OCR Text |
Show CHAPTER XIII.ESTHETIC LIFEORDS that come trippingly on the tongue, sounds of heavenly harmony, pages, of glowing genius,-are there not these at Utonia to calm and delight the wearied soul when the day is done ? Nay, wait not till then: when some early morning, ripe for the hour of study, your thoughts have been coaxed patiently deep into the roots of calculus at last, and then, from the room above, eloquence descends in "Romeo, where art thou?" is it not an inspiring interruption? Can any nature that is not basely sordid help but feel his better self mount upward as he listens? No, no! Or at chapel hour, could you call the swell of the bass viol, or the resonance of the drum, from orchestra practice outside, unwelcome ? Lose every word of the speaker, but rather lose yourself to eternity than term these Cecilian tones a nuisance. And there are chronicles, such as Norman England never dreamed of, in their wealth of learned lore, pleasantries, news items, jokes, poetry, stories, descriptions,-indeed, and what not?-placed for the convenience of all people at all times for recreation; under desks, in desks, on the campus; for students to read if they will, or for janitors to pick up. In face of odds such as these, who would call this "yellow journalism?"148 |