1895-]
cut to wealth or the rosy highway to a happy success why. I do
not think he is doing quite as well as he who goes to school
merely to study and to fill his mind with a knowledge of the best
books and the best things. A painter may produce good pic
tures for dollars, but I think the man who paints merely for the
sake of art has a great deal nobler purpose.
So I must think then that the boys of old at college had some
what higher ideals than are common in too many of our colleges
to-day. ” “ Then you would say, Professor, that our technical
schools need to emphasize more the side of general culture than
they do? Is this a just conclusion from your remark?”
“ Yes, I suppose this naturally follows and as far as I can see
our best technical schools are coming to see this too. There is
coming to be called for a broader study of general fields of cul
ture. The brain when trained to do just one thing perfectly is of
course out of poise. We have sacrificed breadth for the sake of
point and direction. In the old days they made just as great
mistakes probably on the opposite side. They sacrificed keenness
of perception for the sake of breadth. ’ ’
“ What do you think then, Professor, will be the proper theory
of college training for the future?” “Undoubtedly our colleges
will try to avoid both of these mistakes, which we have so far
been making. The ideal training school will give both technical
accuracy, but will not at the same time neglect the advantages that
come alone from general culture and larger knowledge.
Rut I see we are at my station where I must leave you. I wish
you good day.”
And the professor passed out upon the station platform. As
I saw his still vigorous figure disappear round a corner, I could
not help asking myself, ‘ 1 Was he right after all in what he has
said to-day? I believe it is worth thinking about, anyway. ’ ’
Mark Muller, on a summer’s day,
Raked tlie meadow sweet with hay.
Nature herself had painted his cheeks
The mddy color which for health bespeaks.
His torn and unpatched pantaloons,
Told that he had been hunting coons.
And as he raked, that summer’s day,
Listening to what Nature had to say
Poetry .
“MARK MULLER.”