The Plastic Age, Percy Marks [top 10 books of all time TXT] 📗
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- Author: Percy Marks
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Always Pulling That Low-Brow Stuff For?"
Larry Had The Grace To Blush. "Aw," He Explained In Some Confusion, "My
Prof's Full Of Hooey. He Doesn't Know A C Theme From An A One. He Makes
Me Sick. He--"
"Aw, Shut Up!" Freddy Dickson Shouted. "Let's Get Going; Let's Get
Going. We Gotta Learn This Poetry. Damn! I Don't Know Anything About It.
I Didn't Crack The Book Till Two Days Ago."
Pudge Took Charge Again. "Close Your Gabs, Everybody," He Commanded
Sternly. "There's No Sense In Going Over The Prose Lit. You Can Do That
Better By Yourselves. God Knows I'm Not Going To Waste My Time Telling
You Bone-Heads What Carlyle Means By A Hero. If You Don't Know Odin From
Mohammed By This Time, You Can Roast In Dante's Hell For All Of Me. Now
Listen; The Prof Said That They Were Going To Make Us Place Lines, And,
Of Course, They'll Expect Us To Know What The Poems Are About. Hell!
How Some Of The Boys Are Going To Fox 'Em." He Paused To Laugh. "Jim
Hicks Told Me This Afternoon That 'Philomela' Was By Shakspere." The
Other Boys Did Not Understand The Joke, But They All Laughed Heartily.
"Now," He Went On, "I'll Give You The Name Of A Poem, And Then You Tell
Me What It's About And Who Wrote It."
He Leafed Rapidly Through An Anthology. "Carl, Who Wrote 'Kubla Khan'?"
Carl Puffed His Pipe Meditatively. "I'm Going To Fox You, Pudge," He
Said, Frankly Triumphant; "I Know. Coleridge Wrote It. It Seems To Be
About A Jew Who Built A Swell Joint For A Wild Woman Or Something Like
That. I Can't Make Much Out Of The Damn Thing."
"That's Enough. Smack For Carl," Said Pudge Approvingly. "Smack" Meant
That The Answer Was Satisfactory. "Freddy, Who Wrote 'La Belle Dame Sans
Merci'?"
Freddy Twisted In His Chair, Thumped His Head With His Knuckles, And
Finally Announced With A Groan Of Despair, "No Soap."
"Hugh?"
"No Soap."
"Larry?"
"Well," Drawled Larry, "I Think Jawn Keats Wrote It. It's One Of Those
Bedtime Stories With A Kick. A Knight Gets Picked Up By A Jane. He Puts
Her On His Prancing Steed And Beats It For The Tall Timber. Keats Isn't
Very Plain About What Happened There, But I Suspect The Worst. Anyhow,
The Knight Woke Up The Next Morning With An Awful Rotten Taste In His
Mouth."
"Smack For Larry. Your Turn, Carl. Who Wrote 'The West Wind'?"
"You Can't Get Me On That Boy Masefield, Pudge. I Know All His Stuff.
There Isn't Any Story; It's Just About The West Wind, But It's A Goddamn
Good Poem. It's The Cat's Pajamas."
"You Said It, Carl," Hugh Chimed In, "But I Like 'Sea Fever' Better.
"I Must Go Down To The Seas Again,
To The Lonely Sea And The Sky....
Gosh! That's Hot Stuff. 'August, 1914''s A Peach, Too."
"Yeah," Agreed Larry Languidly; "I Got A Great Kick When The Prof Read
That In Class. Masefield's All Right. I Wish We Had More Of His Stuff
And Less Of Milton. Lord Almighty, How I Hate Milton! What Th' Hell Do
They Have To Give Us That Tripe For?"
"Oh, Let's Get Going," Freddy Pleaded, Running A Nervous Hand Through
His Mouse-Colored Hair. "Shoot A Question, Pudge."
"All Right, Freddy." Pudge Tried To Smile Wickedly But Succeeded Only In
Looking Like A Beaming Cherub. "Tell Us Who Wrote The 'Ode On
Intimations Of Immortality From Recollections Of Early Childhood.'
Cripes! What A Title!"
Freddy Groaned. "I Know That Wadsworth Wrote It, But That Is All That I
Do Know About It."
"Wordsworth, Freddy," Carl Corrected Him. "Wordsworth. Henry W.
Wordsworth."
"Gee, Carl, Thanks. I Thought It Was William."
There Was A Burst Of Laughter, And Then Pudge Explained. "It Is William,
Freddy. Don't Let Peters Razz You. Just For That, Carl, You Tell What
It's About."
"No Soap," Said Carl Decisively.
"I Know," Hugh Announced, Excited And Pleased.
"Shoot!"
"Well, It's This Reincarnation Business. Wordsworth Thought You Lived
Before You Came On To This Earth, And Everything Was Fine When You Were
A Baby But It Got Worse When You Got Older. That's About All. It's Kinda
Bugs, But I Like Some Of It."
"It Isn't Bugs," Pudge Contradicted Flatly; "It's Got Sense. You Do Lose
Something As You Grow Older, But You Gain Something, Too. Wordsworth
Admits That. It's A Wonderful Poem, And You're Dumbbells If You Can't
See It." He Was Very Serious As He Turned The Pages Of The Book And Laid
His Pipe On The Table At His Elbow. "Now Listen. This Stanza Has The
Dope For The Whole Poem." He Read The Famous Stanza Simply And
Effectively:
"Our Birth Is But A Sleep And A Forgetting;
The Soul That Rises With Us, Our Life's Star,
Hath Had Elsewhere Its Setting
And Cometh From Afar;
Not In Entire Forgetfulness,
And Not In Utter Nakedness,
But Trailing Clouds Of Glory Do We Come
From God Who Is Our Home:
Heaven Lies About Us In Our Infancy!
Shades Of The Prison House Begin To Close
Upon The Growing Boy,
But He Beholds The Light, And Whence It Flows,
He Sees It In His Joy;
The Youth Who Daily Farther From The East
Must Travel, Still Is Nature's Priest,
And By The Vision Splendid
Is On His Way Attended;
At Length The Man Perceives It Die Away,
And Fade Into The Light Of Common Day."
There Was A Moment's Silence When He Finished, And Then Hugh Said
Reverently: "That Is Beautiful. Read The Last Stanza, Will You, Pudge?"
So Pudge Read The Last Stanza, And Then The Boys Got Into An Argument
Over The Possible Truth Of The Thesis Of The Poem. Freddy Finally
Brought Them Back To The Task In Hand With His Plaintive Plea, "We've
Gotta Get Going." It Was Two O'clock In The Morning When The Seminar
Broke Up, Hugh Admitting To Carl After Their Visitors Departed That He
Had Not Only Learned A Lot But That He Had Enjoyed The Evening Heartily.
The College Grew Quieter And Quieter As The Day For The Examinations
Approached. There Were Seminars On Everything, Even On The Best Way To
Prepare Cribs. Certain Students With Low Grades And Less Honor Would
Somehow Gravitate Together And Discuss Plans For "Foxing The Profs."
Opinions Differed. One Man Usually Insisted That Notes In The Palm Of
The Left Hand Were Safe From Detection, Only To Be Met By The Objection
That They Had To Be Written In Ink, And If One's Hand Perspired, "And It
Was Sure As Hell To," Nothing Was Left But An Inky Smear. Another Held
That A Fellow Could Fasten A Rubber Band On His Forearm And Attach The
Notes To Those, Pulling Them Down When Needed And Then Letting Them Snap
Back Out Of Sight Into Safety. "But," One Of The Conspirators Was Sure
To Object, "What Th' Hell Are You Going To Do If The Band Breaks?" Some
Of Them Insisted That Notes Placed In The Inside Of One's Goloshes--All
The Students Wore Them But Took Them Off In The Examination-Room--Could
Be Easily Read. "Yeah, But The Proctors Are Wise To That Stunt." And So
_Ad Infinitum_. Eventually All The "Stunts" Were Used And Many More. Not
That All The Students Cheated. Everything Considered, The Percentage Of
Cheaters Was Not Great, But Those Who Did Cheat Usually Spent Enough
Time Evolving Ingenious Methods Of Preparing Cribs And In Preparing Them
To Have Learned Their Lessons Honestly And Well.
The Night Before The First Examinations The Campus Was Utterly Quiet.
Suddenly Bedlam Broke Loose. Somehow Every Dormitory That Contained
Freshmen Became A Madhouse At The Same Time. Hugh And Carl Were In
Surrey 19 Earnestly Studying. Freddy Dickson Flung The Door Open And
Shouted Hysterically, "The General Science Exam's Out!"
Hugh And Carl Whirled Around In Their Desk-Chairs.
"What?" They Shouted Together.
"Yeah! One Of The Fellows Saw It. A Girl That Works At The Press Copied
Down The Exam And Gave It To Him."
"What Fellow? Where's The Exam?"
"I Don't Know Who The Guy Is, But Hubert Manning Saw The Exam."
Hugh And Carl Were Out Of Their Chairs In An Instant, And The Three Boys
Rushed Out Of Surrey In Search Of Manning. They Found Him In His Room
Telling A Mob Of Excited Classmates That He Hadn't Seen The Exam But
That Harry Smithson Had. Away Went The Crowd In Search Of Smithson, Carl
And Hugh And Freddy In The Midst Of The Excited, Chattering Lads.
Smithson Hadn't Seen The Exam, But He Had Heard That Puddy Mccumber Had
A Copy.... Freshmen Were Running Up And Down Stairs In The Dormitories,
Shouting, "Have You Seen The Exam?" No, Nobody Had Seen The Exam, But
Some Of The Boys Had Been Told Definitely What The Questions Were Going
To Be. No Two Seemed To Agree On The Questions, But Everybody Copied
Them Down And Then Rushed On To Search For A _Bona Fide_ Copy. They
Hurried From Dormitory To Dormitory, Constantly Shouting The Same
Question, "Have You Seen The Exam?" There Were Men In Every Dormitory
With A New List Of Questions, Which Were Hastily Scratched Into
Note-Books By The Eager Seekers. Until Midnight The Excitement Raged;
Then The Campus Quieted Down As The Freshmen Began To Study The Long
Lists Of Questions.
"God!" Said Carl As He Scanned His List Hopelessly, "These Damn
Questions Cover Everything In The Course And Some Things That I Know
Damn Well Weren't In It. What A Lot Of Nuts We Were. Let's Go To Bed."
"Carl," Hugh Wailed Despondently, "I'm Going To Flunk That Exam. I Can't
Answer A Tenth Of These Questions. I Can't Go To Bed; I've Got To Study.
Oh, Lord!"
"Don't Be A Triple-Plated Jackass. Come On To Bed. You'll Just Get Woozy
If You Stay Up Any Longer."
"All Right," Hugh Agreed Wearily. He Went To Bed, But Many Of The Boys
Stayed Up And Studied, Some Of Them All Night.
The Examinations Were Held In The Gymnasium. Hundreds Of Class-Room
Chairs Were Set In Even Rows. Nothing Else Was There, Not Even The
Gymnasium Apparatus. A Few Years Earlier A Wily Student Had Sneaked Into
The Gymnasium The Night Before An Examination And Written His Notes On A
Dumbbell Hanging On The Wall. The Next Day He Calmly Chose The Seat In
Front Of The Dumbbell--And Proceeded To Write A Perfect Examination. The
Annotated Dumbbell Was Found Later, And After That The Walls Were
Stripped Clean Of Apparatus Before The Examinations Began.
At A Few Minutes Before Nine The Entire Freshman Class Was Grouped
Before The Doors Of The Gymnasium, Nervously Talking, Some Of Them
Glancing Through Their Notes, Others Smoking--Some Of Them So Rapidly
That The Cigarettes Seemed To Melt, Others Walking Up And Down,
Muttering And Mumbling; All Of Them So Excited, So Tense That They
Hardly Knew What They Were Doing. Hugh Was Trying To Think Of A Dozen
Answers To Questions That Popped Into His Head, And He Couldn't Think Of
Anything.
Suddenly The Doors Were Thrown Open. Yelling, Shoving Each Other About,
Fairly Dancing In Their Eagerness And Excitement, The Freshmen Rushed
Into The Gymnasium. Hugh Broke From The Mob As Quickly As Possible,
Hurried To A Chair, And Snatched Up A Copy Of The Examination That Was
Lying On Its Broad Arm. At The First Glance He Thought That He Could
Answer All The Questions; A Second Glance Revealed Four That Meant
Nothing To Him. For A Moment He Was Dizzy With Hope And Despair, And
Then, All At Once, He Felt Quite Calm. He Pulled Off His Goloshes And
Prepared To Go To Work.
Within Three Minutes The Noise Had Subsided. There Was A Rustling As The
Boys Took Off Their Baa-Baa Coats And Goloshes, But After That There Was
No Sound Save The Slow Steps Of The Proctors Pacing Up And Down The
Aisle. Once Hugh Looked Up, Thinking Desperately, Almost Seizing An Idea
That Floated Nebulous And Necessary Before Him. A Proctor That He Knew
Caught His Eye And Smiled Fatuously. Hugh Did Not Smile Back. He Could
Have Cried In His Fury. The Idea Was Gone Forever.
Some Of The Students Began To Write Immediately; Some Of Them Leaned
Back And Stared At The Ceiling; Some Of Them Chewed Their Pencils
Nervously; Some Of Them Leaned Forward Mercilessly Pounding A Knee; Some
Of Them Kept Running One Or Both Hands Through Their Hair; Some Of Them
Wrote A Little And Then Paused To Gaze Blankly Before Them Or To Tap
Their Teeth With A Pen Or Pencil: All Of Them Were Concentrating With An
Intensity That Made The Silence Electric.
That Proctor's Idiotic Smile Had Thrown Hugh's Thoughts Into What
Seemed Hopeless Confusion, But A Small Incident Almost Immediately
Brought Order And Relief. The Gymnasium Cat Was Wandering Around The
Rear Of The Gymnasium. It Attracted The Attention Of Several Of The
Students--And Of A Proctor. Being Very Careful Not To
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