r
liquefies and spreads itself, gently anointing the field of coming
action. Upon the upper shield one smilingly distributes the second
butter pat, knifed off into small slices for greater speed of melting.
By the time the first cake has been eaten, with the syrup, the other two
will be ready for manifest destiny. The butter will be docile and
submissive. Now, after again making sure of the time (7:40) the syrup is
brought into play and the palate has the congenial task of determining
whether the added delight of melting butter outweighs the greater
hotness and primal thrill of the first cake which was glossed with the
syrup only. You drain your coffee to the dregs; gaze pityingly on those
rushing in to snap up a breakfast before the 8 o'clock leaves for New
York, pay your check, and saunter out to the train. It is 7:43.

This, to be sure, is only the curtain-raiser to the pleasures to follow.
This has been a physical and carnal pleasure. Now follow delights of the
mind. In the great gloomy shed wafts and twists of thick steam are
jetting upward, heavily coiled in the cold air. In the train you smoke
two pipes and read the morning paper. Then you are set down at
Haverford. It is like a fairyland of unbelief. Trees and shrubbery are
crusted and sheathed in crystal, lucid like chandeliers in the flat,
thin light. Along the fence, as you go up the hill, you marvel at the
scarlet berries in the hedge, gleaming through the glassy ribs of the
bushes. The old willow tree by the Conklin gate is etched against the
sky like a Japanese drawing--it has a curious greenish colour beneath
that gray sky. There is some mystery in all this. It seems more
beautiful than a merely mortal earth vexed by sinful men has any right
to be. There is some ice palace in Hans Andersen which is something like
it. In a little grove, the boughs, bent down with their shining
glaziery, creak softly as they sway in the moving air. The evergreens
are clotted with lumps and bags of transparent icing, their fronds sag
to the ground. A pale twinkling blueness sifts over distant vistas. The
sky whitens in the south and points of light leap up to the eye as the
wind turns a loaded branch.

A certain seriousness of demeanour is noticeable on the generally
unfurrowed brows of student friends. Midyears are on and one sees them
walking, freighted with precious and perishable erudition, toward the
halls of trial. They seem a little oppressed with care, too preoccupi