PHILOSOPHY 4 A STORY OF HARVARD UNIVERSITY By Owen Wister I Two frowning boys sat in their tennis flannels beneath the glare oflamp and gas. Their leather belts were loosened, their soft pink shirtsunbuttoned at the collar. They were listening with gloomy voracity tothe instruction of a third. They sat at a table bared of its customarysporting ornaments, and from time to time they questioned, sucked theirpencils, and scrawled vigorous, laconic notes. Their necks and facesshone with the bloom of out-of-doors. Studious concentration wasevidently a painful novelty to their features. Drops of perspirationcame one by one from their matted hair, and their hands dampened thepaper upon which they wrote. The windows stood open wide to the Maydarkness, but nothing came in save heat and insects; for spring, beingbehind time, was making up with a sultry burst at the end, as a delayedtrain makes the last few miles high above schedule speed. Thus ithas been since eight o'clock. Eleven was daintily striking now. Itsdiminutive sonority might have belonged to some church-bell far distantacross the Cambridge silence; but it was on a shelf in the room, --atimepiece of Gallic design, representing Mephistopheles, whocaressed the world in his lap. And as the little strokes boomed, eight--nine--ten--eleven, the voice of the instructor steadily continuedthus:-- "By starting from the Absolute Intelligence, the chief cravings ofthe reason, after unity and spirituality, receive due satisfaction. Something transcending the Objective becomes possible. In the Cogito therelation of subject and object is implied as the primary condition ofall knowledge. Now, Plato never--" "Skip Plato, " interrupted one of the boys. "You gave us his pointsyesterday. " "Yep, " assented the other, rattling through the back pages of his notes. "Got Plato down cold somewhere, --oh, here. He never caught on to thesubjective, any more than the other Greek bucks. Go on to the nextchappie. " "If you gentlemen have mastered the--the Grreek bucks, " observed theinstructor, with sleek intonation, "we--" "Yep, " said the second tennis boy, running a rapid judicial eye over hisback notes, "you've put us on to their curves enough. Go on. " The instructor turned a few pages forward in the thick book of his ownneat type-written notes and then resumed, -- "The self-knowledge of matter in motion. " "Skip it, " put in the first tennis boy. "We went to those lectures ourselves, " explained the second, whirlingthrough another dishevelled notebook. "Oh, yes. Hobbes and his gang. There is only one substance, matter, but it doesn't strictly exist. Bodies exist. We've got Hobbes. Go on. " The instructor went forward a few pages more in his exhaustive volume. He had attended all the lectures but three throughout the year, takingthem down in short-hand. Laryngitis had kept him from those three, towhich however, he had sent a stenographic friend so that the chainwas unbroken. He now took up the next philosopher on the list; but hissmooth discourse was, after a short while, rudely shaken. It was thesecond tennis boy questioning severely the doctrines imparted. "So he says color is all your eye, and shape isn't? and substanceisn't?" "Do you mean he claims, " said the first boy, equally resentful, "that ifwe were all extinguished the world would still be here, only there'd beno difference between blue and pink, for instance?" "The reason is clear, " responded the tutor, blandly. He adjusted hiseyeglasses, placed their elastic cord behind his ear, and referred tohis notes. "It is human sight that distinguishes between colors. Ifhuman sight be eliminated from the universe, nothing remains to make thedistinction, and consequently there will be none. Thus also is it withsounds. If the universe contains no ear to hear the sound, the sound hasno existence. " "Why?" said both the tennis boys at once. The tutor smiled. "Is it not clear, " said he, "that there can be nosound if it is not heard!" "No, " they both returned, "not in the least clear. " "It's clear enough what he's driving at of course, " pursued the firstboy. "Until the waves of sound or light or what not hit us through oursenses, our brains don't experience the sensations of sound or light orwhat not, and so, of course, we can't know about them--not until theyreach us. " "Precisely, " said the tutor. He had a suave and slightly alien accent. "Well, just tell me how that proves a thunder-storm in a desert islandmakes no noise. " "If a thing is inaudible--" began the tutor. "That's mere juggling!" vociferated the boy, "That's merely the samekind of toy-shop brain-trick you gave us out of Greek philosophyyesterday. They said there was no such thing as motion because at everyinstant of time the moving body had to be somewhere, so how could it getanywhere else? Good Lord! I can make up foolishness like that myself. For instance: A moving body can never stop. Why? Why, because at everyinstant of time it must be going at a certain rate, so how can it everget slower? Pooh!" He stopped. He had been gesticulating with one hand, which he now jammed wrathfully into his pocket. The tutor must have derived great pleasure from his own smile, for heprolonged and deepened and variously modified it while his shiny littlecalculating eyes travelled from one to the other of his ruddy scholars. He coughed, consulted his notes, and went through all the paces ofsuperiority. "I can find nothing about a body's being unable to stop, "said he, gently. "If logic makes no appeal to you, gentlemen--" "Oh, bunch!" exclaimed the second tennis boy, in the slang of hisperiod, which was the early eighties. "Look here. Color has no existenceoutside of our brain--that's the idea?" The tutor bowed. "And sound hasn't? and smell hasn't? and taste hasn't?" The tutor had repeated his little bow after each. "And that's because they depend on our senses? Very well. But he claimssolidity and shape and distance do exist independently of us. If we alldied, they'd he here just the same, though the others wouldn't. A flowerwould go on growing, but it would stop smelling. Very well. Now you tellme how we ascertain solidity. By the touch, don't we? Then, if there wasnobody to touch an object, what then? Seems to me touch is just as muchof a sense as your nose is. " (He meant no personality, but the first boychoked a giggle as the speaker hotly followed up his thought. ) "Seemsto me by his reasoning that in a desert island there'd be nothing itall--smells or shapes--not even an island. Seems to me that's what youcall logic. " The tutor directed his smile at the open window. "Berkeley--" said he. "By Jove!" said the other boy, not heeding him, "and here's anotherpoint: if color is entirely in my brain, why don't that ink-bottle andthis shirt look alike to me? They ought to. And why don't a Martinicocktail and a cup of coffee taste the same to my tongue?" "Berkeley, "attempted the tutor, "demonstrates--" "Do you mean to say, " the boy rushed on, "that there is no eternalquality in all these things which when it meets my perceptions compelsme to see differences?" The tutor surveyed his notes. "I can discover no such suggestions hereas you are pleased to make" said he. "But your orriginal researches, " hecontinued most obsequiously, "recall our next subject, --Berkeley and theIdealists. " And he smoothed out his notes. "Let's see, " said the second boy, pondering; "I went to two or threelectures about that time. Berkeley--Berkeley. Didn't he--oh, yes! hedid. He went the whole hog. Nothing's anywhere except in your ideas. Youthink the table's there, but it isn't. There isn't any table. " The first boy slapped his leg and lighted a cigarette. "I remember, "said he. "Amounts to this: If I were to stop thinking about you, you'devaporate. " "Which is balls, " observed the second boy, judicially, again in theslang of his period, "and can be proved so. For you're not alwaysthinking about me, and I've never evaporated once. " The first boy, after a slight wink at the second, addressed the tutor. "Supposing you were to happen to forget yourself, " said he to that sleekgentleman, "would you evaporate?" The tutor turned his little eyes doubtfully upon the tennis boys, butanswered, reciting the language of his notes: "The idealistic theorydoes not apply to the thinking ego, but to the world of externalphenomena. The world exists in our conception of it. "Then, " said the second boy, "when a thing is inconceivable?" "It has no existence, " replied the tutor, complacently. "But a billion dollars is inconceivable, " retorted the boy. "No mind cantake in a sum of that size; but it exists. " "Put that down! put that down!" shrieked the other boy. "You've strucksomething. If we get Berkeley on the paper, I'll run that in. " He wroterapidly, and then took a turn around the room, frowning as he walked. "The actuality of a thing, " said he, summing his clever thoughts up, "is not disproved by its being inconceivable. Ideas alone depend uponthought for their existence. There! Anybody can get off stuff like thatby the yard. " He picked up a cork and a foot-rule, tossed the cork, andsent it flying out of the window with the foot-rule. "Skip Berkeley, " said the other boy. "How much more is there?" "Necessary and accidental truths, " answered the tutor, reading thesubjects from his notes. "Hume and the causal law. The duality, ormultiplicity, of the ego. " "The hard-boiled ego, " commented the boy the ruler; and he batted aswooping June-bug into space. "Sit down, idiot, " said his sprightly mate. Conversation ceased. Instruction went forward. Their pencils worked. Thecausal law, etc. , went into their condensed notes like Liebig's extractof beef, and drops of perspiration continued to trickle from theirmatted hair. II Bertie and Billy were sophomores. They had been alive for twenty years, and were young. Their tutor was also a sophomore. He too had been alivefor twenty years, but never yet had become young. Bertie and Billy hadcolonial names (Rogers, I think, and Schuyler), but the tutor's name wasOscar Maironi, and he was charging his pupils five dollars an houreach for his instruction. Do not think this excessive. Oscar could havetutored a whole class of irresponsibles, and by that arrangement haveearned probably more; but Bertie and Billy had preempted him on accountof his fame or high standing and accuracy, and they could well affordit. All three sophomores alike had happened to choose Philosophy 4 asone of their elective courses, and all alike were now face to face withthe Day of Judgment. The final examinations had begun. Oscar could layhis hand upon his studious heart and await the Day of Judgment like--Ihad nearly said a Christian! His notes were full: Three hundred pagesabout Zeno and Parmenides and the rest, almost every word as it had comefrom the professor's lips. And his memory was full, too, flowing likea player's lines. With the right cue he could recite instantly: "Animportant application of this principle, with obvious reference toHeracleitos, occurs in Aristotle, who says--" He could do this with thenotes anywhere. I am sure you appreciate Oscar and his great power ofacquiring facts. So he was ready, like the wise virgins of parable. Bertie and Billy did not put one in mind of virgins: although they hadburned considerable midnight oil, it had not been to throw light uponPhilosophy 4. In them the mere word Heracleitos had raised a chill nolater than yesterday, --the chill of the unknown. They had not attendedthe lectures on the "Greek bucks. " Indeed, profiting by their privilegeof voluntary recitations, they had dropped in but seldom on Philosophy4. These blithe grasshoppers had danced and sung away the preciousstoring season, and now that the bleak hour of examinations was uponthem, their waked-up hearts had felt aghast at the sudden vision oftheir ignorance. It was on a Monday noon that this feeling came fullyupon them, as they read over the names of the philosophers. Thursday wasthe day of the examination. "Who's Anaxagoras?" Billy had inquired ofBertie. "I'll tell you, " said Bertie, "if you'll tell me who Epicharmosof Kos was. " And upon this they embraced with helpless laughter. Thenthey reckoned up the hours left for them to learn Epicharmos of Kosin, --between Monday noon and Thursday morning at nine, --and theirquailing chill increased. A tutor must be called in at once. So thegrasshoppers, having money, sought out and quickly purchased the ant. Closeted with Oscar and his notes, they had, as Bertie put it, salteddown the early Greek bucks by seven on Monday evening. By the samemidnight they had, as Billy expressed it, called the turn on Plato. Tuesday was a second day of concentrated swallowing. Oscar had takenthem through the thought of many centuries. There had been intermissionsfor lunch and dinner only; and the weather was exceedingly hot. Thepale-skinned Oscar stood this strain better than the unaccustomed Bertieand Billy. Their jovial eyes had grown hollow to-night, althoughtheir minds were going gallantly, as you have probably noticed. Their criticisms, slangy and abrupt, struck the scholastic Oscar asflippancies which he must indulge, since the pay was handsome. Thatthese idlers should jump in with doubts and questions not containedin his sacred notes raised in him feelings betrayed just once in thatremark about "orriginal rresearch. " "Nine--ten--eleven--twelve, " went the little timepiece; and Oscar rose. "Gentlemen, " he said, closing the sacred notes, "we have finished thecausal law. " "That's the whole business except the ego racket, isn't it?" said Billy. "The duality, or multiplicity of the ego remains, " Oscar replied. "Oh, I know its name. It ought to be a soft snap after what we've had. " "Unless it's full of dates and names you've got to know, " said Bertie. "Don't believe it is, " Billy answered. "I heard him at it once. " (Thismeant that Billy had gone to a lecture lately. ) "It's all about Who amI? and How do I do it?" Billy added. "Hm!" said Bertie. "Hm! Subjective and objective again, I suppose, onlyapplied to oneself. You see, that table is objective. I can stand offand judge it. It's outside of me; has nothing to do with me. That'seasy. But my opinion of--well, my--well, anything in my nature--" "Anger when it's time to get up, " suggested Billy. "An excellent illustration, " said Bertie. "That is subjective in me. Similar to your dislike of water as a beverage. That is subjective inyou. But here comes the twist. I can think of my own anger and judge it, just as if it were an outside thing, like a table. I can compare it withitself on different mornings or with other people's anger. And I trustthat you can do the same with your thirst. " "Yes, " said Billy; "I recognize that it is greater at times and less atothers. " "Very well, There you are. Duality of the ego. " "Subject and object, " said Billy. "Perfectly true, and very queer whenyou try to think of it. Wonder how far it goes? Of course, one canexplain the body's being an object to the brain inside it. That's mindand matter over again. But when my own mind and thought, can becomeobjects to themselves--I wonder how far that does go?" he broke offmusingly. "What useless stuff!" he ended. "Gentlemen, " said Oscar, who had been listening to them with patient, Oriental diversion, "I--" "Oh, " said Bertie, remembering him. "Look here. We mustn't keep you up. We're awfully obliged for the way you are putting us on to this. You'resaving our lives. Ten to-morrow for a grand review of the whole course. " "And the multiplicity of the ego?" inquired Oscar. "Oh, I forgot. Well, it's too late tonight. Is it much? Are there manydates and names and things?" "It is more of a general inquiry and analysis, " replied Oscar. "But itis forty pages of my notes. " And he smiled. "Well, look here. It would be nice to have to-morrow clear for review. We're not tired. You leave us your notes and go to bed. " Oscar's hand almost moved to cover and hold his precious property, forthis instinct was the deepest in him. But it did not so move, becausehis intelligence controlled his instinct nearly, though notquite, always. His shiny little eyes, however, became furtive andantagonistic--something the boys did not at first make out. Oscar gave himself a moment of silence. "I could not brreak my rule, "said he then. "I do not ever leave my notes with anybody. Mr. Woodridgeasked for my History 3 notes, and Mr. Bailey wanted my notes for FineArts 1, and I could not let them have them. If Mr. Woodridge was tohear--" "But what in the dickens are you afraid of?" "Well, gentlemen, I would rather not. You would take good care, I know, but there are sometimes things which happen that we cannot help. Onetime a fire--" At this racial suggestion both boys made the room joyous with mirth. Oscar stood uneasily contemplating them. He would never be able tounderstand them, not as long as he lived, nor they him. When their mirthWas over he did somewhat better, but it was tardy. You see, he was nota specimen of the first rank, or he would have said at once what he saidnow: "I wish to study my notes a little myself, gentlemen. " "Go along, Oscar, with your inflammable notes, go along!" said Bertie, in supreme good-humor. "And we'll meet to-morrow at ten--if there hasn'tbeen a fire--Better keep your notes in the bath, Oscar. " In as much haste as could be made with a good appearance, Oscar buckledhis volume in its leather cover, gathered his hat and pencil, and, bidding his pupils a very good night, sped smoothly out of the room. III Oscar Maironi was very poor. His thin gray suit in summer resembled histhick gray suit in winter. It does not seem that he had more than two;but he had a black coat and waistcoat, and a narrow-brimmed, shiny hatto go with these, and one pair of patent-leather shoes that laced, and whose long soles curved upward at the toe like the rockers of asummer-hotel chair. These holiday garments served him in all seasons;and when you saw him dressed in them, and seated in a car bound forPark Square, you knew he was going into Boston, where he would readmanuscript essays on Botticelli or Pico della Mirandola, or manuscripttranslations of Armenian folksongs; read these to ecstatic, dim-eyedladies in Newbury Street, who would pour him cups of tea when it wasover, and speak of his earnestness after he was gone. It did not do theladies any harm; but I am not sure that it was the best thing for Oscar. It helped him feel every day, as he stepped along to recitations withhis elbow clamping his books against his ribs and his heavy black curlsbulging down from his gray slouch hat to his collar, how meritorious hewas compared with Bertie and Billy--with all Berties and Billies. He mayhave been. Who shall say? But I will say at once that chewing the cud ofone's own virtue gives a sour stomach. Bertie's and Billy's parents owned town and country houses in New York. The parents of Oscar had come over in the steerage. Money filled thepockets of Bertie and Billy; therefore were their heads empty of moneyand full of less cramping thoughts. Oscar had fallen upon the reverse ofthis fate. Calculation was his second nature. He had given his educationto himself; he had for its sake toiled, traded, outwitted, and saved. He had sent himself to college, where most of the hours not given toeducation and more education, went to toiling and more toiling, thathe might pay his meagre way through the college world. He had a cheaperroom and ate cheaper meals than was necessary. He tutored, and he wrotecollege specials for several newspapers. His chief relaxation was thepraise of the ladies in Newbury Street. These told him of the futurewhich awaited him, and when they gazed upon his features were put inmind of the dying Keats. Not that Oscar was going to die in the least. Life burned strong in him. There were sly times when he took what he hadsaved by his cheap meals and room and went to Boston with it, and fora few hours thoroughly ceased being ascetic. Yet Oscar felt meritoriouswhen he considered Bertie and Billy; for, like the socialists, meritwith him meant not being able to live as well as your neighbor. You willthink that I have given to Oscar what is familiarly termed a black eye. But I was once inclined to applaud his struggle for knowledge, until Istudied him close and perceived that his love was not for the educationhe was getting. Bertie and Billy loved play for play's own sake, andin play forgot themselves, like the wholesome young creatures that theywere. Oscar had one love only: through all his days whatever he mightforget, he would remember himself; through all his days he would makeknowledge show that self off. Thank heaven, all the poor students inHarvard College were not Oscars! I loved some of them as much as I lovedBertie and Billy. So there is no black eye about it. Pity Oscar, if youlike; but don't be so mushy as to admire him as he stepped along in thenight, holding his notes, full of his knowledge, thinking of Bertieand Billy, conscious of virtue, and smiling his smile. They were notconscious of any virtue, were Bertie and Billy, nor were they smiling. They were solemnly eating up together a box of handsome strawberries andsucking the juice from their reddened thumbs. "Rather mean not to make him wait and have some of these after his hardwork on us, " said Bertie. "I'd forgotten about them--" "He ran out before you could remember, anyway, " said Billy. "Wasn't he absurd about his old notes? "Bertie went on, a new strawberryin his mouth. "We don't need them, though. With to-morrow we'll get thiscourse down cold. " "Yes, to-morrow, " sighed Billy. "It's awful to think of another day ofthis kind. " "Horrible, " assented Bertie. "He knows a lot. He's extraordinary, " said Billy. "Yes, he is. He can talk the actual words of the notes. Probablyhe could teach the course himself. I don't suppose he buys anystrawberries, even when they get ripe and cheap here. What's the matterwith you?" Billy had broken suddenly into merriment. "I don't believe Oscar owns abath, " he explained. "By Jove! so his notes will burn in spite of everything!" And both ofthe tennis boys shrieked foolishly. Then Billy began taking his clothes off, strewing them in thewindow-seat, or anywhere that they happened to drop; and Bertie, afterhitting another cork or two out of the window with the tennis racket, departed to his own room on another floor and left Billy to immediateand deep slumber. This was broken for a few moments when Billy'sroom-mate returned happy from an excursion which had begun in themorning. The room-mate sat on Billy's feet until that gentleman showedconsciousness. "I've done it, said the room-mate, then. "The hell you have!" "You couldn't do it. " "The hell I couldn't!" "Great dinner. " "The hell it was!" "Soft-shell crabs, broiled live lobster, salmon, grass-plover, dough-birds, rum omelette. Bet you five dollars you can't find it. " "Take you. Got to bed. " And Billy fell again into deep, immediateslumber. The room-mate went out into the sitting room, and noting the signs thereof the hard work which had gone on during his absence, was glad that hedid not take Philosophy 4. He was soon asleep also. IV Billy got up early. As he plunged into his cold bath he envied hisroom-mate, who could remain at rest indefinitely, while his own hard lotwas hurrying him to prayers and breakfast and Oscar's inexorable notes. He sighed once more as he looked at the beauty of the new morningand felt its air upon his cheeks. He and Bertie belonged to the sameclub-table, and they met there mournfully over the oatmeal. This veryhour to-morrow would see them eating their last before theexamination in Philosophy 4. And nothing pleasant was going to happenbetween, --nothing that they could dwell upon with the slightestsatisfaction. Nor had their sleep entirely refreshed them. Their eyeswere not quite right, and their hair, though it was brushed, showedfatigue of the nerves in a certain inclination to limpness and disorder. "Epicharmos of Kos Was covered with moss, " remarked Billy. "Thales and Zeno Were duffers at keno, " added Bertie. In the hours of trial they would often express their education thus. "Philosophers I have met, " murmured Billy, with scorn And they atesilently for some time. "There's one thing that's valuable, " said Bertie next. "When they springthose tricks on you about the flying arrow not moving, and all the rest, and prove it all right by logic, you learn what pure logic amounts towhen it cuts loose from common sense. And Oscar thinks it's immense. Weshocked him. " "He's found the Bird-in-Hand!" cried Billy, quite suddenly. "Oscar?" said Bertie, with an equal shout. "No, John. John has. Came home last night and waked me up and told me. " "Good for John, " remarked Bertie, pensively. Now, to the undergraduate mind of that day the Bird-in-Hand tavern waswhat the golden fleece used to be to the Greeks, --a sort of shining, remote, miraculous thing, difficult though not impossible to find, forwhich expeditions were fitted out. It was reported to be somewhere inthe direction of Quincy, and in one respect it resembled a ghost: younever saw a man who had seen it himself; it was always his cousin, orhis elder brother in '79. But for the successful explorer a dinner andwines were waiting at the Bird-in-Hand more delicious than anythingoutside of Paradise. You will realize, therefore, what a thing it wasto have a room-mate who had attained. If Billy had not been so dog-tiredlast night, he would have sat up and made John tell him everything frombeginning to end. "Soft-shell crabs, broiled live lobster, salmon, grass-plover, dough-birds, and rum omelette, " he was now reciting to Bertie. "They say the rum there is old Jamaica brought in slave-ships, " saidBertie, reverently. "I've heard he has white port of 1820, " said Billy; "and claret andchampagne. " Bertie looked out of the window. "This is the finest day there's been, "said he. Then he looked at his watch. It was twenty-five minutes beforeOscar. Then he looked Billy hard in the eye. "Have you any sand?" heinquired. It was a challenge to Billy's manhood. "Sand!" he yelled, sitting up. Both of them in an instant had left the table and bounded out of thehouse. "I'll meet you at Pike's, " said Billy to Bertie. "Make him giveus the black gelding. " "Might as well bring our notes along, " Bertie called after his rushingfriend; "and get John to tell you the road. " To see their haste, as the two fled in opposite directions upontheir errands, you would have supposed them under some crying call ofobligation, or else to be escaping from justice. Twenty minutes later they were seated behind the black gelding andbound on their journey in search of the bird-in-Hand. Their notes inPhilosophy 4 were stowed under the buggy-seat. "Did Oscar see you?" Bertie inquired. "Not he, " cried Billy, joyously. "Oscar will wonder, " said Bertie; and he gave the black gelding atriumphant touch with the whip. You see, it was Oscar that had made them run go; or, rather, it wasDuty and Fate walking in Oscar's displeasing likeness. Nothing easier, nothing more reasonable, than to see the tutor and tell him they shouldnot need him to-day. But that would have spoiled everything. They didnot know it, but deep in their childlike hearts was a delicious sensethat in thus unaccountably disappearing they had won a great game, hadgot away ahead of Duty and Fate. After all it did bear some resemblanceto an escape from justice. . Could he have known this, Oscar would have felt more superior than ever. Punctually at the hour agreed, ten o'clock he rapped at Billy's door andstood waiting, his leather wallet of notes nipped safe between elbow andribs. Then he knocked again. Then he tried the door, and as it was open, he walked deferentially into the sitting room. Sonorous snores came fromone of the bedrooms. Oscar peered in and saw John; but he saw no Billyin the other bed. Then, always deferential, he sat down in the sittingroom and watched a couple of prettily striped coats hanging in ahalf-open closet. At that moment the black gelding was flirtatiously crossing thedrawbridge over the Charles on the Allston Road. The gelding knew theclank of those suspending chains and the slight unsteadiness of themeeting halves of the bridge as well as it knew oats. But it could notenjoy its own entirely premeditated surprise quite so much as Bertie andBilly were enjoying their entirely unpremeditated flight from Oscar. Thewind rippled on the water; down at the boat-house Smith was helpingsome one embark in a single scull; they saw the green meadows towardBrighton; their foreheads felt cool and unvexed, and each new minute hadthe savor of fresh forbidden fruit. "How do we go?" said Bertie. "I forgot I had a bet with John until I had waked him, " said Billy. "Hebet me five last night I couldn't find it, and I took him. Of course, after that I had no right to ask him anything, and he thought I wasfunny. He said I couldn't find out if the landlady's hair was her own. Iwent him another five on that. " "How do you say we ought to go?" said Bertie, presently. "Quincy, I'm sure. " They were now crossing the Albany tracks at Allston. "We're going to getthere, " said Bertie; and he turned the black gelding toward Brooklineand Jamaica Plain. The enchanting day surrounded them. The suburban houses, even thesuburban street-cars, seemed part of one great universal plan ofenjoyment. Pleasantness so radiated from the boys' faces and from theirgeneral appearance of clean white flannel trousers and soft clean shirtsof pink and blue that a driver on a passing car leaned to look afterthem with a smile and a butcher hailed them with loud brotherhood fromhis cart. They turned a corner, and from a long way off came the sightof the tower of Memorial Hall. Plain above all intervening tenementsand foliage it rose. Over there beneath its shadow were examinationsand Oscar. It caught Billy's roving eye, and he nudged Bertie, pointingsilently to it. "Ha, ha!" sang Bertie. And beneath his light whip thegelding sprang forward into its stride. The clocks of Massachusetts struck eleven. Oscar rose doubtfully fromhis chair in Billy's study. Again he looked into Billy's bedroom and atthe empty bed. Then he went for a moment and watched the still forciblysleeping John. He turned his eyes this way and that, and after standingfor a while moved quietly back to his chair and sat down with theleather wallet of notes on his lap, his knees together, and hisunblocked shoes touching. In due time the clocks of Massachusetts strucknoon. In a meadow where a brown amber stream ran, lay Bertie and Billy on thegrass. Their summer coats were off, their belts loosened. They watchedwith eyes half closed the long water-weeds moving gently as the currentwaved and twined them. The black gelding, brought along a farm road andthrough a gate, waited at its ease in the field beside a stone wall. Now and then it stretched and cropped a young leaf from a vine that grewover the wall, and now and then the want wind brought down the fruitblossoms all over the meadow. They fell from the tree where Bertie andBilly lay, and the boys brushed them from their faces. Not very far awaywas Blue Hill, softly shining; and crows high up in the air came from itoccasionally across here. By one o'clock a change had come in Billy's room. Oscar during that hourhad opened his satchel of philosophy upon his lap and read his notesattentively. Being almost word perfect in many parts of them, he nowspent his unexpected leisure in acquiring accurately the language ofstill further paragraphs. "The sharp line of demarcation which Descartesdrew between consciousness and the material world, " whispered Oscar withsatisfaction, and knew that if Descartes were on the examination paperhe could start with this and go on for nearly twenty lines beforehe would have to use any words of his own. As he memorized, thechambermaid, who had come to do the bedrooms three times already and hadgone away again, now returned and no longer restrained her indignation. "Get up Mr. Blake!" she vociferated to the sleeping John; "you ought tobe ashamed!" And she shook the bedstead. Thus John had come to rise anddiscover Oscar. The patient tutor explained himself as John listened inhis pyjamas. "Why, I'm sorry, " said he, "but I don't believe they'll get back verysoon. " "They have gone away?" asked Oscar, sharply. "Ah--yes, " returned the reticent John. "An unexpected matter ofimportance. " "But, my dear sir, those gentlemen know nothing! Philosophy 4 istomorrow, and they know nothing. " "They'll have to stand it, then, " said John, with a grin. "And my time. I am waiting here. I am engaged to teach them. I have beenwaiting here since ten. They engaged me all day and this evening. "I don't believe there's the slightest use in your waiting now, youknow. They'll probably let you know when they come back. " "Probably! But they have engaged my time. The girl knows I was hereready at ten. I call you to witness that you found me waiting, ready atany time. " John in his pyjamas stared at Oscar. "Why, of course they'll pay you thewhole thing, " said he, coldly; "stay here if you prefer. " And he wentinto the bathroom and closed the door. The tutor stood awhile, holding his notes and turning his little eyesthis way and that. His young days had been dedicated to getting thebetter of his neighbor, because otherwise his neighbor would get thebetter of him. Oscar had never suspected the existence of boys like Johnand Bertie and Billy. He stood holding his notes, and then, bucklingthem up once more, he left the room with evidently reluctant steps. Itwas at this time that the clocks struck one. In their field among the soft new grass sat Bertie and Billy some tenyards apart, each with his back against an apple tree. Each had hisnotes and took his turn at questioning the other. Thus the names of theGreek philosophers with their dates and doctrines were shouted gayly inthe meadow. The foreheads of the boys were damp to-day, as they had beenlast night, and their shirts were opened to the air; but it was thesun that made them hot now, and no lamp or gas; and already they lookedtwice as alive as they had looked at breakfast. There they sat, whiletheir memories gripped the summarized list of facts essential, facts tobe known accurately; the simple, solid, raw facts, which, should theyhappen to come on the examination paper, no skill could evade nor anyimagination supply. But this study was no longer dry and dreadful tothem: they had turned it to a sporting event. "What about Heracleitos?"Billy as catechist would put at Bertie. "Eternal flux, " Bertie wouldcorrectly snap back at Billy. Or, if he got it mixed up, and replied, "Everything is water, " which was the doctrine of another Greek, thenBilly would credit himself with twenty-five cents on a piece of paper. Each ran a memorandum of this kind; and you can readily see how spiriteda character metaphysics would assume under such conditions. "I'm going in, " said Bertie, suddenly, as Billy was crediting himselfwith a fifty-cent gain. "What's your score?" "Two seventy-five, counting your break on Parmenides. It'll be cold. " "No, it won't. Well, I'm only a quarter behind you. " And Bertie puffedoff his shoes. Soon he splashed into the stream where the bend made ahole of some depth. "Cold?" inquired Billy on the bank. Bertie closed his eyes dreamily. "Delicious, " said he, and sank luxuriously beneath the surface with slowstrokes. Billy had his clothes off in a moment, and, taking the plunge, screamedloudly "You liar!" he yelled, as he came up. And he made for Bertie. Delight rendered Bertie weak and helpless; he was caught and ducked; andafter some vigorous wrestling both came out of the icy water. "Now we've got no towels, you fool, " said Billy. "Use your notes, " said Bertie, and he rolled in the grass. Then theychased each other round the apple trees, and the black gelding watchedthem by the wall, its ears well forward. While they were dressing they discovered it was half-past one, andbecame instantly famished. "We should have brought lunch along, " theytold each other. But they forgot that no such thing as lunch could haveinduced them to delay their escape from Cambridge for a moment thismorning. "What do you suppose Oscar is doing now?" Billy inquired ofBertie, as they led the black gelding back to the road; and Bertielaughed like an infant. "Gentlemen, " said he, in Oscar's manner, "wenow approach the multiplicity of the ego. " The black gelding must havethought it had humorists to deal with this day. Oscar, as a matter of fact, was eating his cheap lunch away over inCambridge. There was cold mutton, and boiled potatoes with hard brownspots in them, and large picked cucumbers; and the salt was damp andwould not shake out through the holes in the top of the bottle. ButOscar ate two helps of everything with a good appetite, and betweenwhiles looked at his notes, which lay open beside him on the table. At the stroke of two he was again knocking at his pupils' door. But noanswer came. John had gone away somewhere for indefinite hours andthe door was locked. So Oscar wrote: "Called, two p. M. , " on a scrapof envelope, signed his name, and put it through the letter-slit. It crossed his mind to hunt other pupils for his vacant time, buthe decided against this at once, and returned to his own room. Threeo'clock found him back at the door, knocking scrupulously, The idea ofperforming his side of the contract, of tendering his goods and standingready at all times to deliver them, was in his commercially mature mind. This time he had brought a neat piece of paper with him, and wrote uponit, "Called, three P. M. , " and signed it as before, and departed to hisroom with a sense of fulfilled obligations. Bertie and Billy had lunched at Mattapan quite happily on cold ham, coldpie, and doughnuts. Mattapan, not being accustomed to such lilies of thefield, stared at their clothes and general glory, but observed that theycould eat the native bill-of-fare as well as anybody. They foundsome good, cool beer, moreover, and spoke to several people ofthe Bird-in-Hand, and got several answers: for instance, that theBird-in-Hand was at Hingham; that it was at Nantasket; that they hadbetter inquire for it at South Braintree; that they had passed it amile back; and that there was no such place. If you would gaugethe intelligence of our population, inquire your way in a ruralneighborhood. With these directions they took up their journey afteran hour and a half, --a halt made chiefly for the benefit of the blackgelding, whom they looked after as much as they did themselves. Fora while they discussed club matters seriously, as both of them wereofficers of certain organizations, chosen so on account of theirrecognized executive gifts. These questions settled, they resumed thelighter theme of philosophy, and made it (as Billy observed) a nearthing for the Causal law. But as they drove along, their minds left thistopic on the abrupt discovery that the sun was getting down out of thesky, and they asked each other where they were and what they shoulddo. They pulled up at some cross-roads and debated this with growinguneasiness. Behind them lay the way to Cambridge, --not very clear, to besure; but you could always go where you had come from, Billy seemed tothink. He asked, "How about Cambridge and a little Oscar to finish offwith?" Bertie frowned. This would be failure. Was Billy willing to goback and face John the successful? "It would only cost me five dollars, " said Billy. "Ten, " Bertie corrected. He recalled to Billy the matter about thelandlady's hair. "By Jove, that's so!" cried Billy, brightening. It seemed conclusive. But he grew cloudy again the next moment. He was of opinion that onecould go too far in a thing. "Where's your sand?" said Bertie. Billy made an unseemly rejoinder, but even in the making was visited byinspiration. He saw the whole thing as it really was. "By Jove!" saidhe, "we couldn't get back in time for dinner. " "There's my bonny boy!" said Bertie, with pride; and he touched upthe black gelding. Uneasiness had left both of them. Cambridge wasmanifestly impossible; an error in judgment; food compelled them toseek the Bird-in-Hand. "We'll try Quincy, anyhow, " Bertie said. Billysuggested that they inquire of people on the road. This provided a newsporting event: they could bet upon the answers. Now, the roads, notpopulous at noon, had grown solitary in the sweetness of the longtwilight. Voices of birds there were; and little, black, quick brooks, full to the margin grass, shot under the roadway through low bridges. Through the web of young foliage the sky shone saffron, and frogs pipedin the meadow swamps. No cart or carriage appeared, however, and thebets languished. Bertie, driving with one hand, was buttoning his coatwith the other, when the black gelding leaped from the middle of theroad to the turf and took to backing. The buggy reeled; but the driverwas skilful, and fifteen seconds of whip and presence of mind brought itout smoothly. Then the cause of all this spoke to them from a gate. "Come as near spillin' as you boys wanted, I guess, " remarked the cause. They looked, and saw him in huge white shirt-sleeves, shaking withjoviality. "If you kep' at it long enough you might a-most learn todrive a horse, " he continued, eying Bertie. This came as near directpraise as the true son of our soil--Northern or Southern--often thinkswell of. Bertie was pleased, but made a modest observation, and "Are wenear the tavern?" he asked. "Bird-in-Hand!" the son of the soil echoed;and he contemplated them from his gate. "That's me, " he stated, withcomplacence. "Bill Diggs of the Bird-in-Hand has been me since April, '65. " His massy hair had been yellow, his broad body must have weighedtwo hundred and fifty pounds, his face was canny, red, and somewhatclerical, resembling Henry Ward Beecher's. "Trout, " he said, pointing to a basket by the gate. "For your dinner. "Then he climbed heavily but skilfully down and picked up the basket anda rod. "Folks round here say, " said he, "that there ain't no more troutup them meadows. They've been a-sayin' that since '74; and I've beena-sayin' it myself, when judicious. " Here he shook slightly and openedthe basket. "Twelve, " he said. "Sixteen yesterday. Now you go along andturn in the first right-hand turn, and I'll be up with you soon. Maybeyou might make room for the trout. " Room for him as well, they assuredhim; they were in luck to find him, they explained. "Well, I guessI'll trust my neck with you, " he said to Bertie, the skillful driver;"'tain't five minutes' risk. " The buggy leaned, and its springs bent ashe climbed in, wedging his mature bulk between their slim shapes. Thegelding looked round the shaft at them. "Protestin', are you?" he saidto it. "These light-weight stoodents spile you!" So the gelding wenton, expressing, however, by every line of its body, a sense of outragedjustice. The boys related their difficult search, and learned that anymention of the name of Diggs would have brought them straight. "BillHiggs of the Bird-in-Hand was my father, and my grandf'ther, and hisfather; and has been me sence I come back from the war and took thebusiness in '65. I'm not commonly to be met out this late. About fifteenminutes earlier is my time for gettin' back, unless I'm plannin' for ajamboree. But to-night I got to settin' and watchin' that sunset, andlistenin' to a darned red-winged blackbird, and I guess Mrs. Higgs hasdecided to expect me somewheres about noon to-morrow or Friday. Say, did Johnnie send you? "When he found that John had in a measure beenresponsible for their journey, he filled with gayety. "Oh, Johnnie's abird!" said he. "He's that demure on first appearance. Walked in lastevening and wanted dinner. Did he tell you what he ate? Guess he leftout what he drank. Yes, he's demure. " You might suppose that upon their landlord's safe and sober returnfifteen minutes late, instead of on the expected noon of Thursday orFriday, their landlady would show signs of pleasure; but Mrs. Diggs fromthe porch threw an uncordial eye at the three arriving in the buggy. Here were two more like Johnnie of last night. She knew them by theclothes they wore and by the confidential tones of her husband's voiceas he chatted to them. He had been old enough to know better for twentyyears. But for twenty years he had taken the same extreme joy in thecompany of Johnnies, and they were bad for his health. Her final proofthat they belonged to this hated breed was when Mr. Diggs thumped thetrout down on the porch, and after briefly remarking, "Half of 'emboiled, and half broiled with bacon, " himself led away the gelding tothe stable instead of intrusting it to his man Silas. "You may set in the parlor, " said Mrs. Diggs, and departed stiffly withthe basket of trout. "It's false, " said Billy, at once. Bertie did not grasp his thought. "Her hair, " said Billy. And certainly it was an unusual-lookingarrangement. Presently, as they sat near a parlor organ in the presence of earnestfamily portraits, Bertie made a new poem for Billy, -- "Said Aristotle unto Plato, 'Have another sweet potato? '" And Billy responded, -- "Said Plato unto Aristotle, 'Thank you, I prefer the bottle. '" "In here, are you?" said their beaming host at the door. "Now, I thinkyou'd find my department of the premises cosier, so to speak. " Henudged Bertie. "Do you boys guess it's too early in the season for asilver-fizz?" We must not wholly forget Oscar in Cambridge. During the afternoon hehad not failed in his punctuality; two more neat witnesses to this layon the door-mat beneath the letter-slit of Billy's room, And at theappointed hour after dinner a third joined them, making five. John foundthese cards when he came home to go to bed, and picked them up and stuckthem ornamentally in Billy's looking-glass, as a greeting when Billyshould return, The eight o'clock visit was the last that Oscar paidto the locked door, He remained through the evening in his own room, studious, contented, unventilated, indulging in his thick notes, andalso in the thought of Billy's and Bertie's eleventh-hour scholarship, "Even with another day, " he told himself, "those young men could nothave got fifty per cent, " In those times this was the passing mark. To-day I believe you get an A, or a B, or some other letter denotingyour rank. In due time Oscar turned out his gas and got into his bed;and the clocks of Massachusetts struck midnight. Mrs. Diggs of the Bird-in-Hand had retired at eleven, furious with rage, but firm in dignity in spite of a sudden misadventure. Her hair, beingthe subject of a sporting event, had remained steadily fixed in Billy'smind, --steadily fixed throughout an entertainment which began at anearly hour to assume the features of a celebration. One silver-fizzbefore dinner is nothing; but dinner did not come at once, and theboys were thirsty. The hair of Mrs. Diggs had caught Billy's eye againimmediately upon her entrance to inform them that the meal was ready;and whenever she reentered with a new course from the kitchen, Billy'seye wandered back to it, although Mr. Diggs had become full of anecdotesabout the Civil War. It was partly Grecian: a knot stood out behind toa considerable distance. But this was not the whole plan. From front toback ran a parting, clear and severe, and curls fell from this to thetemples in a manner called, I believe, by the enlightened, a l'Anned'Autriche. The color was gray, to be sure; but this propriety did notsave the structure from Billy's increasing observation. As bottlescame to stand on the table in greater numbers, the closer and the moresolemnly did Billy continue to follow the movements of Mrs. Diggs. Theywould without doubt have noticed him and his foreboding gravity but forMr. Diggs's experiences in the Civil War. The repast was finished--so far as eating went. Mrs. Diggs withchangeless dudgeon was removing and washing the dishes. At therevellers' elbows stood the 1820 port in its fine, fat, old, dingybottle, going pretty fast. Mr. Diggs was nearing the end of Antietam. "That morning of the 18th, while McClellan was holdin' us squattin' andcussin', " he was saying to Bertie, when some sort of shuffling sound inthe corner caught their attention. We can never know how it happened. Billy ought to know, but does not, and Mrs. Diggs allowed no subsequentreference to the casualty. But there she stood with her entire hair atright angles. The Grecian knot extended above her left ear, and her nosestuck through one set of Anne d'Autriche. Beside her Billy stood, solemnas a stone, yet with a sort of relief glazed upon his face. Mr. Diggs sat straight up at the vision of his spouse. "FlouncingFlorence!" was his exclamation. "Gee-whittaker, Mary, if you ain't themost unmitigated sight!" And wind then left him. Mary's reply arrived in tones like a hornet stinging slowly and often. "Mr. Diggs, I have put up with many things, and am expecting to putup with many more. But you'd behave better if you consorted withgentlemen. " The door slammed and she was gone. Not a word to either of the boys, noteven any notice of them. It was thorough, and silence consequently heldthem for a moment. "He didn't mean anything, " said Bertie, growing partially responsible. "Didn't mean anything, " repeated Billy, like a lesson. "I'll take him and he'll apologize, " Bertie pursued, walking over toBilly. "He'll apologize, " went Billy, like a cheerful piece of mechanism. Responsibility was still quite distant from him. Mr. Diggs got his wind back. "Better not, " he advised in something neara whisper. "Better not go after her. Her father was a fightin' preacher, and she's--well, begosh! she's a chip of the old pulpit. " And he rolledhis eye towards the door. Another door slammed somewhere above, and theygazed at each other, did Bertie and Mr. Diggs. Then Mr. Diggs, stillgazing at Bertie, beckoned to him with a speaking eye and a crookedfinger; and as he beckoned, Bertie approached like a conspirator and satdown close to him. "Begosh!" whispered Mr. Diggs. "Unmitigated. " And atthis he and Bertie laid their heads down on the table and rolled aboutin spasms. Billy from his corner seemed to become aware of them. With his eye fixedupon them like a statue, he came across the room, and, sitting down nearthem with formal politeness, observed, "Was you ever to the battle ofAntietam?" This sent them beyond the limit; and they rocked their headson the table and wept as if they would expire. Thus the three remained, during what space of time is not known: thetwo upon the table, convalescent with relapses, and Billy like a seatedidol, unrelaxed at his vigil. The party was seen through the windows bySilas, coming from the stable to inquire if the gelding should not beharnessed. Silas leaned his face to the pane, and envy spoke plainly init. "O my! O my!" he mentioned aloud to himself. So we have the wholehousehold: Mrs. Diggs reposing scornfully in an upper chamber; all partsof the tavern darkened, save the one lighted room; the three inside thatamong their bottles, with the one outside looking covetously in at them;and the gelding stamping in the stable. But Silas, since he could not share, was presently of opinion that thiswas enough for one sitting, and he tramped heavily upon the porch. Thisbrought Bertie back to the world of reality, and word was given to fetchthe gelding. The host was in no mood to part with them, and spoke ofcomfortable beds and breakfast as early as they liked; but Bertie hadbecome entirely responsible. Billy was helped in, Silas was liberallythanked, and they drove away beneath the stars, leaving behind themgolden opinions, and a host who decided not to disturb his helpmate byretiring to rest in their conjugal bed. Bertie had forgotten, but the playful gelding had not. When they cameabreast of that gate where Diggs of the Bird-in-Hand had met them atsunset, Bertie was only aware that a number of things had happened atonce, and that he had stopped the horse after about twenty yards ofbattle. Pride filled him, but emptied away in the same instant, for avoice on the road behind him spoke inquiringly through the darkness. "Did any one fall out?" said the voice. "Who fell out?" "Billy!" shrieked Bertie, cold all over. "Billy, are you hurt?" "Did Billy fall out?" said the voice, with plaintive cadence. "PoorBilly!" "He can't be, " muttered Bertie. "Are you?" he loudly repeated. There was no answer: but steps came along the road as Bertie checked andpacified the gelding. Then Billy appeared by the wheel. "Poor Billy fellout, " he said mildly. He held something up, which Bertie took. Ithad been Billy's straw hat, now a brimless fabric of ruin. Except forsmirches and one inexpressible rent which dawn revealed to Bertie alittle later, there were no further injuries, and Billy got in and tookhis seat quite competently. Bertie drove the gelding with a firm hand after this. They passedthrough the cool of the unseen meadow swamps, and heard the sound of thehollow bridges as they crossed them, and now and then the gulp of somepouring brook. They went by the few lights of Mattapan, seeing from somepoints on their way the beacons of the harbor, and again the curvingline of lamps that drew the outline of some village built upon a hill. Dawn showed them Jamaica Pond, smooth and breezeless, and encircled withgreen skeins of foliage, delicate and new. Here multitudinous birds werechirping their tiny, overwhelming chorus. When at length, across theflat suburban spaces, they again sighted Memorial tower, small in thedistance, the sun was lighting it. Confronted by this, thoughts of hitherto banished care, and of themorrow that was now to-day, and of Philosophy 4 coming in a veryfew hours, might naturally have arisen and darkened the end of theirpleasant excursion. Not so, however. Memorial tower suggested anotherline of argument. It was Billy who spoke, as his eyes first rested uponthat eminent pinnacle of Academe. "Well, John owes me five dollars. " "Ten, you mean. " "Ten? How?" "Why, her hair. And it was easily worth twenty. " Billy turned his head and looked suspiciously at Bertie. "What did Ido?" he asked. "Do! Don't you know?" Billy in all truth did not. "Phew!" went Bertie. "Well, I don't, either. Didn't see it. Saw theconsequences, though. Don't you remember being ready to apologize? Whatdo you remember, anyhow?" Billy consulted his recollections with care: they seemed to break offat the champagne. That was early. Bertie was astonished. Did not Billyremember singing "Brace up and dress the Countess, " and "A noble lordthe Earl of Leicester"? He had sung them quite in his usual manner, conversing freely between whiles. In fact, to see and hear him, no onewould have suspected--"It must have been that extra silver-fizz you tookbefore dinner, " said Bertie. "Yes, " said Billy; "that's what it musthave been. " Bertie supplied the gap in his memory, --a matter of severalhours, it seemed. During most of this time Billy had met the demands ofeach moment quite like his usual agreeable self--a sleep-walking state. It was only when the hair incident was reached that his conduct hadnoticeably crossed the line. He listened to all this with interestintense. "John does owe me ten, I think, " said he. "I say so, " declared Bertie. "When do you begin to remember again?" "After I got in again at the gate. Why did I get out?" "You fell out, man. " Billy was incredulous. "You did. You tore your clothes wide open. " Billy, looking at his trousers, did not see it. "Rise, and I'll show you, " said Bertie. "Goodness gracious!" said Billy. Thus discoursing, they reached Harvard Square. Not your Harvard Square, gentle reader, that place populous with careless youths and carefulmaidens and reticent persons with books, but one of sleeping windowsand clear, cool air and few sounds; a Harvard Square of emptiness andconspicuous sparrows and milk wagons and early street-car conductors inlong coats going to their breakfast; and over all this the sweetness ofthe arching elms. As the gelding turned down toward Pike's, the thin old church clockstruck. "Always sounds, " said Billy, "like cambric tea. " "Cambridge tea, " said Bertie. "Walk close behind me, " said Billy, as they came away from the liverystable. "Then they won't see the hole. " Bertie did so; but the hole was seen by the street-car conductors andthe milkmen, and these sympathetic hearts smiled at the sight of themarching boys, and loved them without knowing any more of them thanthis. They reached their building and separated. V One hour later they met. Shaving and a cold bath and summer flannels, not only clean but beautiful, invested them with the radiant innocenceof flowers. It was still too early for their regular breakfast, and theysat down to eggs and coffee at the Holly Tree. "I waked John up, " said Billy. "He is satisfied. " "Let's have another order, " said Bertie. "These eggs are delicious. "Each of them accordingly ate four eggs and drank two cups of coffee. "Oscar called five times, " said Billy; and he threw down those cardswhich Oscar had so neatly written. "There's multiplicity of the ego for you!" said Bertie. Now, inspiration is a strange thing, and less obedient even than loveto the will of man. It will decline to come when you prepare for it withthe loftiest intentions, and, lo! at an accidental word it will suddenlyfill you, as at this moment it filled Billy. "By gum!" said he, laying his fork down. "Multiplicity of the ego. Lookhere. I fall out of a buggy and ask--" "By gum!" said Bertie, now also visited by inspiration. "Don't you see?" said Billy. "I see a whole lot more, " said Bertie, with excitement. "I had to tellyou about your singing. " And the two burst into a flare of talk. To hearsuch words as cognition, attention, retention, entity, and identity, freely mingled with such other words as silver-fizz and falsehair, brought John, the egg-and-coffee man, as near surprise as hisimpregnable nature permitted. Thus they finished their large breakfast, and hastened to their notes for a last good bout at memorizingEpicharmos of Kos and his various brethren. The appointed hour foundthem crossing the college yard toward a door inside which Philosophy 4awaited them: three hours of written examination! But they looked moreroseate and healthy than most of the anxious band whose steps wereconverging to that same gate of judgment. Oscar, meeting them on theway, gave them his deferential "Good morning, " and trusted that thegentlemen felt easy. Quite so, they told him, and bade him feel easyabout his pay, for which they were, of course, responsible. Oscar wishedthem good luck and watched them go to their desks with his little eyes, smiling in his particular manner. Then he dismissed them from hismind, and sat with a faint remnant of his smile, fluently writing hisperfectly accurate answer to the first question upon the examinationpaper. Here is that paper. You will not be able to answer all the questions, probably, but you may be glad to know what such things are like. PHILOSOPHY 4 1. Thales, Zeno, Parmenides, Heracleitos, Anaxagoras. State briefly thedoctrine of each. 2. Phenomenon, noumenon. Discuss these terms. Name their moderndescendants. 3. Thought=Being. Assuming this, state the difference, if any, between(1) memory and anticipation; (2) sleep and waking. 4. Democritus, Pythagoras, Bacon. State the relation between them. Inwhat terms must the objective world ultimately be stated? Why? 5. Experience is the result of time and space being included in thenature of mind. Discuss this. 6. Nihil est in intellectu quod non prius fuerit in sensibus. Whosedoctrine? Discuss it. 7. What is the inherent limitation in all ancient philosophy? Who firstremoved it? 8. Mind is expressed through what? Matter through what? Is speech theresult or the cause of thought? 9. Discuss the nature of the ego. 10. According to Plato, Locke, Berkeley, where would the sweetness of ahoneycomb reside? Where would its shape? its weight? Where do you thinkthese properties reside? Ten questions, and no Epicharmos of Kos. But no examination paper askseverything, and this one did ask a good deal. Bertie and Billy wrote thefull time allotted, and found that they could have filled an hour morewithout coming to the end of their thoughts. Comparing notes at lunch, their information was discovered to have been lacking here and there. Nevertheless, it was no failure; their inner convictions were sure offifty per cent at least, and this was all they asked of the gods. "Iwas ripping about the ego, " said Bertie. "I was rather splendid myself, "said Billy, "when I got going. And I gave him a huge steer aboutmemory. " After lunch both retired to their beds and fell into sweetoblivion until seven o'clock, when they rose and dined, and afterplaying a little poker went to bed again pretty early. Some six mornings later, when the Professor returned their papers tothem, their minds were washed almost as clear of Plato and Thales aswere their bodies of yesterday's dust. The dates and doctrines, hastilymemorized to rattle off upon the great occasion, lay only upon thesurface of their minds, and after use they quickly evaporated. To theirpleasure and most genuine astonishment, the Professor paid them highcompliments. Bertie's discussion of the double personality had beenthe most intelligent which had come in from any of the class. Theillustration of the intoxicated hack-driver who had fallen from his hackand inquired who it was that had fallen, and then had pitied himself, was, said the Professor, as original and perfect an illustration of oursubjective-objectivity as he had met with in all his researches. AndBilly's suggestions concerning the inherency of time and space inthe mind the Professor had also found very striking and independent, particularly his reasoning based upon the well-known distortions of timeand space which hashish and other drugs produce in us. This was the sortof thing which the Professor had wanted from his students: free commentand discussions, the spirit of the course, rather than any strictadherence to the letter. He had constructed his questions to elicitas much individual discussion as possible and had been somewhatdisappointed in his hopes. Yes, Bertie and Billy were astonished. But their astonishment did notequal that of Oscar, who had answered many of the questions in theProfessor's own language. Oscar received seventy-five per cent for thisachievement--a good mark. But Billy's mark was eighty-six and Bertie'sninety. "There is some mistake, " said Oscar to them when they told him;and he hastened to the Professor with his tale. "There is no mistake, "said the Professor. Oscar smiled with increased deference. "But, " heurged, "I assure you, sir, those young men knew absolutely nothing. Iwas their tutor, and they knew nothing at all. I taught them all theirinformation myself. " "In that case, " replied the Professor, not pleasedwith Oscar's tale-bearing, "you must have given them more than you couldspare. Good morning. " Oscar never understood. But he graduated considerably higher than Bertieand Billy, who were not able to discover many other courses so favorableto "orriginal rresearch" as was Philosophy 4. That is twenty years ago, To-day Bertie is treasurer of the New Amsterdam Trust Company, in WallStreet; Billy is superintendent of passenger traffic of the New Yorkand Chicago Air Line. Oscar is successful too. He has acquired a lotof information. His smile is unchanged. He has published a careful workentitled "The Minor Poets of Cinquecento, " and he writes book reviewsfor the Evening Post.