Your letter came in due course last week and yesterday your mother was
up and brought me your last letter to her. It is a great pleasure to
know you keep well and in good heart and courage. I see you have pains
in your arms which you vainly think the waists of girls would alleviate.
But they would not, they would only increase the pains I have tried it
and I know.
It is quite spring like here--blue birds and clear bright days and half
bare ground and drying roads and cackling hens. Ice still in the river
down to the elbow.
Keep Lent all you can--that is slow up in your meat--not more than once
a day at most. Your head will be all the clearer. I am very well since
my return and am still writing. This thought came into my head as I lay
in bed this morning--You go to college for two things, knowledge and
culture. In the technical schools the student gets much knowledge and
little culture. The sciences and mathematics give us knowledge, only
literature can give us culture. In the best history we get a measure
of both, we get facts and are brought in contact with great minds.
Chemistry, physics, geology, etc., are not sources of culture. But
Lessing, Goethe, Schiller, Shakespeare, etc., are. The discipline of
mathematics is not culture in the strict sense; but the discipline
that chastens the taste, feeds the imagination, kindles the sympathies,
clarifies the reason, stirs the conscience and leads to self-knowledge
and self-control, is culture. This we can only get from literature. Work
this idea up in one of your themes and show that the highest aim of a
university like Harvard should be culture and not knowledge.
Your mother is well and will soon be back. I see no ducks yet. Hiram is
still on his hives and the music of his saw and hammer sounds good in my
ears. I shall tap a tree to-day.
Your loving father,