The Life of the Fly 



'I shall have to learn analytical geometry 

 some day,' I said. 'AVill you help me?' 



'I'm quite willing,' he replied, with a smile 

 in which I read his lack of confidence in my 

 determination. 



No matter; we struck a bargain that same 

 evening. We would together break up the 

 stubble of algebra and analytical geometry, 

 the foundation of the mathematical degree; 

 we would make common stock: he would 

 bring long hours of calculation, I my youthful 

 ardour. We would begin as soon as I had 

 finished with my arts degree, which was my 

 main preoccupation for the moment. 



In those far-off days it was the rule to 

 make a little serious literary study take prece- 

 dence of science. You were expected to be 

 familiar with the great minds of antiquity, to 

 converse with Horace and Virgil, Theocritus 

 and Plato, before touching the poisons of 

 chemistry or the levers of mechanics. The 

 niceties of thought could only be the gainers 

 by these preparations. Life's exigencies, ever 

 harsher as progress afflicts us with its increas- 

 ing needs, have changed all that. A fig for 

 correct language! Business before all! 



This modern hurry would have suited my 

 impatience. I confess that I fumed against 

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