Humanly Speaking | Page 7

address doesn't seem to be as closely reasoned as
it did when I was delivering it. Does it seem to you to be cogent?"
"Cogent is not precisely the word I would use. But it seems earnest."
"Thank you," said Bagster. "I always try to be earnest. It's hard to be
earnest about so many things. I am always afraid that I may not give to
all an equal emphasis."
"And now that you have stopped for a moment," I suggested, "perhaps
you would be willing to skip to the last page. When I read a story I am
always anxious to get to the end. I should like to know how your
address comes out,--if it does come out."
Bagster turned over a dozen pages and read in a more animated
manner.
"Your chairman has the reputation of making the meetings over which
he presides brisk and crisp. He has given me just a minute and a half in
which to tell what the country expects of this Federation of Young
People. I shall not take all the time. I ask you to remember two
letters--E and N. What does the country expect this Federation to do?

E--everything. When does the country expect you to do it? N--now.
Remember these two letters--E and N. Young people, I thank you for
your attention.
"The hour is late. You, my young brother, have listened to a charge in
which your urgent duties have been fearlessly declared to you. When
you have performed these duties, others will be presented to you. And
now, in token of our confidence in you, I give you the right hand of
fellowship.
"And do you know," said Bagster, "that when I reached to give him the
right hand of fellowship, he wasn't there."
We sat in silence for some time. At last he asked, hesitatingly, "What
do you think of it? In your judgment is it organic or functional?"
"I do not think it is organic. I am afraid that your conscience has been
over-functioning of late, and needs a rest. I know a nook in the woods
of New Hampshire, under the shadow of Mount Chocorua, where you
might go for six months while your affairs are in the hands of a receiver.
I can't say that you would find everything satisfactory, even there. The
mountain is not what it used to be. It is decadent, geologically speaking,
and it suffered a good deal during the last glacial period. But you can't
do much about it in six months. You might take it just as it is,--some
things have to be taken that way.
"You will start to-morrow morning and begin your life of temporary
irresponsibility. You will have to give up your problems for six months,
but you may rest assured that they will keep. You will go by
Portsmouth, where you will have ten minutes for lunch. Take that
occasion for a leisurely meal. A card will be handed to you assuring
you that 'The bell will ring one minute before the departure of the train.
You can't get left.' Hold that thought: you can't get left; the railroad
authorities say so."
"Did you ever try it," asked Bagster.
"Once," I answered.

"And did you get left?"
"Portsmouth," I said, "is a beautiful old town. I had always wanted to
see it. You can see a good deal of Portsmouth in an afternoon."

The predicament in which my friend Bagster finds himself is a very
common one. It is no longer true that the good die young; they become
prematurely middle-aged. In these days conscience doth make
neurasthenics of us all. Now it will not do to flout conscience, and by
shutting our eyes to the urgencies and complexities of life purchase for
ourselves a selfish calm. Neither do we like the idea of neurasthenia.
My notion is that the twentieth-century man is morally solvent, though
he is temporarily embarrassed. He will find himself if he is given
sufficient time. In the mean time it is well for him to consider the
nature of his embarrassment. He has discovered that the world is "so
full of a number of things," and he is disappointed that he is not as
"happy as kings"--that is, as kings in the fairy books. Perhaps "sure
enough" kings are not as happy as the fairy-book royalties, and perhaps
the modern man is only experiencing the anxieties that belong to his
new sovereignty over the world.
There are tribes which become confused when they try to keep in mind
more than three or four numbers. It is the same kind of confusion which
comes when we try to look out for more than Number One. We mean
well, but we have not the facilities for doing it easily. In fact,