all. They turn into beasts every pay night; an< bad as some of our college parties are, they are n’ a circumstance to a lumber town on pay night.”
“That’s no argument,” George Winsor said ex citedly, taking his pipe out of his mouth and gesticu lating with it. “Just because a lumberjack is ; beast is no reason that a college man is all right be cause he’s less of a beast. I tell you I get sick o my own thoughts, and I get sick of the college whei I hear about some things that are done. I keej straight, and I don’t know why I do. I despis* about half the fellows that chase around with rats and sometimes I envy them like hell. Well, what ’ the sense in me keeping straight? What’s th sense in anybody keeping straight? Fellows tha don’t seem to get along just as well as those tha do. What do you think, Mel? You’ve bee] reading Havelock Ellis and a lot of ducks lik that.”
Burbank tossed a cigarette butt into the fire an* gazed into the flames for a minute before speaking his homely face serious and troubled. “I don’ know what to think,” he replied slowly. “Ell; tells about some things that make you fairly sick So does Forel. The human race can be awful! rotten. I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and I ’r all mixed up. Sometimes life just does n’t seer worth living to me, what with the filth and the slum* and the greed and everything. I’ve been taking
