Roundabout Papers - Penn State University

Roundabout Papersthis journey from birth to the next world! Sure it is asubject for solemn cogitation. Shall we continue thisstory-telling business and be voluble to the end of ourage? Will it not be presently time, O prattler, to holdyour tongue, and let younger people speak? I have afriend, a painter, who, like other persons who shall benameless, is growing old. He has never painted withsuch laborious finish as his works now show. This masteris still the most humble and diligent of scholars. OfArt, his mistress, he is always an eager, reverent pupil.In his calling, in yours, in mine, industry and humilitywill help and comfort us. A word with you. In a prettylarge experience I have not found the men who writebooks superior in wit or learning to those who don’twrite at all. In regard of mere information, non-writersmust often be superior to writers. You don’t expect alawyer in full practice to be conversant with all kinds ofliterature; he is too busy with his law; and so a writer iscommonly too busy with his own books to be able tobestow attention on the works of other people. After aday’s work (in which I have been depicting, let us say,the agonies of Louisa on parting with the Captain, orthe atrocious behavior of the wicked Marquis to LadyEmily) I march to the Club, proposing to improve mymind and keep myself “posted up,” as the Americansphrase it, with the literature of the day. And what happens?Given, a walk after luncheon, a pleasing book,and a most comfortable armchair by the fire, and youknow the rest. A doze ensues. Pleasing book drops suddenly,is picked up once with an air of some confusion,is laid presently softly in lap: head falls on comfortablearm-chair cushion: eyes close: soft nasal music is heard.Am I telling Club secrets? Of afternoons, after lunch, Isay, scores of sensible fogies have a doze. Perhaps Ihave fallen asleep over that very book to which “Finis”has just been written. “And if the writer sleeps, whathappens to the readers?” says Jones, coming down uponme with his lightning wit. What? You did sleep over it?And a very good thing too. These eyes have more thanonce seen a friend dozing over pages which this handhas written. There is a vignette somewhere in one ofmy books of a friend so caught napping with238