ung men, those are the girls to seek when you want a wife,
rather than the wheezing victims of ruinous work chosen because it is more
popular. About the last thing we would want to marry is a medicine-chest.
Why did not the students of Dartmouth, during their vacation, teach school?
First, because teaching is a science, and they did not want to do three
months of damage to the children of the common school. Secondly, because
they wanted freedom from books as man makes them, and opportunity to open
the ponderous tome of boulder and strata as God printed them. Churches and
scientific institutions, these will be the men to call--brawny and
independent, rather than the bilious, short-breathed, nerveless graduates
who, too proud to take healthful recreation, tumble, at commencement day,
into the lap of society so many Greek roots.

CHAPTER XXXVII.

BALKY PEOPLE.

Passing along a country road quite recently, we found a man, a horse and
wagon in trouble. The vehicle was slight and the road was good, but the
horse refused to draw, and his driver was in a bad predicament. He had
already destroyed his whip in applying inducements to progress in travel.
He had pulled the horse's ears with a sharp string. He had backed him into
the ditch. He had built a fire of straw underneath him, the only result a
smashed dash-board. The chief effect of the violences and cruelties applied
was to increase the divergency of feeling between the brute and his master.
We said to the besweated and outraged actor in the scene that the best
thing for him to do was to let his horse stand for a while unwhipped and
uncoaxed, setting some one to watch him while he, the driver, went away to
cool off. We learned that the plan worked admirably; that the cold air, and
the appetite for oats, and the solitude of the road, favorable for
contemplation, had made the horse move for adjournment to some other place
and time; and when the driver came up, he had but to take up the reins, and
the beast, erst so obstinate, dashed down the road at a perilous speed.

There is not as much difference between horses and men as you might
suppose. The road between mind and equine instinct is short and soon
traveled. The horse is sometimes superior to his rider. If anything is good
and admirable in proportion as it answers the end of its being, then the
horse that bends into its traces before a Fourth avenue car is better than
its blaspheming driver. He who cannot manage