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Fuller, Henry Blake, 1857-1929

"Bertram Cope's Year"

The weather was still mild and sunny and the lake was as valiantly blue
as ever.
"It doesn't look like the same body of water, does it?" said Cope.
"It might be just as beautiful in its own way, here, as we found it
yesterday, out there," returned Randolph. "I've asked my brother-in-law, I
don't know how many times, why they can't do better by this unfortunate
campus and bring it all up to a reasonable level of seemliness. But----"
"You have a relative among the----?"
"Yes, my sister's husband is one of the University trustees. But he lives
miles from this spot and hardly ever sees it. Besides, his aesthetic
endowments are not beyond those of the average university trustee.
Sometimes they're as hard on Beauty as they are on Free Speech."
"I see they're hard on beauty; and I may live to find free speech mauled,
too."
"Well, you're not in Sociology or Economics. Still, don't trifle with a
long-established aesthetic idol either. Trustees--and department heads--are
conservative."
"Oh, you mean about----?"
"About your immortal William. He wrote them. Don't try to rob him. Don't
try to knock him off his pedestal.


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