TALKS WITH A KID BROTHER
youth. So are the philosophers and preachers and professors and parents who tell you how little you know about the unknown gulf of reality before you. It has even come to this: you have learned the trick of it yourselves, for I have observed certain of your own poets and orators during your class-day exercises satirically making game of their ignorance of the world they are about to enter, or sentimentalizing fondly over the ending of what they have learned to call "the happiest period of a man's life!" What nonsense!
Undoubtedly it is a picturesque period of your existence you are leaving, and a pleasant. It's a fine thing to be an undergraduate. It's a happy, care-free life—if you keep from making a fool of yourself—and not without its solid satisfactions. Even if you haven't made full use of your opportunities, it is eminently worth while for the firm friendships that you form, which last a lifetime. As a wise preacher once said, "It is better to have come and loafed than never to have come at all."
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