UNIVERSITY COURIER.
7
LITERARY.
MISUNDERSTOOD.
Sometimes,when all the glowing tints Have faded from our morning's sky. When, dull and ashen, at our feet, Our sweetest hopes and fancies lie. When all our world is wrapped in gloom, Or seems so, seen through bitter tears, The sweetest sounds of melodies Are discord only to our ears.
And when drift on open seas,
With hearts, at best, not over strong.
We learn how weak and frail a thing
Is human strength when matched with wrong.
We turn from all things with mistrust,
We shrink away from human touch,
We fear the hand we love the best,
We doubt the one we trusted much.
And weary longings fill our hearts For something brave, and strong and just; Some human hand to hold our own, Some human love we'd dare to trust! And when emboldened by our needs, From the white heights of womanhood We reach imploring hands to you How sad to be misunderstood!
How sad to know, though so wise,
So strong of heart, so sure of hand.
There are pure depths of womanhood,
Which even you misunderstand!
The gift we ask is small—so small,
When measured from your large estate—
'Twas but the touch of Peter's hand
That healed the beggar at the gate.
And when with famished hearts, we turn For strength and guidance unto you,
How cruel that your hand bestows The cup that steeps our lips in rue!
Or if, storm-tossed, our souls may shift To havens where your sails are furled.
Ah! is it manly, brave or just,
To send them, driftwood, on the world?
Some lives there be, through sun or storm,
Must struggle on 'gainst wind and wave,
No beacon gleams through life's distrust— No hand sheathed forth to guide or save,
Yet, though a wreck—though sea-engulfed,
God's love can reach the sinking soul,
If they but touch the garment's hem,
Their faith shall make them, also, whole.
AN HOUR IN THE CLASSROOM.
One of the best places in our University for observing the human comedy is a seat in a large class. I am in such a class, of perhaps sixty members; rather well back my seat is, and at one side, so that I may look aslant the rows and askance into the faces.
The students come in, with considerable talking, find their seats and settle into quiet as the professor looks over the room and notes the empty chairs. The talking does not entirely cease. Contrary to the received opinion, the young men talk rather more than the young ladies.
It is somewhat curious to observe the various attitudes, a few graceful, more commonplace, some comical. But indeed there is some excuse, for the chairs are very uncomfortable, too high-backed for stools, too low for chairs. A young lady, if short, will settle down in her chair until she gets her shoulder-blades against the back; but if tall, generally thinks it more dignified to sit upright. A young man gets into all sorts of positions, graceful rarely, but commonly uncouth, as his nature is.
As I look about me, waiting for the recitation to begin, I reflect on the peculiar advantages such a seat as this has. Watching from such a position you will see many glares and movements otherwise invisible or concealed. Your subject, too, if you manage well, is unconscious of the scrutiny, and that is a great help in getting a knowledge of people, and in seeing under the mask which we all more or less consciously wear.
Now the recitation begins, and as the class is so large every one cannot be called on the same day. This gives a large chance to the inattentive and to those who in classes carry on miscellaneous business. Of course there are always some who listen to every word, whether from student or Professor, enthusiasts these. But others read, or study, or talk with their neighbors. Yet others sit motionless, gazing into vacancy, hearing but heeding not, rarely moved save when themselves called upon, or aroused by the noise of some dispute.
There is Miss X, who cares nothing whatever for the study, only takes it because it is in her course, but will make a fair record on examination. She is passively tolerant of this nonsense. does not feel especially bored, but on the whole would rather be elsewhere. Fair is she to look upon as she sits there in her close-fitting bronze-green dress, the light falling full across her from the farther window. A tall and graceful figure has she, head well shaped, broad browed, and crowned with dark brown hair; eyes somewhat too cold, but features nearly regular, mouth and chin well modelled; fair is she, but withal has not four ideas beyond the textbook. She has no particular object in her studies, hence cares for nothing more than is required. If she were asked why she comes to college, she would tell you that she comes to get an education, of course. But she would be sadly puzzled if required to tell what is the purpose and final end of that education. In fact, to her it has none, if she would but acknowledge it.
The same may be said of many of the young women in our University. There is one, a Normal student she, but teaching is to her not an end but a means, she never dreams of making it her life-business. So it is with nearly all, they study well, but seem to set for themselves no end to be accomplished by their studies. A sense of pride keeps them from open failure, but they are objectless, they merely wait. Where shall be found an object for them; or have they themselves found it in waiting for the Coming Man. Who shall say, in truth not I; it is far beyond my philosophy.
In this class the young men and the maidens sit apart, much to the sorrow of some in either party. Is this your co-education where I can neither amuse nor instruct me by conversation with some fair damsel. Out upon it; it will rejoice me to depart speedily and betake me to another class, where things are not in such wise.
But after all this method has its compensations. If I were talking to Miss X.yonder, I could not observe and meditate upon her and upon these, my fellow students.