ford Literary Magazine," which had been
slowly perishing for several years, became almost as popular as the "Cap
and Bells," the comic magazine, which coined money by publishing risque
jokes and pictures of slightly dressed women. A poetry magazine daringly
made its appearance on the campus and, to the surprise of its editors,
was received so cordially that they were able to pay the printer's bill.

It became the fashion to read. Instructors in English were continually
being asked what the best new books were or if such and such a book was
all that it was "cracked up to be." If the instructor hadn't read the
book, he was treated to a look of contempt that sent him hastening to
the library.

Of course, not all of the undergraduates took to reading and thinking;
the millennium had not arrived, but the intelligent majority began to
read and discuss books openly, and the intelligent majority ruled the
campus.

Hugh was one of the most enthusiastic of the readers. He was taking a
course in nineteenth-century poetry with Blake, the head of the English
department. His other instructors either bored him or left him cold, but
Blake turned each class hour into a thrilling experience. He was a
handsome man with gray hair, dark eyes, and a magnificent voice. He
taught poetry almost entirely by reading it, only occasionally
interpolating an explanatory remark, and he read beautifully. His
reading was dramatic, almost tricky; but it made the poems live for his
students, and they reveled in his classes.

Hugh's junior year was made almost beautiful by that poetry course and
by his adoration for Cynthia. He was writing verses constantly--and he
found "Cynthia" an exceedingly troublesome word; it seemed as if nothing
would rime with it. At times he thought of taking to free verse, but the
results of his efforts did not satisfy him. He always had the feeling
that he had merely chopped up some rather bad prose; and he was
invariably right. Cynthia wrote him that she loved the poems he sent
her because they were so passionate. He blushed when he read her praise.
It disturbed him. He wished that she had used a different word.

CHAPTER XXI

For the first term Hugh slid comfortably down a well oiled groove of
routine. He went to the movies regularly, wrote as regularly to Cynthia
and thought about her even more, read enormous quantities of poetry,
"bulled" with his friends, attended all the athletic contests, played
cards occas