarles -turning toward me his expressionless eyes.</p> - -<p>“Well, I really don’t see how you can manage—those -subjects,” I explained.</p> - -<p>“He manages all right,” interrupted Sanderson, -“why, Priddy, he’s taken nineties in calculus, -French and German and Greek, and is -right there when it comes to such graft courses,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_304">[304]</span> -as philosophy and English! Oh, you don’t -need to pity him: rather pity me, who with my -eyesight, am hardly able to pull through Fine -Arts One!”</p> - -<p>Quarles then explained to me how, before -taking his courses, he had a student read to -him the complete text which he translated into -Braille with his blind-writing apparatus, on -sheets of paper. He also used the same instrument, -almost as quickly as we, with our sight, -would use our pencils in the professor’s lectures. -The leaves he had been shuffling that morning, -formed a reading lesson in French.</p> - -<p>Everybody was the friend of Quarles. He -would be groping his way alone over a path to a -class but a brief moment, for a student, playing -ball, nearby would signal to his comrade, who -would hold the ball, and then, throwing down his -glove would hurry over, have a cheery word of -greeting, ask Quarles whither he was bound, link -arms with the blind student and guide him -into a path where he could find his own way -without need of piloting. In this way, Quarles -must have felt the arm of nearly every upper-classman, -for not only were they willing to -straighten out his walks for him, and read to -him, but they also took him with them on -excursions, which he shared with excellent comradeship -and proved to be as good a mountain -climber as the best.</p> - -<p>In this way, too, through walks, at meals, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_305">[305]</span> -in classes, I soon had the students differentiated -and had a formidable list of friendships.</p> - -<p>It was my custom, throughout the fall months -when the highways were hard and untouched -by snow, to ride weekly to and from college -on a bicycle which I had bought for that purpose. -On this twenty-mile excursion, along a -winding river and through quiet, little hamlets, -I had certain resting-places where I could breathe -and refresh myself with a sup of water.</p> - -<p>Doctor Floyd’s well, conveniently near the -highway at the summit of a steep grade, had -also a rustic bench near it, from which a most -gratifying vista could be obtained, which included -the view of a pyramidal mountain cone -framed in a circular opening of twinkling poplar -leaves, at whose foot a silvery dash of river -curved under high, bush-lined banks, with now -and then a cow or a colt completing the composition -by standing in the river.</p> - -<p>The Doctor, himself, whose permission to -drink of the water and to seat myself on the -bench for a rest I had taken pains to secure, -was a short, stout, bald-headed man of about -sixty, whose clean-shaven cheeks were always -flushed by an excess of blood. He had retired -from active practise and was engaged in the -delightful, old age recreation of seeing how many -eggs he could persuade a harem of Plymouth -Rocks to lay through a most careful, scientific -mixture of laying foods, use of germless drinking<span class="pagenum" id="Page_306">[306]</span> -troughs, and adaptation to an expensive -mode of existence.</p> - -<p>One Saturday noon, as I sat on the bench -puffing for breath, for the day was both dusty -and hot, the Doctor, with the egg record for -the week in his hands, which he came down to -show me, sat down on the bench and said,</p> - -<p>“Well, do those wild students know what they -are in college for?”</p> - -<p>“What do you mean?” I asked, puzzled by -his sneer.</p> - -<p>“Usually,” he explained, “more’n half of the -students in the college over there don’t know -why they’re there!”</p> - -<p>“Oh,” I said, “there are a great number of -my friends who are not certain what they are -going to do in the world, after graduation, if -that is what you mean, Doctor.”</p> - -<p>He rubbed his fat hands in revengeful -gratification.</p> - -<p>“That’s just it! Just it!” he laughed, cynically. -“It’s all a waste of good money and -precious time. There’s no good can come of it. -They don’t take their studies seriously enough. -Let me see, how many subjects does a student -have to select from under that new-fangled -election system they have—study made easy, -I call it—how many, now?”</p> - -<p>“I think there must be in the neighborhood -of a hundred different courses, a majority of -which are elective, so far I know.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_307">[307]</span>“And the young lazybones pick out the -easiest courses they can, independent of the -good it’ll do ’em, eh?”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps they do,” I replied, antagonized by -his critical and belligerent tone. “But then, I -don’t believe that a liberal education: a college -course, has to do merely with giving a student a -lot of technical information!”</p> - -<p>The little man fussily remonstrated.</p> - -<p>“What? I thought that colleges were in the -world to fit men for their work, and that if -they’re to be doctors, why, they’re to be taught -medicine and nothing else!”</p> - -<p>“That is the function of professional schools,” -I agreed. “Take my case, for instance. I am a -minister. I spent three years in a good theological -seminary. While there I wanted technical -information on my profession. I got it, and -assimilated more or less—perhaps less. But -when I came to college I did not come to add to -my technical theological knowledge; not at all!”</p> - -<p>“What did you come for, then,” he asked, -with another sneer, “to get the degree, I suppose, -like a lot of others?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t think you give me credit for being a -man of ordinary intelligence,” I replied, hotly, -angered by his insinuation.</p> - -<p>“Then what under heaven did you come to -college for, if not to increase your theological -information and whatever ability you might -have as a preacher.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_308">[308]</span>“I came to college,” I replied, “to get the -other man’s point of view. I reasoned with -myself that a purely technical education tends -to narrow a man unless supplemented by an -education which might be entitled, ‘The Other -Man’s Point of View.’”</p> - -<p>“That’s a thrust at me,” replied the Doctor, -“as if to say that I, because I took my medicine -with old Dr. Desbrow, and never went to one -of your colleges, was narrow. The idea!”</p> - -<p>“I was not alluding to you, sir,” I responded. -“I was merely making a generalization which -seems provable. For instance, I have a friend -who is an expert surgeon. He has been trained -in some of the best clinics and has diplomas -from the most reputable medical colleges. He -has learned his profession well, in all its finer, -technical points. But he never received any -liberal education. The result is, that he is -narrow in his tastes, caring for nothing which -is not flavored by anaesthetics or redolent of -carbolic acid. As there are among his friends -those whose stomachs turn at the mention of an -operation or at the whisper of anaesthetics, he -has no way of interesting them on subjects in -which they are interested. He imagines that -because all the world is not poking steel points -in ulcers and cancers, it had better be left -alone. The result is, that when you mention -the surgeon’s name to the townsfolk, you will -hear words like these: ‘A fine surgeon, but as<span class="pagenum" id="Page_309">[309]</span> -cranky and bitter as a hobby-rider.’ No one -can get along with him. He loses business by -it. He knows nothing but his profession!”</p> - -<p>“Well,” demanded the doctor, “that’s a job -big enough for any man with brains, isn’t it?”</p> - -<p>“True,” I responded, “but the truly <i>educated</i> -surgeon has not only to know his tools, his -diagnoses, his operating methods, but along -with that knowledge, his final success demands -that he be liberally trained in human nature, -that he have at least a faint idea of the subjects -in which other people are interested. A liberal -education, added to his professional education -gives him that.”</p> - -<p>“I’d like to know how?” demanded the -Doctor.</p> - -<p>“Well, take my case again, for instance. I -am going to take a lot of studies which are not -technically pertinent to sermons or doctrines: -study of Dutch paintings, Italian, Chemistry, -Anatomy of the Brain and Sense Organs, and -others which I can’t mention at this time, because -I have not decided just what they will be. -Here is what I mean. After an introductory -study of Italian, I shall learn just how the -Italians think. It is good to know that, surely? -Then after a brief course in chemistry, though I -shall not care enough about it when I am through -with the experiments, to carry off a test tube, tie -it with baby ribbon and keep it for a souvenir, as -some students do, I shall ever after realize that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_310">[310]</span> -while I am swearing by theology, others, about -me, have reason for being engrossed in chemical -formulas and tests. Each study that I shall -take, and each classroom that I shall visit, -will form opportunities for me to get at the -points of view which determine why Tom -differs from Joe and why Joe differs from me. -If the college can do that, Doctor, and not add -a single jot to my theological knowledge, I -shall feel more than repaid for the time I spend -in it and the money I pay to it. So that is -why I don’t think it either wasted time or an -entirely hopeless situation, Doctor, if a large -number of students in the college do not know -why they are there. One thing is certain, they -are getting trained in the other man’s point of -view!”</p> - -<p>The Doctor, evidently not at all in agreement -with my explanation, after he had pooh-poohed -to himself for a minute, thought to -change the subject and for that purpose he said -to me,</p> - -<p>“I rather pity you, young man. I always -did pity ministers. They don’t seem to do -anything substantial; that’s why I don’t go -near a church. It’s all up-in-the-air preaching, -and darned little doing. Now, keeping pullets -or mixing a sick draught—why, they are something -worth while, now—but preaching and -preachers—um!”</p> - -<p>“The other man’s point of view, Doctor,” I<span class="pagenum" id="Page_311">[311]</span> -laughed, as I mounted my wheel and started -off.</p> - -<p>A week later, the Doctor came out of the -house, when I stopped at the well, and as he -drew near he shouted,</p> - -<p>“I drove over to the college, last Wednesday. -What a lazy set of loafers you’ve got over there, -to be sure. I was there in the afternoon and -saw them reading papers, strolling around the -campus and playing all sorts of games. I don’t -think they’ll amount to much in the world if -they go on at that rate. They seem so aimless! -I heard one fellow, with turned up trousers and -purple socks that would have given light at -night, say to another student, something about -throwing books and professors to the dogs—or -some such stuff!”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” I admitted, “I hear that every day. -I know a good many students who care little -about classes and text books.”</p> - -<p>The doctor, evidently gratified with that -admission grunted,</p> - -<p>“Then what’s the good of the college—to -them. Why doesn’t it send them into the world -to be useful?”</p> - -<p>“That’s what a good many people say, about -us students,” I replied. “But books and professors -and courses of study are only a part of -what a student gets in our college, sir. It’s a -very peculiar situation. I’m older than most -of the students, and have had the advantage<span class="pagenum" id="Page_312">[312]</span> -of a professional training, and so can look on -the college through somewhat serious eyes. -You would be astounded, for instance, at the -tremendous education that the men receive -from purely student affairs.”</p> - -<p>“Going into the country, when the football -team’s won over Princeton, for instance,” sniffed -the Doctor, “and tearing down farm fences! -Oh, yes, a wonderful education in student -affairs? Like one of your boys that came into -this village, and in broad daylight went up to -the grocery store, there, on the main street, -and deliberately took down and carried off a -four-foot, patent-medicine thermometer, the -folks all the while thinking him to be an agent -fellow, come to mend it, or change it. Oh, yes, -a wonderful education those fellows get among -themselves!”</p> - -<p>After the old man had frightened one of his -pullets back into the rear of the house, I replied,</p> - -<p>“No, I didn’t refer to isolated acts of mischief, -Doctor, but to the student enterprises that -create ability. Our college is nothing more than -wheels within wheels. There are professors -and classroom studies for the big, outside wheels, -and for the inner wheels, whirling all the time, -are the college newspaper, the college magazine, -the athletic business, the writing and staging -of plays, the dramatic clubs, the musical clubs, -the social service enterprises, the political clubs -and the religious work. Why, Doctor, those<span class="pagenum" id="Page_313">[313]</span> -students conduct all those things practically -without help from outsiders. You would be -astounded at the amount of executive and -administrative ability they demand. The students -who run the monthly magazine, for instance, -must be good editors, fair writers, and -managers of astuteness, for it has to pay for -itself, at least, and must express literary power. -It is the same with the newspaper. That is a -business in itself, yet, it is managed, financed -and edited entirely by students, many of whom -find it difficult to get interested in the routine -of the college curriculum. When you multiply -these business and serious activities, you find -the students actually doing profitable and -character-forming tasks outside of the classrooms -which few critics of the college take the -trouble to notice. Why, it was only a week -ago, that a student came into my room and had -a talk with me about a new college enterprise -that seemed formidable. He was a student who -did not care five toothpicks for his studies. -He was in difficulties with his physics course, -at the time, having failed in it twice, and seeming -to be letting his third and last chance -for his degree slip past without giving it a -thought. The people on the campus, and the -professors in the classrooms appraised this -fellow as a ‘loafer’ and an ‘idler.’ Yet, that -morning he came to me and said that he proposed -to start a comic monthly, at ten cents a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_314">[314]</span> -copy, himself to be editor-in-chief, and the jokes, -poems, pictures, designs, the securing of advertisement -and subscribers, to be under his -general charge and apportioned to willing students. -He went off for two days, at his own -expense, secured over a hundred dollars’ worth -of advertising, and only last week had newsboys -selling on the campus a first-class, neatly -printed, well-filled, artistically illustrated comic -monthly, which, by this time has its regular -staff of student artists, poets, joke writers, -business managers, and board of editors; it’s -a paper which promises to be one of the features -of student life. No, Doctor,” I concluded as I -felt of my tires, preparatory to taking up my -journey towards home, “students may seem -shiftless, indifferent, and unenthusiastic on the -campus, but when you get behind the laziest -of them you are liable to find that they are giving -themselves to some sort of character-making -work,—contrary to the posters which lead outsiders -to think that college life consists of a -place where the student sits in the sun on a -fence, smoking a pipe with a leashed bull-pup -at his feet!”</p> - -<p>“Say,” called the Doctor, as I fitted the toe -clips to my shoes, “my pullets did a hundred -and sixty this week. Laying,—eh?”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_315">[315]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak"><i>Chapter XXXV. Hot-Popovers<br /> -and a Cold Watch in the Station.<br /> -The Sleigh-load of Talent</i></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">WHEN the winter storms piled the -river highway with snowdrifts, I -had to put aside my bicycle and -use the railway trains. This -made it necessary for me to -leave my home on the Sunday midnight -train that I might be ready for my classes at -college, on Monday morning. In that northern -part of New England what storms could grip -the land and put a stop to train traffic and -cartage! One of my parishioners showed me, -for my comfort possibly, an actual photograph -of a drift of snow so high that a liberal load of -hay on a wagon stood on a level with it, when a -gap was dug through. I had packed fir boughs -around the parsonage cellar wall, and that was -soon covered with the drifts; even the window -sills were reached by the snow at last. As for -the crumpled hills surrounding the village, their -lonely, hurricane-swept crests,—with the stick-like -birches bending away from the north like<span class="pagenum" id="Page_316">[316]</span> -timid creatures afraid to stand up, day by day, -against those icy assaults,—presented a wild, -dismal picture of winter’s fury.</p> - -<p>My custom was, during those months, to -arrive home on the Saturday afternoon train -and immediately set to work splitting the maple -blocks of wood into convenient fire-wood and -stacking a week’s supply in the kitchen wood-box, -while my wife held a meeting with the -children of the parish in the parlor. Then on -Sunday, I would preach two sermons. I had -to wear my overshoes in the evening on account -of the chill in which the vestry was always -wrapped. After this service, my wife would -have the supper table spread with preserved -pears, hot pop-overs and cocoa. We would -linger over this meal, the last I should have -at home for a week, and keeping a sharp eye -on the clock. At the first announcement of -ten o’clock, the lantern would be lighted and -the words of farewell be given at the door. -Then out into the dark misery of the night, with -my lantern flickering my shadow over the houses, -and my wife’s lonesome sigh echoing in my heart, -I would creep through the storms of swirling -snow, which wet my hot cheeks, pass over the -quiet bridge to the opposite side of the river -and climb up a steep road until the silent, -isolated station was reached. Across the river -I could see the dark outlines of the village, and -in the midst of it, a golden point of light: the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_317">[317]</span> -light of my home. The train was due at half-past -ten, but it was never on time and so I had -long waits. The station-master left the station -dark on Sunday evenings. He gave me a key -with which I unlocked the door and was able to -keep warm while waiting. After having lighted -the swinging lamp, I would produce a book and -let the slow minutes pass until the late train -screamed around the corner, as if angry with -itself for its slow progress between stations. On -the first sound of the whistle, it would be a -wild scramble to quench the light, lock the -door, and rush out to the train before it pulled -out from the station.</p> - -<p>An hour later the train would draw into the -terminus and leave me stranded, four miles -away from my dormitory. Then I had to cross -over to the hotel, engage one of the rooms and -try to sleep till half-past five the next morning; -if sleep were possible with such a screaming of -freight-train whistles, and such a bumping of -shifting engines as prevailed through the small -hours of the night.</p> - -<p>At eight o’clock the following morning, eyelids -leaden with loss of sleep and my body -weakened through lack of rest, and an inadequate -breakfast, I would commence the first of -my three Monday morning classes, and not be -free from the intellectual discipline again until -nearly noon, after which I would spend the -afternoon in sleep or recreation.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_318">[318]</span>One day the director of social service, a -department of the religious work done by -students, came to me and said,</p> - -<p>“Priddy, we’ve got all sorts of concert talent -about here. Would your church care if we -should give them an evening’s entertainment?”</p> - -<p>“They can’t afford to do much in that line,” -I replied.</p> - -<p>“But all we shall expect will be our expenses -and a good, hot supper. We can hire a big -sleigh and make up quite a party to go over -the hills.”</p> - -<p>“What have you got—for talent?” I asked.</p> - -<p>He thought a minute, and then said,</p> - -<p>“Why, we’ve got banjo players to spare, club -jugglers, a sleight-of-hand performer, four or -five male quartettes, a stringed orchestra, two -readers, and a ventriloquist. Of course, the -night we could give to you would find some of -these students unable to go, but tell me what -sort of an entertainment you would like and -I’ll see what we can do for you. We want to -make the evenings brighter in some of these -isolated, north country villages. It’s a little -bit of social service that brings its own reward, -for the boys like to get out and have a good -country supper!”</p> - -<p>He was able, finally, to make up a program -which included a reader, a young professor who -would swing flaming clubs, a sleight-of-hand -performer and a male quartette.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_319">[319]</span>On the afternoon appointed, these artists, -wrapped up in thick clothes, appeared in front -of a dormitory and were packed into a huge -barge on runners until, including some invited -professors and their wives, we numbered twenty -or more.</p> - -<p>The four horses, with streamers of brass bells -hanging in front of them jingled over the packed -snow roads of the village and finally brought us -into the less used hill roads, which, in places -rambled over the hills until the climb seemed -interminable. The snow began to fall and we -plunged down the steep declivities, half blinded -by it, but opposing the storm with jokes, songs -and banter.</p> - -<p>On a shelf of road, which had been cut from -a steep hillside, and which the winds, unhindered -by protecting wall or trees, had stripped -of snow and left glare ice for the sleigh to cross, -our runners skidded to such an angle that we -were threatened with an overturn that would -have hurled us down the steep bank, had not -some of the students leaped to the ground, and -by sheer strength, aided by the careful control -of the driver, kept the sleigh to the road until -we were in safety.</p> - -<p>Then as the twilight set in, and there were no -sign-posts to guide us, we stopped at the first -house and asked how far we were from the -village. An old woman, dressed in a greasy -print wrapper, and drawing gulps of smoke from<span class="pagenum" id="Page_320">[320]</span> -a briar pipe, said she guessed we were “nigh -four miles this side of it.” We drove through -the storm for a quarter of an hour more, and -then, thinking that we should be coming in -sight of the village, we stopped a man who was -going to his barn with milking cans and repeated -our request as to how far we were from the -village, and, as if he had been in league with -the old woman with the pipe, a mile back he -said,</p> - -<p>“’Bout four mile, I’d say!”</p> - -<p>Hopefully, then, we rumbled and scraped -down a hill for another half hour, and then, -meeting another sleigh, coming in our direction, -our driver hailed the man at the reins, -who was muffled to his ears in a swathing of -crazy-quilt, and shouted,</p> - -<p>“How far are we from the village?”</p> - -<p>And much to our dismay, a rumbling answer -came from the folds of the crazy-quilt, which -we had to interpret as,</p> - -<p>“Jes’ four mile!”</p> - -<p>Ten minutes, later, however, we had the joy -of arriving hungry, cold, but not without spirit, -at the church door, where, under kerosene -lamps, and on white paper table-cloths, was -spread a meal of hot biscuits, hot yellow-eyed -beans, hot pea beans, potato salad, hot kidney -beans, dill pickles, pickled beets, four sorts of -frosted cake, luscious lemon pies and coffee.</p> - -<p>After the supper, the students went into my<span class="pagenum" id="Page_321">[321]</span> -church and found a hundred of the villagers -gathered, in spite of the storm. The quartette -sang entrancingly their college jingles. The -young professor swung his flaming clubs, until, -when he was in the midst of some complicated -spirals his alcohol-soaked rags burnt out, unexpectedly, -and he had to apologize since he -could not go on with his novel act because -his “spirits had given out.” The reader gave, -with great effect, a memorable quarrel between -man and wife, and sparkling anecdotes which -would have taken the dullness off a yokel’s -heart. Then the star of the concert, the -sleight-of-hand performer began his skilful -mysteries. He made a pencil cling to the -palm of his hand, brought flags and flowers -from an empty hat, multiplied a billiard ball -into six, wafted a half dollar into thin air, and, -finally, produced a pack of cards, at the sight -of which, I thought my deacons would institute -proceedings of worldliness against me for allowing -it, but which, when made to do the weirdest -acts, finally reconciled even the most austere -of them; so much so that one grim Puritan -even came forward and held the pack—after -much persuasion—while the man of mystery -seemed to change them without the holder’s -knowledge.</p> - -<p>At the close of the entertainment, the college -delegation, after going, every one, to the church -women and declaring that they had never<span class="pagenum" id="Page_322">[322]</span> -eaten a better supper than had been provided, -got into the sleigh, the driver cracked his long -whip with a deft explosion for the ears of the -on-looking villagers, and with a hearty yell, they -started on their way down the river road -through the storm, and I stood with my wife at -our door until their songs died away among -the midnight shadows of the hills and storm.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_323">[323]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak"><i>Chapter XXXVI. A Chapter<br /> -of Sentiment and Literary Atmosphere,<br /> -Including the Account of<br /> -Sanderson, the Procrastinator.<br /> -How Two Prize Checks Were<br /> -Spent. A Parish of Talent</i></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">WHEN came the announcement of -Spring, at college, after the lawns -and the paths had dried, and when -the evenings were filled with the -throaty gurglings of hopping -robins. A sign in front of the Commons announced, -“Class Sing Tonight 7:30.” This is a -“Sing;”</p> - -<p>At seven o’clock the students gather by classes -at four different parts of the campus: the -seniors to sit on their double fence, the juniors -to sit on the steps of the recitation hall, the -sophomores to occupy the commodious steps of -the Assembly Hall, and the freshmen to stand -near the library.</p> - -<p>Silence!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_324">[324]</span>Suddenly the low, vibrating voices of the -seniors fill the air with, “Harvest Moon.” On -its completion, the three lower classes send -snapping hand claps over to the fence.</p> - -<p>Silence!</p> - -<p>The juniors send across to the seniors the -melodious, sentimental song, “Summer Days -and Love, Love, Love!” over the triple trills of -which the high-pitched tenors linger as if they -would stop there and sound those musical half -tones until out of breath. Led by the seniors, -the underclassmen repeat the hand-clapping.</p> - -<p>Silence!</p> - -<p>With a sudden, flank attack, the sophomores, -directed by a shirt-sleeved and very fat student -fly into the midst of “Dolly Grey,” a stirring -war ballad, and from the pathos which wells -out of the sentimental passages, one can easily -imagine those wild, irresponsible sophomores -crying in harmony with it. Once more the -three classes snap their applause.</p> - -<p>Silence!</p> - -<p>A longer silence this time, for the freshmen, -making their first appearance in the rôle of -class singers—a thick mass of them—cannot -agree with their director as to what the premiere -shall be. Soon the matter is settled. An arm -is raised and then—a low rumble that dies -down, followed by three giant laughs from three -different points of the campus. The freshman -leader has pitched the tune too low.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_325">[325]</span>“Out with it, Freshies!” comes a mocking, -cutting call across from the sophomores—traditional -enemies of the freshmen.</p> - -<p>One more try, and with the effect of an aeroplane -getting its flight slowly, hesitatingly, the -freshman song at last rises to a mighty, boyish, -exultant rendering of “Old Black Joe!” for they -dare not trust themselves with a recent melody.</p> - -<p>After the songs, the cheers! the class cheers!</p> - -<p>The seniors give one for the juniors, and the -juniors applaud it.</p> - -<p>The seniors give one for the sophomores, and -the sophomores applaud it.</p> - -<p>Then the seniors give a heartier one for the -freshmen, and those boys almost split the -heavens with their yellings.</p> - -<p>Next the juniors make the rounds of the -classes, with the same response of applause, -save that their cheer for the seniors gets but -scant and dignified applause, for the seniors -must not be too boyish!</p> - -<p>Then the sophomores and the freshmen have -their turn and the cheering is over.</p> - -<p>Silence. The night is deepening, and one -hardly stirs. Four huge masses of shadow -move in the direction of the campus centre. -Then one hears a martial, drill-sergeant’s -“Left, left, left!” as the classes catch the step. -It is so arranged that, without a halt, the four -classes merge into one mass in the middle of -the green.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_326">[326]</span>Silence again. Not a sound is heard, until -the college song-leader hums a pitch. Then the -Alma Mater hymn goes up with all the thrilling -reverence in it of a song of love sung to the -college mother. If one were near the singers, -it would be possible to see, how, when the song -deepens in theme, the sophomore unconsciously -throws his arm over the shoulder of the freshman, -and the senior throws his over the shoulder -of the junior: all brothers as the melody -unfolds itself.</p> - -<p>The hymn ended, the cheer-leader moves to -the side of the song-leader, says a few words, -and then, as he takes the position of a prize-fighter, -on guard, with his fist extended, he -pulls out from the disciplined throats, a snappy, -thundering crash of a college cheer. It is over. -The crowd thins out over the star-lighted -campus. Spring has come!</p> - -<p>I was amazed, that year, at the amount of -personal supervision the professors gave to the -students, out of hours, amidst such large classes -as they were called upon to instruct. It had -been drilled into my mind at Evangelical University -that only in the small college is it -possible for the professors to “get next” to the -student in a wise, helpful manner. So that -when I came into the centre of the college life, -in all its complexity, diversity and confusion, I -actually expected to see the professors deliver -their lectures, and then coldly leave us to ourselves,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_327">[327]</span> -withdrawing themselves from the student -life with academic aloofness.</p> - -<p>But on Tuesday evenings the faculty were -“at home” and welcomed such student visitors -as cared to accept the courteous hospitality of -their cheerful homes. After classes, and in -their offices at certain hours, we could go to -our teachers and be sure of receiving their most -thorough attention on the matter in mind. -Then, too, the professors were always eagerly -seeking to align themselves to our life: to enter -with us into the profitable ventures of a social, -inspiring nature. Thus it came about that they -served on athletic committees, religious boards, -literary and social programs. It was because -they possessed this spirit of fellowship with -their students, that I was enabled to venture -into a new world of opportunity. It was in this -wise.</p> - -<p>I had been spending the largest proportion -of my time in literary composition, for my wife, -my sermon critic, had found that in my pulpit -address I needed rhetorical clearness, so I determined -to discipline myself to that end. When -the English professor gave out exercises, like -editorials, descriptions, book reviews, or short -stories, I resolved to put the burden of my time -in such writings with no other thought than to -remedy my pulpit faults. When some of these -exercises were returned, after examination by -the professor, I found red pencil notes, suggesting<span class="pagenum" id="Page_328">[328]</span> -that this or that be submitted for publication -in the college periodicals. These red -pencil suggestions were common in the class, -and gave great inspiration to the other students, -as they gave inspiration to me. One day, when -I arrived late at class, I found the professor -reading aloud a description I had written. -This was followed by a request for a conference -in the teacher’s office.</p> - -<p>“I have been watching your work,” said the -professor, kindly, “and think that you might -try for the junior essay prize and also for the -prize offered for the best piece of college fiction. -I have been advising several others in the class -to compete, and hope that you will find time for -the work. These prize competitions are real -tests as to the value of classroom work. I -hope you and the others will try!”</p> - -<p>On account of the professor’s kindly suggestion, -I began to work on the essay and the -story, and kept my typewriter clattering hour -after hour when not in class. For all the -lure of authorship was before me. The lure -of substantial prizes. The lure of contest. -The lure of doing something, in composition, -that seemed <i>real</i>.</p> - -<p>When I entered upon this special literary -adventure I found that I was part of a considerable -fellowship, whose interest in the work was -kept alive by the wise, far-seeing, personal -interest of our different literary instructors. I<span class="pagenum" id="Page_329">[329]</span> -found one student who confidentially informed -me that he was making a special research in the -library concerning some wild, unknown pirates -who once infested the New England coast. He -meant to write at length upon that subject for -the gratification of his own literary curiosity. -Another student was busy, like the youthful -Stevenson, in imitating, deliberately, the styles -of the world-famous authors, and just then, on -our first acquaintance, was in the wild morals, -but cameo-cut phrases of Maupassant!</p> - -<p>By the end of spring, in fact, I found myself -in as inspiring a literary atmosphere as, probably, -ever an undergraduate experienced. For -I had been made a member of the editorial -board of the college magazine, and even wrote -comic doggerel and attempts at descriptive wit -for the now thoroughly established comic -monthly. I have been in a magazine board -meeting, held in a student’s room, when the -conversation would rise into debatable heights, -and would excite the whole company, over such -questions as:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>“Are there more than seven types of plot possible in fiction?”</p> - -<p>“Is the supernatural in Shakespere scientific?”</p> - -<p>“Was Poe a plagiarist?”</p> - -<p>“Will any of the present-day six best sellers become classic?”</p> -</div> - -<p>Not only did we have these conversations -among ourselves, but one of the professors -invited a group of us into his home, once a -week, where seated in his snug library amid<span class="pagenum" id="Page_330">[330]</span> -his choice editions, we would take up the technical -study of literature, enter into interesting -debates about it, and then sit back in our -chairs as our generous host rang for the refreshments: -a home touch which we appreciated -thoroughly.</p> - -<p>Another pleasurable surprise was the small -number of text books that I found must be -purchased. During my first term I bought -only two books for seven classes. The professors -regarded the college library as a sort of -encyclopædic text book for over a thousand -students: forming the standard work on history, -economics, social science, literature and -the various other departments of the curriculum. -At last, I found, professors and students -had broken loose from artificial authorities -and took their history and economics not only -from many treatises on the matter, but from -current periodicals, the daily newspaper, catalogues, -year books and similar vital, first-hand -sources.</p> - -<p>This method of study, in use throughout the -college, made the library something more vivid -than a stack of collected books, magazines and -pamphlets: it vitalized it and made it the -resort of hundreds of students every day. It -linked our classroom work, the professors’ -lectures and our own studies to hundreds and -hundreds of books, periodicals and papers, -where otherwise we should have been limited<span class="pagenum" id="Page_331">[331]</span> -to a half-dozen omnipotent authorities. In -place of reading selected Orations from a book -of compilations, I was compelled to find the -original oration in some yellowed book in which -it was first printed. In studying the leading -principles of Forensics I had to go to the records -of the courts to read the original evidence and -pleas in the case. A procedure like that -appealed to the mind and made one alert in -judgment. It also made the library the centre -where the real, serious work of the student was -accomplished, and where one could come in -daily contact with the fellows who were after -serious results during their four years’ residence -in the college.</p> - -<p>It was in the library that I first made one of -my deepest and most valuable college friendships.</p> - -<p>It chanced that one of my studies, the life -and works of Goethe, took me to a particular -section of the reference room where the shelves -of Sociology and Economics filled considerable -space. As I made my excursions into the section, -I became accustomed to the presence of -a serious-faced Senior who was constantly -occupied with books and periodicals from those -two departments. It became natural for us, -as the term advanced, to ask one another the -time or to borrow pencils or paper. Finally -these approaches to intimacy developed into a -friendship; into a ripe friendship which included<span class="pagenum" id="Page_332">[332]</span> -visits to one another’s rooms, long walks, -communings in the club-room and ante-class -conversations: on all these occasions a true -exchange of serious and most profitable confidences -taking place.</p> - -<p>Thurber, for that was my companion’s name, -though the son of a very wealthy father and -accustomed to the finer touches of society life, -had undergone, in his contact with the college, -one of those conscience awakening, ambition -refining and ideal lifting experiences which our -president informed us, time and time again, -should be the final results of a true, college -education.</p> - -<p>Thurber’s father was one of that type of -American men who boast that their success has -been attained through self-improvement and -self-education and who crystallize their own -peculiar and fortunate experience into formal -axioms, on which every one else must seek -success. Thurber’s father had to his credit at -the time a very large textile mill in a textile -city in the South and it had been his supreme -desire that his son, immediately on quitting -High School, should go into the industry, work -his way through it, and take charge of it in the -end.</p> - -<p>But Thurber had no inclination towards lint -and the stifling heat of a cotton mill, and he -had so informed his father. He also told him -that nothing less than four years at a college,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_333">[333]</span> -where he could meet fellows worth meeting, -would please him.</p> - -<p>“You can imagine the look my father gave -me when I made that proposition, for it knocked -to splinters his special pet theories concerning -education,” said Thurber. “He stormed about -‘self-made men,’ and quoted Lincoln and some -others from the classic list of non-college men: -pointed to himself and the huge industry he had -created without the aid of a college education, -and, in all, gave me to distinctly understand -that a college education would spoil a good employer: -that it was a waste of time, and that if -I was set on going to college, why I could go on -my own funds—which I did not have—and be -hanged! Of course I was lazy, undecided and -youthful: just at the age when all life is a perpetual -sunny day. I wanted to come to college -to sport around and imagined my doom sealed -when father emphatically refused to fund me, -but mother—say Priddy, what would the -spoiled children of the rich do without generous-hearted -mothers?—my mother privately funded -me and sent me here and still maintains me, -even against father’s orders, for he will not -relent and imagines me to be the fool of fools -in taking the course I did.”</p> - -<p>“The so-called ‘self-made men’ are usually -very set men,” I replied.</p> - -<p>“Set?” muttered Thurber, “even a vice, -tight locked, is loose by comparison with the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_334">[334]</span> -prejudices my father has against a liberal education. -Well, I came this way and started in to -sport it and expected to be tutored through -my courses by the narrowest passing marks. -I spent most of my time either in the fraternity -house chugging at a piano or sitting in my room -with my feet perched on the table gazing into -space. Then I got the—the glimpse, Priddy, -and that changed it all.”</p> - -<p>“The glimpse, what was that?”</p> - -<p>“Well, I can’t exactly define it or locate -where it first began, but I do recall that one -day, in the classroom—it was in Sociology—the -professor set me thinking on a line I had -never considered before. I can’t tell what it was -that he said explicitly, but he implicitly suggested -to my mind that there are such things -as dividends-not-of-money. Of course having -been used to the other sort of dividends all my -life, I was attracted to the idea that there were -other dividends. I kept thinking about it and -one thing led to another. The president spoke -one day, in chapel, of the educated man’s duty -to his generation. I linked that to ‘dividends-not-of-money’ -and worked it out to my satisfaction -that there was for me, the son of a -wealthy manufacturer, a place of usefulness -and service in the world.”</p> - -<p>“You had a call to the ministry, then, -Thurber?” I demanded.</p> - -<p>“Gracious, no: not that!” he exclaimed, in a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_335">[335]</span> -tone that implied I had proposed something -too extravagant for fancy. “I a clergyman! -I respect the cloth, Priddy, and I am glad that -you are making it your profession, but really, -that’s not my line. Perhaps I’m not cut out -for it. I know I’m not.”</p> - -<p>“You planned to go into settlement or -Y.M.C.A. work, probably,” I hinted, “so many -college fellows give themselves to that form of -service in these days, Thurber.”</p> - -<p>“I know they do, Priddy, but I didn’t work -it out in those directions, either, but in a more -vital way: one that has aroused every bit of -latent enthusiasm for service and helpfulness -that might have been hidden away in so pampered -a body as mine. It’s what I call the -glimpse, Priddy. Want me to explain it?”</p> - -<p>“Certainly I do.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I really was put in a fix by so much -talk in the classrooms from the faculty and in -the chapel by the President about ‘moral -leadership’ and all that, and really thought at -first that they were asking me to go into definite -self-sacrificing avocations like settlement work -and the other forms of social service, and I had -no hankering for that, either. I hated to leave -father alone in his old age and wanted, eventually, -to succeed him in the ownership and direction -of his mills. I imagined myself a callow -materialist, opposed to spiritual forms of influence, -but I did not want to give up the business.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_336">[336]</span> -You can probably imagine how heathenish -I felt when I contrasted father’s industrial -policy with the call to be a social servant. I -began to think back to what father’s self-education -had done for him and had done for his -employees. I faced the truth for the first time: -how his narrow-minded policy had brought -him great wealth at the expense of his self-respect -and the happiness of so many of the -people who worked for him. For years and -years and years, he had been just paying wages -for work done: that was all. He had paid no -attention to the moral or social welfare of his -people: the hundreds of families under his -control. He did not go to their church, attend -their lodges, go into their homes, or ever make -it his policy to inquire about their welfare. -He was just simply using them as tools towards -the securing of a fortune—for me, that was all. -I saw it all, how he had been creating in his -little corner of our American industry, labor -hostility, unsanitary conditions, poor types of -ignorant, drunken, loafing citizens until the -tenements belonging to his firm formed a perfect -slum. But he had not the eyes to see, nor -has he yet; but he goes on in the darkness and -in the groove of his own selfishness, intensifying -the disloyalty of his employees and incidentally -hurting his own reputation. Yet I could not -bring myself to give up desiring to take on that -industry. It was right then that the glimpse<span class="pagenum" id="Page_337">[337]</span> -came.” Thurber paused for a moment and -then continued:</p> - -<p>“Like the breaking of day, it flashed into my -soul one morning in Ethics class, that if I could -only go to work in that industry and reform it, -that I should be doing a public service: that I -should be following the advice of the college -and giving moral service. But I realized that -I should have to train myself in the science of -ethics and morals; the history of economics and -the deeper things of social science in order to reform -the business intelligently, constructively -and profitably to myself and the employees.”</p> - -<p>“Oh,” I commented, “you want to make -your type of social service earn money?—is -not that an unusual sort of social service?”</p> - -<p>Thurber smiled and said:</p> - -<p>“It does sound worldly, especially to a minister, -Priddy, but the strange thing about it is, -as I have figured it out, that if I do take an -educated, intelligent, thoroughly scientific interest -in my employees, and manage to clean -up their tenements, their morals and their -minds through welfare work, I shall, in the same -stroke, be increasing their loyalty to the business, -be redoubling their efficiency, be preparing -a higher grade of workman: all of which -will increase the earnings of my plant.”</p> - -<p>“In other words, Thurber, you are going -to work on the principle that humanity and -welfare work are good business policy?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_338">[338]</span>“Yes,” nodded Thurber. “If you, as a -minister, were phrasing it you would say, ‘Godliness -is profitable in all things’—even in good -industrial management—to mix in Shakspeare, -it is ‘twice blessed, it blesseth him that giveth’—the -employer—‘and him that receiveth’—the -worker. That’s what I call ‘the glimpse’ -and you may imagine how eagerly I am tugging -at the strings in order to be working it out -practically.”</p> - -<p>“But it may turn out to be fine theory: -mere dreaming, Thurber?”</p> - -<p>“Oh no,” he protested. “Read the countless -numbers of sociological works that I have and -follow the countless numbers of experiments -that have been made in this direction and you -will agree that it is the most sane procedure.”</p> - -<p>“College has meant something very definite -to you, then, Thurber?”</p> - -<p>“I should say it had. I tell you I believe I -understand, now, the tremendous suggestion -that lies behind the college emphasis that its -students stand in their businesses and interests -against mere commercialism and flood them -with intelligent, moral service. Besides, think -what significance lies in my studies now: the -whole course seems bent to broaden me towards -the intelligent, economical use of human beings: -psychology will give me trained insight, a course -or two in physiology helps me to understand -the limits of workingmen’s endurance and wide<span class="pagenum" id="Page_339">[339]</span> -reading in literature will aid me to intelligently -work out a policy of self-culture in the -workingmen’s libraries I shall form. Oh, I -have come to realize that a business education -is a thousand times more than learning bookkeeping, -the names of the tools, and a little -mathematics from which to compute wages. It -demands, in my estimation, the broadest college -culture and I mean to secure it.”</p> - -<p>“Just the antithesis of your father’s theory,” -I suggested.</p> - -<p>“Yes, and think, too, how much he has lost -by it. You would understand how enthusiastic -I am about it, Priddy, if you could have -one glimpse of the people and tenements around -father’s mill. I feel that right there is my -call.”</p> - -<p>“I know something about the waste, the riot -and the ruin that have followed in the wake -of narrow-minded, selfish, uncultured and unsympathetic -manufacturers, Thurber. If the -college only manages to send out a hundred -thousand graduates filled like you with this -spirit of humane statesmanship, what a revolution -would take place in labor conditions!”</p> - -<p>“It would be the front door of God’s kingdom, -Priddy,” affirmed Thurber, “sure enough!”</p> - -<p>Throughout that year, from the seriousness -with which Thurber asked questions in his -classes, from the eagerness with which he was -ready to talk about welfare work, from the diligence<span class="pagenum" id="Page_340">[340]</span> -with which he fastened himself to the -library alcoves marked: Economics and Sociology, -and from the pervading seriousness of -his manner, one might easily have guessed that -in him one looked on a youth aflame with a -consuming, zealous ambition to make his -stewardship of men and his college culture -yield the highest per cent of moral earnings. -I felt proud to call him my friend.</p> - -<p>Another of my companions during the senior -year was “Quiet” Sanderson, the student who -had introduced me to Quarles. “Quiet” was one -of those illogical and fanciful appellations in -which the students delighted, and was paradoxically -twisted from Sanderson’s fluent tendencies.</p> - -<p>Sanderson occupied a corner room in one of -the newer dormitories. In it was a piano on -which he played Beethoven and rag-time with -equal ease. The mission bookcase was topped -by a very large, felt college streamer and a -“perpetual care” sign, which in his Freshman -wildness he had taken from a cemetery. -As he was a literary man with a pronounced -taste for Poe and the French short story writers, -there were various evidences of “atmosphere” -in the orderings of the room. For instance, -some old swords, which might have been discovered -in the ruins of Troy, but which, in fact, -were clever imitations bought for a song in -Boston, hung over the door. A Turkish fez, -which Sanderson would wear when company<span class="pagenum" id="Page_341">[341]</span> -was present, usually hung from the clothes post -in a corner of the room, over a quaint, full-length -lounging robe made from scarlet cloth -and embroidered with Mohammed’s crescent. -An oriental scent lingered on those habits of -dress; a scent which I have seen Sanderson -compound from barks and minerals bought at -the druggist’s and of which he would never give -me the names. When he held a spread or a -meeting of any sort, Sanderson’s room would be -thick with the fumes of joss which he kept -burning from a blue Chinese bowl. If any one -complained, Sanderson would have no scruples -in telling the complainant that perhaps the smoke -would be even denser and more sulphurous in -a later destination!</p> - -<p>It was fortunate that I did not catch, like -some insidious fever, Sanderson’s habit of procrastination, -for while his dreams were in the -present tense, real, and vivid, his deeds lingered -in the nebulous future. Thus, one night while he -lounged on his couch wearing his fez, he informed -me that he had the plot of an exciting tale that a -publisher might make a fortune by. There was -a secret staircase in the first chapter, and between -that and the twenty-eighth—a distance -of eight thousand words, for he had measured -them—enough blood was shed in the numerous -duels, alley encounters and small riots with the -watch, to stain a miniature Waterloo.</p> - -<p>“What are you wasting your time with those<span class="pagenum" id="Page_342">[342]</span> -blood and thunder yarns for?” I exclaimed, -for the utmost frankness was the rule between -us.</p> - -<p>“Blood and thunder!” he echoed. “Why, it’s -thoroughly exciting, whatever you may say -about it, Priddy. In my best style, too. -Racy, full of tender sentiment at the love -passages, and written with an iron pen, whose tip -was flaming hot!”</p> - -<p>“Let me see this epic of thunder then,” I -demanded. “I should like to look it over.”</p> - -<p>“Oh,” yawned Sanderson, “I haven’t had -time to put it on paper—yet. I have my -studies you know!”</p> - -<p>Thus it was not only with his literary dreams, -but also with his studies. He never seemed to -be in his books, but I knew that at some secret -hour he must work hard, for his recitations were -generally brilliant.</p> - -<p>He was a sly fellow, at times, especially when -he chanced to be back with work. It was his -habit then to get me in his room, when he would -yawn and say:</p> - -<p>“Priddy, what did the professor conclude -about that Lochner fellow?”</p> - -<p>Stephen Lochner was one of the Dutch -painters we were studying.</p> - -<p>I would tell him as well as I could. Then he -would drawl:</p> - -<p>“Uh, I didn’t follow the professor at all when -he said that the early Dutch school, Van Eyck<span class="pagenum" id="Page_343">[343]</span> -and the others—let’s see, how many were -there?”</p> - -<p>I would tell him, exactly, with names and -dates, and then he would drawl:</p> - -<p>“Sure you got them all, Priddy?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I have.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll bet you’re grafting the course, Priddy, -and haven’t been near the references in the -library, eh?”</p> - -<p>“Sanderson, I’ve got every note of importance, -and have worked up every single picture!”</p> - -<p>Then the yawning fellow would turn over to -me, lift up his fez in the politest manner and -say, with his endearing smile:</p> - -<p>“Oh, is that so! Then Priddy, I shan’t need -to bother much myself, shall I? You can give -me some fine dope on the course!”</p> - -<p>Seeing that I was caught, there was no way -out of it but to become the unofficial tutor to -his lazy highness; a duty, however, which was -pleasant enough, for we had so many things in -common. There was a sense of embarrassment, -however, in the fact that Sanderson would go -into the examinations of the course, after I had -prompted him, and by some freak of the angel -of Providence, his guardian spirit, he would -out-top me with marks!</p> - -<p>One Monday morning I dropped into his -room, on my way across the campus, when he -came from his bedroom arrayed in his bath-robe, -for he had been oversleeping, and he said to me,</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_344">[344]</span>“Congratulations, Priddy!”</p> - -<p>“What’s this for?” I exclaimed.</p> - -<p>“For the honorable winner of two literary -prizes!” he exclaimed.</p> - -<p>“Two?” I gasped.</p> - -<p>“Yes, and firsts, my friend! I want to get in -on the ground floor and get a college ice on the -prize money,” he smiled.</p> - -<p>“And how do you know this?” I asked.</p> - -<p>“The announcements were posted Saturday, -after you had left, Priddy.”</p> - -<p>“Then you shall have the treat, Sanderson.”</p> - -<p>The two prize checks—beautifully decorated -with the college seal and ornamental borders—were -used to pay for the winter’s supply of wood, -at home, and to clear off a store bill. I felt -that my first adventure into literature had amply -repaid me in fellowships, discipline, and cash: -a well-rounded reward.</p> - -<p>When I arrived home, for the long summer -vacation, I began to ride over the hills to outlying -farm-houses in a canvass of fellowship among -my parishioners, whom I had never seen in -church. My bicycle rides exhausted me in this -work, as the summer was excessively hot. Between -the village services, on Sundays, I trundled -my bicycle up a long hill until I came to a crossroad -schoolhouse to which I had invited the isolated -people, for services. The people who came -to this service would not sing, so that part of the -time they were treated to vocal solos by me, to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_345">[345]</span> -which I had to play my own accompaniment on -the little parlor organ I had secured. As my -skill on the organ keys was limited to hymns up -to the limits of two sharps or as many flats, my -repertory, like that of a hand-organ, was easily -exhausted. But the people seemed thankful -for this interruption of the monotony of their -back-road life, and though I never took up an -offering or asked them to do anything more than -attend the services, which they did with increasing -enthusiasm, I knew from their thanks and -their faces that it had been a profitable venture, -an appreciated service.</p> - -<p>But the strain of such a responsibility in -addition to my college work was bound to ruin -my health, so I resolved that the parish should -be free to engage a permanent, resident pastor, -and to that end I resigned and sought out a place -nearer the college, where I could go through -the next year as a pulpit supply and have my -wife with me, in my own home, near the college -campus.</p> - -<p>My new parish, which I visited only on Sundays, -was a most delightful village, where an unusual -number of interesting people made their -homes. Though, at first sight, the village appeared -an isolated, sleepy place, yet a plunge into -its activities and a catching of its spirit meant -the discovery of a number of enterprising, intellectual, -and social efforts, of which any large -community would have been proud.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_346">[346]</span>There was a village nature club. This club -was composed entirely of the townspeople, yet -one of the members had been the co-author with -a scientist in the study of fresh-water algæ, -another member had made an exhaustive study -of grasses and minerals in such a scientific -manner that his work had received the commendation -of the state botanist. The club had -expert bird students and a butterfly collector. -Another of its members had discovered a rare -fern, hitherto never found east of the Mississippi. -The members of this club, surrounded as they -were by the riches of summer and winter beauty, -lived in a glorious world of adventure. When -one family drove home, up the long road to its -pine groves and isolated farm-house, it counted -the varieties of flowers growing by the wayside -and made a report of great interest to the other -members of the society. Another member -watched the stars and gave reports on the newer -astronomical happenings.</p> - -<p>Then, too, such intellectual interests reacted -upon the social life of the little community, and -a tennis court for the boys, clubs and sports for -the girls, village improvement undertakings, -and very interesting and rare lectures through -the long winter, were the rule, backed by trained, -interested people. This type of community, -also, made the church a very desirable and -interesting one, and made it easier for me to be -away from Sunday to Sunday, for the social<span class="pagenum" id="Page_347">[347]</span> -concerns were certain to go on under efficient -and responsible management.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile, my wife and I had brought our -little boy to the college town, and had established -ourselves in three rooms under the roof -of a very tiny cottage. Though we had our -dining-table near the kitchen stove and were -otherwise crowded almost to discomfort, yet -the last year of my educational career meant -less anxiety and more inspiration because I -could have my home in the midst of it.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_348">[348]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak"><i>Chapter XXXVII. Teiresias,<br /> -the Blind Prophet, and Squeem,<br /> -the Student in the Back-waters of<br /> -College Life. A Night of Grim<br /> -Fate</i></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">ONE winter afternoon as I approached -Quarles’ room, to take him for a -walk, I heard a loud voice raised in -angry altercation, as I thought. I -paused on the dormitory stairs, and -there came to my ears the blind student’s voice, -raised high, as if he were spitting fire. I hurried -to his door and entered the room to see what -the quarrel between my friend and his enemy -could be.</p> - -<p>“Priddy, sit down!” quoth Quarles, pausing -in his strange heat of jargon. “Listen,” and -then, standing in the center of the room, he -declaimed this strange-sounding sentence:</p> - -<p>“<i>Eipo ti deta kall, in orgitze pleon!</i>” and -attended it with a fierce and angry thrust of -his fist, as if he were thrusting red-hot bolts -down the unwilling throat of a helpless foe.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_349">[349]</span>“Well, of all the strange jumbles, Quarles!” -I exclaimed, “what is the baby talk, please?”</p> - -<p>“<i>Soo de athlios ge taut oneiditzon, a soi oudeis -os ouxi tond oneidiei taxi!</i>” he continued, scowling -frightfully and staring with his expressionless -eyes as if he would have his stored up -wrath break through to flash like fierce -lightning on the pride of his unseen opponent.</p> - -<p>“Taxi?” I mused, “that means automobile -riding at ten dollars a minute—what is the -rest?”</p> - -<p>“It’s Greek,” he explained, sitting down. “I -am the blind Prophet Teiresias, in the Greek -drama ‘King Œdipus,’ to be given by the college. -Let me translate!”</p> - -<p>He sprang to the middle of the floor, and, in -English, attended by the same angry gestures, -he declaimed to the scoffing King whom he was -warning:</p> - -<p>“‘Shall I speak something more, to feed thy -wrath?’” and then he paused to explain, “and -when you called it baby talk, I recited the line -which I am to use when the King slanders me -for being blind, ‘O miserable reproach, which -all who now behold thee, soon shall thunder -forth on thee!’ and,” went on Quarles, “you are -to know, if you do not know it now, how that -later the King does blind himself with hot irons -and fulfils the prophecy I hurl at his coward lips!”</p> - -<p>“Horrible, it must be!” I shuddered. “What -a dark tragedy to lighten a college stage!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_350">[350]</span>“But,” mused Quarles, “think of the achievement, -in these days, when the college critics -are charging the college with immersing itself -in practical concerns so as to forego the classics. -My work is cut out for me, Priddy,” he went -on. “If they are to have a real blind man for -Teiresias, they must also have fair acting of the -lines, for it is all to be given in Greek, not a -word of English; for barbarians like you, who will -probably be mystified, there will be an English -line-for-line translation.”</p> - -<p>“Oh,” I retorted, “I have studied some Greek. -I have read the New Testament!”</p> - -<p>Quarles laughed,</p> - -<p>“That is only the introduction to Greek. -Listen!”</p> - -<p>He stood before me and recited the fluid, -rounded, Greek lines of the blind Prophet, as -he leaves the King,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="first2">“‘Ere I depart, I will declare the word</div> -<div class="verse">For which I came, not daunted by thy frown.</div> -<div class="verse">Thou hast no power to ruin me.’”</div> -</div></div> - -<p>“You will have to have a clear brain for the -storing of so much pure, classic speech, Quarles,” -I said. “Come out for a walk over the four-mile -road with me and you may talk King -Œdipus to me till I faint!”</p> - -<p>So, arm in arm, over the ruts of the four-mile -road, which first took us up a steep hill and then -around to the west through some dark, cool -woods, the blind student and I walked, and -talked of the Greek tragedy in which he was to -play so realistic a part.</p> - -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i_350fp.jpg" alt="" /></div> -<p class="caption"><span class="smcap">So Arm in Arm the Blind Student and I Walked</span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_351">[351]</span>On our way back, as we neared the campus, -Quarles said:</p> - -<p>“Priddy, have you ever met ‘Squeem’ -Hirshey? I’ve got to see him before supper, -if you’ll take me to him. He’s one of the old -men of the chorus, in the play, and wants me to -help him with pronunciation.”</p> - -<p>“No, I haven’t met him,” I said.</p> - -<p>“A poor Georgian,” explained Quarles, “lives -in a stuffy bit of a room with an Irish family, -down at The Alley; you know where that is, -of course.”</p> - -<p>So while we walked in the direction of -“Squeem’s” lodging, Quarles gave me full -information about this student, one who lived -in the back-waters of college life.</p> - -<p>“In some unaccountable way,” said Quarles, -“Squeem managed to get a decent preparatory -education in the South, in a place where most of -the people lived in huts. Missionary education, -I think. However, he came here, passed entrance -exams all right, and was awarded a couple of -scholarships that bring him in about a hundred -and fifty dollars a year. He tells me that he -manages to get enough work to support him: -that he earns his room rent with the Gibboneys -by doing chores, though what chores such a poor -family can have for him to perform, I cannot -understand. He cooks his own meals on an<span class="pagenum" id="Page_352">[352]</span> -oil stove, and, for that purpose tries never to go -over seventy-five cents a week for his food. -As for clothes, well—he patronizes ‘Eddie’, -the old clothes-man, and manages to get cast-off -shoes and clothes at ridiculously low prices. -A suit for four dollars and a decent pair of shoes, -not much worn, for fifty cents!”</p> - -<p>“I must have seen him,” I explained, “but -of course, I cannot place the name. A queer -one, too; reminds one of Dickens’ Squeers, the -ugly schoolmaster.”</p> - -<p>Quarles smiled.</p> - -<p>“That name was tacked on a year ago, -when he was a Freshman. It seems that he -kept himself to his room and never mixed in -things, sort of a timid, bashful chap, but full -of energy when it comes to study. A down-at-the-heels -fellow, I have heard him called. Well, -he was squeamish about everything, and it was -natural for the Freshies to tack him with -‘Squeem’ and by that name he will always be -known to the future generations of college -men.”</p> - -<p>“Here’s the alley!” I announced, after a few -minutes more of talk. We had passed down an -outlying road where, on the very outskirts of -the village, stood a row of cheap tenements. -Between these, at an angle, lay an alley filled -with ashes, tin cans and broken bottles. This -alley led up to two ill-looking shanties, so small -that by comparison with the houses farther in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_353">[353]</span> -the town they seemed no more than half-ruined -doll houses.</p> - -<p>“It’s the blackest house,” whispered my -companion. “Go around to the rear. His -room is up the back stairs.”</p> - -<p>As we rounded the black shanty the sound of -gurgling and churning reached our ears, and then, -back of a line of flapping, wet clothes, we came -on a middle-sized, but excessively gaunt youth, -wearing an oil-cloth apron, such as we wore in -the chemistry classes when we performed experiments, -with a bib that fitted close to his neck. -He wore under it a ragged, red sweater, and was -churning a washing machine full of clothes, -while, at his back, a stout, red-faced Irishwoman -was engaged in taking clothes from a -basket and hanging them on lines. Hanging -from a row of nails on the outside of the house -were all shades and colors of students’ laundry -bags. Underneath them, wriggling in a broken -and dirty clothes basket, lay a six-months-old -baby, sucking a soiled thumb and apparently -finding it nourishing.</p> - -<p>“Hello, Quarles!” greeted the washerman, in -great embarrassment at our discovery of him, -“I didn’t expect you!” A Southern drawl was -evident in his speech. He was about to take -off his apron, when the Irishwoman, throwing -a frown of dissatisfaction in my direction, -growled:</p> - -<p>“Mister Hirshey, an’ don’t you be lavin’,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_354">[354]</span> -mind you. Them things’ve got to be done. -You can talk while you work; but work you -must, and the young gentlemen can go hang till -you’ve time, if they care!”</p> - -<p>Squeem’s waxen cheeks, which seemed before -to have no signs of blood about them, flushed, -and he said, apologetically, as he resumed his -churning,</p> - -<p>“Only ten minutes more, Quarles. We can -talk, and then we can go to the room.”</p> - -<p>I was introduced to the student and recognized -in him the one whom I had passed on the -campus, time and time again in the winter, -with his shivering body fitted to ill-measured -clothes, and his goose-fleshed wrists and ungloved -hands hanging like dead weights from -below his coat sleeves.</p> - -<p>Ten minutes later, after I had watched the -Southerner dip out the dripping mass of laundry -and put it through the wringer, we were conducted -into the dark kitchen with its odor of -cabbage, and ascended by a wabbly stairway -to the loft, one half of which was given to -Squeems for his abode. A greasy, sour odor -of cooking permeated the room. It was lighted -by two narrow panes of glass fitted to a makeshift -frame, and covered by a curtain of imitation -tapestry, with the design of a red Swiss -house half buried amid gray bushes and a row -of stiff, brown poplars. A cot bed stood in a -corner with a bundle of warm quilts in confusion<span class="pagenum" id="Page_355">[355]</span> -on it, for evidently our host had little -skill in his housekeeping. A packing case, on -end, with the open side towards us, had been -skilfully transformed into book shelf, storage -place and desk. A short row of text books was -ranged on the packing case. Besides a kitchen -chair there was no other seat, save a tin-covered -trunk from which Squeem had to take a few -dishes, an oil stove and a bread tin,—his -dining apparatus,—before it could be utilized -for a seat.</p> - -<p>The following half hour was spent by Quarles -and the Southerner in the pronunciation, the -translation, and oratorical interpretation, not -only of the chorus part of the play, which would -be sung, but of the Blind Prophet’s thrilling -lines, which Quarles recited before Squeem with -even more spirit than he had to me, for, he -explained, as we left the house:</p> - -<p>“That poor fellow may be in the back-waters -of college, but he’s got a really excellent mind. -It wouldn’t surprise me to see him come near -to leading his class in scholarship. I like him—that -Squeem,” and then my blind companion -quoted, with great impressiveness, “‘Grand, -gloomy, and peculiar, he sat upon his throne, a -sceptred hermit, wrapped in the solitude of his -... originality.’”</p> - -<p>Then the night of the Greek play arrived in -which Quarles and his strange friend were to -appear.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_356">[356]</span>My wife and I sat in the gallery, in Assembly -Hall, amongst the vast throng of spectators.</p> - -<p>A dark, green curtain covered the stage. The -white interior of the hall, with soaring ceiling -panels, dotted with flaming rows of electric lights, -the paintings on the gallery walls of presidents -and benefactors of the college, the ushers in -evening dress, fine, manly samples of youth, -the well-dressed women in their opera costumes: -all this was a glorious show to look upon, in itself. -But when a group of gowned students took their -places, in chairs, near the stage, and were followed -by the orchestra, and the musical director,—then -the programs fluttered, expectantly, -even in the hands of the professors and invited -guests from other colleges, who had come to -enjoy the literary treat of the much-heralded -play.</p> - -<p>The leader, with a gentle tap on his rack, -brought the musicians into position. A stroke -of the wand in the air, and the instruments began -with the introductory theme, a droning chant, -with wild whisperings in the background, as the -violins tried to paint for our senses the chatter -of the fierce Fates that were to hound King -Œdipus to his horrid death, in payment to their -stern laws for his unconscious sin.</p> - -<p>Then, as the haunting prelude paused on a -wailing minor, as if to tell us that forever and -forever man’s despair should continue—under -the rule of the Fates, the lights in the hall were<span class="pagenum" id="Page_357">[357]</span> -darkened, amidst a silence. There was a pause, -and then, as the heavy curtains were drawn aside -while the drums crashed forth a suggestion of -impending strife, we looked upon a marvelous -palace front in ancient Boeotian Thebes. Austere -gloom, the fluted, pillared doorway with -the brazen door bespoke, though the sky was -tinted as if for a sunrise, or sunset. Then before -our eyes, in that ancient world was unfolded the -grim lesson that even unconscious sin must pay -at last the uttermost farthing.</p> - -<p>Quarles, transformed into a bearded, led -prophet, spake his lines with heart-ringing -pathos. But as for “Squeem” among the -bearded men, who chanted their parrotish -gossip, I could not distinguish him.</p> - -<p>Heaps on heaps of color were massed on the -stage, with a studied effort to inflame the imaginations -of the audience. When it seemed that -the finest effects of grouping and harmonies -of color had been obtained, other actors would -suddenly appear and make the splendor of the -setting pass belief.</p> - -<p>Word by word, gesture by gesture, chant by -chant, we followed the dismal but dramatic -tale from its air of glory and freedom into the -darker shadows of dread which Teiresias foretold. -Moods of king and queen, of the old -men who stood by the temple, of the priest and -the shepherd changed slowly and steadily from -scoffing to belief, from belief to alarm, from<span class="pagenum" id="Page_358">[358]</span> -alarm to fear, from fear to resistance, from resistance -to submission, from submission to final -reparation. Woven into the shudderings of the -old men, witnesses of death and grewsome -penalties, were the musical whisperings, to keep -our minds upon the unseen spirits of the vengeful -gods who were directing the grim tragedy -until all the sobs that men and women could -give were ended, until the last dreg of a tear -remained, and until only the merest whisper of -a cry could sound in the chambers of a suffering -heart!</p> - -<p>We went into the night, from it, feeling that -our hearts had been smitten heavy blows, that -our life had fastened itself to leaden anchors. -The terrible reality, the magnificence of Fate, -the classic splendor of sufferings in epic girth -had been staged before us.</p> - -<p>Teiresias’ words hung in the air, everywhere, -even under the dark sky outside:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="first">“O miserable reproach! which shall soon</div> -<div class="verse">Thunder forth on thee!”</div> -</div></div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_359">[359]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak"><i>Chapter XXXVIII. How<br /> -Ellis, the Captain, Taught me the<br /> -Spirit of Contest. I Turn Pamphleteer<br /> -on Behalf of Scholarship.<br /> -But Find from Garvin that<br /> -Scholarship and Education may be<br /> -Separate Matters. Account of a<br /> -Truly Classic Event, which Makes<br /> -the Students Study Color Schemes<br /> -and Gives us a Chance to Appear<br /> -in Gowns</i></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">ONE afternoon I was sitting on the -senior fence, watching two fraternity -teams wage a contest in baseball, -when I saw Ellis, the football captain -approaching, with his finger -upraised to draw my attention.</p> - -<p>Ellis was an impressive fellow with his towering<span class="pagenum" id="Page_360">[360]</span> -shoulders, oak-like limbs, and ruddy cheeks. -In his flannels, tan oxfords, and varsity cap he -spelled in large capitals, “Exercise.” For Ellis -was known preëminently, in the athletic world, -as one of the year’s gods who sit on the pinnacle -of Olympus, the revered of freshmen, the -applauded of sophomores, and the envied of -fellow seniors. By the newspapers he was -heralded as the best player of football in his -position in all America. His name, through the -years of his playing, when he appeared with nose -guard and canvas suit, had been on the lips -of admiring multitudes. His photographs, -showing him catching a football, or in pose for -a scramble, had been spread on many city -papers that year.</p> - -<p>In the college, more than in the outside world, -Ellis’ fame had won the highest respect. He -was the marked man: marked for friendships, -for class honors, and for the respect of the -faculty. A freshman, given the merest smile or -word by Ellis, immediately ran to his room and -wrote a burning letter about it to his mother -or his sister. The fraternities and senior societies -had vied with one another to secure him -for a comrade. He was the college “boss” in -a good sense, for if a group of excited students -broke the public peace, by an unruly demonstration -before the town jail, where one of the -students had been immolated for throwing a -snowball at the village justice, it was Ellis who<span class="pagenum" id="Page_361">[361]</span> -jumped on a flour barrel, which he had ordered -brought from the back door of a nearby grocery, -and at a word, commanded the incipient riot -to break up; which it did without a murmur.</p> - -<p>“Take a walk, Priddy?” asked Ellis, as he -drew near.</p> - -<p>“Certainly,” I said, jumping from my perch -and measuring my stride to his.</p> - -<p>“Priddy,” he said, “you know about the -Bristow Oratorical Prize for seniors?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“The trials come off soon. Why don’t you -go into it?”</p> - -<p>“I hadn’t thought of it,” I admitted. “Besides, -I don’t think it would be wise. I am no -orator; I mean that I do not use finished gestures, -and my throat trouble has taken the -spirit from my voice. In addition to that, -Ellis, when one is used to the pulpit, it is really -a different proposition to speak in an exhibition.”</p> - -<p>“But you will have a chance with the literary -side. That counts one half,” persisted Ellis.</p> - -<p>“Now look here,” I smiled, turning on him, -suddenly, “why don’t you go into it?”</p> - -<p>“I will, Priddy. I certainly will!”</p> - -<p>“You’ve made your record in football, and -you ought to go into this oratorical contest, -Ellis.”</p> - -<p>“I’m going into it,” he replied, “not so much -for the mere idea of trying for the prize, but -for a purpose.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_362">[362]</span>“What’s that?”</p> - -<p>“Well, Priddy,” he continued, seriously, -“I’ve been up against it ever since I indulged -in sports. It has eaten up much of my time, -and there have been days and days when the -grind of training and practise and of having to -go to bed early, and all that, have been wearing -and uninspiring. If it hadn’t been that I felt -that I was maintaining the honor of the college -by my playing, I should have quit the game long -ago. Well, there are a lot of folks that think of -college athletics as a waste of the student’s -time and as a feature of college life not good in -itself, but which must be endured, if men are -to be won to college. Of course you know that’s -not the truth; at least in this place.”</p> - -<p>“Of course it’s not so,” I insisted, just as -earnestly. “College sports are the cleanest, -most honorable of sports. They teach the -students in this college to be manly in losing, -to hold their tongues when the visiting team -makes a fumble, and to cheer one for the other. -It’s so different from the national game, outside -of the college, where the crowds in the -bleachers throw pop bottles at the umpire, -insult the players, and nag one another bitterly. -Our college sports teach the students moral -control and self-restraint.”</p> - -<p>“I’m glad to hear you say that, Priddy,” -agreed Ellis, warmly. “If the game had been -otherwise, I would not have wasted my time<span class="pagenum" id="Page_363">[363]</span> -with it. Well, there are a lot of folks, even in -college,” he continued, “who really think that -because a man makes good on a football team -that he’s not capable with his studies, or with -the literary features of the college.”</p> - -<p>“There again,” I agreed, “they don’t know -all the facts. Think of the fellows on your -team, this year. Several of your best players -are making excellent records in class work.” -I enumerated three of the brightest players who -had maintained a rank of over eighty-five, in -spite of the great amount of time given to -sports.</p> - -<p>“Yes, Priddy,” replied Ellis, “that’s so, but -the public at large don’t think of it in that way. -Well, that is why I want to go into the oratorical -contest; just to show folks that a fellow interested -in athletics is also able to manifest an -interest in literary matters!”</p> - -<p>“Good!” I exclaimed, won by his sincere -earnestness. “But why do you want me to go -in, too, as a competitor? I should think you -wouldn’t care to increase the competition, -merely as a matter of self-interest.”</p> - -<p>“Oh,” he laughed, “the more, the merrier. -I thought you ought to go in, too, for I think -you would stand a good chance, Priddy.”</p> - -<p>Finally I agreed to go in with him. On the -walk we advised about subjects and the next -day Ellis came to my room for some material -I had promised him on his proposed theme.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_364">[364]</span>Then began the strangest preparation for a -contest in which I had ever indulged. We conferred -with one another about the points we -were to make, and prodded one another on, when -either became slothful. Finally, when our -speeches were memorized, we took afternoon -walks into a field where we shaped our orations -into some definite spoken form before each -other. Ellis would hear me through, suggest -how this gesture and that thought might be -improved. Then I would criticize him in the -same way. We hid nothing from one another, -though we were to be rivals on the platform. -He knew every turn of my speech and I knew -every turn of his. He added force to mine -by thinking out for me a new analogy that I -could insert at a weak part. I altered a misquotation -in his which would have lost him a -point. It was an inspiring experience for me. -I was witnessing, in Ellis, a sportsmanship of -which there could be no more refined example. -I did not wonder, then, at the praise the college -had given him.</p> - -<p>But this was not all, for on the afternoon -when the trials took place,—in the big, dim -room of empty seats, with a few judges scattered -lonesomely about,—as I took my turn and was -walking to the platform, I felt a hearty clap on -the shoulder and heard Ellis whisper, “Good -luck to you, Priddy!” exactly the way in which -he had encouraged his men in the big football<span class="pagenum" id="Page_365">[365]</span> -contests. I walked to the platform thrilled -through by the magnificence of Ellis’ sporting -spirit. I felt that if any other man won, it -should be Ellis.</p> - -<p>I did not do well with my oration. I was -marked down. Ellis’ turn came. I watched -him, admiringly, as he strode to the platform -in his masterful way. His gestures, over which -we had worked with patience, were still undisciplined, -and at times his voice thundered too -much. But he came down with the consciousness -of having done his best. He was declared -eligible for the final contest.</p> - -<p>Later, when the final contest took place, -Ellis, who had gone into it with the loftiest ideal -of all the contestants, had the thrill of knowing -that he was the winner of the prize. He had -won both sides of the medal, the athletic and -literary.</p> - -<p>“At least,” he said to me, in bashful comment -on his victory, “I think that some folks will be -persuaded that a football man may have some -interest in scholarship.”</p> - -<p>Garvin, a fellow Senior, illustrates another -phase of college life and thought. He was a -clever individual and one of the editors of the -college newspaper. His “den,” as he loved -to term his narrow room in Wise Hall, had been -made to resemble as much as possible an editorial -sanctum. Galley proofs, daubed black -with corrections, revisions and proof marks,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_366">[366]</span> -had been hung over his desk, as if to forever -remind him that the true function of an editor -is revision, as it is the true function of life. -Original artists’ drawings, in charcoal, pen and -ink and pencil, were mixed in with Gibson Girl -sketches on the walls. Three samples of “the -worst contributions ever sent into the paper” -were framed in <i>passe partout</i> and hung over the -brick of the fireplace where the curious might -read them; one was a Freshman poem whose -theme had never been understood and for the -interpretation of which Garvin had a standing -offer of a box of cigars. The “poem” said -something about “the ancient cow, sitting -munchingly on the steep broadside of green, -fertile country,” and then went on to irrelevantly -bring in various other cattle, scenes, -and people in such an unexplained matter-of-fact -way that the mind was in a whirl at the -end. The other two contributions were attempts -at stories, and judged from the first -pages of manuscript exhibited, ended in being -nothing more than attempts.</p> - -<p>I had visited Garvin to speak on a matter to -which I was giving considerable thought at the -time: the curious disparagement of scholarship -by so many of the students. I had even gone to -the pains of having published in Garvin’s paper -my undergraduate protest against the universal -tendency to despise the “plugger” and to -esteem the “grafter”; two terms which marked<span class="pagenum" id="Page_367">[367]</span> -the antipodes of scholarship. My article, entitled, -“On the Spirit of Work in College,” had -been printed and followed by a parody, written -by an unknown student and entitled: “Priddy -Has A Grouch,” in which the writer had openly -given all the honors of the college to the student -who refrained from seeking a salutatory, vying -with his classmates for the valedictory or hastening -after academic honors of whatever sort.</p> - -<p>“Blatant heresy!” I announced, pointing out -the anonymous article.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I don’t know,” replied Garvin. “I -rather like it!”</p> - -<p>I regarded him in astonishment for a moment -and then protested,</p> - -<p>“But think of it, man! Denouncing scholarship! -A student in a college denouncing the -very charter of the college. It’s incredible: -audacious and heretical: undermining the very -foundations of the college! And to think that -you, an editor, interested in culture and education, -support such a paradox. You ought to -be tortured in a Smithfield fire or have your -thumbs twisted with Inquisition screws!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I don’t know!” smiled Garvin. “I’m -not the only one that scoffs somewhat at the -scholars: there are hundreds of us on the -campus: hundreds of us.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” I replied, “sour grapes, probably.”</p> - -<p>“Now look here, Priddy. I’m no loafer. -You know me. I believe in education or I<span class="pagenum" id="Page_368">[368]</span> -would not be spending my four years here. -If I were to put all my time in study: the time -which I invest in my editor’s duty, for instance, -and in the mandolin club, I think there is in me -a potential honor man at least, even as there -is in Sanderson a potential valedictorian, and -in Ellis a potential Phi Beta Kappa (if he left -off athletics), and in Forrest a potential magna, -triple X, summa, double-barrelled cum lauda -if he didn’t put so much effort into the evening -classes for the Italian laborers down at the -Reservoir. But the truth is—these men, like -myself, aren’t very enthusiastic about high -marks, or the honors that high marks and class -rankings bring to the undergraduate.”</p> - -<p>“No wonder the professors get discouraged, -Garvin. It’s enough to make the college founder -place dynamite under the campus and blow us -to kingdom come!”</p> - -<p>Garvin’s eyes twinkled at his next question.</p> - -<p>“Hear about Scholarship Night, Priddy? I -know you weren’t there for you went home -that day.”</p> - -<p>“Hear about it?” I gasped. “I should say -I had. They say that there was about as much -enthusiasm over the reading of the honor roll -that night, in assembly hall, before the students -and invited guests, as there is enthusiasm over—well, -say a book entitled, ‘The Thesaurus of -Diction—or Recent Explorations into the -Vocabulary of Monkeys.’”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_369">[369]</span>“Enthusiasm!” repeated Garvin, “it was ten -miles away that night. Just a handful of -students, lonesomely huddled in the first few -rows of seats and behind them a lighted vacancy. -I tell you, Priddy, the students aren’t interested -very much in pure scholarship: even many of -the men who are here for a serious purpose.”</p> - -<p>“Then why do they come here, Garvin, tell -me that?” I demanded.</p> - -<p>“For an education, Priddy.”</p> - -<p>“But how can they secure an education unless -they are solicitous about scholarship, Garvin?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I see what is the matter, Priddy. You -imagine that because so many of us aren’t -interested in scholarship, pure scholarship, -we aren’t interested in education. Education -and scholarship are two very different things.”</p> - -<p>“How do you argue that?”</p> - -<p>“You have the old-fashioned idea of a college,” -continued Garvin.</p> - -<p>“What do you mean?”</p> - -<p>“The old New England college: the representative -college of olden days, injected a love -of books and the wisdom of books in their students: -reams of the classic poets and prose -writers: encyclopædic furnishings of the mind -with the contents of a few good, stimulating -books. Those were the hey-days of pure -scholarship. They have existed here: but we -students, today, are illustrations of an evolution -in educational ideals, even if most of us<span class="pagenum" id="Page_370">[370]</span> -don’t seem to realize it. We represent the -changed temper of higher education. If I may -phrase, offhand, my idea of the change,—it is -that the older generation considered pure -scholarship, in itself, the central aim of a college -course, and to an ideal of that sort, Scholarship -Nights, Phi Beta Kappas, and all such educational -fashions were not only in keeping but were -producers of tremendous enthusiasms. On the -other hand, what seems to me to lie in the heart -of the students now is the demand for scholarship,—plus -<i>accomplishment</i>. It is due, no -doubt, to the practical turn of the world during -the last few years. I am interested mightily -in scholarship when it helps towards actual -accomplishment: when like a gold coin it purchases -something; unlike the old notion that -scholarship was a gold or silver medal, good -only to decorate or dignify the person, or to be -kept on exhibition.”</p> - -<p>“Are you sincere in that, Garvin?” I demanded. -“If so, you should write it out in -editorials, for the criticism of the professors: -if you could substantiate it by concrete facts.”</p> - -<p>“Concrete facts, Priddy! Why, it would -carry us into the small hours of the morning -if I were to begin their enumeration. Take -Ellis, for instance. You tell me that he went -into the medal contest to vindicate the athletes. -There is one example of the coin of scholarship -purchasing something: one concrete expression<span class="pagenum" id="Page_371">[371]</span> -of the student interest in scholarship when it -leads to something practical and concrete. -Can you imagine Ellis going into a literary -contest that would wind up in itself, without -relation to something practical to be gained -by it?”</p> - -<p>“No.”</p> - -<p>“You go around the campus with a test like -that, Priddy, and you will find that scholarship -is highly respected wherever it has resulted in -accomplishment. Don’t we respect Professor -Florette? I should say we did. One of the -most perfect scholars in the college and yet -even the grafters among the students would -throw their caps in the air at any time for the -Professor, and why is it? It is because his -scholarship has actually made him accomplish -something. He is president of the National -Science Division of College Instruction and is -known and quoted abroad as an authority in -his line. That’s why the students like him. -On the other hand you might pick out a professor -here and a professor there who is very -erudite—notice my vocabulary, Priddy—and -who is a perfect scholar in his department, and -yet who never translates his knowledge into -life: never writes a useful book, or influences -thought abroad, or is asked to address even a -Kindergarten Teachers’ Convention. All we -know of him is that ‘he is a scholar.’ You -don’t catch us shouting much for that man,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_372">[372]</span> -do you? He has not accomplished anything -tangible, ergo—his scholarship is merely an -esthetic satisfaction. That’s why we fellows -prefer old Florette.”</p> - -<p>“But that’s a very youthful and shallow way -of judging, Garvin,” I replied.</p> - -<p>“Well, whether you call it youthful, shallow, -or what not, that is the way most of the students -seem to regard scholarship. They are only -interested in it when it means contact with life -and the enlargement of the scholar’s ability -for civic usefulness. That is the outcome of -practical America, I suppose. But for the -‘grind’ who slaves for big marks and the sheer -worship of books—and nothing else, why, I -don’t have much use for him. On the other -hand, if a fellow grinds out big marks to play -on the football team in security: why, that’s -the fellow that gets the cheer. It’s scholarship -plus, with my crowd, and I think you’d better -come in the band-wagon with us, Priddy, for -whether the professors like it or not, and choose -to cling to the seventeenth century exaltation -of scholarship <i>per se</i>—note my Latin, Priddy—why, -it won’t change matters any.”</p> - -<p>“That’s something to think about, Garvin, -at any rate.”</p> - -<p>“If you observe the students closely, Priddy, -I think you’ll find that they do respect scholarship; -put it in the very highest possible place -of influence—when it has led to something.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_373">[373]</span>“I am glad I had this talk with you, Garvin. -I think I understand the fellows a little better,—I -can even forgive the unknown who wrote: -Priddy Has A Grouch!”</p> - -<p>“Thank you, Al,” replied the editor. “I am -the chap!”</p> - -<p>If the failure of Scholarship Night—and a -dismal one it was—had seemed to indicate -little respect for pure academic accomplishment -at the College, there soon took place an event -which swallowed up that failure in its overwhelming -scholarly success and aroused, in the -student heart, every last atom of admiration -for the academical ideal. Our new President -was inaugurated.</p> - -<p>Inauguration Day was pre-eminently the real -Scholarship Day with the links closely forged -between what Garvin called scholarship and -accomplishment. The President we were to -honor represented the close tie between scholarship -and accomplishment. His learning had -brought him a world reputation as a scientist, -and it was extremely interesting, after the -talk with Garvin, to note with what unction -the students lingered on the reputation of the -President, and how deferentially they spoke the -names of this Royal Society and that Foreign -Body which had honored him for his work.</p> - -<p>Garvin’s paper, weeks before the event, -teemed with anticipatory gossip concerning -the stellar names in education that were to be<span class="pagenum" id="Page_374">[374]</span> -printed on the list of college guests. The -campus was to be the show ground for the -American academic peerage; come to honor -our chief! At last even such a loafer in the -college as Bridden, who was in danger of losing -his degree by reason of his overindulgence in -pool: even he expressed a pride and interest -in the coming of the scholars: the scholars <i>par -excellence</i>.</p> - -<p>Even down to so technical a consideration as -the language of hoods, the undergraduates -manifested fully as much interest as they had -been wont to give to baseball batters’ averages. -Garvin’s paper came out with a color list by -which the college presidents, university chancellors, -international statesmen, state officials, -seminary heads and the host of lesser academics -could be fully interpreted through the colors -on the gowns they would wear in the procession: -white signifying arts and letters, scarlet -theology, purple for philosophy, blue for -science, brown for music and so on through the -list, which Garvin editorially advised each -student to either cut out and have in his hand -when the procession moved, or, better still, to -carefully memorize it.</p> - -<p>The dignity of the impending, classic, stately -event; the sorting of gowns, the whispers -and queries concerning what world-famous -shoulders were to receive the highest degrees: -all this sobered the students and stimulated<span class="pagenum" id="Page_375">[375]</span> -imaginations, days before the actual event -transpired. To me it promised to be the opportunity -to see, face to face, the men of culture -and administrative power whose names were -familiar in the far corners of the country: men -who not only figured as authors, administrators, -lecturers, scientists, travelers, and moral leaders, -but, among them, potential Presidents of the -nation, honored citizens of public reputation, -men whose names were already merged with -civic movements, patriotic events, and national -political advances. It meant that history, successful -ambition, leadership, and moral fibre -were to be personified for me in their highest -types.</p> - -<p>The morning of the inauguration brought -with it a great excitement. The Seniors were -to wear gowns that morning for the first time. -On leaving the house, after breakfast, and taking -my position near the Senior Fence, to wait -for the formation of the line, a sunburst of -silken scarlet gown dazzled my eyes, as a sedate -man of sixty, with a white beard, hurried along -the path, his head topped by a black velvet -bonnet. He was followed by others, in the -silken glares of Oxford and Cambridge, and -a continual procession of black-draped figures -whose multi-colored hoods were like lurid gashes -cut in the mourning by a deftly wielded blade.</p> - -<p>By nine o’clock the campus was astir with -visitors, faculty, alumni, undergraduates, the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_376">[376]</span> -band and the sight-seers. Ellis marshalled us -into a double line, so that to the beholder, in -our black gowns and black caps, we resembled -a very mournful, if dignified, procession of upright -ravens.</p> - -<p>Then the band blared forth a martial thunderclap -which pulled our feet into time. Slowly, -led by the musicians, we filed on our way around -the outer edge of the campus, dragging after us -the faculty and distinguished visitors whose -chief distinction in the procession lay in their -inability or unwillingness to keep to the step we -fixed. Our two hundred and odd pairs of hands -swished against the sides of our flapping gowns -in rhythmic evenness. Not even the precision -of a Black Watch drill could have been finer -rendered than was our Senior march. The -heads and bodies swept from side to side like -the orderly attack of a straight, long wave -beating backwards and forwards against a cliff. -Then, at Assembly Hall, our double line divided -and we stood with heads uncovered: a lane of -honor, while the recipients of honors, the visiting -presidents, the faculty and the alumni -threaded their way between our lines into the -hall.</p> - -<p>Deeper and deeper into formalism we plunged: -all the traditions of scholarship were called up: -all the esthetic possibilities of academic show -and etiquette passed in review before us, cap -tipping, hood placing, and the summing up of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_377">[377]</span> -the achievements of a lifetime in two sentences -as an honorary degree was bestowed. The -trappings and medievalism of scholarship added -a new dignity to the college atmosphere. The -very air we breathed was musty with the -scholar’s tradition.</p> - -<p>The only modernness in the event came in -the moments of hand-clapping, as addresses, -investiture and degrees followed one another. -The undergraduate chorus, massed in the rear -of the enormous carpeted platform, added to the -impressive solemnity of the exercises by its -sonorous harmonies. Then came the event of -the occasion, and Ellis, knight of valor and -skill on the football field, was the central figure -in the event. He had been assigned the address -representing the undergraduates. He stalked -his way to the platform and stood before us, -backed by the massed greatness of America’s -university world. But he paid no heed to that, -as he had not been wont to pay much heed to -the thousands of on-lookers who admired his -skill in the games. He took fire, and was the -first to disturb the quiet soberness of the program -by putting vivid gesture and loud, vibrant -voice into play. The effect on the visitors and -the undergraduates was electrical. Each one -bent forward as, in no stately rhetoric or formal -phrase, Ellis opened his heart which, at the -moment, comprehended the loyalty of all the -student body. As he concluded, the students<span class="pagenum" id="Page_378">[378]</span> -stood in a mass, and after the prolonged applause—the -finest applause of the event—our -cheer-leader dragged a husky, but thrilling -college cheer from our throats, while Ellis -modestly found his place in our midst. As we -filed out into the light of the noon sun, and -could easily discover the towering, broad -shoulders of Ellis, our leader, at the head of the -line, I thought of the honor he had brought to -the college in his four years’ presence in it, and -saw in him the union of all that is best in American -college life and those qualities which the -college aims to invest in every willing student’s -life: loyalty to one’s fellows, physical fitness, -moral alertness, humility in success, and a -respect for the law that governs men and nations.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_379">[379]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak"><i>Chapter XXXIX. The Lost<br /> -Parrot. Academic Burlesque. The<br /> -Nervousness of the Final Minute.<br /> -A Religious Outcropping in a Non-Pious<br /> -Heart</i></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap">SINCE the establishment of my family in -the college precincts, I had seen very -little, in a social way, of my old friend -Sanderson. I determined to pay him a -visit one evening, and took with me a -glass of grape jelly and some hermit cookies, as -a remembrance from my wife.</p> - -<p>I found him before a heap of blue papers on -which were lead pencil scribbles. A look of -anxiety was on his face. When he saw me, -however, he smiled his pleasure, went over to -the hat rack and put on his fez.</p> - -<p>“How are you getting along, Sanderson?” I -asked.</p> - -<p>“Say,” he pleaded, “you couldn’t just run -over these reports of mine on your typewriter, -could you, Priddy. I’m back about a dozen,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_380">[380]</span> -and must have them in to get passing marks. -It would be such a help!”</p> - -<p>“Unfortunately, what with sermons, two -prize essays on which I am working, and my -own studies, Sanderson, I haven’t a spare -minute!”</p> - -<p>“Then I’ll have to root out some freshman -and give him the job, though a freshman’s so -uninformed! Why, I asked one of ’em to just -scribble a two-page description of Jane Austen’s -‘Pride and Prejudice’ and it took the idiot most -a week to do it, and I don’t think it can be hard -reading, from what the Prof. said about it. -Now if I’d had time, I could have read it in a -night!”</p> - -<p>“Same old Sanderson,” I muttered. “I don’t -know how you’d get through without help!”</p> - -<p>“Well,” he retorted, “since you brought your -wife and boy to town, you’ve done mighty little -for me, eh?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, you’ll take care of yourself,” I replied.</p> - -<p>“Well,” he winked, “I have been lucky, -lately. Jimmy’s stuck by me!”</p> - -<p>“Who’s your latest benefactor, ‘Jimmy?’” -I enquired.</p> - -<p>“He’s a medic. who rooms across the campus. -The nicest man you ever met: patient—oh, so -patient, and motherly—oh, so motherly!”</p> - -<p>“Motherly?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, can sew patches on, and buttons, like a -real endowed maiden aunt, and when I’m out<span class="pagenum" id="Page_381">[381]</span> -of sorts he reads to me, and when I prick my -thumb he brings over a medicine case and drops -peroxide on. I sprained my wrist at hand-ball, -and Jimmy soaked and painted it with stuff, -and made a firm leather brace for it. Oh, you -wait till he blows in on the medical profession, -he’ll fit in it as no man, before him, ever fitted -in it. He looks after me like a regular private -physician, if I’ll only let him come in and study -with me. You see, his own room’s always so -full that he wants to get away.”</p> - -<p>Sanderson smiled significantly at me.</p> - -<p>“Filled with a lot more soft-soapers like you, -eh?” I laughed.</p> - -<p>“Well, willing good-nature like Jimmy’s is -liable to be imposed on,” he agreed. “He comes -to my room for protection. I tell you, my -lessons have picked up wonderfully since he -came.”</p> - -<p>“Will he be in tonight?” I asked.</p> - -<p>“He sure will!” said Sanderson. “If he -doesn’t I don’t know how I’ll get along with my -biology quiz in the morning. I was saving it -for him!”</p> - -<p>“You fraud! He has his own work to do!”</p> - -<p>“Don’t scold, please,” replied Sanderson. -“He gets through his work all right. He’d -starve if he couldn’t be a benefactor to somebody. -He will come in tonight. We’ll have a -few minutes’ chat. Then he’ll ask me about -the quiz and he’ll let go at me for an hour or<span class="pagenum" id="Page_382">[382]</span> -so. Then we’ll have another chat and it will -be my bedtime, for I never plan to be out of -bed after half-past ten except on exceptional -occasions. I’ll leave my bedroom door open -while I get ready. Jimmy’ll talk to me until -I let out a snore,—I’ll tell him to be sure and -snap the lock after he leaves. Perhaps an hour -later he’ll creep out, and go to his own room. -Oh, I swear by Jimmy!”</p> - -<p>“And get your marks by him, too, eh?”</p> - -<p>“What’s a fellow to do?” asked Sanderson.</p> - -<p>As I turned to go, Sanderson yawned,</p> - -<p>“Say, Priddy, could you run in with that -print on Holbein’s ‘Saint Barbara?’ I failed -to get it, and we have to recite on it, in the -morning. You might bring me the dope on it, -too!”</p> - -<p>I entered at last upon the final stretch towards -my degree. In the stress of work and the excitement -of writing a philosophical and a literary -essay, in competition for two senior prizes, the -days of winter changed into the brighter aspects -of spring almost before I was aware of it. Once -more we assembled on the campus for the class -“sing,” and this time my wife could enjoy the -music with me, as we stood on the corner and -let our year-old boy ask, “What?” when the -cheers began.</p> - -<p>The class elections were held, the photograph -of the class was taken, backgrounded against a -most rustic wall of stone and arrangement of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_383">[383]</span> -wild shrubbery. Our caps and gowns soon -followed the class pictures, and then we wore -them to chapel, in which we marched so slowly -and solemnly under the guide of our marshal, -that more than one irrepressible spirit in the -ranks would burst out with laughter at so much -dignity in so youthful a crowd. Through these -days I often grew impatient. I was eager, now, -with restored health, and with a richer mine of -truth, to be in a parish again, doing my chosen -work.</p> - -<p>But when commencement week arrived with -its sentimental spirit,—then I felt the full -significance of this last educational experience.</p> - -<p>A band, brought from the city, gave concerts -on the college club porch, amid a forest -of plants and shrubs, and under fairylike -illuminations. Class reunions brought crowds -of graduates, who donned yellow hats, wore -clownish clothes, and paraded up and down -seeing how much burlesque they could express. -One class engaged an Italian hand-organ artist -who had also, perched on his music-box, an intelligent -parrot which would pick out fortune slips -from a box—for five cents. In some way the -class lost the parrot, and I came across the -Italian boy, crying bitterly, as he searched a -wild gully for the bird, saying, when I asked him -what the trouble could be,</p> - -<p>“Ah, my parrote, he los’, my God, what I do -for live now!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_384">[384]</span>Meanwhile the renters of the organ sat in an -automobile and raced back and forth down the -main street while it scattered its wheezy music -along the trail of gasolene fumes.</p> - -<p>On one corner, a group of distinguished-looking men -and women stood in the dry gutter, -with slips of paper in their hands, singing with -more or less effect, and great seriousness,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="first">“Oh, the class of ’Eighty odd,</div> -<div class="verse">It is a glorious band,</div> -<div class="verse">It scatters wisdom, grace and power,</div> -<div class="verse">Throughout this mighty land!”</div> -</div></div> - -<p>Over on the opposite side of the campus a -crowd of lawyers, bankers, ministers, and business -men, who would shock their neighbors at -home if they had a shoe-lace untied, paraded in -purple wrappers and sun-bonnets topped with -paper roses.</p> - -<p>Then the morning of graduation arrived. -The mock wrappings were put aside by the -visitors, who appeared in frock coats and sedate -manners. By nine o’clock I joined my classmates -at the fence and found my place in the -line. Meanwhile crowds of people in holiday -dress thronged the campus once again, members -of the faculty with gowns fluttering in the -wind, and with scarlet, purple, yellow, and white -hoods, gathered at the administration building.</p> - -<p>As at the Inauguration the band once more -took its place at our head, struck up its -vibrant tune, and then at the dropping of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_385">[385]</span> -the marshal’s baton we took the step and -marched around the campus, a black, rhythmical -procession of academics. The gay-hooded, but -sedate faculty followed, to march through the -double line of honor we formed at the entrance -to the hall. Then we entered and stood at our -seats until the marshal’s baton gave us the -signal to be seated.</p> - -<p>The deep platform before us was ranged with -the faculty, the trustees, the recipients of honorary -degrees, and the musicians, including a -robed choir of students and the musical director.</p> - -<p>But my eyes fell on the table at the head of -the centre aisle on which lay a thick, flat heap -of sheepskins; mine among them.</p> - -<p>Nervously I picked up the program, and, as I -looked it through, to see the catalogue of my -academic career, it told to all who searched it -through that Albert Priddy graduated cum -laude, and that he had won four first prizes: two -in his junior year and two in his senior year: -two essays, a story, and a research in philosophy.</p> - -<p>The addresses, the salutatory, valedictory, and -the greeting by the faculty were given. The -choir sang an impressive anthem. The honorary -degrees were conferred with great solemnity. -The classmate next to me said:</p> - -<p>“Priddy, my heart is beating so fast that if -we don’t get our degrees soon, it will burst. -Just think if anything should prevent our getting -them—now!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_386">[386]</span>“Don’t mention it,” I suggested, in nervous -agitation, “please.”</p> - -<p>Finally, however, the dean came down from -the platform and we stood. Then we began a -very slow walk around the side aisles, down past -the platform to pass before the dean and receive -our degrees. Slowly, ever too slowly, I drew -near, and then, a whispered “Priddy” from the -Dean and the sheepskin was in my hand.</p> - -<p>Immediately I changed the position of the -tassel of my cap for I had, that moment, officially -shifted myself from the undergraduate -rôle of the college and entered the long, historic -ranks of the alumni.</p> - -<p>When I got back to my seat, my neighbor, -who had expressed the fear that something would -occur, whispered with relief:</p> - -<p>“I’m not a religious fellow, Priddy, but I do -feel like singing the doxology, now that I’ve -got this!” He pointed to his diploma.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_387">[387]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak"><i>Chapter XL. In which the<br /> -Account Comes to a Conclusion in<br /> -the Life of a Relative. Martin<br /> -Quotes Spanish and Has the<br /> -Last Word.</i></h2> -</div> - -<p class="drop-cap2">AFTER we had been established in a -parish for some time, I suggested to -my wife that probably the best -Christmas present I could give my -Uncle Stanwood and Aunt Millie -would be to make them a personal visit after -all my years of absence and recite to them all -the facts of my education, my marriage, and -describe to them the two interesting members of -my family.</p> - -<p>So I arrived at Uncle Stanwood’s house the -week before Christmas with the intention of -spending a week with him. I had been asked -to preach the Christmas sermon by Mr. Woodward, -the minister, who had started me off to -the seminary.</p> - -<p>My uncle was still living in a mill tenement.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_388">[388]</span> -“So you’ve got an education after all!” he commented, -putting a loving hand on my shoulder. -“Education has made a difference in you altogether. -You are much different. Sit down and -tell me all about it.”</p> - -<p>As for my Aunt Millie, she said, “What did -you marry an American for? Can she cook?”</p> - -<p>Just then the door opened and in slouched -the tallest man I ever saw; slouched past us -without a word and threw himself moodily into -a chair at the end of the supper table. His face -had been carved—roughly carved—out of -mahogany; it was gaunt, sun-beaten and lined -with fret marks. He laid big, scarred hands on -his plate. His shoulders drooped and yet were -massive in strength. His eyes were like distant -lights well back under the shadow of his bulging -brows. A look of disgust seemed to have -lingered on his thin, curled lips since his birth.</p> - -<p>He was my cousin Martin who had arrived -from England two years before.</p> - -<p>When he rose up to reach out one of his great -hands to me, there was a curious, unaccountable -antagonism in his tone when he said, “Oh, -this’s him, eh? He’s the lucky dog, is he?”</p> - -<p>During the recital of my educational experiences -which followed, I noticed that my most -interested listener was Martin. When I came -to those parts which had to do with self-support, -he was alert in every muscle. His eyes blazed -at me, devouring every word that I said.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_389">[389]</span>When aunt and uncle left us alone, Martin -said: “Priddy, do you think the world’s treated -me—oh, right, just right?”</p> - -<p>“What do you mean, Martin?” I asked. -“You’ve got fight in your tone. What’s -wrong?”</p> - -<p>“Did you never ask that, too?” he retorted, -hotly. “Did you ever kick against the goad? -I think you did, once. Don’t forget it, Priddy, -ever! You’re not the only chap that ever -wanted to get ahead, don’t lose sight of that. If -it comes to matching ambition, I’ve got enough -and to spare. Here you are, not much over -twenty, I take it, yet you’ve got polished by -seven years of schooling. Seven years of it! -Have you any more right to it than me? Here -I am nearly thirty and what am I? Blest if -I’m anything but a hod carrier! What have I -ever been, Priddy? Did I ever have a chance? -I went into the mill at eight and have been there -till this winter set in. God knows it’s little I -know in the way of schooling! I can write my -name and read some; but I got it myself. You -know what the mill can be to an ambitious -chap. You never felt it pressing down and -stifling you more than I did. I tell you that.” -He actually spit on his hands and rubbed them, -as if on the verge of striking me.</p> - -<p>“The beginning of this winter I said I wouldn’t -stand it no longer, and I won’t! No mill will -get me again; not if I have to starve. I nearly<span class="pagenum" id="Page_390">[390]</span> -have starved, this winter, trying to keep out. -I’ve peddled shoes, run a baker’s cart, been -janitor of a club-room and now I’m carrying -bricks! Maybe you don’t think it’s hard! I -wish you had it to go through. Perhaps you -have, only your hands arn’t spoiled like mine -with the frost. Even my feet are lame, this -very minute, through frost. I’m earning a -dollar seventy-five a day: good pay, but I -shouldn’t last more than a few years at it and -then——. Besides, I want to get married. -She’s waiting. I’ve just got fifty dollars in the -bank. Do you wonder I feel so?”</p> - -<p>On Christmas Sunday a blackboard in front -of the church announced that the “Rev. Albert -Priddy, formerly of this church, will preach -in the morning and evening. Everybody -Welcome!”</p> - -<p>My uncle took me aside, in the morning, and -said:</p> - -<p>“I’m coming out to hear you, Al. Do your -best, lad. I’ll be with you. God knows I -don’t deserve all this!”</p> - -<p>It was a very simply arranged church; plain, -white-washed walls, and a cheaply carpeted -platform. While the first hymn was being -sung, my Uncle Stanwood crept into a rear -pew and kept his eyes down.</p> - -<p>But while I preached, a half smile of pride -stole into his face and to my excited imagination -his head seemed to be nodding approval to all<span class="pagenum" id="Page_391">[391]</span> -I said. The look in his eyes seemed to be -saying, “Show them, Al!”</p> - -<p>I whispered to the minister, “Let me pronounce -the benediction and while we are singing -the last hymn, get down the aisle and meet my -uncle. He may get out before you. He’s -timid.”</p> - -<p>But Uncle Stanwood crept out before the -benediction and I did not see him again until -my arrival home for dinner.</p> - -<p>On arriving home, I was startled by what -Aunt Millie did. She came up to me, patted -me lovingly on the head and said, “I’m glad -you did so well, Al. Your uncle’s been telling -me all about it. I’ll go and hear you tonight, -too.”</p> - -<p>Martin evidently was interested, for in that -belligerent tone of his, though softened by a -light laugh, he said:</p> - -<p>“I suppose I’ll have to go, too, seeing I’m -his relation!”</p> - -<p>I left the house that evening somewhat early, -because I had to meet some friends. Martin -was blacking his shoes; Aunt Millie was -troubling herself unduly over what she should -wear: a superfluous question, as she had but -one Sunday dress and hat.</p> - -<p>On my way to church that night, I could not -help feeling that I must have misunderstood -my aunt. I chided myself for not having read -her aright. I began to realize that there was a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_392">[392]</span> -deep under-current to her nature—perhaps -one of love?</p> - -<p>It was a thought like that that proved my best -girding for the evening sermon. I sat in the -pulpit while the church filled; for this evening -service was always well attended. The choir -of mill boys and girls, led by a patriarchal man -whose face and hands were white as fuller’s -earth, sang stirring anthems in which we saw -the Palestinian shepherds in mute adoration of -the stable miracle. The congregation sang, with -great unction, another Christmas theme. -Martin’s head towered at the rear; but I could -find no trace of Aunt Millie.</p> - -<p>After the service, and the greetings of old-time -friends, I looked about for Martin and -Aunt Millie. I saw neither. It was somewhat -late when I arrived home. Aunt Millie was -waiting for me with a troubled face.</p> - -<p>“You managed to hide yourself pretty well!” -I laughed.</p> - -<p>She cried as she confessed:</p> - -<p>“I didn’t go, Al. I didn’t hear you at all. -That’s the plain truth!”</p> - -<p>“Why, I thought I saw you getting ready -when I left,” I said.</p> - -<p>“Yes, I was; but I didn’t hear you preach. -I couldn’t!”</p> - -<p>“Oh,” I laughed, “you couldn’t? What was -the matter?”</p> - -<p>“I started out; but on the way I lost heart.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_393">[393]</span> -I was afraid that I might cry out in church, -with you preaching, lad. Besides, I’m not a -dissenter. I was passing the Episcopal church -and went in there, instead. I felt more at home. -You can understand, can’t you, lad?”</p> - -<p>Then she asked me to sit on the sofa and tell -her everything I had spoken of in my sermon; -not to miss a point, but to give it all. She -gave my points commendation, remarking every -now and then while her eyes brimmed with -tears, “It must have done them good, that!”</p> - -<p>Uncle sat at the lower end of the room, saying -not a word; but listening, carefully. In -the midst of my report the front door opened, -and Martin, taking long, determined strides, -hurried through the room without looking at -any of us, closed the kitchen door with a bang, -and left us looking into each other’s faces in -bewilderment.</p> - -<p>“Maybe he’s mad at something you said, Al. -You didn’t chance to look his way and talk of -‘coming to God,’ did you?”</p> - -<p>I solemnly averred that I had not been so -evangelical as that. My aunt hurried into the -kitchen where she lingered for a few moments. -On her return she said:</p> - -<p>“It’s all right, Al. There’s nothing wrong. -He’s just impressed by hearing you preach, -that’s all. He said to me, ‘If education can do -that, for a fellow, I want some of it!’”</p> - -<p>The next morning a heavy snow was falling.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_394">[394]</span> -Martin would have no work. After breakfast -he asked me if I would go into the parlor and -have a talk, he wanted to ask me something. I -readily agreed.</p> - -<p>The former antagonism had gone from his -voice as he began to speak. His words came -quietly, curiously, like a child’s.</p> - -<p>“Priddy, what can a chap learn to be in -college?”</p> - -<p>“What do you mean? What does a college -fit men for?” I asked.</p> - -<p>Martin nodded soberly, his eyes fixed on mine.</p> - -<p>I laughed, “Oh, college will train you for -almost any profession; that is, the professional -schools will. You can study to be a doctor, a -lawyer, a forester, a teacher—oh, anything you -think of!”</p> - -<p>“What do you think’s the best kind of a thing -for a chap to be?”</p> - -<p>“Why,” I replied, in embarrassment, “that -depends upon the fellow, you know.”</p> - -<p>“Well,” said Martin, “what kind of a profession -would you advise a chap like me to -take, for instance?”</p> - -<p>I smiled, knowing what all this fencing meant. -“Forestry is a good profession, just now,” I -advised. “It’s a new branch to the government -and brings in good money. I am sure you -would like to be a forester.”</p> - -<p>“What’s his work, especially?” came the -question.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_395">[395]</span>I explained, as best I knew, the different -functions of a trained forester, emphasizing, -“Mind you, Martin, he’s paid for what he knows -and not what he does with his hands. He doesn’t -have to chop down trees and all that sort of -stuff; but he knows all about saving the forests, -improving them, doctoring them.”</p> - -<p>“How long does it take a man to learn that -trade?” was the next question.</p> - -<p>“About seven years, including college and -professional school.”</p> - -<p>“It would take a fellow like me that long?”</p> - -<p>“Oh,” I admitted, reluctantly, for I felt that -this would put a stop to any ambition that he -had, “of course you are not ready for college. -That would mean at least three years more!”</p> - -<p>Martin mused,</p> - -<p>“Seven and three—ten. I’m twenty-eight -years old. That would bring it up to thirty-eight.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” I assented, “but you must remember -that there are a good many working years left, -after that!”</p> - -<p>“I’m not thinking about myself; it’s Nora. -We planned to get married by spring. Of course -I should put it off. I wonder if you’d help me?”</p> - -<p>“Help you—how—what?”</p> - -<p>“Help me to explain to Nora; so she’ll wait—wait -probably that long!”</p> - -<p>“You can count on me to help you in anything, -Martin.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_396">[396]</span>“When she knows it’s for her betterment, -maybe she’ll be willing,” interjected Martin, as -if in argument with himself.</p> - -<p>I nodded, vigorously.</p> - -<p>“Anyway,” he said with that belligerent tone -of his, “she’ll have to be!”</p> - -<p>Under the inspiration of this conversation, I -pulled Martin out of the house and took him to -the public library, where we asked for a bundle -of preparatory school and college catalogues. -These we whispered over and patiently studied -until noon. We found that, by unusual labor, -it would be possible for Martin to get his -preparation, his college degree, and his professional -training within nine years! As a further -proof of our optimism, we decided that Martin -should enter Yale when he was fitted!</p> - -<p>We found from the catalogue of the preparatory -school that Martin had decided upon, that -the term opened within two days. When I -advised Martin to write a letter to the principal -and await a reply, he stormed at me:</p> - -<p>“And probably it would be a week before I -heard from him. That would put me behind -the classes—and you would be gone, too. If -they aren’t overcrowded, why, I’ll not wait to -write; but just take my fifty dollars and go. -They can only say no.”</p> - -<p>His decision made, Martin began to show me -what a decided nature he possessed. He drew -the fifty dollars out of the bank. He bought<span class="pagenum" id="Page_397">[397]</span> -some necessary clothes out of the money. -The next day he gave notice to the contractor -that he would carry bricks no more. Then he -outlined his scheme to uncle and aunt.</p> - -<p>My Aunt Millie stormed.</p> - -<p>“This education business is getting on my -nerves. First it’s one and then another of -you.” Turning on me she said, “Nice way of -treating us: coming to take a good paying -boarder from us—and we need the money so, -too!”</p> - -<p>But Martin interjected, “Look here, I did it -all myself. Blame me for it!”</p> - -<p>But my aunt would not be consoled. “And -I’d been planning so for the wedding, too!” -she exclaimed.</p> - -<p>As I chanced to be going on a trip to the -Seminary at the time, I told Martin that I -could be his companion as far as he had to go.</p> - -<p>“But you’ve got to go to the North End with -me and help me explain matters to Nora. -You’ve got a smoother tongue than I have and -she’ll listen to you.”</p> - -<p>So Martin and I started out on our dismal -mission. Nora lived on the top floor in one of -the tenements. She was a stout, fair-faced -woman of twenty-seven with a way of casting -her head sidewise when she spoke to me, as if -she had trouble with her sight. She stood gazing -at us, at that unexpected hour, from behind -the ironing-board. The odor of burning cloth<span class="pagenum" id="Page_398">[398]</span> -reached my nostrils, as she stood wondering. -She had burnt the shirtwaist and no amount of -frantic rubbing with soap could take the scar -out.</p> - -<p>She dismissed us to the parlor while she put -on a more presentable dress. Martin said not -a word to me; but he pointed dumbly to his -photograph in a place of honor on the mantel.</p> - -<p>Nora came into the room exclaiming:</p> - -<p>“Why, Martin, didn’t you let me know? -What’s the matter?”</p> - -<p>Martin started to speak; but could not. He -nodded to me.</p> - -<p>Carefully, painfully, hesitantly, I outlined -Martin’s ambition to Nora. More than that -I explained the reasonableness of it, the prime -importance of it to their later fortunes. I tried -to paint in glowing terms the high station to -which Nora, through Martin, might be exalted. -I leaped from point to point with enthusiastic -eloquence, when the theme had mastered me. -But when I had concluded, and was looking -eagerly into the young woman’s face for a favorable -sign, she gasped, then in a cold voice she -said:</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, it’s all right for <i>him</i>; but don’t I -know that if he goes to college he’ll meet other -girls, better looking, better dressed, better -educated than I am, or can ever hope to be. -Suppose I don’t break off this engagement now, -how am I to know that he’ll not forget me,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_399">[399]</span> -throw me over. Have you thought of that in -all your plans?”</p> - -<p>“Martin’s a man of his word, I suppose,” I -protested.</p> - -<p>“You’d find me true, Nora,” declared Martin.</p> - -<p>“How long do you want me to wait?” demanded -the girl.</p> - -<p>“Only about seven or eight years or so!” -haltingly explained Martin.</p> - -<p>Nora leaped to her feet and stamped the -floor, angrily, imperatively.</p> - -<p>“You’d keep me waiting seven or eight years; -waiting that long for you, with all the risk! -Not me! <i>Not for a thousand Martins!</i>”</p> - -<p>That was her answer. We left her without -more words. We left her watching us, crying. -Martin commented, when we were outside:</p> - -<p>“Now, if she’d only had more faith in me -and made me feel certain of victory, maybe -I’d given the whole thing up; but now—we’ll -go tomorrow, sure!”</p> - -<p>The following evening we sat in the North -Station in Boston, awaiting the train that would -carry us on an all-night journey. Every nerve -Martin possessed quivered with pessimism. He -scolded, chided, lodged complaints at everything -and everybody. He tried to give me the impression -that I had made a prisoner of him; -that he no longer had any initiative of his own. -As we sat in the waiting room he held humorous -monologues the purport of each one being,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_400">[400]</span> -“What a fool I am, at my age, to be running -out among a lot of kids to get ready for college. -What a fool!” During that hour’s wait, he -had resolved four times to expend that fifty -dollars in a ticket to the orange groves of -California. Finally, when he had been brooding -in silence for some moments, with a quick -action he pulled out his pocket book, handed -it to me and said, savagely, “Here, take this -and keep it safe. No matter how I beg or what -I say, don’t let me have it. To make things -sure, you’d better run and get me my ticket to -the school; then I’ll be sure and not turn back!”</p> - -<p>As our train started from the station it plunged -into a heavy, blinding snow-storm that had been -raging throughout the entire day. Once in our -seats, Martin recommenced his tirades against -this “foolishness.” But there were propitious -signs near at hand, for his encouragement. A -man was coming down the aisle looking for a -seat in whom I recognized a Seminary comrade -of mine. He was a stubby fellow of middle age, -with an ill-kept, drooping moustache.</p> - -<p>“Say, Harlan, old fellow,” I greeted, “stop -right here and meet my cousin.” When he was -seated, I talked with him, and, for Martin’s -benefit, to whom I slyly winked as I talked, -brought out the fact that Harlan had been -much older than my cousin when he had started -out for an education. Nay, he had been handicapped -with a wife and a child! Now he<span class="pagenum" id="Page_401">[401]</span> -enjoyed the dignity of the ministerial profession. -The moral was evident to Martin. He -braced up and became very agreeable, especially -to my old friend Harlan.</p> - -<p>We talked in low tones until three o’clock in -the morning, at which time the brakeman called -out the station where I should leave Martin to -his fortunes. The poor fellow seemed on the -verge of tears as he gripped his suit-case and -followed me to the door as the train slacked up -its speed. I looked off from the platform. The -storm had not abated. I could see only a great -snowdrift where the station platform should -have been. A street light flickered weakly out -on the street.</p> - -<p>As Martin dropped up to his knees in the -snowdrift and reached for his suit-case I -whispered:</p> - -<p>“Find a hotel, and let me hear from you, old -fellow. Keep up your courage. If there’s anything -I can do, call on me!” Harlan waved his -hand and called, “Never too late to mend!” -an aphorism which might have been pertinent -to the occasion, and then the brakeman’s -lantern swung. As the train lumbered through -the drifts, I saw Martin bend his head to the -storm, lift his suit-case above the drifts, and -go plodding towards the street light. The -station was deserted, and I hoped that my -cousin would find some one to direct him before -the storm discouraged him.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_402">[402]</span>A few months later, I stopped off at the town -where I had left my cousin. He met me at the -train, the same serious man I had left, though -with a trace of a smile on his face and more of -content in his speech than before. He guided -me past a grocery store and said:</p> - -<p>“I get up at four in the morning, do my studying, -then before classes I go out and take orders -for that firm.”</p> - -<p>He led me down a placid street, through the -shovelled paths of snow, and after opening the -front door led me into a well-warmed and very -nicely furnished chamber.</p> - -<p>“I do their chores and earn the rent for this -room,” he announced, with a grim smile. “Furnace -to look after, paths to shovel, and baby to -keep happy, if it wakens when they want to go -to an entertainment.”</p> - -<p>At supper time he led me into the heart of -the town into an eating-house. He had a -meal ticket punched by the waitress.</p> - -<p>“This ticket costs three dollars,” he said, -“enough to last a week at three meals a day. I -make it last three weeks by scrimping and having -a bottle of milk a day in my room.”</p> - -<p>“How do you like the school?” I asked, -pleased with these evidences of his thrift.</p> - -<p>“Well,” he mused, “they are a lot of kids, to -be sure, and I’m quite a freak among them. -‘Grandad’ Martin they call me. I suppose -they’ve never had so old a man in their classes<span class="pagenum" id="Page_403">[403]</span> -before. Anyhow, that’s the way you would -argue from their looks and talk. But it doesn’t -bother me—much. I guess we’ll all get used -to it, by and by.”</p> - -<p>“How is Nora getting along?” I ventured to -enquire.</p> - -<p>“Married!” he snarled, and talked no more -about that.</p> - -<p>“What do you think about this opportunity, -Martin?”</p> - -<p>“Wouldn’t have missed it for fifty weddings!” -he declared.</p> - -<p>Throughout the year I received word from -him, couched in various tempers of letters. -Sometimes he was about to throw the whole -ambition over, because as he wrote, his mind -was not as fresh as it might be. Then he would -write that the boys wanted him to become a -member of the basket-ball team, but he had -refused, because, he argued, so old a man, and -so tall a one, would not do in playing against sixteen -and eighteen-year-olds! In spring, he had -trouble with his French. Then a complication -of physical troubles cropped out, as if to -test his patience. Finally, after being confined -to his bed by illness, and having had to forego -the final examinations, he decided that he was -too old to keep at it, and that he had too many -handicaps. He went to the West, thus keeping -to his old intention, and after he had secured -the position as “boss” of a large gang of men,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_404">[404]</span> -on construction work, a “shirt-sleeved, and -white collar job” as he termed it, he wrote to -me the following letter.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p>“<span class="smcap">My dear Cousin</span>:</p> - -<p>“Don’t feel at all that you did me a bad turn -by having me go to that school for a year. It -was the most profitable investment I have ever -made! I find that out more and more each day. -It has released me, perhaps forever, from that -miserable hand drudgery I always hated, for in -that single year’s contact with polite speech, with -teachers, and with the finer opportunities of life, -I was given more confidence in myself and my -opportunities. I am not afraid to approach -educated people any more. I hold my head up -higher; I feel myself more of a <i>man</i>. I can -even write at the end of my letter, something -impossible before, ‘<i>Remunda de pasturaje hace -becerros gordos</i>,’ which is a Spanish proverb out -here for, ‘Change of pasture makes fat calves!’ -God bless our schools!”</p> -</div> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">The End</span></p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<div class="transnote"> -<p class="ph1">TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:</p> - -<p>Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.</p> - -<p>Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.</p> - -<p>Archaic or variant spelling has been retained.</p> -</div></div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THROUGH THE SCHOOL ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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