The Plastic Age by Percy Marks (best e reader for epub .txt) π
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.
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- Author: Percy Marks
Read book online Β«The Plastic Age by Percy Marks (best e reader for epub .txt) πΒ». Author - Percy Marks
Three Weeks Later He Made Good This Threat. He Was A Clever Boxer, And
He Succeeded In Separating Each Of The Malefactors From The Fighting
Mob. He Would Have Been Completely Nonplussed If He Could Have Heard
Adams And Dodge Talking In Their Room After The Rush.
"Who Gave You The Black Eye?" Adams Asked Dodge.
"That Freshman Carver," He Replied, Touching The Eye Gingerly. "Who Gave
You That Welt On The Chin?"
"Carver! And, Say, He Beat Hi Cooper To A Pulp. He's A Mess."
They Looked At Each Other And Burst Out Laughing.
"Lord," Said Dodge, "I'm Going To Pick My Freshmen Next Time. Who'd Take
A Kid With A Smile Like His To Be A Scrapper? He's Got The Nicest Smile
In College. Why, He Looks Meek As A Lamb."
"You Never Can Tell," Remarked Adams, Rubbing His Chin Ruefully.
Dodge Was Examining His Eye In The Mirror. "No, You Never Can Tell....
Damn It, I'm Going To Have To Get A Beefsteak Or Something For This Lamp
Of Mine."
"Say, He Ought To Be A Good Man For The Fraternity," Adams Said
Suddenly.
"Who?" Dodge's Eye Was Absorbing His Entire Attention.
"Carver, Of Course. He Ought To Make A Damn Good Man."
"Yeah--You Bet. We've Got To Rush Him Sure."
Chapter 8
The Dormitory Initiations Had More Than Angered Hugh; They Had
Completely Upset His Mental Equilibrium: His Every Ideal Of College
Swayed And Wabbled. He Wasn't A Prig, But He Had Come To Sanford With
Very Definite Ideas About The Place, And Those Ideas Were Already Groggy
From The Unmerciful Pounding They Were Receiving.
His Father Was Responsible For His Illusions, If One May Call Them
Illusions. Mr. Carver Was A Shy, Sensitive Man Well Along In His
Fifties, With A Wife Twelve Years His Junior. He Pretended To Cultivate
His Small Farm In Merrytown, But As A Matter Of Fact He Lived Off Of A
Comfortable Income Left Him By His Very Capable Father. He Spent Most Of
His Time Reading The Eighteenth-Century Essayists, John Donne's Poetry,
The "Atlantic Monthly," The "Boston Transcript," And Playing Mozart On
His Violin. He Did Not Understand His Wife And Was Thoroughly Afraid Of
His Son; Hugh Had An Animal Vigor That At Times Almost Terrified Him.
At His Wife's Insistence He Had A Talk With Hugh The Night Before The
Boy Left For College. Hugh Had Wanted To Run When He Met His Father In
The Library After Dinner For That Talk. He Loved The Gentle, Gray-Haired
Man With The Fine, Delicate Features And Soft Voice. He Had Often Wished
That He Knew His Father. Mr. Carver Was Equally Eager To Know Hugh, But
He Had No Idea Of How To Go About Getting Acquainted With His Son.
They Sat On Opposite Sides Of The Fireplace, And Mr. Carver Gazed
Thoughtfully At The Boy. Why Hadn't Betty Had This Talk With Hugh? She
Knew Him So Much Better Than He Did; They Were More Like Brother And
Sister Than Mother And Son. Why, Hugh Called Her Betty Half The Time,
And She Seemed To Understand Him Perfectly.
Hugh Waited Silently. Mr. Carver Ran A Thin Hand Through His Hair And
Then Sharply Desisted; He Mustn't Let The Boy Know That He Was Nervous.
Then He Settled His Horn-Rimmed Pince-Nez More Firmly On His Nose And
Felt In His Waistcoat For A Cigar. Why Didn't Hugh Say Something? He
Snipped The End Of The Cigar With A Silver Knife. Slowly He Lighted The
Cigar, Inhaled Once Or Twice, Coughed Mildly, And Finally Found His
Voice.
"Well, Hugh," He Said In His Gentle Way.
"Well, Dad." Hugh Grinned Sheepishly. Then They Both Started; Hugh Had
Never Called His Father Dad Before. He Thought Of Him That Way Always,
But He Could Never Bring Himself To Dare Anything But The More Formal
Father. In His Embarrassment He Had Forgotten Himself.
"I--I--I'm Sorry, Sir," He Stuttered, Flushing Painfully.
Mr. Carver Laughed To Hide His Own Embarrassment. "That's All Right,
Hugh." His Smile Was Very Kindly. "Let It Be Dad. I Think I Like It
Better."
"That's Fine!" Hugh Exclaimed.
The Tension Was Broken, And Mr. Carver Began To Give The Dreaded Talk.
"I Hardly Know What To Say To You, Hugh," He Began, "On The Eve Of Your
Going Away To College. There Is So Much That You Ought To Know, And I
Have No Idea Of How Much You Know Already."
Hugh Thought Of All The Smutty Stories He Had Heard--And Told.
Instinctively He Knew That His Father Referred To What A Local Doctor
Called "The Facts Of Life."
He Hung His Head And Said Gruffly, "I Guess I Know A Good Deal--Dad."
"That's Splendid!" Mr. Carver Felt The Full Weight Of A Father's
Responsibilities Lifted From His Shoulders. "I Believe Dr. Hanson Gave
You A Talk At School About--Er, Sex, Didn't He?"
"Yes, Sir." Hugh Was Picking Out The Design In The Rug With The Toe Of
His Shoe And At The Same Time Unconsciously Pinching His Leg. He Pinched
So Hard That He Afterward Found A Black And Blue Spot, But He Never
Knew How It Got There.
"Excellent Thing, Excellent Thing, These Talks By Medical Men." He Was
Beginning To Feel At Ease. "Excellent Thing. I Am Glad That You Are So
Well Informed; You Are Old Enough."
Hugh Wasn't Well Informed; He Was Pathetically Ignorant. Most Of What He
Knew Had Come From The Smutty Stories, And He Often Did Not Understand
The Stories That He Laughed At Most Heartily. He Was Consumed With
Curiosity.
"If There Is Anything You Want To Know, Don't Hesitate To Ask," His
Father Continued. He Had A Moment Of Panic Lest Hugh Would Ask
Something, But The Boy Merely Shook His Head--And Pinched His Leg.
Mr. Carver Puffed His Cigar In Great Relief. "Well," He Continued, "I
Don't Want To Give You Much Advice, But Your Mother Feels That I Ought
To Tell You A Little More About College Before You Leave. As I Have Told
You Before, Sanford Is A Splendid Place, A--Er, A Splendid Place. Fine
Old Traditions And All That Sort Of Thing. Splendid Place. You Will Find
A Wonderful Faculty, Wonderful. Most Of The Professors I Had Are Gone,
But I Am Sure That The New Ones Are Quite As Good. Your Opportunities
Will Be Enormous, And I Am Sure That You Will Take Advantage Of Them. We
Have Been Very Proud Of Your High School Record, Your Mother And I, And
We Know That You Will Do Quite As Well In College. By The Way, I Hope
You Take A Course In The Eighteenth-Century Essayists; You Will Find
Them Very Stimulating--Addison Especially.
"I--Er, Your Mother Feels That I Ought To Say Something About The
Dissipations Of College. I--I'm Sure That I Don't Know What To Say. I
Suppose That There Are Young Men In College Who Dissipate--Remember That
I Knew One Or Two--But Certainly Most Of Them Are Gentlemen. Crude
Men--Vulgarians Do Not Commonly Go To College. Vulgarity Has No Place In
College. You May, I Presume, Meet Some Men Not Altogether Admirable, But
It Will Not Be Necessary For You To Know Them. Now, As To The
Fraternity...."
Hugh Forgot To Pinch His Leg And Looked Up With Avid Interest In His
Face. The Nu Deltas!
Mr. Carver Leaned Forward To Stir The Fire With A Brass Poker Before He
Continued. Then He Settled Back In His Chair And Smoked Comfortably. He
Was Completely At Ease Now. The Worst Was Over.
"I Have Written To The Nu Deltas About You And Told Them That I Hoped
That They Would Find You Acceptable, As I Am Sure They Will. As A
Legacy, You Will Be Among The First Considered." For An Hour More He
Talked About The Fraternity. Hugh, His Embarrassment Swallowed By His
Interest, Eagerly Asking Questions. His Father's Admiration For The
Fraternity Was Second Only To His Admiration For The College, And
Before The Evening Was Over He Had Filled Hugh With An Idolatry For
Both.
He Left His Father That Night Feeling Closer To Him Than He Ever Had
Before. He Was Going To Be A College Man Like His Father--Perhaps A Nu
Delta, Too. He Wished That They Had Got Chummy Before. When He Went To
Bed, He Lay Awake Dreaming, Thinking Sometimes Of Helen Simpson And Of
How He Had Kissed Her That Afternoon, But More Often Of Sanford And Nu
Delta. He Was So Deeply Grateful To His Father For Talking To Him
Frankly And Telling Him Everything About College. He Was Darned Lucky To
Have A Father Who Was A College Grad And Could Put Him Wise. It Was
Pretty Tough On The Fellows Whose Fathers Had Never Been To College.
Poor Fellows, They Didn't Know The Ropes The Way He Did....
He Finally Fell Off To Sleep, Picturing Himself In The Doorway Of The Nu
Delta House Welcoming His Father To A Reunion.
That Talk Was Returning To Hugh Repeatedly. He Wondered If Sanford Had
Changed Since His Father's Day Or If His Father Had Just Forgotten What
College Was Like. Everything Seemed So Different From What He Had Been
Told To Expect. Perhaps He Was Just Soft And Some Of The Fellows Weren't
As Crude As He Thought They Were.
Chapter 9
Hugh Was By No Means Continuously Depressed; As A Matter Of Fact, Most
Of The Time He Was Agog With Delight, Especially Over The Rallies That
Were Occurring With Increasing Frequency As The Football Season
Progressed. Sometimes The Rallies Were Carefully Prepared Ceremonies
Held In The Gymnasium; Sometimes They Were Entirely Spontaneous.
A Group Of Men Would Rush Out Of A Dormitory Or Fraternity House
Yelling, "Peerade, Peerade!" Instantly Every One Within Hearing Would
Drop His Books--Or His Cards--And Rush To The Yelling Group, Which Would
Line Up In Fours And Begin Circling The Campus, The Line Ever Getting
Longer As More Men Came Running Out Of The Dormitories And Fraternity
Houses. On, On They Would Go, Arm In Arm, Dancing, Singing Sanford
Songs, Past Every Dormitory On The Campus, Past Every Fraternity
House--Pausing Occasionally To Give A Cheer, Always, However, Keeping
One Goal In Mind, The Fraternity House Where The Team Lived During The
Football Season. Then When The Cheer-Leaders And The Team Were Heading
The Procession, The Mob Would Make For The Football Field, With The Cry
Of "Wood, Freshmen, Wood!" Ringing Down The Line.
Hugh Was Always One Of The First Freshmen To Break From The Line In His
Eagerness To Get Wood. In An Incredibly Short Time He And His Classmates
Had Found A Large Quantity Of Old Lumber, Empty Boxes, Rotten Planks,
And Not Very Rotten Gates. When A Light Was Applied To The Clumsy Pile
Of Wood, The Flames Leaped Up Quickly--Some One Always Seemed To Have A
Supply Of Kerosene Ready--And Revealed The Excited Upper-Classmen
Sitting On The Bleachers.
"Dance, Freshmen, Dance!"
Then The Freshmen Danced Around The Fire, Holding Hands And Spreading
Into An Ever Widening Circle As The Fire Crackled And The Flames Leaped
Upward. Slowly, Almost Impressively, The Upper-Classmen Chanted:
"Round The Fire, The Freshmen Go,
Freshmen Go,
Freshmen Go;
Round The Fire The Freshmen Go
To Cheer Sanford."
The Song Had A Dozen Stanzas, Only The Last Line Of Each Being
Different. The Freshmen Danced Until The Last Verse Was Sung, Which
Ended With The Sanford Cheer:
"Closer Now The Freshmen Go,
Freshmen Go,
Freshmen Go;
Closer Now
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