“Well, take my case again, for instance. I am going to take a lot of studies which are not technically pertinent to sermons or doctrines: study of Dutch paintings, Italian, Chemistry, Anatomy of the Brain and Sense Organs, and others which I can’t mention at this time, because I have not decided just what they will be. Here is what I mean. After an introductory study of Italian, I shall learn just how the Italians think. It is good to know that, surely? Then after a brief course in chemistry, though I shall not care enough about it when I am through with the experiments, to carry off a test tube, tie it with baby ribbon and keep it for a souvenir, as some students do, I shall ever after realize that while I am swearing by theology, others, about me, have reason for being engrossed in chemical formulas and tests. Each study that I shall take, and each classroom that I shall visit, will form opportunities for me to get at the points of view which determine why Tom differs from Joe and why Joe differs from me. If the college can do that, Doctor, and not add a single jot to my theological knowledge, I shall feel more than repaid for the time I spend in it and the money I pay to it. So that is why I don’t think it either wasted time or an entirely hopeless situation, Doctor, if a large number of students in the college do not know why they are there. One thing is certain, they are getting trained in the other man’s point of view!” The Doctor, evidently not at all in agreement with my explanation, after he had pooh-poohed to himself for a minute, thought to change the subject and for that purpose he said to me, “I rather pity you, young man. I always did pity ministers. They don’t seem to do anything substantial; that’s why I don’t go near a church. It’s all up-in-the-air preaching, and darned little doing. Now, keeping pullets or mixing a sick draught--why, they are something worth while, now--but preaching and preachers--um!” “The other man’s point of view, Doctor,” I laughed, as I mounted my wheel and started off. A week later, the Doctor came out of the house, when I stopped at the well, and as he drew near he shouted, “I drove over to the college, last Wednesday. What a lazy set of loafers you’ve got over there, to be sure. I was there in the afternoon and saw them reading papers, strolling around the campus and playing all sorts of games. I don’t think they’ll amount to much in the world if they go on at that rate. They seem so aimless! I heard one fellow, with turned up trousers and purple socks that would have given light at night, say to another student, something about throwing books and professors to the dogs--or some such stuff!” “Yes,” I admitted, “I hear that every day. I know a good many students who care little about classes and text books.” The doctor, evidently gratified with that admission grunted, “Then what’s the good of the college--to them. Why doesn’t it send them into the world to be useful?”