the university of hard knocks-第14部分

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The　world　is　full　of　theorists；　dreamers；　uplifters；　reformers；　who　have　worthy　visions　but　are　not　able　to　translate　them　into　practical　realities。　They　go　around　with　their　heads　in　the　clouds；　looking　upward；　and　half　the　time　their　feet　are　in　the　flower…beds　or　trampling　upon　their　fellow　men　they　dream　of　helping。　Their　ideas　must　be　forged　into　usefulness　available　for　this　day　upon　the　anvil　of　experience。

Many　of　the　most　brilliant　theorists　have　been　the　greatest　failures　in　practice。

There　are　a　thousand　who　can　tell　you　what　is　the　matter　with　things　to　one　person　who　can　give　you　a　practical　way　to　fix　them。

I　used　to　have　respect　amounting　to　reverence　for　great　readers　and　book　men。　I　used　to　know　a　man　who　could　tell　in　what　book　almost　anything　you　could　think　of　was　discussed；　and　perhaps　the　page。　He　was　a　walking　library　index。　I　thought　him　a　most　wonderful　man。　Indeed；　in　my　childhood　I　thought　he　was　the　greatest　man　in　the　world。

He　was　a　remarkable　mana　great　reader　and　with　a　memory　that　retained　it　all。　That　man　could　recite　chapters　and　volumes。　He　could　give　you　almost　any　date。　He　could　finish　almost　any　quotation。　His　conversation　was　largely　made　up　of　classical　quotations。

But　he　was　one　of　the　most　helpless　men　I　have　ever　seen　in　practical　life。　He　seemed　to　be　unable　to　think　and　reason　for　himself。　He　could　quote　a　page　of　John　Locke；　but　somehow　the　page　didn't　supply　the　one　sentence　needed　for　the　occasion。　The　man　was　a　misfit　on　earth。　He　was　liable　to　put　the　gravy　in　his　coffee　and　the　gasoline　in　the　fire。　He　seemed　never　to　have　digested　any　of　the　things　in　his　memory。　Since　I　have　grown　up　I　always　think　of　that　man　as　an　intellectual　cold　storage　plant。

The　greatest　book　is　the　textbook　of　the　University　of　Hard　Knocks；　the　Book　of　Human　Experience　the　〃sermons　in　stones〃　and　the　〃books　in　running　brooks。〃　Most　fortunate　is　he　who　has　learned　to　read　understandingly　from　it。





Note　the　sweeping；　positive　statements　of　the　young　person。

Note　the　cautious；　specific　statements　of　the　person　who　has　lived　long　in　this　world。

Our　education　is　our　progress　from　the　sweeping；　positive；　wholesale　statements　we　have　not　proved；　to　the　cautious；　specific　statements　we　have　proved。




Tuning　the　Strings　of　Life


Many　audiences　are　gathered　into　this　one　audience。　Each　person　here　is　a　different　audience；　reading　a　different　page　in　the　Book　of　Human　Experience。　Each　has　a　different　fight　to　make　and　a　different　burden　to　carry。　Each　one　of　us　has　more　trouble　than　anybody　else！

I　know　there　are　chapters　of　heroism　in　the　lives　of　you　older　ones。　You　have　cried　yourselves　to　sleep；　some　of　you；　and　walked　the　floor　when　you　could　not　sleep。　You　have　learned　that　〃beyond　the　Alps　lieth　Italy。〃

A　good　many　of　you　were　bumped　today　or　yesterday；　or　maybe　years　ago；　and　the　wound　has　not　healed。　You　think　it　never　will　heal。　You　came　here　thinking　that　perhaps　you　would　forget　your　trouble　for　a　little　while。　I　know　there　are　people　in　this　audience　in　pain。

Never　do　this　many　gather　but　what　there　are　some　with　aching　hearts。

And　you　young　people　here　with　lives　like　June　mornings；　are　not　much　interested　in　this　lecture。　You　are　polite　and　attentive　because　this　is　a　polite　and　attentive　neighborhood。　But　down　in　your　hearts　you　are　asking；　〃What　is　this　all　about？　What　is　that　man　talking　about？　I　haven't　had　these　things　and　I'm　not　going　to　have　them；　either！〃

Maybe　some　of　you　are　naturally　bright！

You　are　going　to　be　bumped。　You　are　going　to　cry　yourselves　to　sleep。　You　are　going　to　walk　the　floor　when　you　cannot　sleep。　Some　of　you　are　going　to　know　the　keen　sorrow　of　having　the　one　you　trust　most　betray　you。　Maybe；　betray　you　with　a　kiss。　You　will　go　through　your　Gethsemane。　You　will　see　your　dearest　plans　wrecked。　You　will　see　all　that　seems　to　make　life　livable　lost　out　of　your　horizon。　You　will　say；　〃God；　let　me　die。　I　have　nothing　more　to　live　for。〃

For　all　lives　have　about　the　same　elements。　Your　life　is　going　to　be　about　like　other　lives。





And　you　are　going　to　learn　the　wonderful　lesson　thru　the　years；　the　bumps　and　the　tears；　that　all　these　things　somehow　are　necessary　to　promote　our　education。

These　bumps　and　hard　knocks　do　not　break　the　fiddlethey　turn　the　pegs。

These　bumps　and　tragedies　and　Waterloos　draw　the　strings　of　the　soul　tighter　and　tighter；　nearer　and　nearer　to　God's　great　concert　pitch；　where　the　discords　fade　from　our　lives　and　where　the　music　divine　and　harmonies　celestial　come　from　the　same　old　strings　that　had　been　sending　forth　the　noise　and　discord。

Thus　we　know　that　our　education　is　progressing；　as　the　evil　and　unworthy　go　out　of　our　lives　and　as　peace；　harmony；　happiness；　love　and　understanding　come　into　our　lives。

That　is　getting　in　tune。

That　is　growing　up。



Chapter　VIII

Looking　Backward

Memories　of　the　Price　We　Pay


WHAT　a　price　we　pay　for　what　we　know！　I　laugh　as　I　look　backwardand　weep　and　rejoice。

I　was　not　born　with　a　silver　spoon　in　my　mouth；　altho　it　is　quite　evident　that　I　could　have　handled　a　pretty　good…sized　spoon。　But　father　being　a　country　preacher；　we　had　tin　spoons。　We　never　had　to　tie　a　red　string　around　our　spoons　when　we　loaned　them　for　the　ladies'　aid　society　oyster　supper。　We　always　got　our　spoons　back。　Nobody　ever　traded　with　us　by　mistake。

Do　you　remember　the　first　money　you　ever　earned？　I　do。　I　walked　several　miles　into　the　country　those　old　reaper　days　and　gathered　sheaves。　That　night　I　was　proud　when　that　farmer　patted　me　on　the　head　and　said；　〃You　are　the　best　boy　to　work；　I　ever　saw。〃　Then　the　cheerful　old　miser　put　a　nickel　in　my　blistered　hand。　That　nickel　looked　bigger　than　any　money　I　have　since　handled。




That　〃Last　Day　of　School〃


Yet　I　was　years　learning　it　is　much　easier　to　make　money　than　to　handle　it；　hence　the　tale　that　follows。

I　was　sixteen　years　old　and　a　school　teacher。　Sweet　sixteenwhich　means　green　sixteen。　But　remember　again；　only　green　things　grow。　There　is　hope　for　green　things。　I　was　so　tall　and　awkward　thenI　haven't　changed　much　since。　I　kept　still　about　my　age。　I　was　several　dollars　the　lowest　bidder。　They　said　out　that　way；　〃Anybody　can　teach　kids。〃　That　is　why　I　was　a　teacher。

I　had　never　studied　pedagogy；　but　I　had　whittled　out　three　rules　that　I　thought　would　make　it　go。　My　first　rule　was；　Make　'em　study。　My　second；　Make；　em　recite。　That　is；　fill　'em　up　and　then　empty　'em。

My　third　and　most　important　rule　was；　Get　your　money！

I　walked　thirteen　miles　a　day；　six　and　a　half　miles　each　way；　most　of　the　time；　to　save　money。　I　think　I　had　all　teaching　methods　in　use。　With　the　small　fry　I　used　a　small　paddle　to　win　their　confidence　and　arouse　their　enthusiasm　for　an　education。　With　the　pupils　larger　and　more　muscular　than　their　teacher　I　used　love　and　moral　suasion。

We　ended　the　school　with　an　〃exhibition。〃　Did　you　ever　attend　the　old　back…country　〃last　day　of　school　exhibition〃？　The　people　that　day　came　from　all　over　the　township。　They　were　so　glad　our　school　was　closing　they　all　turned　out　to　make　it　a　success。　They　brought　great　baskets　of　provender　and　we　had　a　feast。　We　covered　the　school　desks　with　boards；　and　then　covered　the　boards　with　piles　of　fried　chicken；　doughnuts　and　forty　kinds　of　pie。

Then　we　had　a　〃doings。〃　Everybody　did　a　stunt。　We　executed　a　lot　of　literature　that　day。　Execute　is　the　word　that　tells　what　happened　to　literature　in　District　No。　1；　Jackson　Township；　that　day。　I　can　shut　my　eyes　and　see　it　yet。　I　can　see　my　pupils　coming　forward　to　speak　their　〃pieces。〃　I　hardly　knew　them　and　they　hardly　knew　me；　for　we　were　〃dressed　up。〃　Many　a　head　showed　father　had　mowed　it　with　the　sheepshears。　Mother　had　been　busy　with　the　wash…ragclear　back　of　the　ears！　And　into　them！　So　many　of　them　wore　collars　that　stuck　out　all　stiff　like　they　had　pushed　their　heads　on　thru　their　big　straw　hats。

I　can　see　them　speaking　their　〃pieces。〃　I　can　see　〃The　Soldier　of　the　Legion　lay　dying　in　Algiers。〃　We　had　him　die　again　that　day；　and　he　had　a　lingering　end　as　we　executed　him。　I　can　see　〃The　boy　stood　on　the　burning　deck；　whence　all　but　he　had　fled。〃　I　can　see　〃Mary's　little　lamb〃　come　slipping　over　the　stage。　I　see　the　tow…headed　patriot　in　〃Give　me　liberty　or　give　me　death。〃　I　feel　now　that　if　Patrick　Henry　had　been　present；　he　would　have　said；　〃Give　me　death。〃

There　came　a　breathless　hush　as　〃teacher〃　came　forward　as　the　last　act　on　the　bill　to　say　farewell。　It　was　customary　to　cry。　I　wanted　to　yell。　Tomorrow　I　would　get　my　money！　I　had　a　speech　I　had　been　saying　over　and　over　until　it　would　say　itself。　But　somehow　when　I　got　up　before　that　〃last　day　of　school〃　audience　and　opened　my　mouth；　it　was　a　great　opening；　but　nothing　came　out。　It　came　out　of　my　eyes。　Tears　rolled　down　my　cheeks　until　I　could　hear　them　spatter　on　my　six…dollar　suit。

And　my　pupils　wept　as　their　dear　teacher　said　farewell。　Parents　wept。　It　was　a　teary　time。　I　only　said；　〃Weep　not　for　me；　dear　friends。　I　am　going　away；　but　I　am　coming　back。〃　I　thought　to　cheer　them　up；　but　they　wept　the　more。





Next　day　I　drew　my　money。　I　had　it　all　in　one　joyous　wad240。　I　was　going　home　with　head　high　and　aircastles　even　higher。　But　I　never　got　home　with　the　money。　Talk　about　the　fool　and　his　money　and　you　get　very　personal。

For　on　the　way　home　I　met　Deacon　K；　and　he　borrowed　it　all。　Deacon　K　was　〃such　a　good　man〃　and　a　〃pillar　of　the　church。〃　I　used　to　wonder；　tho；　why　he　didn't　take　a　pillow　to　church。　I　took　his　note　for　240；　〃due　at　corncutting；〃　as　we　termed　that　annual　fall…time　paying　up　season。　I　really　thought　a　note　was　not　necessary；　such　was　my　confidence　in　the　deacon。

For　years　I　kept　a　faded；　tear…spattered；　yellow　note　for　240；　〃due　at　corncutting；〃　as　a　souvenir　of　my　first　schoolteaching。　Deacon　K　has　gone　from　earth。　He　has　gone　to　his　eternal　reward。　I　scarcely　know　whether　to　look　up　or　down　as　I　say　that。　He　never　left　any　forwarding　address。

I　was　paid　thousands　in　experience　for　that　first　schoolteaching；　but　I　paid　all　the　money　I　got　from　ittwo　hundred　and　forty　thirteen…mile…a…day　dollars　to　learn　one　thing　I　could　not　learn　from　the　books；　that　it　takes　less　wisdom　to