s who once were men and
upheld his undisputed sway.

* * * * *

The Egyptians guarded their mysteries with jealous dread.

We know their secret now. It is this--there are no mysteries.

That is the only secret upon which any secret society holds a caveat.
Wisdom can not be corraled with gibberish and fettered in jargon.
Knowledge is one thing--palaver another. The Greek-letter societies of
our callow days still survive in bird's-eye, and next to these come the
Elks, who take theirs with seltzer and a smile, as a rare good joke,
save that brotherhood and good-fellowship are actually a saving salt
which excuses much that would otherwise be simply silly.

All this mystery and mysticism was once official, and later, on being
discarded by the authorities, was continued by the students as a kind of
prank.

Greek-letter societies are the rudimentary survivals of what was once an
integral part of every college. Making dead languages optional was the
last convulsive kick of the cadaver.

And now a good many colleges are placing the seal of their disapproval
on secret societies among the students; and the day is near when the
secret society will not be tolerated, either directly or indirectly, as
a part of the education of youth. All this because the sophomoric mind
is prone to take its Greek-letter mysteries seriously, and regard the
college curriculum as a joke of the faculty.

If knowledge were to be gained by riding a goat, any petty crossroads,
with its lodge-room over the grocery, would contain a Herbert Spencer;
and the agrarian mossbacks would have wisdom by the scruff and detain
knowledge with a tail-hold.

There can be no secrets in life and morals, because Nature has so
provided that every beautiful thought you know and every precious
sentiment you feel, shall shine out of your face so that all who are
great enough may see, know, understand, appreciate and appropriate. You
can keep things only by giving them away.

When Pythagoras was only four or five years old, his mother taught him
to take his morning bath in the cold stream, and dry his baby skin by
running in the wind. As he ran, she ran with him, and together they sang
a hymn to the rising sun, that for them represented the god Apollo.

This mother taught him to be indifferent to cold, heat, hunger, to exult
in endurance, and to take a joy in the glow of the body.

So the boy grew strong and handsome, and proud; and pe