The farmer and mechanic. [volume] (Raleigh, N.C.) 18??-19??, 1900-12-18
LEARNED LECTURES
To YOUNG LADIES
At st. Mary's and the Bap-
fist University.
IN HIGT0RYD
"ROMANCE IN HISTORY"
Literary Likings' and Some Fine
Things From Literature.
Or. HUfRaM AND PROF. slEDD, LECTURE
The Young Women Heard With Delight and
Heartily the Speakers. A Feature Of
College Life That is Becoming
DeseryedIy Popular.


Prof. Sledd's lecture on Literary
Likings' at the Baptist Female Uni
versity last night was a treat. 1t was
principally a plea fer a similar appre-
citation Of the beauties that are in lit
erature, and less Of the looking, for
symbolism and lessons OF culture.
Poetry should idealize some fact Of
human interest.
After a very harmonious introduce
ton, in which the speaker explained
how small he felt at the prospect Of
making the address, he went on to dis
cuss the problem: How to live-how to
die. fortunately only one Of these
problems needs to be solved. For il
we live we'll, that other, the master
knot of human Life, will solve itself.
Indeed | fear we make too much pot
ter about this sorry, this necessary,
matter OF dying; tor after all OF no"
little moment are the best Of usi But
perhaps we are something more h q
pebble east into the boundlesS Seven
sees of Eternity. Let lis rather be-
lieve, with olG ordSwOrth, that, some
hoW We men, though we must vanish,
sull are greater than we
know And it is just this deathless
thirst after immortality which has
been the guiding dream in all 1nortai
greatness. The physiciast is by ouI
side telling us mind and matter are
one, the biologist telling us We are
but a higher order OF the brute, and,
as the brute, must perish, Yet IN spite
Of all this, we turn away instinctigely
from the reality with its dust and
ashes
And build ourselves We know nor
what
OF second life, we know not where"
Then if Immortality has been the
guiding dream Of humanity, the
poets nave been It's professors. | be
I!eve that the highest and nObiest gift
Of God to man Is that indeScT1bable
something which we call by the much
abused name of poetry Now, We
ma boldly say that poetry is the
trutst ana most beautiful expression
Of religion itself. When | speak of the
gloTies Of poetry, let me warn you
that | have in mind solely the study
and reading of ii. God forbid hat
should encourage anyone to add &c
the present abundant supply OF sorrN
verse. When | glance over the ever IN
creasing host Of v~erse-makers ano
sonneteers, l must cry out i'll The
words Of Pope:
Why do they write:
Whose crime vast, their parents, Oh
their own.
Dipped them in ink
One prevalent opinion would seen
TO be that poetry is something too rare
anA rnoI fcr. bDn,9n natures d1llN
food. On the contrary, poetry is OF al
human things the most intensely hui
man, and the rue poet, while he may
make the lark sing hymns at heaven
gates, never fOrgets that the little SIN
ger is hyInning not to the clouds, bu'
70 that warm nest hidden among
earth'S daiseS. We must admit tina
when Shelley himself t~ranScendS tn
bonds Of human interest, we close ou1
hearts to his wonderful music. 1t i:
a pity people don't read more OF tn
real human poetry. We read Suci
sloppy stuff as David HaTuTn. 1t IS ;
sign of decadence that we can put III
with it. But parts OF Paradise Los
seem TO me to be almost too great 10,
the human mind to grasp. / can
read them. My imagination flags ant
droops. When Milton tries to give IL
the conversation Of Father and Son
we find even those %sonOrouS period
fiat and stale, and in our hearts we cal
but imagine what it would be il W.
should have to listen to his sort o
stuff through all eternity. There J
certainly better poetry IN fothe
place. 1t is the same with Dante. HI
Paradise. with its endless depths @
white-robed seraphs singing or
eternal song of songs, with It's glor,
on glory far withdrawn into that cen
trail insufferable radiance, all this be
comes at times so cold, so ethereal, tina
| hurry down for q glimpse of tn
GOOD old brown earth. Nay, | prefe
infinitely the Inferno, with all its nor
rors' for its murky air, filled thougl
II is with those shriIi lamentations,
sill something of the earth. And hoy
human are the pictures that here flasI
upon rs F~rancesca's tale Of love am
hate, the most beautiful and touching
love story ever old.
1T Is like the story OF kueller vic
he was dying. and Pope tried to com
fort him with the hope OF another life
The poor fellow looked out on III
busy streets and murnlurcd: IN. Nj
Pope, I wish the Lord would let NJ
live on mere in IOndon.' Prot. Sled
then quoted from ItCsaettIS bleSse
uamCSel and a sonnet by Ice HAM
ton, as Interpreting this e~arth-hunge'
This love of the human enters II
less into that most mortal OF all lnoi
tai things. the selection Of our WIft:
Now. | don't believe any OF us Wou'
marry an angel. nc matter what II
may say to the dear one. Eu
we must not confuse the Old cart
flavor Of true poetry with realism, q
the latter term Ii now used IN the u
ernry iareon. Poetry IS as tar r.
moved from realism as the last
from the West. The poet takes rea
itv and idcalizcS it in the clear In1rrC
az his soul. Poetry is as far elnov
from science as il is from realisr
oh. these scientists, these scientists
IL. lra.r l.a... tlac1- ~ rl1.:i ~