WHEN I was an undergraduate in college and used to go home for the summer to work up a little physical enthusiasm on the farm, Cornelius O'Donnell, a shrewd old Irishman who lived down in the Dutch Flats and with whom we used to exchange work during harvest time, was wont regularly, after he had greeted me and inquired if I were "still down there in college," to propound the question, "Well, what are you goin' to make o' yourself?"
I am not sure that Cornelius thought that in the transformations that go on within college walls it is possible to construct a delicately wrought silk purse out of a sow's ear, but he had the feeling that any serious minded and reasonably intelligent young fellow who was willing to put in four years of good hard work could mould himself into
