Tramping on Life Part 49

On the train to Hebron, as I walked up the car to my seat, health shining in my smooth, clear face and skin, the women and girls gave me approving, friendly glances, and I was happy.

A summer of control from unhealthy habits had done this for me, a summer of life, naked, in the open air, plus exercise. I had learned a great lesson. To Barton I owe it that I am still alive, vigorously alive, not crawlingly ... but I suffered several slumps before I attained and held my present physique. For the world and life afford complications not found in "Perfection City."

The school hill lay before my eyes again. From it spread on all sides the wonderful Connecticut valley. Up and down the paths to the dining hall, the buildings in which cla.s.ses were held, the Chapel crowning the topmost crest, wandered groups of boys in their absurd, postage-stamp caps, their peg-top trousers, their wide, floppy raglan coats.

I was a senior now. At first my change in bodily build and bettered health rendered me hardly recognisable to my friends.

The very first day I reached Hebron again I was out on the wide, oval field, lacing around the track. In a month would come the big track-meet and I was determined this time, to win enough points to earn me my "H."

Princ.i.p.al Stanton sent for me, the second day after my arrival.

"I wanted to have a long talk with you before you got settled, Gregory."

His steely, blue eyes gleamed through his gold-rimmed eyegla.s.ses.

"Sit down."

And we had a talk lasting over an hour ... about religion mainly. He was surprised to learn that I knew a lot about the early Church fathers, had read Newman, and understood the Oxford controversy ... had read many of the early English divines....

"Gregory," he cried, putting his hand on my knee, "what a power for G.o.d you would be, if you would only give over your eccentricities and become a Christian ... a chap with your magnetism--in spite of your folly!--"

He impressed on me the fact, that, now I was a senior, more would be expected of me ... that the younger boys would look up to me, as they did to all seniors, and I must be more careful of my deportment before them ... my general conduct....

He asked me what I intended making of myself.

"A poet!" I exclaimed.

He spread his hands outward with a gesture of despair.

"Of course, one can write poetry if necessary ... but what career are you choosing?"

"The writing of poetry."

"But, my dear Gregory, one can't make a living by that ... and one must live."

"Why must one live?" I replied fervently, "did Christ ever say 'One must live'?"

"Gregory, you are impossible," laughed Stanton heartily, "but we're all rather fond of you ... and we want you to behave, and try to graduate.

Though we can't tell just what you might do in after-life ... whether you'll turn out a credit to the School or not."

"Professor Stanton, I have a favour to ask of you before I go," I asked, standing.

"Yes?" and he raised his eyebrows.

"I want to know if I can have that room alone, over the platform, in Recitation Hall."

"You'll have to ask Professor Dunn about that ... he has charge of room-transfers ... but why can't you room as the other students do?... I don't know whether it is good for you, to let you live by yourself ...

you're already different enough from the other boys ... what you need is more human companionship, Gregory, not less."

"I want to do a lot of writing. I want to be alone to think. I plan to read Westcott and Hort's Greek New Testament all through, again, this winter." ... This was a sop to his religious sentiment. I related how I had first read the New Testament in the Greek, while on a cattle-boat, in the China Seas....

"Gregory, you're quite mad ... but you're a smooth one, too!" his eyes gleamed, amused, behind his gla.s.ses....

"And I want to write a lot of poems drawn from the parables of the New Testament"--though, not till that minute had such an idea entered my head....

When I was admitted to the study of Professor Dunn and sat down waiting for him among his antique busts and rows of Latin books, I had formulated further plans to procure what I desired....

He came in, heavily dignified, like a dark, stocky Roman, grotesque in modern dress, lacking the toga.

I told him of my New Testament idea ... and added to it, as an afterthought, that I also wanted to prosecute a special study of the lyrics of Horace. Though he explained to me that Horace belonged to the college curriculum, his heart expanded. Horace was his favourite poet--which, of course, I knew....

I got my room.

I borrowed a wheelbarrow from the barn, and wheeled my trunk down to Recitation Hall, singing.

What a hypocrite I had been! But I had obtained what I sought--a room alone. But now I must, in truth, study the Greek Testament and Horace....

I figured out that if I enrolled for several extra Bible courses the Faculty would be easier on me with my other studies, and let me cut some of them out entirely.

To make myself even more "solid," I gave out that I had been persuaded to Christianity so strongly, of a sudden, that I contemplated studying for the ministry. I even wrote my grandmother that this was what I intended to do. And her simple, pious letter in return, prayerful with thanks to G.o.d for my conversion so signal--in secret cut me to the heart....

But it gave me a temporary pleasure, now, to be looked upon as "safe."

To be openly welcomed at prayer-meetings ... I acted, how I acted, the ardent convert ... and how frightened I was, at myself, to find that, at times, I believed that I believed!...

My former back-sliding was forgiven me.

And the pa.s.sage of Tennyson about "one honest doubt" being more than half the creeds, was quoted in my favour.

Field-day!...

I entered for the two-mile, to be run off in the morning ... for the half-mile, the first thing in the afternoon ... the mile, which was to be the last event, excepting the hammer-throw. My cla.s.s, in a body, had urged me to enter for all the "events" I could ... when the delegation came, I welcomed them, with gratified self-importance, to my solitary room. I invited them in, and they sat about ... on my single chair ...

my bed ... the floor....

"You see, Gregory, if you win two of these races, we'll get the banner that goes to the cla.s.s that makes the greatest number of points ... you must do it for us ... we have never yet won the banner, and this is our last chance."

They left, solemnly shaking my hand, as over a matter of vast importance....