Nogales international., 1932-09-21
NOW co ON WITH THE STORY.

You become a driver, Or an ass, and
possibly both. You attempt to impose
your ideas upon human beings, yor
show them how to lay thousand
bricks where formerly they only placed
half as many in the same space of
time. You develop systems of efficiency
and mass production, but none of you
has the slightest conception Of the I'M
derlying problems of human life. Does
life become more bearable Or more
productive of happiness? BY heaven,
We know more about teaching in the
kindergarten than we do in the schools
of applied science. Science-a great
word, John, a word to conjure with,
especially when applied. The rigorous
application of science to life. All, this
would lead" Harboard stopped and
looked closely at John. The face of
the student was white, drawn.
What would it lead to-" John was
eager.
"To Christianity, John. To .toier-
ancc::"
When Harboard left, John thought
long and earnestly upon the things the
older man had criticized. Mentally he
was far less able than when he en-
tered the schools of higher learning.
Midnight came and John still sat
dull-eyed. His pipe had gone out and
he neglected his books. The task be-
fore him loorned like a mountain of
lead.
Of a sudden John Breen lost his
hold on the job ahead. He tore off his
green shade, slipped on his coat,
caught his cap and started out of the
door, walking down the stairs as if in
a trance.
Out through the black wicket of the
dorms, down the long. wet black-paved
avenue, below the naked, windswept
arches Of the great cathedral rising
gaunt and massive against the dull
orange of the midnight sky, lit by a
billion distant city lamps. reflected
downward from the cloudy vault. 1t
was raining, and this seemed to tit
his mood. On, and on, away from
books, away from tasks and task
masters, and away from his drudging,
grinding self, he trudged. He turned
down Fifth Avenue, and ran easily
on TIE hard gravel, close to the low
coping of granite. At Forty-ninth
Street he turned east to Third Avenue,
and still dogtrotted on toward the
south. Policemen, flattened iii door
ways. took him fer hone-bound
watchman, or night worker, running
to escape the rain.
AS he ncarcd the Bowery, a strange
fatigue came over him. He slowed to
walk. Chills seized his frame, His
teeth cIiattered. He began to run
again: pain in his joints filled ham
with torture. He continued his pace,
doggedly, passing below the deep
shadow of Cooper Union, where he
had spent such marvellous nights,
where his soul had giimpsed the big
ness Of the universe. For while he
forgot the shooting pains and rushed
ahead, wild with sudden desire.
1t was after one-thiry when he
passed the Clothing Emporium. He
searched for the name Of LIPV1TCH
in faded letters. He thought of knock
ing at the door. stopped for a moment,
and then in new gilt letters he saw the
words. Aaron Levy, Successor. be-
Meath the old sign Of the Emporium
New ard Second Hand His bearings
were gone. Where was Channon Lip
witch? Where was hea Now the city
was driving him hack again to the
Shiny waters of the har5or. The whole
world began to totter; the dark span
Of the Brooklyn Bridge lowered ike
a nlassit c threat, rlagnihcd by the wet
mist as lie lad seen it once before.
Cars changed, vessels bulkcd high
above him. He walked across the wide
river-front street FIc was playing a
game with himself, ard in it he forgot
his misery.