The Plastic Age - Percy Marks (classic literature books txt) 📗
- Author: Percy Marks
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That."
"You Don'T Understand. I Know That You Don'T Understand. I'Ve Been Doing
A Lot Of Thinking Since Prom, Too. I'Ve Thought Over A Lot Of Things
That You'Ve Said To Me--About Me, I Mean. Why, Hugh, You Think I'M Not
Human. I Don'T Believe You Think I Have Passions Like The Rest Of You.
Well, I Do, And Sometimes It'S--It'S Awful. I'M Telling You That So
You'Ll Understand That I Know How You Feel. But Love'S Beautiful To Me,
Hugh, The Most Wonderful Thing In The World. I Was In Love With A Girl
Once--And I Know. She Didn'T Give A Hang For Me; She Thought I Was A
Baby. I Suffered Awfully; But I Know That My Love Was Beautiful, As
Beautiful As--" He Looked Around For A Simile--"As To-Night. I Think
It'S Because Of That That I Hate Mugging And Petting And That Sort Of
Thing. I Don'T Want Beauty Debased. I Want To Fight When Orchestras Jazz
Famous Arias. Well, Petting Is Jazzing Love; And I Hate It. Do You See
What I Mean?"
Hugh Looked At Him Wonderingly. He Didn'T Know This Norry At All. "Yes,"
He Said Slowly; "Yes, I See What You Mean; I Think I Do, Anyway. But
What Has It To Do With Me?"
"Well, I Know Most Of The Fellows Pet And All That Sort Of Thing, And
They Don'T Think Anything About It. But You'Re Different; You Love
Beautiful Things As Much As I Do. You Told Me Yourself That Jimmie
Henley Said Last Year That You Were Gifted. You Can Write And Sing And
Run, But I'Ve Just Realized That You Aren'T Proud Of Those Things At
All; You Just Take Them For Granted. And You'Re Ashamed That You Write
Poetry. Somshire Blood Does At This
Time Run Through My Veins, And So I Hope It Will For Some Time
Before The Circulation Of It Is Stopped.
(110) A Distinguished Soldier, Afterwards Field-Marshal (1738-1803).
(111) Eldest Daughter Of The Earl Of Carlisle; Married, 1789, John
Campbell, Who Was Created First Lord Cawdor; She Died 1848.
(112) George, Lord Morpeth, Afterwards Sixth Earl Of Carlisle
(1773-1848). In This Correspondence Selwyn Often Refers To Him As
George. Selwyn Had A Strong Affection For Him, And Treated Him With
Sympathy And Tact.
Chapter 18 Pg 138
(113) Sir Brooke Boothby (1743-1824). One Of The Fashionable Young
Men Of The Period. He Devoted Himself Particularly, However, To
Literary Society, And Published Verses, And Political And Classical
Works. He Lived For A Time In France, And Was A Friend Of Rousseau.
(114) Lady Holland Died On July 24Th.
(115) Stephen Fox, First Earl Of Ilchester (1704-1776), The Elder
Brother Of Henry, First Lord Holland.
The Duties Of A Country Gentleman And A Member Of Parliament, The
Boredom Of A Visit To A Constituency Could Not Always Be Avoided By
Selwyn. Thus The Two Following Letters Are Written From
Gloucestershire.
(1774,) Aug. 9, Tuesday, Gloucester.--I Set Out From London On
Saturday Last, As Intended, And Came To Matson The Next Day To
Dinner. I Found Our Learned Counsel In My Garden; He Dined With Me,
And Lay At My House, And The Next Morning He Came With Me In My
Chaise To This Place For The Assizes. I Have Seen Little Of Him
Since, Being Chiefly In The Grand Jury Chamber, But I Take It For
Granted That Till This Morning That He Set Out For London His Hands
Were Full Of Business, And The Two Men Condemned Were His Clients,
Who Were Condemned Only Par Provision Till He Had Drawn Up The Case.
This Town Has Been Very Full Of The Neighbouring Gentlemen, And I
Suppose The Approaching Elections Have Been The Cause Of It. I Am
Not Personally Menaced With Any Opposition, But Have A Great Dread
Of One, Because The Contentions Among Those Who Live In The Country
And Have Nothing Else To Do But To Quarrel, Are So Great, That
Without Intending To Hurt Me, They Will Stir Up Trouble And
Opposition, Which Will Be Both Hazardous And Expensive. I Am
Tormented To Take A Part In I Know Not What, And With I Know Not
Whom, And My Difficulty Is To Keep Off The Solicitation Of My
Friends, As They Call Themselves, Who Want A Bustle, The Expense Of
Which Is Not To Be Defrayed By Themselves.
I Do Assure You That It Is A Monstrous Oppression Of Spirits Which I
Feel, And Which I Would Not Feel For An Hour If I Had Nobody'S
Happiness To Think Of But My Own, Which Would Be Much More Secured
By A Total Renunciation Of Parliament, Ministers, And Boroughs Than
By Pursuing The Emoluments Attached To Those Connections. However,
As It Is The Last Time That I Shall Ever Have Anything To Do Of This
Kind, I Will Endeavour To Keep Up My Spirits As Well As I Can; But I
Must Declare To You That It Is An Undertaking That Is Most Grievous
To Me, That I Am Ashamed Of, And That Neither The Established
Custom Of The Country [N]Or The Nature Of Our Government Does By Any
Means Reconcile To Me.
I Have Dinners Of One Sort Or Other Till Tuesday, And Then I Purpose
To Set Out For London, Unless Some Unforeseen Event Prevents Me.
Horry Walpole Has A Project Of Coming Into This Part Of The World
The End Of This Week, And, If He Does, Of Coming To Me On Saturday
Chapter 18 Pg 139I Shall Be Glad To Converse With Anybody Whose Ideas Are More
Intelligible Than Those Of The Persons I Am Now With. But I Do Not
Depend Much Upon Seeing Him.
The Weather Is Very Fine, And Matson In as Great Beauty As A Place
Can Be In, But The Beauties Of It Make Very Little Impression Upon
Me. In Short, There Is Nothing In This Eccentric Situation In Which
I Am Now That Can Afford Me The Least Pleasure, And Everything I
Love To See In The World Is At A Distance From Me. All I Do Is So
Par Maniere D'Acquit, Et De Si Mauvaise Grace, That I Am Surprised
At The Civility With Which I Am Treated.
I Mauvaise Graenty-Five Were Even A
Little Teed. To Go Around Saying That Sanford Men Are A Lot Of Muckers
Just Because A Small Fraction Of Them Acted Like Gutter-Pups Is Sheer
Bunk. The Prom Was A Drunken Brawl, But All Sanford Men Aren'T
Drunkards--Not By A Damn Sight."
Hugh Had To Admit The Force Of Gates'S Reasoning, And He Found Comfort
In It. He Had Been Just About Ready To Believe That All College Men And
Sanford Men In Particular Were Hardly Better Than Common Muckers. But In
The End The Comfort That He Got Was Small: He Realized Bitterly That He
Was One Of The Minority That Had Disgraced His College; He Was One Of
The Gutter-Pups. The Recognition Of That Undeniable Fact Cut Deep.
He Was Determined To Redeem Himself; He _Had_ To, Somehow. Living A Life
Of Perfect Rectitude Was Not Enough; He Had To Do Something That Would
Win Back His Own Respect And The Respect Of His Fellows, Which He
Thought, Quite Absurdly, That He Had Forfeited. So Far As He Could See,
There Was Only One Way That He Could Justify His Existence At Sanford;
That Was To Win One Of The Dashes In The Sanford-Raleigh Meet. He Clung
To That Idea With The Tenacity Of A Fanatic.
He Had Nearly A Month In Which To Train, And Train He Did As He Never
Had Before. His Diet Became A Matter Of The Utmost Importance; A
Rub-Down Was A Holy Rite, And The Words Of Jansen, The Coach, Divine
Gospel. He Placed In both Of The Preliminary Meets, But He Knew That He
Could Do Better; He Wasn'T Yet In condition.
When The Day For The Raleigh-Sanford Meet Finally Came, He Did Not Feel
Any Of The Nervousness That Had Spelled Defeat For Him In His Freshman
Year. He Was Stonily Calm, Silently Determined. He Was Going To Place In
The Hundred And Win The Two-Twenty Or Die In The Attempt. No Golden
Dreams Of Breaking Records Excited Him. Calvert Of Raleigh Was Running
The Hundred Consistently In Ten Seconds And Had Been Credited With
Better Time. Hugh Had No Hopes Of Defeating Him In The Hundred, But
There Was A Chance In The Two-Twenty. Calvert Was A Short-Distance Man,
The Shorter The Better. Two Hundred And Twenty Yards Was A Little Too
Far For Him.
Calvert Did Not Look Like A Runner. He Was A Good Two Inches Shorter
Than Hugh, Who Lacked Nearly That Much Of Six Feet. Calvert Was Heavily
Built--A Dark, Brawny Chap, Both Quick And Powerful. Hugh Looked At Him
And For A Moment Hated Him. Although He Did Not Phrase It So--In Fact,
He Did Not Phrase It At All--Calvert Was His Obstacle In His Race For
Redemption.
Calvert Won The Hundred-Yard Dash In Ten Seconds Flat, Breaking The
Chapter 18 Pg 140Sanford-Raleigh Record. Hugh, Running Faster Than He Ever Had In His
Life, Barely Managed To Come In Second Ahead Of His Team-Mate Murphy.
The Sanford Men Cheered Him Lustily, But He Hardly Listened. He _Had_ To
Win The Two-Twenty.
At Last The Runners Were Called To The Starting-Line. They Danced Up And
Down The Track Flexing Their Muscles. Hugh Was Tense But More Determined
Than Nervous. Calvert Pranced Around Easily; He Seemed Entirely
Recovered From His Great Effort In The Hundred. Finally The Starter
Called Them To Their Marks. They Tried Their Spikes In The
Starting-Holes, Scraped Them Out A Bit More, Made A Few Trial Dashes,
And Finally Knelt In Line At The Command Of The Starter.
Hugh Expected Calvert To Lead For The First Hundred Yards; But The Last
Hundred, That Was Where Calvert Would Weaken. Calvert Was Sure To Be
Ahead At The Beginning--But After That!
"On Your Marks.
"Set."
The Pistol Cracked. The Start Was Perfect; The Five Men Leaped Forward
Almost Exactly Together. For Once Calvert Had Not Beaten The Others Off
The Mark, But He Immediately Drew Ahead. He Was Running Powerfully, His
Legs Rising And Falling In exact Rhythm, His Spikes Tearing Into The
Cinder Path. But Hugh And Murphy Were Pressing Him Close. At The End Of
The First Hundred Calvert Led By A Yard. Hugh Pounded On, Murphy Falling
Behind Him. The Others Were Hopelessly Outclassed. Hugh Did Not Think;
He Did Not Hear A Thousand Men Shouting Hysterically, "Cas Of This Old Building, Which, I Believe, Will
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