a word to say of styles of clothing or becoming shades of neckwear or hosiery.  In all that time I was never disturbed by the number and diversity of spoons and forks beside my plate at the dinner-table.  Many a noble meal I ate as I sat upon a log supported in forked stakes, and many a big thought did I glean from the talk of loggers about me in their picturesque costumes.  In the evening I sat upon a great log in front of the cabin or a friendly stump, and forgot such things as hammocks and porch-swings.  Instead of gazing at street-lamps only a few yards away I was gazing at stars millions of miles away, and, somehow, the soul seemed to gain freedom.

And I had luxury, too.  I had a room with bath.  The bath was at the stream some fifty yards away, but such discrepancies are minor affairs in the midst of such big elemental things as were all about me.  My mattress was of young cherry shoots, and never did king have a more royal bed, or ever such refreshing sleep.  And, while I slept, I grew inside, for the soft music of the pines lulled me to rest, and the subdued rippling of my bath-stream seemed to wash my soul clean.  When I arose I had no bad taste in my mouth or in my soul, and each morning had for me the glory of a resurrection.  My trees were there to bid me good morning, the big spaces spoke to me in their own inspiriting language, and the big sun, playing hide-and-seek among the great boles of the trees as he mounted from the horizon, gave me a panorama unrivalled among the scenes of earth.

When I returned to what men called civilization, I experienced a poignant longing for my big trees, my sky, and my spaces, and felt that I had exchanged them for many things that are petty and futile.  If my school were only out in the heart of that big forest, I feel that my work would be more effective and that I would not have to potter about among little things to obey the whims of convention and the dictates of technicalities, but that the soul would be free to revel in the truth that sky and space proclaim.  I do hope I may never know so much about technical pedagogy that I shall not know anything else.  This may be what those people mean who speak of the “revolt of the ego.”

CHAPTER X

BEEFSTEAK

I am just now quite in the mood to join the band; I mean the vocational-education band.  The excitement has carried me off my feet.  I can’t endure the looks of suspicion or pity that I see on the faces of my colleagues.  They stare at me as if I were wearing a tie or a hat or a coat that is a bit below standard.  I want to seem, if not be, modern and up-to-date, and not odd and peculiar.  So I shall join the band.  I am not caring much whether I beat the drum, carry the flag, or lead the trick-bear.  I may even ride in the gaudily painted wagon behind a spotted pony and call out in raucous tones to all and sundry to hurry around to the main