[…] and that now, as then, a morning with the hunt does not always repay the hunting man for getting up in the night and driving in the dark to Dumdum or Cox's Bungalow, or wherenot.
We then drift back into our old habits, glorify efficiency, and smile knowingly at the mavericks within the faculty who want the administration to take democracy seriously.
Then, almost at once, imagination begins to people this totally unfamiliar world with highly undesirable denizens — jaguars and other snarling cats, the bushmaster, the fer-de-lance, and other venomous writhers, and poisonous insects […]
a peasant and base swain
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