The University Courier.
Vol. II. OCTOBER 10, 1883. No. 3.
THE FORTNIGHT.
It seems that the students of this university are beginning to specialize too much. Young men and women come here with the sole idea of learning something that shall help them on in the world. They declare that Greek is folly, and would study no language, not even German, did they not think the latter might help them to earn a living. Infected with the desire of money-making, they wish to study only what is useful. It is this class that leave college in their Junior year to go into business, or have no time to read the best literature. They confine themselves to the daily papers, to books bearing directly on their studies, or perhaps, as a relaxation, run through some wishy-washy novel. It is these young men, thirty years from now, who will be the so-called successful and wealthy men of the day. Yet, are they right? Is not discipline the great end of college life? Are not the mere facts about this or that subject the least important things we learn? What is really valuable, is the training, the method, the alertness and concentration of mind, the power of finer perception that we acquire. Our student may say that the field of knowledge is so large, that competition is so fierce, that, in order to be of any consequence whatever in the world, he must specialize.
Granted: but let us have general culture first; special, afterwards. Let us explore the interstellar spaces, count the stripes on a beetle's back, laugh with Falstaff, weep with Lear, think with Plato, so that we may say with the much-experienced Ulysses, "I am a part of all that I have met." Is it not better to apply all knowledge, all experience to living a well-rounded life, than to remain all our days a money-making machine, an acid-pourer or a gerund-grinder. Even if we become authorities in special departments of science, or lay up ten millions, what shall it profit us if we have no joyousness or satisfaction in life?
The other evening Remenyi gave the people of Lawrence a lesson in good manners which we hope they will remember. The person who enters a theatre or a concertroom while the performance is going on, not only shows a very great lack of goodbreeding, but also insults every one who has come on time and wishes to enjoy the entertainment. In most European theatres no late comers are allowed to enter, save between acts. But American managers and play-goers seem to think that the purchaser of a ticket also purchases the right to annoy every one already in the house. We