possibilities of happiness that life can hold. To have leisure and
a degree of simple stateliness assured; to live in a wholesome
dignity; to have the society of the young and generous; to have
lively and intelligent talk; to have the choice of society and
solitude alike; to have one's working hours respected, and one's
leisure hours solaced--is not this better than to drift into the
so-called tide of professional success, with its dreary hours of
work, its conventional domestic background? No doubt the domestic
background has its interests, its delights; but one must pay a
price for everything, and I am more than willing to pay the price
of celibacy for my independence.

The elderly Don in college rooms, interested in Greek particles,
grumbling over his port wine, is a figure beloved by writers of
fiction as a contrast to all that is brave, and bright, and
wholesome in life. Could there be a more hopeless misconception? I
do not know a single extant example of the species at the
University. Personally, I have no love for Greek particles, and
only a very moderate taste for port wine. But I do love, with all
my heart, the grace of antiquity that mellows our crumbling courts,
the old tradition of multifarious humanity that has century by
century entwined itself with the very fabric of the place. I love
the youthful spirit that flashes and brightens in every corner of
the old courts, as the wallflower that rises spring by spring with
its rich orange-tawny hue, its wild scent, on the tops of our
mouldering walls. It is a gracious and beautiful life for all who
love peace and reflection, strength and youth. It is not a life for
fiery and dominant natures, eager to conquer, keen to impress; but
it is a life for any one who believes that the best rewards are not
the brightest, who is willing humbly to lend a cheerful hand, to