the university of hard knocks-第14节

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The　other　night　in　a　little　town　of　perhaps　a　thousand；　a　banker　took　me　up　into　his　office　after　the　lecture　in　which　I　had　related　some　of　the　above　experiences。　〃The　audience　laughed　with　you　and　thought　it　very　funny；〃　said　he。　〃I　couldn't　laugh。　It　was　too　pathetic。　It　was　a　picture　of　what　is　going　on　in　our　own　little　community　year　after　year。　I　wish　you　could　see　what　I　have　to　see。　I　wish　you　could　see　the　thousands　of　hard…earned　dollars　that　go　out　of　our　community　every　year　into　just　such　wildcat　enterprises　as　you　described。　The　saddest　part　of　it　is　that　the　money　nearly　always　goes　out　of　the　pockets　of　the　people　who　can　least　afford　to　lose　it。〃

Absalom；　wake　up！　This　is　bargain　night　for　you。　I　paid　eleven　hundred　dollars　to　tell　you　this　one　thing；　and　you　get　it　for　a　dollar　or　two。　This　is　no　cheap　lecture。　It　cost　blood。

Learn　that　the　gambler　never　owns　his　winnings。　The　man　who　accumulates　by　sharp　practices　or　by　undue　profits　never　owns　it。　Even　the　young　person　who　has　large　fortune　given　him　does　not　own　it。　We　only　own　what　we　have　rendered　definite　service　to　bound。　The　owning　is　in　the　understanding　of　values。

This　is　true　physically；　mentally；　morally。　You　only　own　what　you　have　earned　and　stored　in　your　life；　not　merely　in　your　pocket；　stomach　or　mind。

I　often　think　if　it　takes　me　thirty…four　years　to　begin　to　learn　one　sentence；　I　see　the　need　of　an　eternity。

To　me　that　is　one　of　the　great　arguments　for　eternal　lifehow　slowly　I　learn；　and　how　much　there　is　to　learn。　It　will　take　an　eternity！




Those　Commencement　Orations


The　young　person　says；　〃By　next　June　I　shall　have　finished　my　education。〃　Bless　them　all！　They　will　have　put　another　string　on　their　fiddle。

After　they　〃finish〃　they　have　a　commencement；　not　an　end…ment；　as　they　think。　This　is　not　to　sneer；　but　to　cheer。　Isn't　it　glorious　that　life　is　one　infinite　succession　of　commencements　and　promotions！

I　love　to　attend　commencements。　The　stage　is　so　beautifully　decorated　and　the　joy　of　youth　is　everywhere。　There　is　a　row　of　geraniums　along　the　front　of　the　stage　and　a　big　oleander　on　the　side。　There　is　a　long…whiskered　rug　in　the　middle。　The　graduates　sit　in　a　semicircle　upon　the　stage　in　their　new　patent　leather。　I　know　how　it　hurts。　It　is　the　first　time　they　have　worn　it。

Then　they　make　their　orations。　Every　time　I　hear　their　orations　I　like　them　better；　because　every　year　I　am　getting　younger。　Damsel　Number　One　comes　forth　and　begins：

〃Beyond　the　Alps　（sweep　arms　forward　to　the　left；　left　arm　leading）　lieth　Italy！〃　（Bring　arms　down；　letting　fingers　follow　the　wrist。　How　embarrassing　at　a　commencement　for　the　fingers　not　to　follow　the　wrist！　It　is　always　a　shock　to　the　audience　when　the　wrist　sweeps　downward　and　the　fingers　remain　up　in　the　air。　So　by　all　means；　let　the　fingers　follow　the　wrist；　just　as　the　elocution　teacher　marked　on　page　69。）

Applause；　especially　from　relatives。

Sweet　Girl　Graduate　Number　2；　generally　comes　second。　S。　G。　G。　No。　2　stands　at　the　same　leadpencil　mark　on　the　floor；　resplendent　in　a　filmy　creation　caught　with　something　or　other。

〃We　（hands　at　half…mast　and　separating）　are　rowing　（business　of　propelling　aerial　boat　with　two　fingers　of　each　hand；　head　inclined）。　We　are　not　drifting　（hands　slide　downward）。〃

Children；　we　are　not　laughing　at　you。　We　are　laughing　at　ourselves。　We　are　laughing　the　happy　laugh　at　how　we　have　learned　these　great　truths　that　you　have　memorized；　but　not　vitalized。

You　get　the　most　beautiful　and　sublime　truths　from　Emerson's　essays。　（How　did　they　ever　have　commencements　before　Emerson？）　But　that　is　not　knowing　them。　You　cannot　know　them　until　you　have　lived　them。　It　is　a　grand　thing　to　say；　〃Beyond　the　Alps　lieth　Italy；〃　but　you　can　never　really　say　that　until　you　know　it　by　struggling　up　over　Alps　of　difficulty　and　seeing　the　Italy　of　promise　and　victory　beyond。　It　is　fine　to　say；　〃We　are　rowing　and　not　drifting；〃　but　you　cannot　really　say　that　until　you　have　pulled　on　the　oar。

O；　Gussie；　get　an　oar！




My　Maiden　Sermon


Did　you　ever　hear　a　young　preacher；　just　captured；　just　out　of　a　factory？　Did　you　ever　hear　him　preach　his　〃maiden　sermon〃？　I　wish　you　had　heard　mine。　I　had　a　call。　At　least；　I　thought　I　had　a　call。　I　think　now　I　was　〃short…circuited。〃　The　〃brethren〃　waited　upon　me　and　told　me　I　had　been　〃selected〃：　Maybe　this　was　a　local　call；　not　long　distance。

They　gave　me　six　weeks　in　which　to　load　the　gospel　gun　and　get　ready　for　my　try…out。　I　certainly　loaded　it　to　the　muzzle。

But　I　made　the　mistake　I　am　trying　to　warn　you　against。　Instead　of　going　to　the　one　book　where　I　might　have　gotten　a　sermonthe　book　of　my　experience；　I　went　to　the　books　in　my　father's　library。　〃As　the　poet　Shakespeare　has　so　beautifully　said；〃　and　then　I　took　a　chunk　of　Shakespeare　and　nailed　it　on　page　five　of　my　sermon。　〃List　to　the　poet　Tennyson。〃　Come　here；　Lord　Alfred。　So　I　soldered　these　fragments　from　the　books　together　with　my　own　native　genius。　I　worked　that　sermon　up　into　the　most　beautiful　splurges　and　spasms。　I　bedecked　it　with　metaphors　and　semaphores。　I　filled　it　with　climaxes；　both　wet　and　dry。　I　had　a　fine　wet　climax　on　page　fourteen；　where　I　had　made　a　little　mark　in　the　margin　which　meant　〃cry　here。〃　This　was　the　spilling…point　of　the　wet　climax。　I　was　to　cry　on　the　lefthand　side　of　the　page。

I　committed　it　all　to　memory；　and　then　went　to　a　lady　who　taught　expression；　to　get　it　expressed。　You　have　to　get　it　expressed。

I　got　the　most　beautiful　gestures　nailed　into　almost　every　page。　You　know　about　gesturesthese　things　you　make　with　your　arms　in　the　air　as　you　speak。　You　can　notice　it　on　me　yet。

I　am　not　sneering　at　expression。　Expression　is　a　noble　art。　All　life　is　expression。　But　you　have　to　get　something　to　express。　Here　I　made　my　mistake。　I　got　a　lot　of　fine　gestures。　I　got　an　express…wagon　and　got　no　load　for　it。　So　it　rattled。　I　got　a　necktie；　but　failed　to　get　any　man　to　hang　it　upon。　I　got　up　before　a　mirror　for　six　weeks；　day　by　day；　and　said　the　sermon　to　the　glass。　It　got　so　it　would　run　itself。　I　could　have　gone　to　sleep　and　that　sermon　would　not　have　hesitated。

Then　came　the　grand　day。　The　boy　wonder　stood　forth　and　before　his　large　and　enthusiastic　concourse　delivered　that　maiden　sermon　more　grandly　than　ever　to　a　mirror。　Every　gesture　went　off　the　bat　according　to　the　blueprint。　I　cried　on　page　fourteen！　I　never　knew　it　was　in　me。　But　I　certainly　got　it　all　out　that　day！

Then　I　did　another　fine　thing；　I　sat　down。　I　wish　now　I　had　done　that　earlier。　I　wish　now　I　had　sat　down　before　I　got　up。　I　was　the　last　man　out　of　the　churchand　I　hurried。　But　they　beat　me　outall　nine　of　them。　When　I　went　out　the　door；　the　old　sexton　said　as　he　jiggled　the　key　in　the　door　to　hurry　me；　〃Don't　feel　bad；　bub；　I've　heerd　worse　than　that。　You're　all　right；　bub；　but　you　don't　know　nothin'　yet。〃

I　cried　all　the　way　to　town。　If　he　had　plunged　a　dagger　into　me　he　would　not　have　hurt　me　so　much。　It　has　taken　some　years　to　learn　that　the　old　man　was　right。　I　had　wonderful　truth　in　that　sermon。　No　sermon　ever　had　greater　truth；　but　I　had　not　lived　it。　The　old　man　meant　I　did　not　know　my　own　sermon。





So；　children；　when　you　prepare　your　commencement　oration；　write　about　what　you　know　best；　what　you　have　lived。　If　you　know　more　about　peeling　potatoes　than　about　anything　else；　write　about　〃Peeling　Potatoes；〃　and　you　are　most　likely　to　hear　the　applause　peal　from　that　part　of　your　audience　unrelated　to　you。

Out　of　every　thousand　books　published；　perhaps　nine　hundred　of　them　do　not　sell　enough　to　pay　the　cost　of　printing　them。　As　you　study　the　books　that　do　live；　you　note　that　they　are　the　books　that　have　been　lived。　Perhaps　the　books　that　fail　have　just　as　much　of　truth　in　them　and　they　may　even　be　better　written；　yet　they　lack　the　vital　impulse。　They　come　out　of　the　author's　head。　The　books　that　live　must　come　out　of　his　heart。　They　are　his　own　life。　They　come　surging　and　pulsating　from　the　book　of　his　experience。

The　best　part　of　our　schooling　comes　not　from　the　books；　but　from　the　men　behind　the　books。

We　study　agriculture　from　books。　That　does　not　make　us　an　agriculturist。　We　must　take　a　hoe　and　go　out　and　agricult。　That　is　the　knowing　in　the　doing。




You　Must　Live　Your　Song


〃There　was　never　a　picture　painted；　There　was　never　a　poem　sung；　But　the　soul　of　the　artist　fainted；　And　the　poet's　heart　was　wrung。〃


So　many　young　people　think　because　they　have　a　good　voice　and　they　have　cultivated　it；　they　are　singers。　All　this　cultivation　and　irritation　and　irrigation　and　gargling　of　the　throat　are　merely　symptoms　of　a　singermerely　neckties。　Singers　look　better　with　neckties。

They　think　the　song　comes　from　the　diaphragm。　But　it　comes　from　the　heart；　chaperoned　by　the　diaphragm。　You　cannot　sing　a　song　you　have　not　lived。

Jessie　was　singing　the　other　day　at　a　chautauqua。　She　has　a　beautiful　voice；　and　she　has　been　away　to　〃Ber…leen〃　to　have　it　attended　to。　She　sang　that　afternoon　in　the　tent；　〃The　Last　Rose　of　Summer。〃　She　sang　it　with　every　note　so　well　placed；　with　the　sweetest　little　trills　and　tendrils；　with　the　smile　exactly　like　her　teacher　had　taught　her。　Jessie　exhibited　all　the　mac