of his organs--what can he do with them? If the privilege
of being a pupil in the standard college were conditioned strictly upon
the second of these questions--the condition of his organs--as well as
upon the first, fifty out of a hundred pupils, as prepared at present,
would fall short of admission. If the same test were applied for
admission to the faculty, ninety out of a hundred teachers would fall
short of admission. Having had analytic, self-destructive, learned
habits for a longer time than their pupils, the condition of their
organs is more hopeless.

The man who has the greatest joy in a symphony is:

First, the man who composes it.

Second, the conductor.

Third, the performers.

Fourth, those who might be composers of such music themselves.

Fifth, those in the audience who have been performers.

Sixth, those who are going to be.

Seventh, those who are composers of such music for other instruments.

Eighth, those who are composers of music in other arts--literature,
painting, sculpture, and architecture.

Ninth, those who are performers of music on other instruments.

Tenth, those who are performers of music in other arts.

Eleventh, those who are creators of music with their own lives.

Twelfth, those who perform and interpret in their own lives the music
they hear in other lives.

Thirteenth, those who create anything whatever and who love perfection
in it.

Fourteenth, "The Public."

Fifteenth, the Professional Critic--almost inevitably at the fifteenth
remove from the heart of things because he is the least creative, unless
he is a man of genius, or has pluck and talent enough to work his way
through the other fourteen moods and sum them up before he ventures to
criticise.

The principles that have been employed in putting life into literature
must be employed on drawing life out of it. These principles are the
creative principles--principles of joy. All influences in education,
family training, and a man's life that tend to overawe, crowd out, and
make impossible his own private, personal, daily habit of creative joy
are the enemies of books.

II

Private Road: Dangerous

The impotence of the study of literature as practised in the schools and
colleges of the present day turns largely on the fact that the principle
of creative joy--of knowing through creative joy--is overlooked. The
field of vision is the book and not the world. In the average course in
literature the fiel