The Plastic Age by Percy Marks (best fiction books to read TXT) 📕

Friend Of Charles Fox. The Main Event Of His Political Life Was His

Tenure Of The Office Of Lord-Lieutenant Of Ireland In The Coalition

Ministry In 1783.

(132) John St. John (1746-1793),  Third Son Of John,  Second Viscount

St. John,  A Typical Specimen Of The Macaroni. He Was An M.P. From

1773 To 178perience. He Discovers That He And His Fellows Are Made Of

Very Brittle Clay: Usually He Loathes Himself; Often He Loathes His

Fellows.

"College Isn'T The Elysium That It Is Painted In Stories And Novels,  But

I Feel Sorry For Any Intelligent Man Who Didn'T Have The Opportunity To

Go To College. There Is Something Beautiful About One'S College Days,

Something That One Treasures All His Life. As We Grow Older,  We Forget

The Hours Of Storm And Stress,  The Class-Room Humiliations,  The Terror

Of Examinations,  The Awful Periods Of Doubt Of God And Man--We Forget

Everything But Athletic Victories,  Long Discussions With Friends,  Campus

Sings,  Fraternity Life,  Moonlight On The Campus,  And Everything That Is

Romantic. The Sting Dies,  And The Beauty Remains.

"Why Do Men Give Large Sums Of Money To Their Colleges When Asked?

Because They Want To Help Society? Not At All. The Average Man Doesn'T

Even Take That Into Consideration. He Gives The Money Because He Loves

His Alma Mater,  Because He Has Beautiful And Tender Memories Of Her. No,

Colleges Are Far From Perfect,  Tragically Far From It,  But Any

Institution That Commands Loyalty And Love As Colleges Do Cannot Be

Wholly Imperfect. There Is A Virtue In a College That Uninspired

Administrative Officers,  Stupid Professors,  And Alumni With False Ideals

Cannot Kill. At Times I Tremble For Sanford College; There Are Times

When I Swear At It,  But I Never Cease To Love It."

"If You Feel That Way About College,  Why Did You Say Those Things To Us

Two Years Ago?" Hugh Asked. "Because They Were True,  All True. I Was

Talking About The Undergraduates Then,  And I Could Have Said Much More

Cutting Things And Still Been On The Safe Side Of The Truth. There Is,

However,  Another Side,  And That Is What I Am Trying To Give You

Now--Rather Incoherently,  I Know."

Hugh Thought Of Cynthia. "I Suppose All That You Say Is True," He

Admitted Dubiously,  "But I Can'T Feel That College Does What It Should

For Us. We Are Told That We Are Taught To Think,  But The Minute We Bump

Up Against A Problem In Living We Are Stumped Just As Badly As We Were

When We Are Freshmen."

"Oh,  No,  Not At All. You Solve Problems Every Day That Would Have

Stumped You Hopelessly As A Freshman. You Think Better Than You Did Four

Years Ago,  But No College,  However Perfect,  Can Teach You All The

Solutions Of Life. There Are No Nostrums Or Cure-Alls That The Colleges

Can Give For All The Ills And Sicknesses Of Life. You,  I Am Afraid,  Will

Have To Doctor Those Yourself."

"I See." Hugh Didn'T Altogether See. Both College And Life Seemed More

Complicated Than He Had Thought Them. "I Am Curious To Know," He Added,

"Just Whom You Consider The Cream Of The Earth. That Expression Has

Stuck In My Mind. I Don'T Know Why--But It Has."

Henley Smiled. "Probably Because It Is Such A Very Badly Mixed Metaphor.

Well,  I Consider The College Man The Cream Of The Earth."

"What?" Four Of The Men Exclaimed,  And All Of Them Sat Suddenly Upright.

"Yes--But Let Me Explain. If I Remember Rightly,  I Said That If You Were

The Cream Of The Earth,  I Hoped That God Would Pity The Skimmed Milk.

Well,  Everything Taken Into Consideration,  I Do Think That You Are The

Cream Of The Earth; And I Have No Hope For The Skimmed Milk. Perhaps It

Isn'T Wise For Me To Give Public Expression To My Pessimism,  But You

Ought To Be Old Enough To Stand It."

"The Average College Graduate Is A Pretty Poor Specimen,  But All In all

He Is Just About The Best We Have. Please Remember That I Am Talking In

Averages. I Know Perfectly Well That A Great Many Brilliant Men Do Not

Come To College And That A Great Many Stupid Men Do Come,  But The

Colleges Get A Very Fair Percentage Of The Intelligent Ones And A

Comparatively Small Percentage Of The Stupid Ones. In Other Words,  To

Play With My Mixed Metaphor A Bit,  The Cream Is Very Thin In Places And

The Skimmed Milk Has Some Very Thick Clots Of Cream,  But In The End The

Cream Remains The Cream And The Milk The Milk. Everything Taken Into

Consideration,  We Get In The Colleges The Young Men With The Highest

Ideals,  The Loftiest Purpose."

"You Want To Tell Me That Those Ideals Are Low And The Purpose

Materialistic And Selfish. I Know It,  But The Average College Graduate,

I Repeat,  Has Loftier Ideals And Is Less Materialistic Than The Average

Man Who Has Not Gone To College. I Wish That I Could Believe That The

College Gives Him Those Ideals. I Can'T,  However. The Colleges Draw The

Best That Society Has To Offer; Therefore,  They Graduate The Best."

"Oh,  I Don'T Know," A Student Interrupted. "How About Edison And Ford

And--"

"And Shakspere And Sophocles," Henley Concluded For Him. "Edison Is An

Inventive Genius,  And Ford Is A Business Genius. Genius Hasn'T Anything

To Do With Schools. The Colleges,  However,  Could Have Made Both Ford And

Edison Bigger Men,  Though They Couldn'T Have Made Them Lesser Geniuses."

"No,  We Must Not Take The Exceptional Man As A Standard; We'Ve Got To

Talk About The Average. The Hand Of The Potter Shook Badly When He Made

Man. It Was At Best A Careless Job. But He Made Some Better Than Others,

Some A Little Less Weak,  A Little More Intelligent. All In all,  Those

Are The Men That Come To College. The Colleges Ought To Do A Thousand

Times More For Those Men Than They Do Do; But,  After All,  They Do

Something For Them,  And I Am Optimistic Enough To Believe That The Time

Will Come When They Will Do More."

"Some Day,  Perhaps," He Concluded Very Seriously,  "Our Administrative

Officers Will Be True Educators; Some Day Perhaps Our Faculties Will Be

Wise Men Really Fitted To Teach; Some Day Perhaps Our Students Will Be

Really Students,  Eager To Learn,  Honest Searchers After Beauty And

Truth. That Day Will Be The Millennium. I Look For The Undergraduates To

Lead Us To It."

The College Year Swept Rapidly To Its Close,  So Rapidly To The Seniors

That The Days Seemed To Melt In Their Grasp. The Twentieth Of June Would

Bring Them Their Diplomas And The End Of Their College Life. They Felt A

Bit Chesty At The Thought Of That B.S. Or A.B.,  But A Little Sentimental

At The Thought Of Leaving "Old Sanford."

Suddenly Everything About The College Became Infinitely Precious--Every

Tradition; Every Building,  No Matter How Ugly; Even The Professors,  Not

Just The Deserving Few--All Of Them.

Hugh Took To Wandering About The Campus,  Sometimes Alone,  Thinking Of

Cynthia,  Sometimes With A Favored Crony Such As George Winsor Or Pudge

Jamieson. He Didn'T See Very Much Of Norry The Last Month Or Two Of

College. He Was Just As Fond Of Him As Ever,  But Norry Was Only A

Junior; He Would Not Understand How A Fellow Felt About Sanford When He

Was On The Verge Of Leaving Her. But George And Pudge Did Understand.

The Boys Didn'T Say Much As They Wandered Around The Buildings,  Merely

Strolled Along,  Occasionally Pausing To Laugh Over Some Experience That

Had Happened To One Of Them In The Building They Were Passing.

Hugh Could Never Pass Surrey Hall Without Feeling Something Deeper Than

Sentimentality. He Always Thought Of Carl Peters,  From Whom He Had Not

Heard For More Than A Year. He Understood Carl Better Now,  His Desire

To Be A Gentleman And His Despair At Ever Succeeding. Surrey Hall Held

Drama For Hugh,  Not All Of It Pleasant,  But He Had A Deeper Affection

For The Ivy-Covered Dormitory Then He Would Ever Have For The Nu Delta

House. He Wondered What Had Become Of Morse,  The Homesick Freshman.

Poor Morse.... And The Bull Sessions He Had Sat In In Old Surrey. He

Had Learned A Lot From Them,  A Whole Lot....

The Chapel Where He Had Slept And Surreptitiously Eaten Doughnuts And

Read "The Sanford News" Suddenly Became A Holy Building,  The Building

That Housed The Soul Of Sanford.... He Knew That He Was Sentimental,  That

He Was Investing Buildings With A Greater Significance Than They Had In

Their Own Right,  But He Continued To Dream Over The Last Four Years And

To Find A Melancholy Beauty In His Own Sentimentality. If It Hadn'T

Been For Cynthia,  He Would Have Been Perfectly Happy.

Soon The Examinationnished

At This Boar (Sic),  But Must Excuse It From Me,  Who Hear Nothing

Else.

Indeed,  There Is Another Operation Which Breaks In Upon This

Subject,  I E.,  The Game Of Commerce. Lady Betty Has Taken To This

Game,  And She Makes All The World,  Bon Gre,  Malgre,  Play At It Till

Five O'Clock In The Morning. I Live There Almost; What With Balls,

Bt (?),  Tessier,  Commerce,  Supper,  And Quinze,  I Am Never Out Of The

House. They Have Invited Me To Go To The Oaks,  This Christmas,  But

If Castle Howard Is Too Far,  The Oaks,  I Assure You,  Will Be Much

Farther. I Rather Think I Shall Go For A Fortnight To Bath. You Have

Heard Of Gen. Scott'S Death. George'S Motto For His Achievement Is

--Sic Dice Placuit; And For His Sarcophagus--Dice Manibus,  &C. .