im were tolerant of the fact that he cared more for reading than
for college sports or college politics. It must be confessed that he
added little to the reputation of the university, since his name was
never once mentioned in the public prints--search has been made since
the public came to know him as a writer--as a hero in any crew or team
on any game field. Perhaps it was a little selfish that his muscle
developed in the gymnasium was not put into advertising use for the
university. The excuse was that he had not time to become an athlete,
any more than he had time to spend three years in the discipline of the
regular army, which was in itself an excellent thing.

Celia, in one of her letters--it was during her first year at a woman's
college, when the development of muscle in gymnastics, running, and
the vigorous game of ball was largely engaging the attention of this
enthusiastic young lady--took him to task for his inactivity. "This is
the age of muscle," she wrote; "the brain is useless in a flabby body,
and probably the brain itself is nothing but concentrated intelligent
muscle. I don't know how men are coming out, but women will never get
the position they have the right to occupy until they are physically the
equals of men."

Philip had replied, banteringly, that if that were so he had no desire
to enter in a physical competition with women, and that men had better
look out for another field.

But later on, when Celia had got into the swing of the classics, and was
training for a part in the play of "Antigone," she wrote in a different
strain, though she would have denied that the change had any relation to
the fact that she had strained her back in a rowing-match. She did not
apologize for her former advice, but she was all aglow about the Greek
drama, and made reference to Aspasia as an intellectual type of what
women might become. "I didn't ever tell you how envious I used to be
when you were studying Greek with that old codger in Rivervale, and
could talk about Athens and all that. Next time we meet, I can tell
you, it will be Greek meets Greek. I do hope you have not dropped the
classics and gone in for the modern notion of being real and practical.
If I ever hear of your writing 'real' poetry--it is supposed to be real
if it is in dialect or misspelled! never will write you again, much less
speak to you."

Whatever this decided young woman was doing at the time she was sure was
the best for everybod