the entire youth of a country until it had ceased to commit the offense
of being young. Tradition was assuredly not apparent in the atmosphere
of Columbia. Moreover, some of her architecture was ugly. On the other
hand, some of it was beautiful to the point of nobility. The library,
for instance: a building in which no university and no age could feel
anything but pride. And far more important than stone or marble was the
passionate affection for Columbia which I observed in certain of her
sons who had nevertheless known other universities. A passionate
affection also perhaps brought into being since 1893, but not to be
surpassed in honest fervency and loyalty by influences more venerable!

Columbia was full of piquancies for me. It delighted me that the Dean of
Science was also consulting engineer to the university. That was
characteristic and fine. And how splendidly unlike Oxford! I liked the
complete life-sized railroad locomotive in the engineering-shops, and
the Greek custom in the baths; and the students' notion of coziness in
the private dens full of shelves, photographs, and disguised beds; and
the visibility of the president; and his pronounced views as to the
respective merits of New York newspapers; and the eagerness of a young
professor of literature in the Faculty Club to defend against my
attacks English Professor A.C. Bradley. I do believe that I even liked
the singular sight of a Chinaman tabulating from the world's press, in
the modern-history laboratory, a history of the world day by day. I can
hardly conceive a wilder, more fearfully difficult way of trying to
acquire the historical sense than this voyaging through hot, fresh
newspapers, nor one more probably destined to failure (I should have
liked to see some of the two-monthly résumés which students in this
course are obliged to write); but I liked the enterprise and the
originality and the daring of the idea; I liked its disdain of
tradition. And, after all, is it weirder than the common traditional