In that youthful dream home I would have the sleekest cows for 

 my milk, the fattest pork for sausage, heavy horses for plowing, light 

 trim ones for travel, sheep for wool, poultry for eggs and flesh that 

 would be uniform and pleasing to the eye, bees for honey, and all the 

 choice fruits and vegetables for the table. Were these college days 

 helping my dreams come true? Were they not making me imprac- 

 ticable, a mere mumbler of other men's words? Over my study table 

 with the midnight oil burning low I tried in vain to join the "higher 

 education," so called, with the fuller, healthier, more satisfying life 

 that had once been mine. It seemed that I had lost my way and that 

 attempting to master the knowledge of the whole world that I was in 

 grave danger of neglecting the temple of flesh in which my soul lived 

 and that the finer and nobler emotions of that hungry soul were being 

 ignored. I wanted to get back into the beauties of the real world 

 where I could put my hands on pulsating animals, train the flowers, 

 and growvegetables, and prune trees, gather food for the table, build 

 a cozy fireside. 



In due respect to the more modern schools of today I must say tha t 

 they are making a great movement forward in adding school gardens 

 and industrial courses to the curriculum. 



As I look back in memory to my college days the work that has 

 been of the most benefit is that which I was compelled to do to pay 

 my way through school. I washed dishes, waited on table, run a 

 laundry wagon, canvassed for books, and kept a boarding club. 

 These things held my feet down on the earth and made me somewhat 

 practical. The first essential of an education is that it should teach us 

 how to earn an honorable living. I have seen college graduates in 

 many parts of the world incapable of earning a decent living. Crippled 

 for life even to the bare comforts and necessities of living. We need a 

 school that will teach us first of all how to take care of this physical 

 body in the way of cleanliness, good food, clothing and shelter. If we 

 are proficient in this and have some time left, then we can the more 

 appreciate the higher arts. 



In the world of books and in all the studies for developing the mind 

 I failed to find that which would satisfy a soul longing for a larger 

 freedom. I wanted a world where my eyes could feast on beautiful 

 colors, where my ears could hear sweet sounds, where the fragrance of 

 flowers reached my nostrils, where the taste of fruits pleased my 

 palate, where my hand could find useful work to do. A world of this 

 kind would develop all these five avenues to the mind and make us 

 keen and alive and one with the universe. I could see no other outlet 

 for the hungry soul. I could not find it in the printed page. I became 

 disgusted with college for study. Was I there for study itself or for 

 companionship or from custom or a sense of duty? 



I could stand it no longer. I was in my senior year. So I packed 

 my trunk, boarded a train for Chicago and went out into the wide, 

 wide world, restless, incapable, undecided, inexperienced, drifting as 

 thousands of students do each year. I was swallowed up in that great 

 city of Chicago as thousands of country boys are each year. My 

 boyhood dreams were not of this artificial life in this rushing, seething 

 mass of humanity. 



17 



