The Plastic Age by Percy Marks (best e reader for epub .txt) 📕

When An American Sets Out To Found A College,  He Hunts First For A Hill.

John Harvard Was An Englishman And Indifferent To High Places. The

Result Is That Harvard Has Become A University Of Vast Proportions And

No Color. Yale Flounders About Among The New Haven Shops,  Trying To Rise

Above Them. The Harkness Memorial Tower Is Successful; Otherwise The

University Smells Of Trade. If Yale Had Been Built On A Hill,  It Would

Probably Be Far Less Important And Much More Interesting.

Hezekiah Sanford Was Wise; He Found First His Hill And Then Founded His

College,  Believing Probably That Any One Ambitious Enough To Climb The

Hill Was A Man Fit To Wrestle With Learning And,  If Need Be,  With Satan

Himself. Satan Was Ever Before Hezekiah,  And He Fought Him Valiantly,

Exorcising Him Every Morning In Chapel And Every Evening At Prayers. The

First Students Of Sanford College Learned Latin And Greek And To Fear

The Devil. There Are Some Who Declare That Their Successors Learn Less.

Hezekiah Built Sanford Hall,  A Fine Georgian Building,  Performed The

Duties Of Trustees,  President,  Dean,  And Faculty For Thirty Years,  And

Then Passed To His Reward,  Leaving Three Thousand Acres,  His Library Of

Five Hundred Books,  Mostly Sermons,  Sanford Hall,  And A Charter That

Opened The Gates Of Sanford To All Men So That They Might "Find The True

Light Of God And The Glory Of Jesus In The Halls Of This Most Liberal

College."

More Than A Century Had Passed Since Hezekiah Was Laid To Rest In

Haydensville's Cemetery. The College Had Grown Miraculously And Changed

Even More Miraculously. Only The Hill And Its Beautiful Surroundings

Remained The Same. Indian Lake,  On The South Of The Campus,  Still

Sparkled In The Sunlight; On The East The Woods Were As Virgin As They

Had Been A Hundred And Fifty Years Before. Haydensville,  Still Only A

Village,  Surrounded The College On The West And North.

Hezekiah's Successors Had Done Strange Things To His Campus. There Were

Dozens Of Buildings Now Surrounding Sanford Hall,  And They Revealed All

The Types Of Architecture Popular Since Hezekiah Had Thundered His Last

Defiance At Satan. There Were Fine Old Colonial Buildings,  Their Windows

Outlined By English Ivy; Ponderous Romanesque Buildings Made Of Stone,

Grotesque And Hideous; A Pseudo-Gothic Chapel With A Tower Of

Surpassing Loveliness; And Four Laboratories Of The Purest Factory

Design. But Despite The Conglomerate And Sometimes Absurd

Architecture--A Doric Temple Neighbored A Byzantine Mosque--The Campus

Was Beautiful. Lawns,  Often Terraced,  Stretched Everywhere,  And The

Great Elms Lent A Dignity To Sanford College That No Architect,  However

Stupid,  Could Quite Efface.

This First Day Of The New College Year Was Glorious In The Golden Haze

Of Indian Summer. The Lake Was Silver Blue,  The Long Reflections Of The

Trees Twisting And Bending As A Soft Breeze Ruffled The Surface Into

Tiny Waves. The Hills Already Brilliant With Color--Scarlet,  Burnt

Orange,  Mauve,  And Purple--Flamed Up To Meet The Clear Blue Sky; The

Elms Softly Rustled Their Drying Leaves; The White Houses Of The Village

Retreated Coyly Behind Maples And Firs And Elms: Everywhere There Was

Peace,  The Peace That Comes With Strength That Has Been Stronger Than

Time.

As Hugh Carver Hastened Up The Hill From The Station,  His Two Suit-Cases

Banged His Legs And Tripped Him. He Could Hardly Wait To Reach The

Campus. The Journey Had Been Intolerably Long--Haydensville Was More

Than Three Hundred Miles From Merrytown,  His Home--And He Was Wild To

Find His Room In Surrey Hall. He Wondered How He Would Like His

Room-Mate,  Peters.... What's His Name? Oh,  Yes,  Carl.... The Registrar

Had Written That Peters Had Gone To Kane School.... Must Be Pretty Fine.

Ought To Be First-Class To Room With.... Hugh Hoped That Peters Wouldn't

Think That He Was Too Country....

Hugh Was A Slender Lad Who Looked Considerably Less Than His Eighteen

Years. A Gray Cap Concealed His Sandy Brown Hair,  Which He Parted On The

Side And Which Curled Despite All His Brushing. His Crystalline Blue

Eyes,  His Small,  Neatly Carved Nose,  His Sensitive Mouth That Hid A Shy

And Appealing Smile,  Were All Very Boyish. He Seemed Young,  Almost

Pathetically Young.

People Invariably Called Him A Nice Boy,  And He Didn't Like It; In Fact,

He Wanted To Know How They Got That Way. They Gave Him The Pip,  That's

What They Did. He Guessed That A Fellow Who Could Run The Hundred In 10:

2 And Out-Box Anybody In High School Wasn't Such A Baby. Why,  He Had

Overheard One Of The Old Maid Teachers Call Him Sweet. Sweet! Cripes,

That Old Hen Made Him Sick. She Was Always Pawing Him And Sticking Her

Skinny Hands In His Hair. He Was Darn Glad To Get To College Where There

Were Only Men Teachers.

Women Always Wanted To Get Their Hands Into His Hair,  And Boys Liked Him

On Sight. Many Of Those Who Were Streaming Up The Hill Before And Behind

Him,  Who Passed Him Or Whom He Passed,  Glanced At His Eager Face And

Thought That There Was A Guy They'd Like To Know.

An Experienced Observer Would Have Divided Those Boys Into Three Groups:

Preparatory School Boys,  Carelessly At Ease,  Well Dressed,  Or,  As The

College Argot Has It,  "Smooth"; Boys From City Schools,  Not So Well

Dressed Perhaps,  Certainly Not So Sure Of Themselves; And Country Boys,

Many Of Them Miserably Confused And Some Of Them Clad In Kollege Kut

Klothes That They Would Shamefacedly Discard Within A Week.

Hugh Finally Reached The Top Of The Hill,  And The Campus Was Before Him.

He Had Visited The College Once With His Father And Knew His Way About.

Eager As He Was To Reach Surrey Hall,  He Paused To Admire The

Pseudo-Gothic Chapel. He Felt A Little Thrill Of Pride As He Stared In

Awe At The Magnificent Building. It Had Been Willed To The College By An

Alumnus Who Had Made Millions Selling Rotten Pork.

Hugh Skirted Two Of The Factory Laboratories,  Hurried Between The Doric

Temple And Byzantine Mosque,  Paused Five Times To Direct Confused

Classmates,  Passed A Dull Red Colonial Building,  And Finally Stood

Before Surrey Hall,  A Large Brick Dormitory Half Covered By Ivy.

He Hurried Up-Stairs And Down A Corridor Until He Found A Door With 19

On It. He Knocked.

"What Th' Hell! Come In." The Voice Was Impatiently Cheerful.

Hugh Pushed Open The Door And Entered The Room To Meet Wild

Confusion--And His Room-Mate. The Room Was A Clutter Of Suit-Cases,

Trunks,  Clothes,  Banners,  Unpacked Furniture,  Pillows,  Pictures,

Golf-Sticks,  Tennis-Rackets,  And Photographs--Dozens Of Photographs,  All

Of Them Of Girls Apparently. In The Middle Of The Room A Boy Was On His

Knees Before An Open Trunk. He Had Sleek Black Hair,  Parted Meticulously

In The Center,  A Slender Face With Rather Sharp Features And Large Black

Eyes That Almost Glittered. His Lips Were Full And Very Red,  Almost Too

Red,  And His Cheeks Seemed To Be Colored With A Hard Blush.

"Hullo," He Said In A Clear Voice As Hugh Came In. "Who Are You?"

Hugh Flushed Slightly. "I'm Carver," He Answered,  "Hugh Carver."

The Other Lad Jumped To His Feet,  Revealing,  To Hugh's Surprise,  Golf

Knickers. He Was Tall,  Slender,  And Very Neatly Built.

"Hell!" He Exclaimed. "I Ought To Have Guessed That." He Held Out His

Hand. "I'm Carl Peters,  The Guy You've Got To Room With--And God Help

You."

Hugh Dropped His Suit-Cases And Shook Hands. "Guess I Can Stand It," He

Said With A Quick Laugh To Hide His Embarrassment. "Maybe You'll Need A

Little Of God's Help Yourself." Diffident And Unsure,  He Smiled--And

Peters Liked Him On The Spot.

"Chase Yourself," Peters Said Easily. "I Know A Good Guy When I See One.

Sit Down Somewhere--Er,  Here." He Brushed A Pile Of Clothes Off A Trunk

To The Floor With One Sweep Of His Arm. "Rest Yourself After Climbing

That Goddamn Hill. Christ! It's A Bastard,  That Hill Is. Say,  Your

Trunk's Down-Stairs. I Saw It. I'll Help You Bring It Up Soon's You've

Got Your Wind."

Hugh Was Rather Dazzled By The Rapid,  Staccato Talk,  And,  To Tell The

Truth,  He Was A Little Shocked By The Profanity. Not That He Wasn't Used

To Profanity; He Had Heard Plenty Of That In Merrytown,  But He Didn't

Expect Somehow That A College Man--That Is,  A Prep-School Man--Would Use

It. He Felt That He Ought To Make Some Reply To Peters's Talk,  But He

Didn't Know Just What Would Do. Peters Saved Him The Trouble.

"I'll Tell You,  Carver--Oh,  Hell,  I'm Going To Call You Hugh--We're

Going To Have A Swell Joint Here. Quite The Darb. Three Rooms,  You Know;

A Bedroom For Each Of Us And This Big Study. I've Brought Most Of The

Junk That I Had At Kane,  And I S'pose You've Got Some Of Your Own."

"Not Much," Hugh Replied,  Rather Ashamed Of What He Thought Might Be

Considered Stinginess. He Hastened To Explain That He Didn't Know What

Carl Would Have; So He Thought That He Had Better Wait And Get His Stuff

At College.

"That's The Bean," Exclaimed Carl,  He Had Perched Himself On The

Window-Seat. He Threw One Well Shaped Leg Over The Other And Gazed At

Hugh Admiringly. "You Certainly Used The Old Bean. Say,  I've Got A Hell

Of A Lot Of Truck Here,  And If You'd A Brought Much,  We'd A Been

Swamped.... Say,  I'll Tell You How We Fix This Dump." He Jumped Up,  Led

Hugh On A Tour Of The Rooms,  Discussed The Disposal Of The Various

Pieces Of Furniture With Enormous Gusto,  And Finally Pointed To The

Photographs.

"Hope You Don't Mind My Harem," He Said,  Making A Poor Attempt To Hide

His Pride.

"It's Some Harem," Replied Hugh In Honest Awe.

Again He Felt Ashamed. He Had Pictures Of His Father And Mother,  And

That Was All. He'd Write To Helen For One Right Away. "Where'd You Get

All Of 'Em? You've Certainly Got A Collection."

"Sure Have. The Album Of Hearts I've Broken. When I've Kissed A Girl

Twice I Make Her Give Me Her Picture. I've Forgotten The Names Of Some

Of These Janes. I Collected Ten At Bar Harbor This Summer And Three At

Christmas Cove. Say,  This Kid--" He Fished Through A Pile Of

Pictures--"Was The Hottest Little Devil I Ever Met." He Passed To Hugh A

Cabinet Photograph Of A Standard Flapper. "Pet? My God!" He Cast His

Eyes Ceilingward Ecstatically.

Hugh's Mind Was A Battle-Field Of Disapproval And Envy. Carl Dazzled And

Confused Him. He Had Often Listened To The Recitals Of Their Exploits By

The Merrytown Don Juans,  But This Good-Looking,  Sophisticated Lad

Evidently Had A Technique And Breadth Of Experience Quite Unknown To

Merrytown. He Wanted Badly To Hear More,  But Time Was Flying And He

Hadn't Even Begun To Unpack.

"Will You Help Me Bring Up My Trunk?" He Asked Half Shyly.

"Oh,  Hell,  Yes. I'd Forgotten All About That. Come On."

They Spent The Rest Of The Afternoon Unpacking,  Arranging And

Rearranging The Furniture And Pictures. They Found A Restaurant And Had

Dinner. Then They Returned To 19 Surrey And Rearranged The Furniture

Once More,  Pausing Occasionally To Chat While Carl Smoked. He Offered

Hugh A Cigarette. Hugh Explained That He Did Not Smoke,  That He Was A

Sprinter And That The Coaches Said That Cigarettes Were Bad For A

Runner.

"Right-O," Said Carl,  Respecting The Reason Thoroughly. "I Can't Run

Worth A Damn Myself,  But I'm Not Bad At Tennis--Not Very Good,  Either.

Say,  If You're A Runner You Ought To Make A Fraternity Easy. Got Your

Eye On One?"

"Well," Said Hugh,  "My Father's A Nu Delt."

"The Nu Delts. Phew! High-Hat As Hell." He Looked At Hugh Enviously.

"Say,  You Certainly Are Set. Well,  My Old Man Never Went To College,  But

I Want To Tell You That He Left Us A Whale Of A Lot Of Jack When He

Passed Out A Couple Of Years Ago."

"What!" Hugh Exclaimed,  Staring At Him In Blank Astonishment.

In An Instant Carl Was On His Feet,  His Flashing Eyes Dimmed By Tears.

"My Old Man Was The Best Scout That Ever Lived--The Best Damned Old

Scout That Ever Lived." His Sophistication Was All Gone; He Was Just A

Small Boy,  Heartily Ashamed Of Himself And Ready To Cry. "I Want You To

Know That," He Ended Defiantly.

At Once Hugh Was All Sympathy. "Sure,  I Know," He Said Softly. Then He

Smiled And Added,  "So's Mine."

Carl's Face Lost Its Lugubriousness In A Broad Grin. "I'm A Fish," He

Announced. "Let's Hit The Hay."

"You Said It!"