The Land of Joy. Ralph Henry Barbour
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Название: The Land of Joy
Автор: Ralph Henry Barbour
Издательство: Bookwire
Жанр: Языкознание
isbn: 4064066231408
isbn:
“Yes, immensely; although I’ve never been a great deal.”
“No more have I—that is, not such a lot. I’ve seen pretty much everything good, but there’s a lot of jolly nonsense I’ve missed. I’m going to change that. I love melodrama. Did you ever see ‘The Great Northwest’? or ‘The Convict’s Daughter’? or ‘The Great White Diamond’?”
Phillip shook his head apologetically. Somehow, he felt rather small and unimportant in the presence of the easy-mannered, laughing-eyed youth before him.
“And there are usually some jolly good burlesque shows in town. And I’m going to see ‘Florodora’ and ‘San Toy’ and ‘Miss Simplicity’ when they come. Guy and I and two or three other dubs are going in to the Museum Friday night; want to come along? We’d be glad to have you.”
“Thanks,” answered Phillip, doubtfully. “I don’t believe——”
“Oh, poppycock, of course you’ll come. I’ll get a seat for you, anyhow. That reminds me, I must do it to-day. You get them at Thurston’s and have them charged and they cost about a thousand dollars apiece. It’s very convenient.”
“Well, I’ll go then,” laughed Phillip. “I only hesitated because I haven’t been going around to things much lately. You see, my father died only last winter. But I should like to go if you’re sure your friends won’t mind.”
“They’ll be tickled into convulsions,” declared Baker. “Well, I guess we’ll have to go and try another stunt. It’s five minutes of.”
They passed out together and parted company in front of University.
“Come and see me often,” commanded Baker. “Let’s set things humming. And we’ll stop for you at your joint to-morrow afternoon about three-thirty.”
He waved a note-book and hurried off, whistling at the top of his lungs. Phillip fished a schedule from his pocket, learned where his ten o’clock recitation was held, tried to remember where that particular hall was located, consulted a pocket directory filled with boarding-house advertisements, and finally strode on. And as he went he reflected ruefully that if he was going to keep pace with Chester Baker and the unknown Guy Bassett and their companions, his already sadly diminished capital, originally designed to last him until the Christmas recess, would very soon be only a memory. But after three days in Cambridge without acquaintances, the new friendship between Baker and himself was such a pleasant thing that the contemplation of it drove all disquieting thoughts out of his mind.
“After all,” he told himself when, at noon, he climbed into one of the revolving stools at the dairy lunch counter and demanded sandwiches and pudding and milk, “I reckon the first expense is always bigger than you look for. And after Christmas I’ll settle down and economize.”
CHAPTER IV
Phillip couldn’t help thinking, when, attired in his new football togs, he faced his reflection in the mirror, that he was doing himself and perhaps the college an injustice in trying for the freshman team instead of the ’varsity. He grew quite uneasy about it and wondered for a moment whether Chester Baker’s sudden friendship was not part of a deeply laid plan to secure his services for the minor eleven. But he kept his misgivings to himself when, at half-past three the next afternoon, he found himself being conducted over to Soldiers’ Field by Chester Baker and Guy Bassett.
The latter youth looked to be a year or so older than Chester, and was tall and distinguished-appearing even in the well-worn canvas trousers and faded sweater. He had what Phillip was sure were “chiseled features,” with very steady brown eyes set far apart and brown hair that was parted in the middle and which was as smooth and glossy as though newly ironed. Phillip thought his manners wonderful; he had shaken hands with a degree of empressement which in most would have been unpleasant but which in his case seemed absolutely natural. He said strange things in a grave voice and with a perfectly serious countenance, and during the first few weeks of their acquaintance Phillip never knew for certain when the other was in earnest. Sometimes he took his cue from Chester and echoed that youth’s laughter, but more often he made use of a happy compromise and smiled wisely, as one to whom sad experience had taught the futility of either laughter or seriousness. And Guy, perceiving the other’s predicament, excelled himself in the utterance of extravagances.
Phillip had acknowledged cheerfully his ignorance of all save the rudiments of football, and Guy had nodded commendingly.
“I think you’ll make a success at it,” he said gravely. “I only wish I had your ignorance of the game.”
“Why,” exclaimed Phillip, “I should think that ignorance was something of a drawback to a fellow.”
“Yes, that’s the popular impression, but, like most popular impressions, it’s quite erroneous. It is ignorance that wins every time. Take your own case for example. You know no more of the game than you have learned from seeing it played on three occasions. You are free from prejudices; you do not insist that the ball must be handled in a certain way. It makes no difference to you whether the quarter holds it with a stiff hand or a loose one, whether he has the belly of the ball or the end. You haven’t played the game until you’ve got yourself into a rut hemmed in by customs and precedents. Consequently, if left to your own devices you will play the game naturally. If it comes easier to you to kick the ball with your heel than with your toe, you’ll do it. If you think you can obtain better results by tackling the referee instead of the runner, you’ll do that. Your mind, so far as the game of football is concerned, is virgin. You learn the game naturally, as a child learns to talk. You will not be restricted by rules, regulations or customs; and so who knows but that you’ll improve on the present methods?”
Phillip smiled doubtfully and shot a glance at the speaker’s face. But Guy was looking straight ahead, thoughtfully serious, as though enjoying a vision of a gridiron contest in which the players, emancipated from the iron heel of the despotic coach, were battling each as his natural impulse taught. Chester was grinning; but then he generally was grinning, thought Phillip.
“But there would always have to be rules, wouldn’t there?” he asked.
“Not at all,” answered Guy calmly. “Rules are laws; laws are unnatural mandates invented by man to govern the conduct of persons whose conscionable impulses have been so thwarted that they no longer have the power to influence.”
Chester gurgled rapturously.
“In football,” continued Guy, “there is a rule which prohibits a player from throttling his opponent or striking him with his fist. Now where is the advantage of that rule? It very often happens—I know that it has in my case, at all events—that a player can put his opponent out of the play more speedily and certainly by striking him forcibly between the eyes with the fist than by pushing him to one side. The natural impulse is to do so. Then why not do it?”
“But—but——” Phillip stuttered in his amazement. “But that would be brutal! You might—might injure the other fellow.”
“Certainly; I believe that if done scientifically and with sufficient force it would kill him. And there we are again. The natural impulse is to kill enough of the opposing team to enable you СКАЧАТЬ