t^ # 
 
HARVARD STORIES 
 
 SKETCHES OF THE UNDERGRADUATE 
 
 BY 
 
 WALDRON KINTZ1NG POST 
 
 G. P. PUTNAM S SONS 
 
 NEW YORK LONDON 
 
 27 WEST TWENTY-THIRD STREET 24 BEDFORD STREET, STRAND 
 
COPYRIGHT, 1893 
 BY 
 
 WALDRON KINTZING POST 
 
 Electrotyped, Printed and Bound by 
 
 Ube IRmcfeerbocfeer press, mew 
 G. P. PUTNAM S SONS 
 
TO 
 
 THE CLASS OF 90 
 

 
oHaS 
 
 Ss *Sc> 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 PREFACE vii 
 
 JACK RATTLETON GOES TO SPRINGFIELD AND BACK . i 
 
 THE WAKING NIGHTMARE OF HOLLIS HOLWORTHY . 45 
 
 THE PLOT AGAINST BULLAM ..... 64 
 
 THE DOG BLATHERS 79 
 
 A HOWARD AND HARVARD EVENING .... 92 
 THE HARVARD LEGION AT PHILIPPI . . . .107 
 IN THE EARLY SIXTIES . . . . , .121 
 
 LITTLE HELPING HANDS 146 
 
 A RAMBLING DISCUSSION AND AN ADVENTURE, PER 
 HAPS UNCONNECTED 161 
 
 SERIOUS SITUATIONS IN BURLEIGH S ROOMS . . . 186 
 
 A HARVARD-YALE EPISODE 210 
 
 THE DAYS OF RECKONING 227 
 
 CLASS DAY 243 
 
 How RIVER S LUCK TURNED ..... 257 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 I CANNOT expect any one to be interested in 
 these stories who is not interested in the scenes 
 where they are laid. To you, my class-mates 
 and contemporaries, I need make no apology. 
 We always gave each other freely the valuable 
 gift Burns asked of the gods ; my shortcomings 
 I shall learn soon enough especially if I have 
 written anything false or pretentious. But I 
 feel sure that anything about Harvard, however 
 imperfect, will not be unwelcome to you 
 provided it is true. We are scattered far apart 
 and cannot often meet to talk over old times ; 
 perhaps these recollections may partially serve 
 at times, in the place of an old chum, to bring 
 back the days when we were all together. They 
 are only yarns and pictures of us boys ; but 
 you will think no worse of them for that. The 
 higher traditions of the old place I have dared 
 in only one instance to approach. 
 
 vii 
 
viii Preface. 
 
 " The great and the good in their beautiful prime 
 Through those precincts have musingly trod," 
 
 and for that we reverence, we glory in those 
 precincts ; is it profanation to add that we also 
 love them, because we ourselves have rollicked 
 through them, with Jack, Ned, and Dick? 
 
 One thing, however, I must say to you before 
 you begin to read. You will quickly see that 
 I can claim little originality in the following 
 stories. They are almost all founded on actual 
 occurrences of either our own college life, 
 or that of undergrads. before us. Some of 
 the incidents came under my own notice, others 
 happened to men of whom I do not even know 
 the names, but who, I trust, will forgive my 
 use of their experiences. But let no one 
 imagine that, in any of the characters, he 
 recognizes either himself or any one else. No 
 one of us enters into these pages, though I 
 have tried to draw parts of all. 
 
 Among you also, my older brothers, I hope 
 to find readers. There have been changes and 
 developments since you were in college ; many 
 old institutions have passed away and new ones 
 taken their places ; there may be features in 
 these sketches that you will not recognize ; but 
 
Preface. ix 
 
 in the main, Alma Mater is still the same. 
 Holworthy, with all its memories, still gazes 
 contemplatively down the green leafy Yard ; 
 the same old buildings flank it on either hand. 
 The white walls of University still look across 
 to the aged pair, Massachusetts and her part 
 ner, the head of the family. The latter still 
 rears his sonorous crest (in spite of all your 
 historic efforts to silence it) ; and is it not Jones 
 who rings the bell? The river is there, the 
 elms are there ; above all, the undergraduate is 
 there, and oh, reverend grads., from the tales I 
 have heard ye tell, I opine that the under 
 graduate is still the same. If I can recall him 
 to you in these sketches, if I can make one of 
 you say, " That is like old times," I shall have 
 done all that I hope. 
 
HARVARD STORIES. 
 
 JACK RATTLETON GOES TO SPRING 
 FIELD AND BACK. 
 
 THE shadow of Massachusetts had reached 
 across the Yard almost to University Hall, 
 which fact, ye who are ignorant of Harvard 
 topography, means that it was late in the after 
 noon. Hollis Holworthy was stretched in his 
 window seat with a book, of which, however, 
 he was not reading much, as his room was just 
 then in use as a temporary club. It was the 
 month of November, but Holworthy kept the 
 window open to let out the volume of pipe 
 smoke kindled by his gregarious friends. He 
 and his chum Rivers had an attractive room on 
 the Yard, up only one flight of stairs, and these 
 little gatherings were apt to come upon them 
 frequently. The eleven was going to Spring- 
 
2 Harvard Stories. 
 
 field next day, so the foot-ball practice on that 
 afternoon had been short, and several of Hoi- 
 worthy s "gang" who had been watching it 
 had dropped into the room on their way back 
 from Jarvis Field. They were a typical set of 
 Harvard men, hailing [rom various and distant 
 parts of the nation, and of various characters ; 
 yet all very much alike in certain respects, after 
 three years together around that Yard. Rivers, 
 part owner of the room, who had been playing 
 foot-ball, came in after the rest and announced 
 joyfully that he had been definitely assigned 
 to the position of guard on the team. 
 
 " Sorry to hear it," growled Billy Bender, 
 who was captain of the University crew. " You 
 are sure to get a bad knee or something, and 
 be spoiled for the boat. I lost two good men 
 by foot-ball last year. If I had my way I 
 would n t let any of the rowing men play the 
 confounded game." 
 
 " If you had your way, you old crank," said 
 Holworthy, " you d strap every man in col 
 lege fast to an oar. Then you would stand 
 over them and crack a whip and have a bully 
 time. You would have made a first-rate galley 
 master." 
 
Harvard Stories. 3 
 
 " I am tired to death of talking and hearing 
 nothing but the game," declared Hudson. " I 
 move to lay it on the table. There is nothing 
 new to guess about it. I don t see how we can 
 lose, and you don t see how we can lose, and 
 no one sees how we can4ose." 
 
 " That is apt to be the case at just this time," 
 remarked Holworthy. " Two days from now 
 our vision may be woefully cleared up." 
 
 " Shut up, you old croaker," cried Burleigh, 
 throwing a sofa cushion at his host. The 
 cushion knocked the book from Holworthy s 
 hand and out of the window. 
 
 " You go down and get that now, you pretty, 
 playful child," said Holworthy, indignantly. 
 " Oh, thank you, yes, throw it up, please," he 
 continued to someone outside. " Much obliged. 
 No, Rattleton is n t here. I believe he went 
 out for a ride." 
 
 "Who s that?" asked Randolph, as Hol 
 worthy drew in his head, having caught the 
 book. 
 
 " Varnum, the coxswain." 
 
 "What the deuce does he want with Jack 
 Rattleton ? " queried Burleigh. 
 
 " I am sure I don t know," answered Hoi- 
 
4 Harvard Stories. 
 
 worthy, " but he and Jack are great pals, you 
 know." 
 
 " What ! " exclaimed Bender, who was not 
 one of Rattleton s intimate friends, " Varnum 
 and Rattleton ? That is the funniest combina 
 tion I ever heard of. The quietest, hardest 
 worker in college, and the worst loafer." 
 
 " You are wrong there," said Holworthy. 
 " If you knew Jack as well as the rest of us 
 do, you d know he was the best loafer in 
 college." 
 
 " I believe that good-for-nothing chap would 
 get up in the middle of the night to be hanged 
 for any one of us," added Rivers. 
 
 " I am not sure about the middle of the 
 night," said Hudson, doubtfully. "At any 
 rate if he was to be hanged for it himself, he 
 would n t get up before nine in the morning." 
 
 " How did he happen to get thick with 
 Varnum?" inquired Bender. 
 
 " First they sat next to each other in some 
 course," explained Holworthy. " One day Jack 
 was out in his dog-cart, I believe, and met 
 Varnum walking and picked him up. Jack 
 was a Sophomore then, but a pretty good sort 
 of a Soph., and I think he was rather surprised 
 
Harvard Stories. 5 
 
 and interested at discovering that there were 
 men in this University outside of his own little 
 set, and of a new kind." 
 
 "That fellow Varnum is a rattler," said 
 Rivers. " Hardly anyone knows him except 
 the crew men, and, I suppose, some of his 
 Y. M. C. A. pals. He has been making an 
 awfully sandy fight of it, I can tell you, work 
 ing his way all through college. Why, do you 
 know, that chap came up with just two dollars 
 and forty cents in his pocket! " 
 
 " There are lots of men doing just that sort 
 of thing," declared Ernest Gray, a sympathetic, 
 enthusiastic little man. " Some day we 11 be 
 proud of having been in the same class with 
 some of those fellows. It s a shame that we 
 don t know all about all of em." 
 
 " Oh, well," said Burleigh, consolingly, " we 
 can always let people think we were hand in 
 glove with the great men. * Know him ? Why 
 he was a classmate of mine all that sort of 
 thing, you know." 
 
 " Yes," said Dick Stoughton, " it s a comfort 
 to reflect that we can always blow about them 
 without taking the trouble to hunt them up 
 
 now." 
 
6 Harvard Stories. 
 
 " Awful nuisance to chase up incipient and 
 impecunious merit," added Hudson. 
 
 " I suppose that s why you helped Jack 
 Rattleton take care of Varnum when he was 
 sick. Why do you affected fools always want 
 to cover up the precious little good you have 
 got in you ? " demanded Gray, in a mixture of 
 sorrow and anger. 
 
 " One reason why they do it," said Hoi- 
 worthy, "is to make you flare up, you little 
 powder keg. Have n t you got used to it yet, 
 after three years ? " 
 
 " Varnum is a first-rate coxswain, anyway," 
 said Captain Bender, coming down to his regu 
 lar estimate of worth. " I ran across him last 
 year when I was looking for a light man to 
 steer. It s lucky I did, too ; for there was a 
 great dearth of rudder-men. This little firebrand 
 Gray would have wrecked the Varsity crew to 
 a certainty. I watched him in the class races 
 last year he came near grabbing stroke s oar 
 and trying to pull himself. He nearly killed 
 his men yelling at them in the first mile." 
 
 " I should think he did," ejaculated Randolph, 
 who had rowed in his class crew. 
 
 "Well, we won, any way," said Gray in defence. 
 
Harvard Stories. 7 
 
 "You bet we did," said Randolph, " and we 
 tossed Gray in a blanket during the celebration 
 just to show there was no hard feeling, and 
 give him all the honors due to any coxswain." 
 
 " I hope Varnum won t be too busy to steer 
 this year," said Bender. " He has a lot to do 
 always." 
 
 While this conversation was going on in 
 Holworthy s room, the subject of it, the man 
 who " had a lot to do," continued on his way 
 through the Yard. Varnum s financial strug 
 gles had not been exaggerated by Rivers. He 
 had come up to college with almost nothing, 
 except the clothes that he wore and a strong 
 heart under them. He had received help at 
 starting from the loan fund ; by means of one 
 of the numerous scholarships, tutoring, and care 
 ful economy he had succeeded in clearing his 
 debt by his senior year. In the summer vaca 
 tions he had supported himself and laid up a 
 little money, by all sorts of employments, from 
 that of a clerk in a country store to that of 
 foremast hand on a yacht. Though he worked 
 at his studies hard enough to keep the necessary 
 scholarship, he was not a very high stand man. 
 He was interested in some of the mission work 
 
8 Harvard Stories. 
 
 in Boston, and gave a great deal of time to 
 " slumming." 
 
 During the last year, too, he had made a little 
 spare time for steering the University crew ; 
 for he found this to be a good relaxation from 
 his work, and, besides, it brought him in con 
 tact with men whom he would not otherwise 
 have met, many of them well worth knowing. 
 He was not the sort of man to make friends 
 easily, in fact he had no really intimate com 
 panion ; but the man to whom he had been 
 most attracted was one of entirely opposite 
 character, training, and associates. His friend 
 ship with Jack Rattleton, which had been the 
 subject of the conversation in Holworthy s 
 room, was not an uncommon case of the attrac 
 tion of extremes. Rattleton s weak nature was 
 easily drawn to a strong one, and on the other 
 hand " Lazy Jack Rat " was a source of amuse 
 ment and interest to Varnum. 
 
 The latter once in telling Rattleton about 
 himself had said laughingly, " My father was 
 very much opposed to my trying to work 
 through Harvard. He had terrible ideas about 
 the old place ; said it was a rich man s college, 
 and if I got through it at all I should learn 
 
Harvard Stories. g 
 
 nothing but extravagance and evil. I have 
 rather changed his notions now, I think ; but, 
 Rattleton, I should be afraid to show you to 
 him, as my nearest approach to a friend." 
 
 "Why," the ingenuous Rattleton had replied, 
 opening his mild eyes as though a little hurt as 
 well as wondering ; " I dare say I am an ass, 
 but I don t do you any harm, do I ? " 
 
 " Not a bit," answered Varnum, smiling ; " on 
 the contrary, you do me lots of good. Hor 
 rible example, you know ; but if my old father 
 ever comes to see me, don t offer to take him 
 out in that dog-cart of yours." 
 
 "Why, it is perfectly safe," Jack had de 
 clared ; " and I should be very glad to give him 
 a drive." 
 
 As Varnum left the Yard and turned into 
 the Square, he saw a tall thin figure approach 
 ing, astride of a diminutive polo pony, and fol 
 lowed by a brindled bull-terrier. Why do the 
 men with the longest legs always ride the 
 smallest horses, while the little men invariably 
 perch up aloft on the tallest animal they can 
 find ? The long-legged rider put his ill-matched 
 steed into a canter when he saw Varnum, and 
 pulled up alongside of him. 
 
to Harvard Stories. 
 
 " Hullo, Varnum," he called with a little 
 drawl ; " while I think of it, here s that five I 
 owe you for tutoring. Why did n t you remind 
 me of it before." 
 
 " I have just been looking for you to dun 
 you," answered Varnum. " I want a little cash 
 very much just at present, so I am not going 
 to tell you to wait until any time that is con 
 venient." 
 
 " Fool if you did," said Jack. " No time is 
 ever convenient with me. Somehow or other 
 I seem to be hard up all the time. Oh, 
 you need n t laugh. I know I have rather 
 more to spend than most fellows out here, but 
 that does n t help me a bit when I Ve spent it. 
 You need n t grin at this nag either, you old 
 monk, it hasn t been mine for sometime. I 
 had to give it to that robber Flynn, the livery 
 man, for his bill. Don t seem to have made 
 much on the transaction, though, because now 
 I have to hire the beast. Flynn has my horse, 
 hang him, and somehow I ve still got his bill." 
 
 " There is no doubt about it, Rattleton," 
 said the other ; " you will be renowned as a 
 philosopher some day. You keep discovering 
 great truths all the time." 
 
Harvard Stories. 1 1 
 
 " Are you going to the game? " asked Rattle- 
 ton, turning the subject. 
 
 " That would be a useless question to ask 
 most men," said Varnum ; " it is equally use 
 less to ask me. Of course I am not." 
 
 " Not ? " exclaimed Jack. " Nonsense ! 
 You re not going to stay all by yourself here 
 in Cambridge ? Come now, old grind, do take 
 a day off." 
 
 " No," said Varnum, a little sadly, shaking 
 his head ; " I can t do it. I can t spare either 
 
 the time or the money. Besides I have some- 
 
 
 
 thing on my hands that I can t drop just at 
 
 present." 
 
 " Bet I know," said Rattleton. " It is so 
 of your confounded indigent kid business. Of 
 course, that sort of thing is bully and I admire 
 you for it, you know, and all that ; but I should 
 think you might leave the indigents alone for 
 one day." 
 
 " Well, you see I am one myself," laughed 
 Varnum. " Really I can t afford it, so I don t 
 deserve any credit for sticking by the other 
 paupers." 
 
 " The special rates to Springfield are very 
 low," urged Jack. " I tell you what you can 
 
1 2 Harvard Stories. 
 
 do ; just what I m going to do. Bet your ex 
 penses on the game and then it will all be on 
 Yale/ 
 
 " And if we lose?" queried Varnum. 
 
 " Oh, well, if we lose, we 11 only be hard up, 
 just as we are now," was the assuring response. 
 
 " I see I have not been tutoring you in Pol. 
 Econ. for nothing," said Varnum. " No, Rat- 
 tleton, I d give anything I could afford to see 
 that game, but I can t afford anything, so don t 
 stir me up about it." 
 
 "All right, have your own way. Come 
 round and dine with me to-night." 
 
 Varnum assented, and Rattleton, calling out 
 to his dog, " come along, Blathers," rode off to 
 the stables. On the way to his room to change 
 his clothes he met the other men of his club 
 table going from Holworthy s room to dinner. 
 He told them that Varnum was coming to his 
 table, and warned them not to talk constant 
 foot-ball all through dinner. 
 
 " I wish I could help that chap out some 
 how," he said, discontentedly ; " he has got on 
 to the tutoring dodge. He won t tutor me 
 now, except when there is an hour exam, 
 coming, and he knows I have got to go to 
 
Harvard Stories. 1 3 
 
 somebody to be put through if I don t come 
 to him." 
 
 On the following day the Harvard forces 
 began to move on Springfield. The game was 
 to be played on Saturday, but many men went 
 on Friday afternoon, for there is great joy to 
 be had in Springfield on the eve of battle. The 
 Glee Club always gives a concert, after which 
 there is a very fine ball, one of the Springfield 
 Assemblies, I believe. There is also apt to be 
 another ball, a " sociable " of the something-or- 
 other coterie. Holworthy and Gray were on 
 the Glee Club, and were going to the Assembly. 
 The others decided to go to Springfield on that 
 night also, and attend the other ball. 
 
 " Down with the bloated silk-stockings," 
 declared Burleigh. " Let the kid-gloved dudes 
 dally with the pampered aristocracy. We are 
 the people ; we 11 go where we can turn in our 
 waistcoats, stick our sailor-knots in our shirt 
 fronts, and be right in the top flight ! " 
 
 The Glee Club men had rooms engaged. 
 Hudson was on the shooting-team, and there 
 fore also had a room secured, and the two 
 Jacks, Rattleton and Randolph, were going 
 on one of the club sleeping-cars. Burleigh and 
 
14 Harvard Stories. 
 
 Stoughton had no rooms, but were willing to 
 take their chances of getting one. Indeed, 
 these two very rarely failed on an expedition 
 of this sort in getting the best of everything. 
 They were both sons of the energetic West, 
 besides which Stoughton was famed for his 
 craft, and was the recognized Ulysses of " the 
 gang." They had a very effective method of 
 working together in a crowd. Ned Burleigh 
 was six feet three, and his weight had never 
 been accurately ascertained by his friends. 
 Dick Stoughton, on the other hand, was of a 
 slight and active build. On arriving at any 
 town where there was a rush for the hotels, 
 Burleigh would breast the crowd with all the 
 weight of his broad front. Stoughton, following 
 close at his back with both the portmanteaus, 
 would swing them, one on each side of Bur- 
 leigh s legs, about knee high. Thus they would 
 cut their way through any crowd, and arriving 
 at its front, Ned would take the baggage and 
 come along by slow freight, while Dick dashed 
 for the hotel. 
 
 This manoeuvre was successfully executed at 
 Springfield, and Stoughton secured the last 
 room at the Massasoit House. 
 
Harvard Stories. \ 5 
 
 The Glee Club concert in the evening was a 
 great success, and after it was over the respect 
 able element, consisting of Gray and Hoi- 
 worthy, passed a very delightful evening at 
 the Assembly ball. So, I grieve to record, did 
 the low-toned members of " the gang " at the 
 other ball. At the sgirte of the Social Club, 
 Ned Burleigh obtained control of the cotillion 
 early in the evening. With Rattleton and 
 Stoughton as right hand men, he introduced 
 many new and pleasing figures of his own 
 invention. In some way these three got unto 
 themselves huge and gorgeous badges, labelled 
 " Floor Committee," and managed the whole 
 affair with wild success. Randolph, who came 
 from the Sunny South, and " Colonel " Dixey, 
 of Kentucky, picked up one or two Yale men 
 from their section of the country, and organized 
 an extempore Southern Club. If the govern 
 ors of the Carolinas had been with them, 
 those celebrated dignitaries, I suspect, would 
 have experienced none of their proverbial 
 trouble. As the evening wore on, the Southern 
 Club, in a true brotherly spirit, extended its 
 privileges to all the states and territories of the 
 Union, and initiated each new member. Hud- 
 
1 6 Harvard Stories. 
 
 son, at first, was disconsolate, for he was on the 
 shooting-club team that next day was to shoot 
 a clay-pigeon match against Yale before the 
 game. He had strict orders to go to bed early, 
 and keep his eye clear for the next morning. 
 At Dick Stoughton s able suggestion, however, 
 he hunted up a member of the Yale shooting- 
 team, and agreed to pair off with him. The 
 excellence of this fair parliamentary procedure 
 forcibly struck all the representative shots of 
 both universities, except the captains. The 
 captains of both teams at first stormed, and 
 swore that none of their men who stayed up 
 late or indulged in other startling innovations 
 on the eve of battle, should be allowed to shoot 
 on the morrow. When they found, however, 
 that all their substitutes had " paired " also, 
 they went off arm in arm, and were found 
 later in a corner with a large earnest bottle 
 between them. Altogether, as Burleigh said, 
 " it was a very enjoyable occasion." 
 
 Next morning the clay-pigeon match came 
 off, as usual, on the grounds of the Springfield 
 Gun Club. It resulted in a close and glorious 
 victory for Harvard, as the Yale team shot a 
 little bit worse. It was a rather costly triumph, 
 
Harvard Stories. 1 7 
 
 however, for both teams with their supporters 
 drove back in a barge to the Massasoit House, 
 and there had another meeting at the expense 
 of the victors. Those Harvard-Yale shooting- 
 matches are a very pleasant sport, and prolific 
 of the best of feeling. 
 
 Before it was time to start for the battle 
 ground at Hampden Park, certain financial 
 transactions took place at the hotel. The 
 slender balance at the Cambridge National 
 Bank, standing in the name of John Rattleton, 
 had been wiped out on the previous day, and 
 most of it was now deposited at the office of 
 the Massasoit House in the joint names of J. 
 Rattleton and a man from New Haven, to 
 become later the sole property of one or the 
 other. As Jack turned away from the clerk s 
 desk, he met the steady Holworthy face to face, 
 and looked guilty. 
 
 " Have you been betting all your quarter s 
 income as usual, you jackass?" demanded 
 Holworthy. 
 
 " No, only what is left of it," said Rattleton. 
 " Might as well. If I did n t bet it, I should 
 have to lend it all to the rest of the gang, if we 
 get beaten. And suppose we win, as we are 
 
1 8 Harvard Stories. 
 
 almost sure to, and I had n t taken a blue cent 
 out of New Haven, and had to pay for my own 
 celebration; how should I feel then? "he de 
 manded, triumphantly. 
 
 " Will you ever grow up ? " asked Holworthy, 
 shaking his head. " Don t come running to me 
 if we get thrashed, that is all. I hope you have 
 kept your return ticket to Cambridge." 
 
 " Oh, yes, I have that," answered Rattleton, 
 reassuringly ; " and I have twenty-five dollars 
 that I sha n t put up unless I can get it up 
 even. These fellows want odds here, but I 
 think I can find even money on the field." 
 
 The Yale men are prudent bettors, however, 
 and Jack did not " find even money " at Hamp- 
 den Park. In fact, at the last minute he could 
 not get a taker at any odds that even he was 
 willing to offer. So he kept his last twenty- 
 five dollars, and took his seat with his friends, 
 feeling that he had not done his full duty. 
 
 All the morning the trains from New Haven, 
 from Boston, from New York, from everywhere 
 within a six-hour radius, had been pouring their 
 heavy loads into Springfield. The north side 
 of Hampden Park was a crimson-dotted mass, 
 nearly ten thousand strong; the south side was 
 
Harvard Stories. \ 9 
 
 equally banked up with blue, and the two colors 
 ran into each other at the ends. It is never 
 weary waiting for the foot-ball game to begin, 
 when the weather is good. It is amusing to 
 see the grads come swarming to the standard. 
 Familiar and popular faces turn up, that 
 have been out of college only a year or two, 
 and their owners are greeted enthusiastically 
 by their late companions. There, too, come 
 numbers of faces far more widely known, those 
 of governors, congressmen, judges, architects, 
 and clergymen. Other faces, not so conspicuous, 
 are apparently equally interesting over the top 
 of glowing bunches of Jacqueminots, or of vio 
 lets, as the case may be. Jack Rattleton s ter 
 rier Blathers, who was rarely separated from 
 his master on any occasion, took more interest 
 in a big dog with a blue blanket on the other 
 side of the field, a familiar figure at recent foot 
 ball games. 
 
 At about half past two o clock a great cheer 
 rolled simultaneously along both sides of the 
 field, and there trotted into the lists twenty- 
 two young specimens of this " dyspeptic, ice- 
 water-drinking " nation. It is sometimes said 
 that Americans are overworked and deterio- 
 
2O Harvard Stories. 
 
 rated from the physical standard of the race ; 
 but as these youths of the Western branch 
 pulled off their sweaters and faced each other, 
 they did not look a very degenerate brood. 
 Harvard had the ball and formed a close 
 " wedge/ Yale deployed in open line of battle. 
 For a moment they stood there, all crouching 
 forward, their heads well down, their great 
 limbs tense, all straining for the word to spring 
 at each other. There was not a sound around 
 the field. " Play ! " called the referee, and the 
 Harvard wedge shot forward, and crashed with 
 a sound of grinding canvas into the mass of 
 blue-legged bodies that rushed to meet it. 
 
 For nearly three quarters of an hour the 
 mimic battle was fought back and forth along 
 the white-barred field. All the tactics of war 
 were there employed ; the centre was pierced, 
 the flanks were turned, heavy columns were 
 instantaneously massed against any weak spot. 
 It was even, very even ; but at last a long punt 
 and a fumble gave Harvard the ball, well in 
 the enemy s territory. A well-supported run 
 around the right end by Jarvis, the famous 
 flying half-back, two charges by Blake the ter 
 rible line-breaker, and a wedge bang through the 
 
Harvard Stories. 2 1 
 
 centre drove the ball to Yale s five-yard line. 
 Another gain of his length by the tall Rivers. 
 Another. Then with their backs on their very 
 line the Yale men rallied in a way they have. 
 Down, no gain. Now for one good push or a 
 drop kick ! Time. The first half of the game 
 was over and neither side had scored. 
 
 " Everything is lovely," declared Hudson. 
 " We 11 have the wind with us next half. 
 We ve had the best of it so far, as it is. It s a 
 sure thing now." That was the general feeling 
 among the Harvard supporters, and every one 
 was happy. To the excited spectators the 
 interval was a # grateful relief, almost a neces 
 sary one to little Gray, who was nearly beside 
 himself. He moaned every now and then over 
 his physical inability to carry the Crimson in 
 the lists. 
 
 After fifteen minutes rest, the giants lined 
 up again. The wind did seem to make a dif 
 ference, for the play from the start was in 
 Yale s ground. Jarvis the runner, who had 
 been saved a good deal in the first half, was 
 now used with telling effect. 
 
 Within fifteen minutes, an exchange of 
 punts brought the ball to Yale s thirty-yard 
 
22 Harvard Stories. 
 
 line. After three downs Spofford dropped 
 back as though for a kick, and the Yale full 
 back retreated for the catch. Instead of the 
 expected kick, Rivers the guard charged for 
 the left end, and the blue line concentrated on 
 that point to meet him, when suddenly Jarvis, 
 with the ball tucked under his arm, was seen 
 going like a whirlwind around the right, well 
 covered by his supports. The Yale left-end 
 was knocked off his legs, and the whole crimson 
 bank of spectators rose to its feet with a roar, 
 as it realized that Jarvis had circled the end. 
 The Yale halfs had been drawn to their right, 
 and every one knew that with Jarvis once past 
 the forwards, no one could run him down. 
 
 On he went at top speed for the longed-for 
 touch-line. The full-back, however, was head 
 ing him off, he had outrun his interferers, and 
 a Yale Varsity full-back is not apt to miss a 
 clear tackle in the open. They came together 
 close to the line. Just as his adversary 
 crouched for his hips, Jarvis leaped high from 
 the ground, and hurled himself forward, head 
 first. The Yale man, like a hawk, " nailed " 
 him in the air, but his weight carried him on, 
 and they both fell with a fearful shock over 
 
Harvard Stories. 23 
 
 the line ! The next minute they were buried 
 under a pile of men. 
 
 Then did all the Harvard hosts shout with 
 a mighty shout that made the air tremble. 
 For five minutes dignified men, old and young, 
 cheered and hugged each other, and acted as 
 they never do on any other occasion, except 
 perhaps a college boat-race. The two elevens 
 had grouped around the spot where the touch 
 down had been made. Suddenly the pande 
 monium ceased as the knot of players opened, 
 and a limp form was carried out from among 
 them. " It s Jarvis ! " ran along the crowd, 
 followed by an anxious murmur. A substitute 
 ran back to the grand stand and shouted, 
 " nothing serious, only his collar-bone." Those 
 near the place where the plucky half-back was 
 borne off the field could see that his face was 
 pale, but supremely happy, and he smiled 
 faintly as he heard the cheers of thousands, 
 and his own name coupled with that of his 
 Alma Mater. 
 
 The touch-down had been made almost at 
 the corner too far aside for the try for goal 
 to succeed. Spofford s kick was a splendid at 
 tempt, but the ball struck the goal post. 
 
24 Harvard Stories. 
 
 Then the battle began again. The Harvard 
 team had suffered an irreparable loss in the fall 
 of the famous Jarvis, but the score was four to 
 nothing in its favor, and all it needed to do now 
 was to hold its own. The Crimson was on the 
 crest, and it was for the Blue to come up hill. 
 Every one on the north side was elated and 
 confident. Then began a struggle grim and 
 great. The Yale men closed up and went in 
 for the last chance. There was no punting for 
 them now, the wind was against them ; but they 
 had the heavier weight and well they used every 
 ounce of it. Steadily, as the Old Guard trod 
 over its slain at Waterloo, did the Blue wedge 
 drive its way, rod by rod, towards the Harvard 
 line. And as the fierce red Britons tore at 
 Napoleon s devoted column, so did the Crimson 
 warriors leap on that earth-stained phalanx. 
 The rushers strained against it, Blake would 
 plunge into and stagger it, Rivers and Spofford 
 would throw their great bodies flat under the 
 trampling feet, and bring the whole mass down 
 over them. At last there would be a waver in 
 the advance,three forward struggles checked and 
 shattered, and on the fourth down, the ball 
 would be Harvard s. On the first line up with 
 
Harvard Stories. 25 
 
 the ball in Harvard s possession, would be heard 
 the sound of Spofford s unerring foot against 
 the leather and the brown oval would go curving 
 and spinning over the heads of the rushers, far 
 back into Yale s territory, with the Harvard 
 ends well under it. A great " Oh ! " of relief 
 would go up from the north side. Then those 
 Yale bull-dogs would begin all over again. 
 Again and again did they fight their way almost 
 to the Harvard line, only to be driven all the 
 way back by a long Spofford punt. 
 
 " How those Elis do fight ! " exclaimed Gray 
 in admiration. " Don t they," admitted Bur- 
 leigh ; " and is n t it nice to be able to be 
 magnanimous and admire them? What a lot 
 of credit you can give a fellow when you are 
 licking him." 
 
 " Those chaps are n t thrashed yet, my boy," 
 said Holworthy. " They won t be, either, until 
 the game is called, and, by Jove, they may 
 not be then." 
 
 This observation was perfectly true. The 
 Waterloo simile extended no further than the 
 appearance of battle. A Yale touch-down would 
 tie the game, and if made near the goal would 
 probably win it. For the fourth time the New 
 
 
26 Harvard Stories. 
 
 Haven men struggled to the Cantabrigian 
 twenty-yard line. There had been many delays 
 in the game, and the short November afternoon 
 had grown dark. A bad pass by the Harvard 
 quarterback, a slip, a fumble by Spofford, might 
 turn the result. The time was nearly up. The 
 cheering had died almost entirely ; the excite 
 ment was too deep for that, and every one was 
 too breathless. A short gain for Yale. 
 
 " Rattleton? Is Mr. Rattleton here?" called 
 a messenger boy walking along the front of the 
 long stand. 
 
 " Hullo, here. What s wanted ? " answered 
 Jack. 
 
 " Telegram for you, sir," said the boy. Rat 
 tleton did not take his eyes from the game while 
 he tore open the envelope. Having opened it, 
 he glanced hurriedly at the message, then 
 jumped to his feet with a whistle. He had 
 read : 
 
 " Come to Massachusetts General Hospital immediately 
 when back from game. 
 
 " VARNUM." 
 
 " When does the next train leave for Boston ? " 
 he asked the boy. 
 
Harvard Stories. 2 7 
 
 " There is one in a few minutes," was the 
 answer. 
 
 " Whoop it up for me, children," he said to 
 the others, " I Ve got to leave. Come along, 
 Blathers." 
 
 "Why, Jack, what s up?" 
 
 " I don t know. Varnum wants me," and 
 he jumped to the ground, pulling the dog after 
 him. " The poor devil may be dying for all I 
 know," he added to himself, as he made for the 
 gate ; " but there is no need of spoiling their fun 
 by telling em." 
 
 He stretched his long legs for the station at 
 a rate that made his four-footed chum gallop to 
 keep up with him. The train was just starting. 
 As he jumped aboard, he heard, from the direc 
 tion of Hampden Park, the distant roar of ten 
 thousand throats. " Hear that ? " he exclaimed 
 to the brakeman, " either the game is over or 
 Yale has scored." Not a very enlightening 
 conclusion. 
 
 There was a dining-car on the train, and the 
 sight of it reminded Jack that he had had no 
 lunch. He did not need to be reminded that 
 he was extremely thirsty also, and actually a 
 little worn by the afternoon s excitement. He 
 
28 Harvard Stories. 
 
 entered the moving restaurant, and with one 
 of his accustomed happy thoughts at such 
 moments, was about to order an attractive 
 lunch and a pint of champagne. Suddenly it 
 occurred to him that if that noise had gone up 
 from the wrong side of Hampden Park, he had 
 just twenty-five dollars to carry him over the 
 Christmas vacation and through January. 
 " Furthermore," he reflected, with a knowledge 
 born of bitter experience, " if that is the Eli 
 yell, there won t be a mother s son in Cambridge, 
 that I know well enough to borrow from, who 
 will have any thing to lend, except perhaps 
 old father Hoi. I suppose he will step into the 
 breach as usual and pay our car-fares, but he 
 can t support the whole gang. Hang it, I 
 wish I was on an allowance again ; then the 
 governor would pay my bills at Christmas and 
 give me a blowing up. This being my own 
 paymaster is n t what I expected when I was 
 a Soph." 
 
 He concluded that a sandwich would sup 
 port life until he got to Boston, where he could 
 find a precarious credit. He also decided that 
 beer was an excellent beverage, at any rate 
 until he learned the result of the game. After 
 
Ha rvard Stories. 2 9 
 
 this unusually prudent repast he pulled a cigar 
 out of his pocket, and smoked it carefully in 
 the thought that he might not have another 
 like it for some time at his own expense. 
 However, he remembered consolingly that his 
 half-colored meerschaum needed attention. 
 
 The moment Jack arrived in Boston he 
 jumped into a herdic and drove straight to the 
 hospital. He inquired for Varnum, and, after 
 a little red tape had been untied, was shown 
 into one of the public wards. 
 
 At the end of a long room on a narrow bed 
 was Varnum, looking very white, his eyes 
 closed. He opened them as Rattleton and 
 the nurse approached softly, and his face seemed 
 to light up a little when he saw Jack. 
 
 " How was the game ? " he asked, faintly. 
 
 " Splendid. Harvard four, Yale nothing," 
 answered Jack, promptly. He did not think 
 it worth while to mention that he had left 
 before the end. 
 
 " Good," murmured Varnum. " Bowled over 
 by a wagon. Awfully sorry to bring you here, 
 Rattleton, but they thought at first I might be 
 done for, and I don t know any one 
 
 " Yes, I know, old man ; cut all that," broke 
 
30 Harvard Stories. 
 
 in Jack. " Don t tire yourself talking. Is there 
 anything I can do for you right away?" 
 
 " Yes. There is a sick boy at 62 Sloven 
 Street. Tenement house. Jimmy Haggerty. 
 I promised to see him. There is a can of wine- 
 jelly and a book. They must have brought 
 them here when they picked me up. Will you 
 take them to him and tell him that I am laid 
 up? It is not exactly in your line, Rattleton," 
 he added, with a smile, " but it won t give you 
 much trouble." 
 
 " Not a bit," declared Jack, cheerfully. 
 " Great play for Phil. XL, you know. I can 
 make a special report on the Sloven Street 
 district, and it ought to pull me through the 
 course." 
 
 " You must n t talk to him too long, sir," 
 said the nurse. 
 
 " All right, I 11 go right off. 62 Sloven St. 
 Haggerty. You make yourself easy, old man, 
 I 11 look after all your indigent kids for you, 
 and I 11 tell the other fellows you are here. 
 I 11 be back soon." 
 
 In answer to Rattleton s inquiries, the nurse 
 told him how Varnum had been knocked down 
 and run over by a runaway team in a narrow 
 
Harvard Stories. 3 1 
 
 street. He had been brought to the hospital, 
 and the doctors had at first thought his injuries 
 fatal. Subsequent examination, however, had 
 proved that his condition was not so serious. 
 At his request the telegram had been sent to 
 Rattleton. Jack left directions to have Varnum 
 put in a private room when he could be moved, 
 and every comfort given him. " And, by the 
 way," he added, " don t let him know that there 
 is any expense about it. If he objects, tell him 
 the public wards are chuck-full ; tell him there 
 is small-pox in em ; tell him any good lie that 
 occurs to you. Send the bill to me." 
 
 The jelly and the book had not been brought 
 in the ambulance, and no one knew anything 
 about them. So Rattleton, stopping at the 
 hospital office for Blathers, who had been there 
 deposited, went first to a hotel, for all the shops 
 were closed. From the restaurant he replaced 
 the wine-jelly, and added some cake and a 
 bottle of champagne. " I don t know much 
 about what a sick boy ought to have," he 
 thought, " but fizz is always good." 
 
 At the newspaper-stand he bought all the 
 picture papers, and found a colored edition of 
 nursery rhymes, which he concluded would be 
 
32 Harvard Stories. 
 
 just the thing. " Now we are all right," he 
 said, "come along, Blathers." 
 
 Jack had been very ready and cheerful 
 about his mission when talking to Varnum, 
 but he had misgivings about it as he took 
 his way to Sloven Street, in the heart of 
 the poorest tenement-house district. " I sup 
 pose it is easy enough just to leave this stuff 
 and come away," he thought ; " but I am sure 
 to make some fool break." He knew there were 
 lots of men in college who " went in for that 
 sort of thing " ; but he had had no experience 
 of that kind himself, and Varnum was the only 
 man he knew well, who had. He had a vague 
 idea that Varnum held prayer-meetings among 
 the poor, and preached as well as ministered, 
 and he feared he might be called upon to do 
 something of the kind himself. 
 
 It was quite dark, so he heard only one or 
 two requests to shoot the dude, as he was pass 
 ing lamp-lights, and to his infinite relief nothing 
 was thrown at Blathers. He had expected 
 certainly to have a row on the dog s account. 
 In front of 62 Sloven Street he found a small 
 boy smoking a cigarette, and inquired from him 
 whether Jimmy Haggerty lived within. 
 
Harvard Stories. 33 
 
 "Sure!" assented the youngster, removing 
 the cigarette from his lips and holding the 
 lighted end for Blathers to smell. " Is you one 
 o de Ha vards?" "Ye-es," acknowledged 
 Jack, doubtfully, feeling that he was deceiving 
 the little man ; for he suspected that he was 
 not exactly the kind of " a Ha vard " that was 
 expected in those quarters. 
 
 " Well say, how did de game come out ? I 
 ain t seen de bulletin-boards." 
 
 Jack s heart leaped towards the boy at once ; 
 he discovered that there was a bond of sym 
 pathy between them after all. 
 
 " I don t know," he answered ; " I came 
 away before the end. It was four to nothing 
 in our favor then." 
 
 " Chamesy Haggerty lives on de tird floor. 
 I 11 show ye up." Jack followed his pilot up 
 the dark, smelly stairs, answering questions all 
 the way as to the foot-ball game. 
 
 " A-ah, ye can t do notin widout Jarvis," 
 commented the youngster, upon hearing of the 
 half-back s injury. 
 
 " Dat s a nice lookin purp yer got," he said, 
 eyeing Blathers, as they arrived at the third 
 floor. " Guess he s a good un to fight, ain t he ? 
 
34 Harvard Stories. 
 
 Le me take care of him for yer, while you re 
 inside." 
 
 Jack did not accept this kind offer. His 
 guide, pointing to a door, said : " Well, dat s 
 Chimmie s. I ain t goin in, cause he s got 
 scarlet fever." 
 
 " The devil he has ! " exclaimed Jack. 
 
 " Yare ; leastways dat s what dey all say. 
 Wait till I get down-stairs fore yer open de 
 door.". And with a vain whistle to Blathers he 
 disappeared down-stairs. 
 
 Rattleton knocked at the door indicated as 
 " Chimmie s," and opened it in response to a 
 voice within. The small room was pretty well 
 lighted by a lamp, the first thing that Jack s 
 eye fell on. It was Varnum s student-lamp; 
 Jack knew it at once from a caricature he had 
 himself drawn on the shade. A hard-faced, 
 slovenly old woman was sitting near a stove, 
 and looked at him in surprise as he entered. 
 
 " Is this Mrs. Haggerty ? " he asked. 
 
 "I am," she answered; "what do you 
 want?" 
 
 " Mr. Varnum sent these things," replied 
 Rattleton. " He could n t come himself because 
 he has been hurt, and is in the hospital." 
 
Harvard Stories. 35 
 
 " Is that so ? Sure, I m sorry to hear that," 
 said the woman with real regret in her tone. 
 " Mr. Varnum has been kind to us, I tell you. 
 He s helped me with my boy Jimmy here ever 
 since he s been sick." 
 
 " Dat s too bad," complained a thin voice 
 from the corner. On the other side of the lamp 
 was a bed, from under the dirty quilt of which 
 protruded a little pale face. " Ain t he coming 
 to read to me? What s de matter wid him?" 
 
 Jack explained, with an accompaniment of 
 sympathetic " tut-tuts " from the woman and 
 more forcible expressions from the sick boy. 
 
 " I m obliged to him for the things," said 
 the former, as Rattleton handed her his burden. 
 She looked at the bottle with a puzzled and 
 half-frightened air. 
 
 " That s the first time ever Mr. Varnum give 
 us anythin like that. The poor young feller 
 must be dizzed, by the hurt of him. I 11 hide 
 that." And to Rattleton s horror she shoved 
 the bottle of Irroy under the stove. 
 
 " Would you do me a bit of a favor, sir," 
 she asked, " like Mr. Varnum would do? " 
 
 " With pleasure, that is if I can," answered 
 Jack, cautiously, wondering what she wanted, 
 
36 Harvard Stories. 
 
 and with a dread that it might be in the nature 
 of religious services. 
 
 " I got to go out to see the doctor, and I d 
 take it friendly would you sit wid th boy, till I 
 get back. I 11 not be long." 
 
 " Why, yes, of course," said Rattleton, feel 
 ing how much worse it might have been. 
 
 The woman took down her shawl, and throw 
 ing it over her head, drew out the bottle she 
 had just hidden, and tucked it under her arm 
 out of sight. " I 11 ask the doctor whether this 
 is good for the kid," she muttered. " If Jamsey 
 don t need it, I can sell it. I know some one 
 else it ain t good for." 
 
 Opening the door she first looked out cau 
 tiously, then hurried down-stairs. 
 
 " Wonder what I ought to do now ? " thought 
 Rattleton. Blathers was over at the bed mak 
 ing friends with the patient. 
 
 " Dis your dog? nice one, ain t he. Is you 
 one o de student fellers ? " 
 
 Jack admitted that he was, knowing that the 
 word " student " was used in its generic, not its 
 strict sense. 
 
 " You re a friend o Mr. Varnum s, eh ? He s 
 nice, ain t he?" 
 
Harvard Stories. 3 7 
 
 Rattleton agreed emphatically that Varnum 
 was " nice." 
 
 " Yare," continued the boy, " he s a dais 
 He comes in and reads to me all de time. Mr 
 Talcot, he comes too sometimes ; but he ain t 
 as nice as Mr. Varnum. Hullo, you been to 
 de game ? " 
 
 This last question was elicited by the sight 
 of the little bit of crimson ribbon stuck through 
 Rattleton s buttonhole, an insignium brought 
 from the seat of war. In cheerful compliance 
 with the demand to hear all about it, Jack sat 
 down by the bed, and recounted, as well as he 
 could, all the details of the afternoon s battle. 
 He described Jarvis splendid run, and how he 
 had scored and at the same time broken his 
 collar-bone in his great plunge for Harvard and 
 glory. As he told of it he thought of Varnum 
 lying alone in the hospital. 
 
 " Would you like me to read to you ? " sug 
 gested Jack, when the foot-ball subject had been 
 exhausted. 
 
 "You bet," assented the patient. "I ain t 
 heard no readin all day. Mudde.r can t read, 
 and Sis ain t been here." 
 
 " Here s a book I brought," said Rattleton, 
 
38 Harvard Stories. 
 
 picking up the bright-pictured nursery rhymes. 
 " I don t know whether it s interesting/ he 
 added, doubtfully. 
 
 For a little while he read the classics of 
 Mother Goose in his gentle drawl, until the boy 
 interrupted him. 
 
 " Say, what sort o baby s stuff is dat, any 
 how ? I don t t ink much o dat. I d sooner 
 hear Dare-Devil Dick dan dat." 
 
 " I am inclined to agree with you/ replied 
 Rattleton. " Really, you see, I had n t read 
 this for so long that I had forgotten just what 
 it was like. Let s have Dare-Devil Dick." 
 
 " I ain t got it now. I give it away. Mr. 
 Varnum, he gi me a book he said was better, 
 and I guess it is. It s got an A-i scrapper in 
 it, too, dat could do Dare-Devil Dick wid one 
 hand. He did n t kill so many people, but I 
 t ink he was a better feller. Dere it is at de 
 foot o de bed." 
 
 Rattleton took up the book indicated. It 
 was Westward Ho ! He sat down again by 
 the bed, and opened the book at a place where 
 there was a mark. Then the two went out 
 from the little squalid room, and sailed away 
 over the Spanish Main with tall Amyas Leigh 
 
Harvard Stories. 39 
 
 and his good men of Devon. For over half an 
 hour the little invalid street-arab and the hare 
 brained Harvardian were both wrapped in the 
 spell of the apostle to the Anglo-Saxon youths. 
 
 Before Rattleton had finished reading he 
 heard the door open and close, and a rustle of 
 skirts. Looking up he saw, not the old woman, 
 but a rather gaudily-dressed young one. Jack 
 thought he had seen her face before some 
 where. That was quite possible, I regret to 
 say. 
 
 " Hullo, Sis," said the boy. " Me sister," he 
 explained to Rattleton. The young woman 
 looked with surprise at the latter, as he rose to 
 his feet. Her eye glanced at his stick and his 
 bull terrier, and all over his clothes, from his 
 shoes up ; then narrowly scrutinized the face 
 of the thoroughly uncomfortable youth. 
 Though the shyest of men, this was the first 
 time he had ever felt very bashful in such 
 a presence. Then she asked, disdainfully, 
 "What s one o your kind doing here?" 
 
 Jack colored to his hair. " I I don t know 
 exactly, myself," he stammered. " You see I 
 came to take the place of my friend who is ill," 
 he explained, apologetically. 
 
40 Harvard Stories. 
 
 11 1 know you now," said the girl, her look 
 softening a little. " You re the sport that 
 done up Dutch Jake for kickin a kid one night 
 in Stuber s restaurant." 
 
 " I have been in there occasionally," Jack 
 confessed. He was going to add " I am sorry 
 to say," but remembered that might be rude. 
 " I promised Mrs. er Mrs. Haggerty, to sit 
 here until she returned," he continued, " but I 
 suppose I am not needed now ? " 
 
 " No, much obliged to you, I 11 stay with 
 Jimmy till she gets back." 
 
 Jack took up his hat and stick, but paused a 
 moment awkwardly as he turned to leave. 
 
 " Would you er would you mind," he 
 said, hesitatingly, " my er my er my 
 lending a little money for the boy, you 
 know ? " 
 
 The girl laughed bitterly. " I guess we can 
 stand it," she said. " If you never spent your 
 money worse than that, I m mistaken. You 
 can give us the tin. We ain t proud." 
 
 " Thanks," murmured Jack, vaguely feeling 
 that he was being helped out of an awkward 
 attempt. He pulled out the contents of his 
 
Harvard Stories. 41 
 
 pocket, both bills and change. " I dare say 
 you will spend it better than I." 
 
 Just as he was handing the money to the 
 girl, there was a knock on the door, and in 
 answer to her heedless " come in " a man 
 entered. It was a classmate, named Talcot, 
 whom Jack knew only by sight as one of Var- 
 num s " Y. M. C. A. pals." He stopped in 
 astonishment, and then frowned, as he recog 
 nized Rattleton, and saw him giving the 
 money. 
 
 " Mr. Rattleton, I believe ? " 
 
 Jack looked him in the eye, and nodded 
 stiffly. 
 
 " Don t you think, sir," asked the worthy 
 student, with an indignant sneer, " that you 
 had better confine yourself to your expen 
 sive clubs, and to your regular haunts in 
 town ? " 
 
 Jack colored again, the shade of his little 
 ribbon ; but this time it was not a blush. He 
 bit his lip for a moment, and gripped his stick 
 hard. 
 
 " I am afraid I had," he said very slowly, as 
 he moved towards the door. " But I will tell 
 
42 Harvard Stories. 
 
 you one thing, Mr. Talcot," he added as he 
 paused in the doorway. " I am an awful fool, I 
 know, but I am not mean enough to think that 
 every damn fool must be a damn rascal. I will 
 give you an opportunity later to apologize. 
 Good-night, Jimmy. Come along, Blathers," 
 and he strode down-stairs. 
 
 " Pheugh," puffed Rattleton, as he got 
 out in the grateful fresh air again. " I got 
 it in the neck twice in that round. Guess 
 I d better keep out of that kind of a ring 
 hereafter." 
 
 He went back to the hospital, and found that 
 Varnum was asleep, and resting comfortably. 
 " Now, by Jove, Blathers, we 11 have dinner ! " 
 he exclaimed, joyfully, as he left the hospital. 
 " I m nearly dead," he thought, " we 11 go to the 
 Victoria and have a bang-up din, and a bot 
 No we won t, either," he suddenly concluded, 
 as he thrust his hands into his pockets, " we 11 go 
 to Billy Parks." He had a bill at Park s. There 
 was also a fair prospect of his walking out to 
 Cambridge that night, unless he met a friend ; 
 for he had forgotten to keep even a car-fare. 
 Holworthy always declared that Rattleton 
 would forget his head some day, and Jack now 
 
Harvard Stories, 43 
 
 expressed a fear of that nature himself, when he 
 discovered the void in his pockets. 
 
 Annoyance never chummed long with Jack 
 Rattleton, however, and it had left him by the 
 time he got to Park s restaurant. He looked 
 over the bill-of-fare with the delight of antici 
 pation and expended a good deal of careful 
 thought in his selection. 
 
 " Let s see, shall I fool with Little Neck 
 clams? Yes, I can have those while they are 
 cooking the rest. Mock turtle soup, and then 
 filets of sole ; they are mock, too, but they are 
 very good. Then bring me some of that 
 chicken pasty. Yes, you can call it vol-au-vent 
 if you like, but don t stick me extra for the 
 name ; I would just as lief eat it in English. 
 Then I want half a black duck. Tell the cook 
 it is for me, and I don t want coot. After that 
 I 11 decide as to the next course. Bring me a 
 half bottle of Mumm, and a long glass with 
 chopped ice in it, and bring that right away. 
 Oh ! by the way," he called, as the waiter was 
 starting off with the order, " find out at the desk 
 how the game came out. Gad, I d nearly for 
 gotten it ! " 
 
 " Why, sir," replied the waiter, " have n t you 
 
44 Harvard Stories. 
 
 heard ? Too bad. Six to four. Yale made a 
 touch-down in the last five minutes, and kicked 
 a goal from it." 
 
 " Wha-at ! " exclaimed Jack. " Hi ! waiter ! 
 Hold on a minute; come back here! Make 
 that order one English chop and a mug of 
 musty." 
 
THE WAKING NIGHTMARE OF HOLLIS 
 HOLWORTHY. 
 
 HOLWORTHY had accepted an invitation to 
 dine at the Tremonts* in Boston. There was 
 nothing remarkable about that ; but so had Jack 
 Rattleton, and that was remarkable. He had 
 done so chiefly on Holworthy s account. He 
 rarely went anywhere in Boston society, as he 
 held that to do so was a waste of precious time 
 given to him for a college education. He could 
 employ his evenings much better in Cambridge 
 in his study, with a select party, or in one of 
 the clubs. True, he often went over the bridge ; 
 but that, as he said, was always with some 
 earnest purpose, such as a study of the drama 
 at the Howard Athenaeum, or to attend a benefit 
 of Prof. Murphy or some other revered in 
 structor. He never frittered away his moments 
 in the vapidity of a polite ballroom. Dinners 
 he especially abhorred (except, of course, serious 
 masculine dinners) ; chiefly because dinner en 
 gagements had to be kept, and worse, kept 
 
 45 
 
46 Harvard Stories. 
 
 punctually. For that reason they were, in Jack s 
 estimation, as bad as lectures to a man on pro 
 bation. He had decided to bind himself to this 
 dinner, however, because he knew the Tremonts 
 very well, and happened to know they were 
 going to invite Holworthy, and also happened 
 to know that some one else was going to be 
 there about whom Holworthy did not like to be 
 chaffed. He foresaw a possible opportunity of 
 " seeing Hoi do the devoted and breaking him 
 up " ; so for this benevolent purpose he deter 
 mined to sacrifice himself. 
 
 Now, Holworthy knew naught of this, and 
 when Rattleton casually mentioned to him that 
 he (Jack) had been bidden to a dinner at the 
 Tremonts , and asked him for the most ap 
 proved form for a lying regret, he used all his 
 powers of persuasion to make Rattleton accept. 
 He preached a sermon on the evil effects of 
 Jack s Bohemian ways and neglected oppor 
 tunities. He said he was going to that same 
 dinner and would bring Jack back in a cab. 
 Finally, after much objection, and after getting 
 as many bribes out of his mentor as possible, 
 Rattleton agreed to go, and also agreed to do 
 his best not to be late. 
 
Harvard Stories. 47 
 
 On this latter point Hollis spent half an hour. 
 He insisted, and impressed upon Jack in every 
 way, that a man could do nothing more out 
 rageous than to keep his hostess waiting for 
 him for dinner. Holworthy, it may be observed, 
 had been brought up with old-fashioned ideas 
 of good breeding. His father had taught him 
 never to fail, or be late at a dinner or a duel, 
 if once engaged for either. He cautioned 
 Rattleton not to put his faith in excuses, for 
 they were always weak and as naught. " Every 
 body," said he, " knows you are lying, and you 
 know that they know you are lying, and they 
 know that you know that they know you are 
 lying." 
 
 " That s so," acknowledged Jack, with a 
 melancholy shake of his head. " At one time, 
 when I went in for these vanities, I used to 
 have some pretty good excuses, but they are 
 all played out now. I have broken down every 
 cab in Cambridge, given every horse the blind 
 staggers, and ruined the reputation for sobriety 
 of every driver. I have broken my own leg 
 once or twice, and limped painfully into the 
 room ; that was very effective, until I once 
 favored the wrong leg. The electric cars were 
 
48 Harvard Stories. 
 
 a great help when they first came in, but I 
 have long since dislocated every trolly on 
 the line." 
 
 "Well, above all," said Holworthy, "if you 
 should happen to be late, don t try that worn out 
 chestnut about the drawbridge being open, as 
 I heard a poor young Freshman do the other 
 night, with a happy confidence." 
 
 " Do you take me for a Freshman ? " re 
 sponded Jack, indignantly. " At the first dinner 
 I went to when I first came up, I started to use 
 the drawbridge, and the old grad. with whom I 
 was dining took the words out of my mouth 
 and then laughed at me." 
 
 " The best thing for you to do," suggested 
 Hollis, as his final advice, " is to get a chain 
 and make yourself fast to your bedstead from 
 now until the evening of the dinner. I 11 come 
 round and unchain you when it is time to dress. 
 At any rate, I shall endeavor to keep you in 
 sight all that day." All of which Rattleton 
 took humbly, and promised to do his best. 
 
 But on the afternoon of the appointed day 
 Jack was not to be found. Holworthy hunted 
 in vain for him at all his usual haunts, and in 
 the evening began dressing himself with many 
 
Harvard Stories. 49 
 
 misgivings. While he was still in his room, his 
 chum Charles Rivers came in from the after 
 noon s work in the University boat. Holworthy 
 complained to him of the way in which the 
 man Rattleton was turning his hair gray. 
 
 m ^^ **V* ^""v. ?** * l^ 
 
 " Looking for Lazy Jack, are you ? " laughed 
 Rivers, reassuringly ; " well, he was in a four- 
 oar above the Brighton Abattoir not very long 
 ago. I could n t see him, because I had to 
 keep my eyes in the boat, but I could hear 
 him objurgating Steve Hudson for hitting up 
 the stroke. We passed them as we were 
 pulling back from Watertown. It was n t half 
 an hour ago." 
 
 Holworthy made a short remark about 
 Rattleton that has nothing to do with the 
 story. " I have only just time to get into the 
 Tremonts now," said he, as he threw on his 
 cloak, " but I will stop at the shiftless beggar s 
 room before I go in. He may possibly have 
 got back and dressed." 
 
 He hurried along Harvard Street, and on the 
 corner ran into a lot of men coming up from 
 the river. Sauntering along in their flannels, 
 perfectly happy after the glorious exercise and 
 bath, he saw Hudson, Randolph, Stoughton, 
 
 4 
 
50 Harvard Stories. 
 
 and the long form of Mr. Rattleton, quite as 
 usual, hands in his pockets, head thrown back, 
 a smile on his face, content in his soul, and 
 nothing on his mind. There was a sudden 
 change in his aspect, however, when he caught 
 sight of Holworthy s silk hat and white tie. 
 He stopped, aghast, with a " By Jove ! " and 
 then, "Oh, the devil!" 
 
 "Yes," exclaimed Holworthy, hotly, " ancl 
 that is just where you will go some day from 
 sheer carelessness. That is the one appoint 
 ment you 11 keep, though, I believe, you will 
 be late for your own funeral." 
 
 " Don t wait for me, old man. I 11 be there 
 as soon as I can," answered Jack, ambiguously. 
 
 "Wait for you!" Hollis cried, "I wash my 
 hands of you ! If you choose to disgrace your 
 self, it is none of my business. As it is now, 
 I may be late myself," and he boarded a car 
 for Boston. 
 
 Now it was so that Holworthy did not know 
 the Tremonts. They were old friends of his 
 family, and he ought to have called on them 
 when he first came to college ; but he had not, 
 and they had been abroad since his Freshman 
 year. He was not even perfectly certain of 
 
Harvard Stories. 5 1 
 
 where they lived, and he had forgotten, in his 
 hurry on leaving his room, to look at the ad 
 dress on the invitation ! He thought of this 
 fact when he was over the bridge and well into 
 Boston. However, he pretty clearly remem 
 bered having sent his acceptance to 142 Marcon- 
 wealth Street. It was either 142 or 242 ; but 
 to make sure he decided to look it up in a Blue 
 Book. He, therefore, got out at Park Square 
 and went into a druggist s, to consult the little 
 directory. 
 
 He first looked up 142 Marconwealth Street, 
 and found the name of Jones. Then he looked 
 for 242, 342, 442, he felt there was a 42 in the 
 combination somehow, but all were vacant 
 of Tremonts. He tried the 42*3 of other 
 streets, but in vain. Then, in desperation, he 
 ran down the whole list of Tremonts. Reader, 
 dost thou know aught of the ancient town of 
 Boston? If not, look some time into a Boston 
 Blue Book, open anywhere, and see what Hoi- 
 worthy saw. In Boston, when they want to 
 describe a particularly luxuriant forest, they 
 say that its leaves are as the Tremonts. Hollis 
 was not even sure of the first name of his 
 intended host ; he thought it was Mayflor. 
 
5 2 Harvard Stories. 
 
 There were three Mayflor Tremonts on Marcon- 
 wealth Street, one at each end and one in the 
 middle. Of other Tremonts on that street 
 there were fourteen. 
 
 The cold sweat stood on Holworthy s brow 
 in the most approved style. It was already 
 half past seven, the hour of dinner, for he had 
 spent several minutes in his Blue Book re 
 search. Only one plan occurred to him. He 
 bought the book at an extravagant price and 
 jumped into a cab, determined to hunt down 
 that dinner if he had to go to every Tremont 
 in Boston. He began with the Mayflor 
 Tremonts. When the servant answered the 
 bell, he would ask if there was a dinner-party 
 going on in that house. He was not sure 
 whether he was taken for a lunatic or a society 
 reporter, but did not care which. None of the 
 Mayflor Tremonts were giving dinners on that 
 evening. Then he began at one end of Mar- 
 conwealth Street, and tried every Tremont 
 in order. 
 
 All this time the minutes were joining the 
 past eternity, and he, Hollis Holworthy, was 
 getting later and later for dinner. At the sixth 
 house, however, as a maid opened the door, he 
 
Harvard Stories. 5 3 
 
 heard the sounds of gentle revelry and small 
 talk, and his heart leaped for joy. The maid 
 said, "Yes, we have a party here to-night." 
 He rushed back and paid for his cab, not stop 
 ping for the paltry change due him, amounting 
 to half that he gave. He left his coat and hat 
 in the hall to save time and, without asking 
 further questions, strode by the maid into the 
 dining-room. He was twenty-five minutes late, 
 and glad they had not waited for him. 
 
 Going up to the hostess, he began, " Mrs. 
 Tremont, I can t tell you how mortified " the 
 table was filled ! There was no vacant chair ! 
 Then he noticed that the hostess was looking 
 a little blank, though smiling and polite. " I 
 beg your pardon," he said, as his heart sank, 
 " have I made some awful mistake ? My name 
 isHolworthy ; did you not invite me to dinner 
 this evening, or have I got the wrong house ? 
 or the wrong night? 
 
 " I am afraid you have made a mistake, Mr. 
 Holworthy," replied the lady, " and I think it 
 must be in the house." 
 
 "Well, can you tell me," asked the blushing 
 and desperate youth, trying to keep a groan 
 out of his question, " whether you happen to 
 
54 Harvard Stories. 
 
 know of any other Mrs. Tremont who is giving 
 a dinner to-night ? I have lost the address, and 
 I am dinnerless in the streets of Boston." 
 
 The hostess laughed a little at Holworthy s 
 despair, but relieved him by saying that her 
 cousin, Mrs. Mayflor Tremont, had said some 
 thing that day about a dinner. 
 
 " But I have been to the houses of three Mrs. 
 Mayflor Tremonts on this street," protested 
 poor Hollis. " Is there another one? " 
 
 " Why, Hoi," spoke up Ernest Gray, an inti 
 mate friend, who was present to Holworthy s 
 great comfort, " that is where Jack Rattleton 
 told me that you and he were going the May 
 flor Tremont s, 142 Marconwealth Street." 
 
 "That is just what I thought," said Hoi- 
 worthy, " but the Blue Book gives one Jones 
 at 142." 
 
 " Oh ! " explained Mrs. Tremont, " they have 
 only just moved in, and their name has not 
 been changed in the Blue Book." 
 
 " Then that was my ruin," Hollis exclaimed. 
 " Thank you very much, indeed. I hope you 
 will forgive me for making such a scene," and 
 he retreated with as much dignity and haste as 
 could be combined. He was too much relieved 
 
Harvard Stories. 5 5 
 
 to mind Gray s remark, " That is one on you, 
 Hoi," or the laugh that he heard as he got to 
 the front door. 
 
 His cab had only moved to the corner, and 
 he hailed it again. The driver repaid his recent 
 generosity by getting him to 142 in less than 
 three minutes. 
 
 Let us now see how it fared with Jack, the 
 grasshopper. At the moment when Holworthy 
 took the car in Harvard Square, there was seen 
 a rare phenomenon of nature ; Rattleton 
 showed acute animation. He went up Har 
 vard Street with two leaps to a block. Riley s 
 cab, as usual, was standing at the corner of 
 Holyoke Street, and as Jack dashed by, he 
 yelled for Riley. The latter came tumbling 
 out of Foster s, and, in forty-three seconds and 
 two fifths, had his chariot at the door of Rattle- 
 ton s staircase. Both Riley and his horse are 
 as well drilled to emergencies as are the men 
 and steeds of a fire-engine. Jack reached his 
 room in record time, and only stopped to wash 
 his face and hands. He grabbed his evening 
 clothes and shoes, a " boiled " shirt and tie, 
 and was in the cab almost as soon as it got to 
 the door. 
 
56 Harvard Stories. 
 
 " Riley," said he, " get me to 142 Marcon- 
 wealth Street before Mr. Holworthy, and I 11 
 try and pay what I owe you this week. It is a 
 matter of life and death, and I expect you this 
 day to do your duty. Don t be beaten by an 
 electric car." 
 
 The latter part of this exhortation had its 
 effect. Riley follows the Golden Rule 
 and never duns anybody, but his weak spots 
 are his professional pride and his sporting 
 blood. Touch him there, and you will travel 
 in his cab as in the car of Phcebus. He has 
 never lost the day when it was possible for man 
 and horse to save it. Ned Burleigh used to say 
 that he would back Riley s nag against Salvator, 
 provided the former should have behind him 
 the cab, Riley, and a load. On this particular 
 occasion he fully maintained his reputation. 
 
 While rushing towards Boston, Rattleton 
 proceeded to dress. He at first complimented 
 himself on not having forgotten anything ; but, 
 when he came to his shirt, behold, there were 
 no studs ! He had been wearing a soft cheviot, 
 and had only a collar button. The absence of 
 sleeve buttons would probably not be noticed, 
 but he could not go to dinner with a studless 
 
Harvard Stories. 5 7 
 
 chest. For a minute he thought the game was 
 up, wrecked by such a little thing. Then an 
 inspiration came to him. With his knife he 
 cut three little pearl buttons out of his under 
 shirt, leaving a piece attached to each button. 
 These he pushed through his shirt, and they 
 were held in place by the pieces of flannel at 
 their backs. It had always been suspected by 
 his friends that Jack Rattleton really had 
 brains, though he never made the exertion to 
 use them. It had even been said that some 
 time in an emergency he might show positive 
 genius. He looked at those improvised studs 
 with satisfaction, as he reasoned to himself 
 that they would be taken for imitation buttons 
 and, therefore, go unnoticed. If they should be 
 recognized as real, that would be all the 
 better ; it would look like a new fashion, and 
 one of most " swagger " simplicity. He tied 
 his cravat all right by feeling ; but he had not 
 thought of a hair-brush, and his hair was all 
 damp and on end after his shower-bath at the 
 boat-house. This did not trouble him, how 
 ever, as he was sure of finding a brush at the 
 Tremonts, in the room where the men would 
 leave their coats. 
 
58 Harvard Stories. 
 
 He had hardly finished this flying toilet 
 when he arrived at the house, not two minutes 
 late. He instructed Riley to come back at 
 ten, and that the return trip would be " on 
 Mr. Holworthy." In the dressing-room there 
 were hair-brushes, as he had expected, and he 
 went down to the drawing-room in faultless 
 order, feeling that he had made a great dis 
 covery. Undoubtedly a cab was just the 
 place for a hurried man of business, like him 
 self, to dress. 
 
 He called the attention of his hostess to his 
 punctuality, and assured her that such a thing 
 in him was a sign of the greatest devotion. 
 "You see," said he, " when I am late, every 
 one says, Oh, it is only that shiftless Jack 
 Rattleton, and when I am on time, I want the 
 credit for it. Now it is nothing particularly 
 praiseworthy for a man like Holworthy to be 
 on time. If he should ever slip up, it might 
 well be put down as an insult, because he 
 never forgets or dawdles. Some day his good 
 reputation will be the ruin of him. I think my 
 system is the better." After which airy per 
 siflage, Rattleton noticed that Holworthy was 
 not in the room ; and ten minutes later, when 
 
Harvard Stories. 59 
 
 the latter was still absent, he began to wish he 
 had let airy persiflage alone. Everybody else 
 had arrived. Five minutes more went by, and 
 when twenty minutes were gone and no Hoi- 
 worthy, Jack went to Mrs. Tremont and told 
 her how Hollis had left Cambridge in plenty of 
 time, and, in fact, had refused to wait for him. 
 " Something must have happened to him," he 
 said, rather anxiously, " and I am prepared to 
 back up as strictly true any excuse he may 
 offer, for I can swear he left Cambridge more 
 than an hour ago, and was coming right here." 
 
 " No accident to himself, I hope," replied 
 Mrs. Tremont. " At any rate, I think we had 
 better go in, as I am sure Mr. Holworthy will 
 feel more comfortable if we do not wait for 
 him." 
 
 So in they went, Rattleton taking her whom 
 Holworthy should have taken, for Jack was 
 one of two extra men. 
 
 And Hollis, where was he? Suffering in 
 the cab. 
 
 Ten minutes later, as he went up the stoop of 
 142, an insidious policy stole into Holworthy s 
 brain. He had lost the invitation and mis 
 taken the number of the house, why should 
 
60 Harvard Stories. 
 
 he not have mistaken instead the hour of 
 dinner? Was that not better than to be 
 ignorant of the address of his hostess, upon 
 whom he ought to have called long before 
 this ? He was in good time for an eight 
 o clock dinner, and most dinners are at eight 
 nowadays. Then, too, Rattleton would be 
 just about half an hour late, and would prob 
 ably be utterly unconcerned about it, and offer 
 no excuses. That would lend color to a sus 
 picion that Mrs. Tremont had herself made 
 the mistake, in writing some of the invitations. 
 He would not need to tell any actual untruth 
 to say distinctly that he thought dinner was 
 at eight. He need only imply it, and apolo 
 gize for his evident mistake. It would be a 
 pretty poor plea for a very bad crime, but at 
 any rate it was a more polite explanation than 
 the real one, and less ridiculous. Oh, Hollis 
 Holworthy, that thou shouldst thus forget the 
 veritas, the watchword of thine Alma Mater ! 
 
 In the dressing-room was a straw hat with a 
 colored ribbon. " Hullo," he surmised, " Jack 
 is here. Wonder if the rest of his outfit corre 
 sponds, and he has come in his blazer." As 
 he went into the dining-room, his eye first 
 
Harvard Stories. 61 
 
 lighted on that interesting person whom Mr. 
 Davis has capitally termed " A Girl He 
 Knew." On her right was Rattleton, on her 
 left a vacant chair. She must have had to go 
 in alone ! 
 
 With a look of gentle surprise and concern, 
 that, he flattered himself, was rather well done, 
 he went up and saluted Mrs. Tremont. 
 
 " Have I been mistaken/ he asked, " in 
 thinking that dinner was at eight o clock, or 
 has my watch betrayed me?" There was no 
 fib in this and what could be more diplo 
 matic ? 
 
 Mrs. Tremont stood it for a second, then she 
 happened to catch sight of Rattleton s face. 
 It was too much for her, and she burst out 
 laughing. After all, it was the best thing to 
 do. 
 
 " Now, Mr. Holworthy, tell us what really 
 happened, and we will believe and forgive you. 
 Jack, here, has testified to the time of your 
 departure from Cambridge, and you must fill 
 in the interim somehow." 
 
 Then Hollis made a clean breast of the 
 whole thing, and made the tale of his suffer 
 ings as moving as possible, finishing with a 
 
62 Harvard Stories. 
 
 request for some dust to put on his head. He 
 was so humble that even Rattleton was sorry 
 for him ; but the memory of many of Hoi- 
 worthy s lectures came to Jack and he could 
 not resist suggesting to Mrs. Tremont, as Hol- 
 lis took his seat, that as Holly s blood had run 
 so cold she ought to have some soup warmed 
 up for him. 
 
 That evening, on the way back to Cambridge 
 in the cab, was spent one of the pleasantest 
 half hours of Rattleton s life. He told Hoi- 
 worthy how a man could do nothing more out 
 rageous than to keep his hostess waiting for 
 dinner. He said he had a very good chain 
 that he used for his dog Blathers, but which 
 he could lend Hollis. He warned him some 
 day that he would surely go to the devil by 
 his careless habits. "Above all," said he, 
 " never put your faith in excuses. Everybody 
 knows you are lying, and even if you don t 
 know that they know, etc., you sometimes 
 find out." 
 
 Holworthy smoked his cigar vigorously with 
 out saying a word in reply. When they arrived 
 at their club in Cambridge he asked, resignedly: 
 "Well, what do you want for supper?" 
 
Harvard Stories. 63 
 
 " I know I ought to take champagne," an 
 swered Jack, graciously, "but as you are so 
 very humble and I don t really want any more 
 fizz, I will let you off with a rarebit and beer. 
 But don t you ever jump on me again." 
 
THE PLOT AGAINST BULLAM. 
 
 SOMETHING had to be done about the case of 
 Sergeant Bullam. For years he had ruled his 
 beat with a rod of iron. Many a noble spirit 
 had fallen a prey to his desire for notoriety and 
 promotion. The slightest offence, the most 
 innocent or technical infringement of the law, 
 was sufficient pretext for him to indulge his 
 thirst for student incarceration. The lettres de 
 cachet and the Bastile were nothing to Bullam 
 and the Cambridge jail. In the dark days when 
 the ungrateful University town went prohibi 
 tion, the tyrant had revelled in his opportuni 
 ties. He had raided several of the club-houses 
 and had charged Hollis Holworthy, the presi 
 dent of one of the clubs, with keeping a liquor 
 nuisance. Of course this little joke on the 
 superb Holworthy had exceedingly pleased all 
 his friends ; but it did not excuse Bullam. There 
 had been isolated attempts at resistance and 
 vengeance, and these had sometimes been sue- 
 
Harvard Stories. 65 
 
 cessful, but never yet had Bullam suffered any 
 great public downfall worthy of his oppression. 
 He was wary to a high degree, and never ven 
 tured into the sacred Yard, where his uniform 
 would have been only blue cloth and his buttons 
 common brass. 
 
 The crafty Stoughton, however, had a scheme. 
 He had been pondering over the case for some 
 time, and Dick rarely pondered for nothing. 
 He was known to his intimates as Machiavelli, 
 called Mac the Dago for short. This particular 
 plan was indeed worthy of his great namesake. 
 He imparted it to Jack Randolph, who had the 
 heaviest personal score against Bullam, and, 
 therefore, the best title to share in his humilia 
 tion. They fixed the following night as Bui- 
 lam s Ides and announced it to all their friends. 
 They posted it in all the clubs, and in everyway 
 spread the glad tidings that on the morrow 
 Bullam should be utterly cast down. They 
 fixed the hour at about ten o clock in the even 
 ing, and exhorted the people to gather them 
 selves together in a great concourse to see their 
 enemy made a cause of laughter unto them. 
 The promise of the avenging prophets was to 
 conduct a triumph along the whole length of 
 
66 Harvard Stories. 
 
 Harvard Street and to lead in their train the 
 haughty Bullam, humbled and a captive ; he 
 should even act as their body-guard if they so 
 chose, and prevent all interference by his broth 
 ers of the force. How this millennial spectacle 
 was to be brought about, they kept carefully 
 secret. 
 
 There is, perhaps, in every man a certain ele 
 ment of moral obliquity, which, as he is put 
 through any civilizing process, is squeezed out 
 of him from time to time in varying forms and 
 quantities. It comes to the surface, makes itself 
 acutely felt and apparent for a short time, and 
 then drops off, just as a physical poison would 
 act in his veins. At any rate, this is the only 
 theory that can explain the highly reprehensible 
 but firmly established custom among Harvard 
 Freshmen of " ragging " signs. " Ragging," 
 uninitiated reader, simply means stealing. What 
 amusement, profit, or glory the Freshman finds 
 in it has never been ascertained. He cannot 
 tell exactly himself, and, as soon as he ceases to 
 be a Freshman, wonders why he ever indulged 
 in the habit. Perhaps the charm lies in the 
 chance of getting into a scrape ; but in most 
 instances a sign can be taken with perfect safety. 
 
Harvard Stories. 67 
 
 Now I cannot possibly think why I but that 
 is another story, as Mr. Kipling says. 
 
 I am going to digress, however, for one story 
 in this connection. Ned Burleigh used to tell 
 it on his room-mate, Steve Hudson. Steve 
 always denied it vehemently, and declared that 
 Burleigh did not even deserve the credit of a 
 fabricator ; that the story had been in college 
 for years, and he had heard it told by a 42 man. 
 Ned held that made no difference; that some one 
 had to carry it for our four years and Steve was 
 the best man for the position. According to 
 him, Hudson, in walking back from Boston on 
 a dark night in Freshman year, spied a tempt 
 ing sign hanging on a door-post. He secured 
 it by some difficult climbing, and tucking it 
 under his overcoat, went on his way. On 
 arriving in his room he announced that he had 
 a prize, and, unbuttoning his coat, he displayed 
 to Burleigh s delighted gaze, his only evening 
 suit and the sign " Fresh Paint." 
 
 This practice of stealing signs had made 
 Bullam s meat of many a Freshman. In fact, 
 the diligent Sergeant depended upon it for 
 most of his nvdot, so Dick Stoughton had 
 determined to play upon his keenness in this 
 
68 Harvard Stories. 
 
 respect, and use a sign as the bait with which 
 to hook his fish. On the appointed evening he 
 and Randolph went to Cambriclgeport, and 
 bought a barber s pole. They were careful to 
 get a receipted bill from the barber with an 
 accurate description of the pole. The latter 
 was marked with the barber s name in gilt 
 letters, and was small enough to be nearly, but 
 not quite, covered with an overcoat. Thus 
 provided, they started back for Cambridge 
 proper (the Port being usually known as Cam 
 bridge improper) along Main Street, keeping as 
 much as possible in the shadows. At the end 
 of half a dozen blocks, they came on a police 
 man, and promptly crossed the street in a most 
 alluring manner. The vigilant officer, noticing 
 the suspicious shape of Randolph s overcoat 
 held under his arm, gave chase. The end of 
 the pole stuck out from the coat, and it was 
 useless for the students to protest that they had 
 nothing that did not belong to them. They 
 assured their captor that the pole was theirs, 
 that they had paid for it and could prove the 
 fact ; but he insisted upon taking them before 
 the captain of the precinct. 
 
 The captain had had a hard day, and was 
 
Harvard Stories. 69 
 
 preparing to go to bed when they were brought 
 before him. He was tired and cross, and his 
 humor was not improved by this new arrival. 
 When Stoughton showed the receipt, however, 
 he at once discharged the prisoners with much 
 pleasure, and reprimanded the overcareful 
 officer. 
 
 The two then went on to the next guardian 
 of Main Street, and he bit equally well. They 
 warned him of the result, and gave him their 
 word of honor that the pole was not stolen. 
 He hesitated, and for a moment they feared 
 that he was going to be decent enough to 
 believe them. But he was a new and zealous 
 recruit on the force and the bait was too invit 
 ing ; so he decided not to trust them. He was 
 as polite as possible about it and when he even 
 apologized for not taking their word, they came 
 near melting and showing the receipt. But 
 the fall of Bullam was not to be averted, 
 simply because gentler tyrants might be en 
 trained. So back they went to headquarters. 
 
 The captain came down in a red dressing- 
 gown, the skirt of which flapped idly in tne 
 breeze that came through an open window in 
 the office. His bare feet were shoved into a 
 
70 Harvard Stories. 
 
 pair of carpet slippers, each foot in the wrong 
 slipper. With one hand he held a candle that 
 wiggled in the candle-stick and dropped wax 
 on his wrist, and with the other hand tried to 
 keep the dressing-gown about his person. His 
 frame of mind faithfully carried out the spirit 
 of the picture. To any guilty prisoner he 
 would have been indeed a terrifying spectacle ; 
 but he could do nothing to the innocent and 
 insulted gentlemen who had been haled before 
 him. He therefore relieved himself on their 
 captor. The poor man got such a dressing 
 down, that when they left the office, Randolph 
 presented him with full forgiveness, a dollar 
 bill, and the advice to learn as soon as possible 
 to tell a Senior from a Freshman. 
 
 The next policeman they met was old George 
 Smith. He held them up with a look of sur 
 prise, and a remark that he thought they had 
 been in college too long to be " ragging " 
 barber s poles. When they explained to him, 
 however, he of course believed them, and 
 grinned as he perceived something in the wind. 
 
 "It is lucky that was George/ said Stough- 
 ton, as they went on. " If we had struck a strange 
 cop, who thought we were liars, we should have 
 
Harvard Stories. 7 1 
 
 brought down the wrong bird. That police 
 captain is just exactly primed and loaded to 
 the muzzle, and all ready to go off. Now 
 for Bullam ! " 
 
 They had now reached Quincy Square, and 
 saw the fated form of Bullam loom in the 
 offing. They made for him boldly ; there was 
 no need of finessing in his case. The moment 
 his hawk eye caught sight of the ill-concealed 
 pole, he bore down on them with a grim joy. 
 
 " What have you got under that coat ? " he 
 demanded in his usual suave tone. 
 
 " None of your business," responded Jack 
 Randolph, with an inward chuckle. 
 
 " It is n t, eh ! Do you think I can t see that 
 pole a-sticking out there ? Do you think you 
 can steal signs under my very nose? You 
 come along with me now, and we 11 see 
 whether it s none of my business." 
 
 " If your insulting remarks refer to this bar 
 ber-pole," replied Randolph, producing the 
 pole with ostentatious confidence, " allow me 
 to tell you that it belongs to us, and we have 
 a perfect right to carry it wherever we please. 
 Although, as I said before, it is none of your 
 business, I will condescend to let you know 
 
72 Harvard Stories. 
 
 that I bought it lately, and have a receipt for 
 it in my pocket." 
 
 " You can t give me no such bluff as that," 
 sneered Bullam. " You can tell that to the 
 captain of the precinct. I 11 give you a chance 
 to show your receipt." 
 
 " Look here, my man," (nothing makes a 
 gentleman of Bullam s class more angry than 
 to call him " my man ") answered Stoughton, 
 "you don t deserve it after the language you 
 have used to us, but, nevertheless, I give you 
 fair warning not to do anything of the kind. 
 If you take us to the captain, you will get into 
 trouble." 
 
 Bullam was beside himself. The more they 
 said to him the more furious he became, and 
 finally threatened to use his club " if they gave 
 him any more guff." So, in high delight, the 
 two injured youths took their way a third time 
 towards the house of the captain. 
 
 The policeman who had last had them in 
 charge turned quickly away as they passed, 
 and shoved his handkerchief into his mouth. 
 It was a grateful balm to the new man to see 
 a veteran going into the same trap that had 
 just lacerated him. Moreover, Bullam was 
 
Harvard Stories. 73 
 
 quite as unpopular in the force as with the 
 students. 
 
 All was dark in the house where lay the un 
 easy head that wore the crown of the precinct. 
 Bullam rang the bell, with a ferocious glare at 
 his prisoners, as though tolling their death 
 knell. A minute afterwards a window opened 
 above, and a head was thrust forth. 
 
 " Who is there?" bellowed a voice, now 
 familiar to our much-arrested pair. 
 
 " Sergeant Bullam, sir, with an arrest." 
 
 Dick and Jack took care to stand under a 
 gas-lamp. 
 
 " Have you got two men there with a bar 
 ber s pole ? " asked the voice, rising from a roar 
 to a shriek. 
 
 "Yes, sir," chuckled Bullam, gleefully, mis 
 taking the direction of his superior s wrath. 
 " I caught " 
 
 " Did n t they tell you that it was their prop 
 erty, bought and paid for ? " 
 
 " Yes, they had some cock-and-bull " 
 
 "Stop!" thundered the captain, "you re 
 
 too ready to think every gentleman you 
 
 meet is a liar. Don t you be so hot 
 
 after your promotion. " If you 11 give more 
 
74 Harvard Stories. 
 
 attention to your important duties, and less to 
 making capital out of the students, you 11 get 
 ahead faster. Now you go all the way back 
 with these gentlemen, and see that they are 
 not troubled a^ny more. If they are brought 
 here again I 11 know who to blame for it. I 11 
 have you up for a breach of special duty, and 
 make it hot for you. What s more, you treat 
 them civilly. I 11 have no bullies on my squad. 
 If this man gives you boys any lip, come around 
 and see me about it in the morning. Now get 
 out of here, and you, Bullam, mind what I tell 
 you, and be careful." 
 
 All the blanks in the foregoing address were 
 filled in with deep color, and the window went 
 down with a slam that heavily sank in the 
 sickened soul of the astonished Bullam. 
 
 " Come along, sergeant," cried Randolph, 
 cheerfully, shouldering the barber-pole. He 
 and Dick led the way back through Quincy 
 Square, whistling the " Rogue s March " and the 
 " Pere de la Victoire." The overwhelmed Bul 
 lam fell in behind. As they turned down 
 Harvard Street, he walked slowly and tried to 
 drop back to a distance which would disguise 
 his connection with the parade ; but his con- 
 
Harvard Stories. 75 
 
 querors allowed no such break in the procession. 
 They slowed down, too, and kept about ten 
 feet in front of him. 
 
 On the first corner of Harvard Street w 
 stationed three or four small bgys (the 
 sionally useful Cambridge muckers) employed 
 as vedettes. Upon the approach of the triumph, 
 they dashed off to the different clubs and gather 
 ing-places where the long oppressed people 
 were eagerly awaiting the arrival of Bullam 
 in chains. These all flocked to Harvard Street, 
 Hudson bringing his cornet, Dixey a pair of 
 cymbals, and Ned Burleigh flourishing the 
 drum-major s baton, with which he had done 
 mighty service in the last torch-light pro 
 cession. It was going to be the most glorious 
 triumph ever seen in the classic shades since - 
 Washington rode through them on his white 
 charger. 
 
 But, alas ! what a trivial thing may upset the 
 grandest strategy ; what a petty boor may 
 defeat Ulysses ! Yet it was not such a petty 
 boor who caused the ruin in this case ; it was 
 the Cambridge mucker, and he should never 
 have been overlooked by a man of Machiavelli 
 Stoughton s experience. Those who know the 
 
76 Harvard Stories. 
 
 Cantabrigian guerilla respect his power, though 
 they abhor his ways. An influential member 
 of this free lancehood, having demanded a 
 quarter for the vedette service before men 
 tioned, and being refused employment, nursed 
 a vindictive spirit. He gathered a band on 
 Harvard Street, near to the advanced scouts, 
 and waited to see what was going to happen. 
 As soon as Stoughton and Randolph came up 
 with the attendant Bullam, this unforeseen 
 enemy raised a joyful shout and marshalled his 
 comrades behind the trio. As they proceeded 
 along the street, he yelled to every mucker 
 they passed, " Hey, ragsy, come on! Here s 
 two o de Ha vards gettin run in ! " 
 
 Muckers gathered from every side like jackals, 
 and Bullam, realizing the sudden turn in the 
 aspect of affairs, no longer lagged behind, but 
 forged up alongside of his would-be tamers, 
 and assumed his old fierce and haughty air. 
 He could maintain his dignity before the public 
 anyway. 
 
 This was the way Dick Stoughton s great 
 triumph looked when it reached a point oppo 
 site the Yard. The expectant crowd of under 
 graduates looked for a moment in surprise and 
 
Harvard Stories. 77 
 
 grief, then, notwithstanding their disappoint 
 ment at Bullam s escape, a great roar of laughter 
 went up, as they concluded that the two daring 
 plotters had egregiously failed in their attempt 
 and were on their way to a dungeon. 
 
 "Let s bail them out," cried two or three. 
 " Bail nothing, you idiots," shouted the cha 
 grined Stoughton, " we are not arrested ; this 
 man is our body-guard. Come on, and we will 
 take the procession around the Square and up 
 Garden Street." 
 
 This had been Dick s original intention as to 
 the line of march ; but just at this moment the 
 Dean of Harvard College came around the 
 corner of Holyoke Street and stopped short. 
 In the direction of Harvard Square lay the jail-, 
 and Stoughton at once decided that a triumph 
 of such uncertain appearance had better be 
 brought to a close right where they were. He 
 and Randolph halted, therefore, and, waving 
 aloft the barber s pole, gave Bullam their 
 gracious permission to depart. As a little 
 extra effect they ordered him to disperse the 
 rabble, to which mandate he payed no atten 
 tion. Then, with as much dignity as possible, 
 they retreated into Foster s. It was the best 
 
78 Harvard Stories. 
 
 effort they could make to retrieve the day, a 
 weak ending to so magnificent a scheme. 
 
 They did not hear the last of their " grand 
 pageant " for a long time ; but their own re 
 collection of it will always be softened by the 
 memory of those sweet moments beneath the 
 captain s window. 
 
THE DOG BLATHERS. 
 
 BESIDES the " officers of instruction and 
 government," and the instructed and governed, 
 there are many classes and individuals that 
 make up the university population of Cam 
 bridge unofficial members, whose names do 
 not appear in the catalogue. There are the 
 camp followers, the goodies, the janitors, the 
 Poco, John the Orangeman, Riley, the O Haras 
 who " understand th busniz," and all the other 
 dignitaries, as firmly established and well 
 recognized as the Faculty. Probably the most 
 numerous of the unofficial classes is the great 
 four-legged one. There are undergraduate dogs, 
 and law-school dogs, and post-graduate dogs, 
 and I believe there were one or two Divinity 
 dogs. During our time there were several 
 very distinguished dogs in the Faculty, notably 
 one huge bull-dog. Among the undergradu 
 ates, the ugliest and most perfect in form and 
 feature, the most polished and attractive in 
 79 
 
80 Harvard Stories. 
 
 manner, the most genial and popular, in every 
 way the leader par excellence, was Rattleton s 
 round head bull-terrier Blathers. 
 
 Blathers was named after the great man who 
 bred him. That celebrated fancier was re 
 nowned throughout Cambridge for two things, 
 his dogs and his profanity. He could outswear 
 Sawin s expressman, Hitchell the black scout, 
 and the janitor of Little s Block, and any one 
 who could excel those three was indeed an 
 artist. I do not believe, however, that the 
 recording angel entered all of Blather s items 
 in the debit column ; in the first place, he 
 would not have had time, in the second place, 
 most of Blather s oaths were not delivered in 
 anger, in the sense of Raca, but flowed out in 
 nocently and unconsciously, merely as aids to 
 conversation. One morning this worthy came 
 into Rattleton s room, bearing in his hand a 
 little brindled object about five inches long. 
 It looked like a stub-tailed rat, whose nose had 
 been smashed with a lump of coal. 
 
 " Good mornin , Mr. Rattleton ; beg your 
 pardon for intrudin , sir, but I Ve got sumpthin 
 here I want for to show yer. I Ve got a mag 
 nificent animal." 
 
Harvard Stories. 8 1 
 
 " Oh, get out, Blathers ; I don t want a dog ; 
 had to give away the last one." 
 
 The following speech was bristling with pro 
 fanity, but I have omitted even the indication 
 blanks, except in one passage where they were 
 too characteristic to be left out. 
 
 " I don t want yer to buy him, sir. I just 
 want to show him to yer. He s a beauty. I 
 know yer knows the points of a dog, sir, and 
 its just a pleasure I m givin* yer to look at 
 him. Just take him in your hand, sir. Now, 
 I sold Mrs. G. an own half brother of that 
 feller. You know Mrs. G., surely, down here 
 to the Theolog. school ? " (Mrs. G. was a most 
 charming and gentle lady, the wife of a cele 
 brated clergyman.) " Well, I stopped at her 
 house the other day to see how she liked the 
 
 pup. She says to me, * By , Blathers, 
 
 says she, that s the finest dog ever 
 
 I see ; d me, if it ain t, says she. Yes, sir, 
 
 that s just what she thought about him. You 
 go ask her and see if it ain t. And she 
 wouldn t say nothin she didn t mean, just to 
 tickle me, neither. Mrs. G. is a real lady, and 
 knows the points of a dog, she does. She 
 was kind to my wife when she was 
 
 6 
 
82 Harvard Stories. 
 
 sick last time. Oh, my wife s been orful sick, 
 Mr. Rattleton. I had to pay for a lot of doc 
 tor s consults and other stuff ; that s just the 
 only reason, sir, I want to sell this beautiful 
 pup. I d never part with him in this world, if 
 I could help it." 
 
 Blathers never would have parted from any 
 of his dogs had it not been for his frequent 
 family afflictions. These afflictions were al 
 ways very expensive and varied, from the 
 funeral of his mother to the birth of twins. 
 He buried four mothers in one year ; that was 
 his best work, though six children born during 
 the following term pushed hard on the record. 
 
 " If I could only make up my mind to let 
 yer have that dog, Mr. Rattleton," he went on, 
 " it would work both ways. Maybe I ought to 
 do it. It would be a favor and a kind thing in 
 me to sell yer that pup at any price, and you d 
 be doin a charity to a poor man in helpin me 
 along. It would be a good action all around, 
 see ? Oh, I need the money orful bad." 
 
 Rattleton during this speech had been play 
 ing with the puppy, and he was struck both by 
 the brightness of the little fellow and the logic 
 of his owner. He knew that Blathers really did 
 
Harvard Stories. 83 
 
 have rather hard times with his family. In any 
 case Lazy Jack never took the trouble to sift a 
 tale of woe and apply the most enlightened and 
 efficient remedy. He had no excuse for not 
 doing so ; he took the Social Ethics Course in 
 Philosophy because it was easy, and of course 
 he knew how wrong it is to give to a beggar ; 
 nevertheless, he rarely failed to do so if he had 
 a coin in his pocket, because it was so much 
 easier than making enquiries and giving advice. 
 Moreover Jack was so lacking in principles, that 
 if he thought the beggar looked cold and in 
 want of a hot whiskey, he was, if anything, 
 more apt to yield the ill-destined alms. In this 
 instance the insidious Blathers had struck him 
 in two vulnerable spots, his very weak nature, 
 and his love of dogs. He also wanted to get 
 rid of Blathers with his endless stream of lurid 
 and decidedly rum-flavored eloquence, and the 
 easiest way to do so was to buy the puppy. 
 
 It was in his master s Sophomore year that 
 Blathers, the pup, began his career. He waxed 
 fast in beauty and knowledge. His nose grew 
 in and his teeth grew out, his ears assumed the 
 correct angle and his legs the proper curve. 
 His tail in babyhood had been scientifically 
 
84 Harvard Stories. 
 
 bitten off by the gentleman after whom he was 
 named, and was, therefore, of exactly the right 
 length. He went through the distemper and 
 gave it to every dog in his club. His spirit did 
 not belie his points ; before the end of his junior 
 year he had tackled almost every dog in Cam 
 bridge and generally came out on top. He 
 was a dog of marvellous tact, also ; he learned 
 not to growl at the proctor on his staircase. 
 Rattleton spent much time on Blather s educa 
 tion so did Rattleton s friends. The latter, 
 among other accomplishments, succeeded after 
 great effort in teaching him to drink beer ; but 
 Blathers never went beyond the bounds of 
 propriety, as did frequently that disreputable 
 Irish terrier of Dixey s. 
 
 Blather s most prominent virtue of all was 
 devotion to his master, and his affection was 
 fully returned. Those two were rarely apart, 
 except in the mornings, before Rattleton was 
 up. Blathers always got out with the nine 
 o clock lecture men and chapel goers, and 
 would visit around at the various club-tables 
 where he had friends, generally collecting five 
 or six breakfasts before his master arose. At 
 about eleven o clock he would be seen, sitting 
 
Harvard Stories. 85 
 
 with his arms akimbo, in front of the Holly 
 Tree ; then Jack was sure to be inside, getting 
 the marvellous dropped eggs from the sad-eyed 
 John. If ever Blathers frequented the steps of 
 Massachusetts, Sever, or other lecture hall, all 
 men would know that Jack Rattleton was 
 again on probation. If they saw the dog on 
 the grim stone Stair of Sighs in the south en 
 trance of University, they would make sympa 
 thetic inquiries when next they met the master. 
 When the round black and brown head stuck 
 out of the window of Riley s cab, it was certain 
 that Rattleton was bound over the bridge. 
 They even went once or twice to the theatre 
 together, Blathers concealed under Jack s over 
 coat. Though pugnacious by nature, it was not 
 because Blathers loved other dogs less, but 
 fighting more. He loved a row for its own 
 sweet self, had few enemies and several warm 
 friends. He was particularly devoted to Hud 
 son s Topsy, and engaged in many a combat 
 on her account, and for her edification. There 
 were only two dogs for whom he had any real 
 aversion Mike Dixey, of his own class, and 
 Baynor s white bull-dog, of the class below 
 him. 
 
86 Harvard Stories. 
 
 Probably the happiest moment of Blathers 
 college life occurred one day on Holmes Field. 
 There was a class ball-game going on ; the 
 Sophomores were ranged on one side of the 
 field, the Juniors opposite. The white bull-dog 
 had been barking in time with the cheering, 
 yelping at the players of the opposing team, 
 trying to " rattle " the pitcher, and making 
 himself generally conspicuous and obnoxious. 
 Finally, in the excitement over some good 
 play, he slipped his collar and ran into the out 
 field to congratulate the centre-fielder. Some 
 how or other (Ned Burleigh probably knew), 
 Blathers happened to get loose at the same 
 moment. With a heralding bark he flew into 
 the listed field and made straight for the white 
 champion. All interest in the ball-game ceased 
 at once. With a great shout the two opposing 
 crowds rose from the seats en masse, and swept 
 across the diamond, " blocking off " the owners 
 of the two dogs, who rushed to separate them. 
 In the rush, five or six more terriers got adrift, 
 and reached the front well ahead of their 
 masters. In just about ten seconds there was 
 a ball of at least seven dogs of various fighting 
 breeds, rolling about in a halo of hair, howls, 
 
Harvard Stories. 87 
 
 and pure delight. After a few minutes, their 
 masters succeeded in pushing through the sur 
 rounding crowd, and each man laid hold of a 
 dog s tail or hind leg. By dint of heaving and 
 kicking, the happy party was at last broken up, 
 and at the bottom of the pile were found Blath 
 ers and the white bull-dog. They were locked 
 in a fond embrace, and it took hot water from 
 the gymnasium to get them apart. Ever after 
 that Blathers bore a scar on the side of his head ; 
 but he was proud of that mark, for there was a 
 larger and more distinct one on the Sophomore 
 dog. 
 
 Blathers got into a scrape in his Senior year 
 that nearly caused his expulsion from the 
 University, and compromised his master seri 
 ously. An aunt of Rattleton s came out to 
 Cambridge one afternoon, for the purpose of 
 attending the Thursday Vespers in Appleton 
 Chapel. She notified Jack that she expected 
 him to escort her. Jack got his room in order, 
 with some difficulty, expurgated the ornaments 
 and pictures, put his aunt s photograph on the 
 mantel-piece and a Greek lexicon on the table, 
 and sent Blathers to spend the afternoon with a 
 friend. Aunt could not abide a dog, especially 
 
88 Harvard Stories. 
 
 one of Blathers type of beauty. So Mr. B. 
 went off with Jack Randolph. 
 
 Randolph s room was in the back of Thayer, 
 and his window commanded the approaches to 
 Appleton Chapel. Blathers was squatted in 
 the window-seat with his head on one side, idly 
 watching the birds, and wondering where his 
 master could have gone. Suddenly his eye fell 
 on that very person, and with him one of that 
 kind of humans whose legs are all in one piece. 
 Blathers had seen lots of that kind, and knew 
 well enough what they were ; but what could 
 one of them possibly be doing with his master, 
 right here in Cambridge, at this time of year ? 
 He had never seen such a thing as that before, 
 except once on Class Day. It was for this, 
 then, that he had been dismissed for the after 
 noon ! Well, well, well, pretty goings on ! He 
 betrayed his astonishment and irritation by a 
 low " wuff ! " jumped down from the window- 
 seat, and scratched at the door. 
 
 " No," said Randolph, looking at him, "you 
 can t get out. Did you see a cat ? " 
 
 Blathers came over to the armchair, stood up, 
 putting both hands on Randolph s knees, and 
 looked at him appealingly. 
 
Harvard Stories. 89 
 
 "Yes, I know," said Randolph, " your 
 master has deserted you for the afternoon, 
 has n t he ? Mean trick, is n t it ? And where 
 do you suppose he has gone ? To Vespers, 
 think of that ! Don t shake your head, Blathers, 
 it s true " " Wuff ! " " Yes, rather re 
 markable, I know ; no wonder you say so. 
 But don t blame him ; he could n t help it, and 
 it will do him good." 
 
 A few minutes afterwards Randolph threw 
 away his book, and took his cap. 
 
 " Come, Blathers," said he, " we 11 go over 
 to the Pud for awhile. You may find your 
 friend Topsy there." 
 
 No sooner had he opened the door than 
 Blathers scrambled down-stairs with that grace 
 ful motion peculiar to a terrier on urgent busi 
 ness ; his hind-quarters shoved his head all the 
 way downstairs, and tripped over it at the bot 
 tom. He shot out of the door as if after a cat, 
 whisked round the corner, and made straight 
 for the Chapel. On the steps, however, he 
 paused, for, at that moment, coming up the 
 path from Memorial, he saw a sight that made 
 his blood boil. Hudson and Dixey were 
 strolling back from the Agassiz, and trotting 
 
90 Harvard Stories. 
 
 ahead of them were Topsy and that abomina 
 ble Mike Dixey. As has been mentioned 
 before, Mike was a dog of very loose character. 
 He would get intoxicated on beer whenever he 
 could find any one to " set it up." He belonged 
 nominally to Dixey, but was really a sort of 
 dog-about-college. He would attach himself 
 to any one whom he could work for crackers 
 and beer. He did not mind spending the 
 night on a door-step, and associated with all 
 the street curs. He would hang around the 
 public billiard-rooms and Foster s, and do tricks 
 for sandwiches. Sometimes he would disappear 
 on a spree for days, get caught by the muckers, 
 and come home with a tin can in tow. Alto 
 gether he was no fit company for a lady, and 
 when Blathers saw this low-lived animal walk 
 ing with his Topsy, reverence for the spot 
 could not restrain his indignation. Right in 
 front of the Chapel door he insulted the Irish 
 terrier, and before the men behind could come 
 up, then and there the fight began. Rattleton, 
 within, heard the sounds of conflict rise above 
 the anthem, and, by some vague intuition, his 
 blood ran cold. Another moment and Mike 
 came flying up the aisle with yelps of pain, 
 
Harvard Stories. 91 
 
 evidently seeking sanctuary. Blathers may 
 have had a deep reverence for Appleton Chapel 
 (barring the architecture), but his blood was 
 up, and he did not stop to think. He pursued 
 the flying foe, overtook and grabbed him again, 
 just beyond Rattleton s pew, and alongside of 
 that of a couple of magnates. Jack thought it 
 would be better to remove those two dogs him 
 self, and did so, one in each hand. But there 
 was no use in pretending that he did not know 
 to whom that scientific bull-terrier belonged. 
 The men outside had some difficulty in per 
 suading him that they were in no way respon 
 sible for the episode. 
 
 Mr. Blathers lived long and went to many 
 places, but that was the only time he ever 
 attended services in church. 
 
A HOWARD AND HARVARD EVENING. 
 
 THAT evening at dinner Burleigh and Rat- 
 tleton entertained the table with a glowing 
 description of a new play they had seen on the 
 previous night, at the Howard Athenaeum. 
 They were most enthusiastic about it. 
 
 " I can t understand/ declared Burleigh, 
 " how such a piece and such a troupe happened 
 to drop into the old Howard. Such scenery ! 
 Why, the stage setting was the best I ever saw. 
 One act was laid in the pine woods ; you could 
 look way through them, apparently, live birds 
 flew about among the branches, and they must 
 have burned some sort of balsam in the wings, 
 for you could actually smell the pines." 
 
 " That s a new smell for the Howard," 
 remarked Hudson. 
 
 " Yes, and those two girls ! " added Jack 
 Rattleton. " By Jove, was n t that blonde a 
 beauty ! " 
 
 " The brunette was better," averred Bur- 
 92 
 
Harvard Stories. 93 
 
 leigh. " How she did sing ! They have 
 splendid songs all through the play." 
 
 " Never saw such acting," said Jack, " even 
 certainly never at the Howard." 
 
 " The hero was a magnificent young man," 
 Burleigh went on. "You ought to see him 
 throw down the villain in the last act. I m 
 going again as soon as I can." 
 
 " Why have n t we heard of it before ? " 
 queried Stoughton, suspiciously. 
 
 " It was a first night," explained Burleigh, 
 promptly. " Jack and I were pioneers. You 
 fellows ought to go see it. You 11 hear enough 
 of it before it is over ; but go in now while it 
 is fresh." 
 
 " I have nothing to do to-night," said Hud 
 son. " I believe I 11 go. Who is with me? " 
 
 Stoughton and Gray both agreed to join him. 
 Holworthy and Randolph were going to drive 
 over to a ball in Brookline. 
 
 " I d give anything- to go with you chaps," 
 said Burleigh, " but I have got to work into 
 the wee sma hours on my forensic. It is due 
 to-morrow morning, and I have n t done a 
 thing on it." 
 
 "I d like to see that show again, too," said 
 
94 Harvard Stories. 
 
 Jack, "but I don t feel very well to-night. I m 
 going to turn in early." 
 
 The three theatre-goers started for town 
 immediately after dinner. They stopped at one 
 of the clubs first, and picked up three or four 
 other men on the strength of Burleigh s eulogy 
 of the play. 
 
 Whoever has been through Harvard College 
 and never been to the Howard Athenaeum has 
 neglected his advantages ; fortunately such 
 deplorable instances are rare. Who, that has 
 improved his opportunities, does not remember 
 the old stamping-ground, where the commingled 
 perfumes of orange-peel, humanity, and pea 
 nuts would smell to high heaven, were they not 
 stopped in a concentrated mass by the grimy 
 roof. There things are real, things are earnest, 
 unweakened by affectation and refinement. 
 The villains are real bad villians, and carry 
 knives, not cigarettes. They know how to 
 gloat. The heroes have red undershirts and 
 true nobility, and don t mind showing either. 
 The heroines are not ashamed of sentimentality. 
 Neither is the audience. There, too, is music 
 that you can remember and whistle, that you 
 can sing afterwards on the way back to Cam- 
 
Harvard Stories. 95 
 
 bridge ; not music that you must contemplate 
 with rapt gaze on the ceiling. There you will 
 find humor of the broad, plain, unmistakable 
 variety, humor at which you can laugh for its 
 own sake, not for the maker s wit or your own 
 in detecting it. Nor, in that shrine of the 
 Muses, does pleasure always end with the fall 
 of the curtain. Frequently you may see two 
 or three excellent fights on the way out, and 
 perhaps be granted a share in one yourself. 
 Oh, you get your money s worth at the classic 
 Athenaeum, for it is all for fifty cents (thirty- 
 five in the gallery). 
 
 " I have a suspicion," said Stoughton, on the 
 way in town, " that those fellows were lying to 
 us. I 11 bet this show is something awful, they 
 were probably bored to death, and conceived 
 the happy thought of getting us sold in the 
 same way." 
 
 ." Nevermind," said Hudson, philosophically ; 
 "we 11 have a good time anyway." 
 
 Before the curtain had been up ten minutes, 
 Dick s suspicion gained ground ; it s truth was 
 fully confirmed long before the end of the play. 
 The scenery, the birds, and the pine balsam 
 effects were wholly creatures of Burleigh s 
 
96 Harvard Stories. 
 
 capable brain ; as for Jack Rattleton s houris, 
 Stoughton declared that " Noah was a fool to 
 have saved them ; he ought to have shut them 
 out in the rain long enough to get a wash 
 any way." 
 
 Even the Athenaeum audience was dissatis 
 fied and inclined to jeer. Gray wanted to leave 
 at the end of the first act. 
 
 " Hold on," insisted Hudson, " let s stay 
 here and make this a success. There s lots of 
 good sentiment all through it, just your style 
 Gray. All it needs is a little enthusiasm in the 
 house to warm up the actors. Let s lead the 
 applause on the strong points." 
 
 So they stayed, and their efforts were 
 attended with such success, that they might 
 have had a free pass for future performances. 
 Every time the hero said, " I am the just man 
 and you are the villain," or the heroine declared 
 she would never leave him while life lasted, or 
 showed other symptoms of heroism, the knot 
 of students would stamp, and applaud, and 
 rouse the finer feelings of the whole house. 
 The grateful actors certainly did warm up, and 
 delivered with more and more vim their honest 
 expressions of lofty sentiment and occasional 
 
Harvard Stories. 97 
 
 touches of patriotism, the latter utterly uncalled 
 for, but always welcome. The audience became 
 worked up as well, but in the last act suddenly 
 began to hiss. 
 
 " Hullo ! what s up now? " asked Gray, who 
 had not taken the Athenaeum course faithfully, 
 and was not learned in it ; " what are they 
 hissing at?" 
 
 "Good gracious, man," answered Hudson, 
 " don t you see ? Don t display your ignorance. 
 They are hissing the villain. It s the greatest 
 compliment you can pay him. Go ahead, hiss 
 like a good one." 
 
 On the whole, the performance was a grand 
 success, and Hudson insisted that Gray had 
 made an undoubted conquest of the second lady. 
 After it was over some one mentioned " broiled 
 lob. and musty," at Parks, but it was voted to 
 return to Cambridge and make a rare-bit there. 
 
 " We 11 go pull out Ned Burleigh, and have 
 it in his room," suggested Dick. 
 
 " No you don t ! " exclaimed Hudson. " You 
 forget I m his chum. I 11 have no Welsh rare 
 bit made in that room unless we draw lots and 
 I get stuck. The room would smell of cheese 
 and stale beer for twenty-four hours." 
 
98 Harvard Stories. 
 
 " Let s land on Rattleton then. We 11 
 teach him to lie." 
 
 Feeling in a luxurious mood they scorned 
 the cars, and chartered a herdic, four men get 
 ting inside and three on the roof. For those 
 readers who know not the herdic, I will explain 
 that it is a sort of tiny omnibus in which four 
 thin people can sit uncomfortably. It usually 
 has two wheels and never more than one horse 
 sometimes not quite as much. 
 
 " I may as well tell you before we start," 
 said Stoughton, who sat on the top, to the 
 driver, " that we are not Freshmen, so don t 
 break a spring on the bridge and tell us that it 
 will cost you ten dollars to get it mended." 
 
 " I know you re old hands," answered Jehu, 
 with a grin, " I know youse fellers. I remem 
 ber your face pertickler. Mebbe you disrecol- 
 lect comin out with me one night from Parker s. 
 Let s see, guess it was two years ago, after 
 the Institoot dinner." 
 
 " All right, my friend, say no more," ac 
 knowledged Dick, as the other two men 
 shouted. " The drink is on me. Here is the 
 price of it." 
 
 The door at the back of the herdic is held 
 
Harvard Stories. 99 
 
 shut with a strap that leads through the roof 
 to the driver s seat. This was secured firmly, 
 so as to keep the inside passengers safe, for it 
 is an established courtesy for those inside to 
 slip out when near the college, leaving the 
 others to pay the driver and joining them later. 
 By means of the strap, however, and , the lack 
 of a knife among the insiders, all arrived well 
 together at the building where Rattleton 
 roomed. 
 
 " I 11 go to the Fly and get the cheese and 
 beer," said Gray. "You get your chafing-dish, 
 Dick." 
 
 Stoughton roomed in the same building with 
 Rattleton, as did Hudson and Burleigh. While 
 he went after his chafing-dish the others recon- 
 noitered Rattleton s quarters. The door was 
 locked and all was dark. The glass ventilator 
 over the door, however, was unfastened, and 
 large enough to admit a man. Jack Rattleton 
 always left his ventilator unfastened, for he 
 often depended on it for his own ingress. The 
 reason of this was very simple, the door had a 
 spring bolt, and it was characteristic of Mr. 
 Rattleton s nature to frequently leave his keys 
 inside and shut the door when he went out. 
 
i oo Harvard Stories. 
 
 It was a very simple matter for Hudson to 
 climb over the door through this ventilator, 
 drop down, and open the door from the inside. 
 
 " Look out for Blathers," said one man. " If 
 that pretty pup is in there he 11 take a piece 
 out of your leg." 
 
 " He knows my voice," answered Hudson, 
 as he " shinned " over. He let the rest in and 
 lit the gas. Rattleton was not in his bedroom. 
 
 " Humph," grunted Hudson. " Said he 
 was n t well and was going to turn in early. 
 The abominable liar." 
 
 They poked up the fire and had it roaring 
 when Stoughton returned, bearing the chafing- 
 dish and a long pipe, his dear Mary Jane. 
 
 " That s a good idea," said Hudson, as his 
 eye fell on the latter article. " You ve brought 
 that disgusting black pipe. We can stand it 
 for a while, and it will permeate Jack s room 
 and teach him the beauty of truth. Puff away 
 on Mary ; serve Jack right." 
 
 Rattleton s plates and other necessities were 
 foraged out by the time Gray appeared with 
 the cheese and beer. Not seeing Rattleton, 
 he asked how the others had got in. Hudson 
 explained. "This open ventilator habit of 
 
Harvard Stories. i o i 
 
 Jack s " he added, " is worse than rooming on 
 the ground floor. Ned Burleigh and I had 
 enough of that in Freshman year, before we 
 moved up here. Our room was a regular 
 darned club. Everybody would drop in there 
 between lectures, chin when we wanted to 
 study, and smoke our tobacco, just because it 
 was too much trouble to go up-stairs. We 
 could n t leave our window open at night with 
 out having some fools crawl in, at any time 
 after midnight, and raise the deuce." 
 
 "Yes, I remember. It was very pleasant," 
 remarked Stoughton. 
 
 The creation of the rarebit was well under 
 way with the usual accompaniment of advice 
 and altercation over the ingredients, when 
 shouts were heard from under the window, of 
 "Jack, Jack Rat, Oh, Jack !" 
 
 Hudson threw up the window and saw Hoi- 
 worthy and Randolph below in a buggy. " Mr. 
 Rattleton is not in, gentlemen," he said, "but 
 come right up and make yourselves at home." 
 
 " All right ; be with you in a moment, as soon 
 as we have taken this trap round to Blake s." 
 
 " It is the two society fritterlings," announced 
 Hudson, as he drew in his head. A few min- 
 
IO2 Harvard Stories. 
 
 utes later Randolph and Holworthy appeared 
 in their big coats. 
 
 " Seems to me you re back from your ball 
 pretty early/ observed Gray. 
 
 " Hoi did n t find the person there he wanted 
 to see, so he soured on the whole thing and 
 dragged me away early," Jack Randolph ex 
 plained. 
 
 " What a whopper," said Holworthy, as he 
 took off his ulster. " It was very stupid, and 
 Jack himself suggested that we should be hap 
 pier in Cambridge." 
 
 "Aha," cried Stoughton, who was stirring 
 the " bunny " with a master hand. " Very 
 nice. Two gentlemen in faultless evening 
 attire. They 11 do for the waiters. Here, quick, 
 hand up your plates before this thing gets 
 cold." 
 
 While they were eating the rarebit, a step 
 was heard in the entry, accompanied by the 
 trotting feet of a dog, and the locked door was 
 tried. Then a familiar voice drawled " What 
 the devil is going on in here?" 
 
 " Hullo, Jack," cried Stoughton, "come 
 right in. Don t be bashful." 
 
 " Open the door, you arrant burglars," de- 
 
Ha rvard Stories. i o 3 
 
 manded Rattleton. " My keys are on my 
 bureau, or somewhere inside. " 
 
 " Climb over the transom as I did/ Hudson 
 called. " You 11 have to turn your back to the 
 company in the performance, but don t mind 
 the awkwardness of the position." 
 
 "We 11 excuse your back. We have your 
 hair-brushes and the fire shovel already," added 
 Randolph, cheerily. 
 
 "Don t be such babies," said Jack, (when 
 ever any of the gang was at a disadvantage, 
 he was apt to age suddenly) " come, let 
 me in." 
 
 "Are you sorry you told a naughty fib to 
 night ? " asked Hudson, with his hand on the 
 knob. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Will you set up the ingredients for a 
 punch?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "All right then, you may come in," said 
 Hudson, graciously, opening the door. 
 
 " How was the play ? " inquired Jack, 
 pleasantly, as he went into his bedroom after 
 the wash-basin, the regular understudy for a 
 punch-bowl. 
 
1 04 Harvard Stories. 
 
 " Enjoyed it immensely, in spite of your 
 wishes for our entertainment," Hudson de 
 clared. " We know now your ideal of talent 
 and beauty." 
 
 " Don t blame me. That was all Burleigh s 
 rot," protested Jack, apologetically, but with a 
 chuckle. " Why don t you pull him out?" 
 
 "That is a good plan," assented Hudson. 
 " Two of you come up and help me capture 
 the elephant. He may resist." A committee 
 of three went up to wait upon Burleigh. 
 
 " What is the sense of this meeting as to the 
 temperature of the grog ? " asked Rattleton. 
 
 " Hot ! " promptly moved the two who had 
 driven over from Brookline. The motion was 
 carried, so Jack put the kettle on the fire. 
 
 " Speaking of the drama and brother Bur 
 leigh," said Holworthy, " do you remember the 
 time, Dick, that we saw the old man suping in 
 that spectacular play in Sophomore year ? " 
 
 " I m not likely to forget it," answered Dick. 
 " You fellows remember that show called Al- 
 brachia, or some such name, full of red fire 
 and fairies ? Hoi. and I went in to see it one 
 night, and whom should we discover as leading 
 demon in the grand climax, but the stout 
 
Harvard Stories. 105 
 
 Edward. We nearly stood up and cheered, 
 but we 11 make him tell about it to-night." 
 
 " Hullo, here is the sylph now ! " exclaimed 
 some one, as the committee returned in triumph 
 with Ned in tow. 
 
 " The perjured loafer told us he was going to 
 work on his forensic," cried Hudson. " Look 
 at this," pointing to Burleigh, whose generous 
 proportions were swathed in gaudy pajamas. 
 
 " I hear you enjoyed the play exceedingly," 
 remarked Burleigh, as he made for the fireplace, 
 and spread his huge form all over the front 
 of it. 
 
 I &M- * ^ 
 
 " So we did, no thanks to you," answered 
 
 Gray. 
 
 ^s^&frjWA 
 
 " Any men who are such Athenaeum Lotha 
 rios as to be decoyed in town by the mere 
 mention of two pretty actresses, deserve to get 
 sold," declared Ned, severely. 
 
 " Here, take your toddy and stop your 
 mouth," said Stoughton. "As a penance for 
 your lies, you can give us some reminiscences 
 of your disreputable career on the stage." 
 
 After some demurring, Burleigh was per 
 suaded to begin his yarn. The " tea " was 
 made by this time, and enthroned on the stu- 
 
io6 Harvard Stories. 
 
 dent s desk in the centre of the room. With 
 "tod and tobac." the party disposed itself 
 about the room, every one with a view more to 
 ease than grace. Blathers, as usual, chose his 
 master s outstretched legs. Ned Burleigh, with 
 a cigar, stood in front of the fire in his airy 
 raiment, his feet apart, warming his exterior 
 with the genial blaze, and his interior with the 
 genial toddy. Would that we could have those 
 evenings again ! 
 
THE HARVARD LEGION AT PHILIPPI. 
 
 " WHAT do you want me to relate? " asked 
 Burleigh. " The great battle of Philippi ? " 
 
 " Yes, we would like to hear about that," 
 answered Stoughton, " and also your experience 
 with the Hosts of Darkness." 
 
 " That was a very short and painful affair," 
 Ned explained. " I 11 tell you that first. You 
 must know, my children, that I was once a god 
 less Sophomore even as other Sophs. You 
 may scarcely believe it now, but I was. Among 
 other follies, I took to suping occasionally. 
 Of course my intentions were purely noble ; I 
 wanted to elevate the stage. On one occasion 
 this man Hudson, here, led me to the Boston 
 Theatre, where an elaborate show was being 
 given and supes were in demand. You fel 
 lows must remember the play, it was called 
 Alboraka, the Wizard/ They wanted only 
 one man for that night, and as I was the hand- 
 107 
 
lo8 Harvard Stories. 
 
 somer, they chose me. I comforted Steve by 
 promising to share with him the quarter that I 
 expected to earn ; I believe on the strength of 
 my promise he bought a seat in the peanut 
 gallery." 
 
 " Oh, no, I did n t," interrupted Hudson, " I 
 had a seat right under a box where there was a 
 theatre-party of Mrs. Mayflor Tremont s, with 
 a lot of girls I knew. I was thundering glad I 
 was n t on the stage, and had more than half a 
 mind to point you out to them." 
 
 " You would n t have troubled me at all," 
 answered Ned. " That is where we unknown 
 woolly Westerners get the drop on the Boston 
 men, and you dudes who go in for Boston 
 society. However, to go on with this confes 
 sion, I was appointed leader of the Hosts of 
 Darkness. I don t know why I was singled 
 out for this distinction, unless it was on account 
 of my superb figure." 
 
 " That was it," corroborated Stoughton. 
 " You did look stunning in those red tights, 
 even more fetching than you are now in those 
 pajamas." 
 
 " The part was not a difficult one, but very 
 important," Burleigh continued. " I had to 
 
Harvard Stories. 109 
 
 look fierce, and bear aloft a huge red and gold 
 affair. This was referred to once or twice as 
 1 yon gonfalon of Diabolus, so I suppose that s 
 what it was. I only had to go on the stage 
 twice. In the last scene, where the Wizard 
 got thrown down, there was a high bridge at 
 the back of the stage. It was steep on the 
 sides, shaped a good deal like the Chinese 
 bridge in a blue willow-ware plate ; don t you 
 remember ? I had to hold this bridge for the 
 Wizard at the head of my minions, and was 
 doing it with dignity and grace. My instruc 
 tions were to stay there until the Queen of the 
 Fairies should point at me and say Avaunt, 
 vile blood-fiends, to the shades below ; then 
 to retire with signs of rage and terror, while 
 the Hosts of Light came up the other side of 
 the bridge. Now I was watching and listening 
 to the Queen carefully, and I am sure she never 
 pointed at me, or opened her head about 
 avaunting. I think myself that my fatal 
 beauty in the red tights had made an impres 
 sion on her, and she did n t want me to leave. 
 She probably could n t find it in her heart to 
 call me a blood-fiend ; at any rate there was 
 some hitch, for the Hosts of Light began 
 
1 10 Harvard Stories. 
 
 coming up the bridge ahead of time. Of course, 
 I was n t going to avaunt without orders, so I 
 stood there waiting for my cue. The leading 
 angel called me a most vile name, in an anxious 
 undertone, and poked his spear violently in the 
 pit of my stomach. He hurt me like the devil, 
 so I promptly smashed him on the head with 
 the Gonfalon of Diabolus, and bowled him 
 down among the advancing Hosts of Light, to 
 their utter confusion. The next minute some 
 thing lit on the back of my neck, and that is all 
 I know. I believe it was a sandbag hove from 
 the wings, and that 1 was dragged out by the 
 heels." 
 
 " You were, you were," Holworthy shouted 
 at the recollection, " but it was done so quickly 
 that half of the audience did n t see it." 
 
 " When I came to," Ned went on, " I was on 
 my face behind the scenes, with four or five 
 able-bodied Irishmen sitting on my back. The 
 super captain was going to turn me over to 
 the cop ; but I begged pardon all round, paid 
 for the leading angel s broken head, and finally 
 managed to smooth things over." 
 
 " They are pretty careful how they take 
 amateur supes at any of the theatres now. 
 
Harvard Stories. 1 1 1 
 
 Nothing like the battle of Philippi can ever 
 occur again," said Rattleton, regretfully. 
 
 " Give us that, Ned," said Stoughton ; " I 
 guess some of these fellows have never heard 
 an accurate account by one of the heroes." 
 
 " That was truly the grandest suping event 
 in history," said Burleigh, refilling his glass, 
 and returning to his position by the fire. " It 
 was just after that new theatre was opened, 
 way down there on Washington Street. It was 
 a cheap shrine, but I tell you, now, Melpomene 
 was right in it. The owners had no idea of 
 making it a low-down variety hall, not much. 
 They were going to give high-class perform 
 ances and educate the masses. One of the first 
 things they had there was a Shakespearean re 
 vival, run by a peripatetic star named Riley. 
 The fellows used to go in and supe all the time. 
 They rather liked to have Harvard men for two 
 reasons : first, because it was cheap, and, in the 
 second place, I think Riley s manager rather 
 expected us to bring all our friends and rela 
 tives there to see us act, and give the place a 
 boom. 
 
 " The first night of Julius Ccesar came on 
 Jim de Laye s twenty-first birthday, and he 
 
1 1 2 Harvard Stories. 
 
 was going to give a dinner, after which we in 
 tended to fill a box at the show and give 
 Caesar a good send-off. I went in town to get 
 the box, and at the office I heard the manager, 
 or some official, complaining about lack of 
 supes. I made inquiries, and it ended in my 
 contracting to furnish him with ten good men 
 and true for that evening at reasonable rates. 
 He gave me as a bonus a few tickets for any 
 of my family or lady friends. It showed how 
 green he was to take ten of de Ha vards at 
 once. They never would have done that any 
 where else in town. 
 
 " The other chaps all fell in with the arrange 
 ment, and we had the dinner at Parker s early. 
 A man does not get to be twenty-one years old 
 every day in the year, so we took pains to see 
 that Jim did it properly. 
 
 " That lazy goat on the sofa there (pointing 
 to Rattleton) had not been seen in Cambridge 
 that afternoon, and knew nothing about the 
 suping arrangement. Of course, he was late to 
 dinner, as usual, and of course, as usual, he 
 
 turned up with that d d dog of his. After 
 
 dinner, when we adjourned to the theatre, we 
 wanted him to leave Blathers behind at Par- 
 
Harvard Stories. 113 
 
 ker s, but he insisted on taking the pup along, 
 wrapped in his overcoat. He assured us that 
 Blathers would keep perfectly quiet, and no 
 one would ever know he was there. We might 
 have known better, but I suppose we were in a 
 yielding mood. De Laye and two or three 
 others brought bottles of fizz in their overcoats. 
 They said it was always well to propitiate the 
 natives, and thought such provisions might be 
 popular with the Thespians. Jim swore he d 
 make noble Romans of every man of em. We 
 got there early, and Blathers was tied up and 
 hidden away under Jack s coat in a corner of 
 the dressing-room. In the performance we all 
 did our parts like little men. Rome was proud 
 of her citizens that day. As for our mob-work, 
 that showed positive genius." 
 
 " How Marc Antony s speech over the body 
 did go ! " chuckled Rattleton from the sofa. 
 
 " The stage-manager was delighted and com 
 plimented us, and so did Riley himself. Jack 
 Rat had made friends with Riley very early in 
 the game. He had invited him out to lunch in 
 Cambridge, and had hinted at getting him to 
 coach the Pudding show. Moreover, Jack and 
 I had steered several large parties in to Riley s 
 
114 Harvard Stories. 
 
 performances, and Riley knew it. It was a 
 lucky thing for us, as it turned out, that he and 
 Jack had got so chummy. 
 
 " All went well until the battle scene. They 
 had put us all on the same side ; in fact, we 
 constituted the entire army of Brutus that 
 was another evidence of greenness in the man 
 agement. The battle had been raging mildly 
 for some time. We had marched and counter 
 marched, and had been reviewed and exhorted 
 two or three times, without even getting a 
 glimpse of the enemy. At last it came to the 
 scene where Brutus aggregation gets driven 
 across the stage by Antony s offering a des 
 perate resistance. Cassius had been killed, 
 young Cato was going to be captured, and 
 everything was going to the bow-wows. While 
 we were standing in the wings along with An 
 tony s army, waiting to go on, Jim de Laye 
 said, Hang it, let s put a little real good act 
 ing into this thing; these stage scraps are too 
 woodeny. Of course I did my best to restrain 
 this idea among my companions, but it became 
 popular at once in spite of anything I could 
 say. I must confess I always had rather a de 
 sire myself to see that oily-mouthed peep of a 
 
Harvard Stories. \ 1 5 
 
 Marc Antony well thrashed. The next min 
 ute we had to go across the back of the stage, 
 hotly contesting every inch of the way with 
 our trusty wooden brands, two up and two 
 down. About half way over, that crazy Jim 
 de Laye opened the ball by smiting his man 
 hip and thigh and other parts, in the most life 
 like manner. The other supe hit back in just 
 anger, and there was an instant rally of the 
 Brutus forces. My man was a little fellow, and 
 I did him up in time to see an entirely new 
 feature introduced in the scene. Marc Antony 
 himself suddenly appeared, hard pressed by a 
 togaed citizen. The way he got there was this 
 correct me, Jack, if I make any mistake in 
 this part of the history. Blathers, as I told 
 you, had been left curled up under a coat in 
 the dressing-room. Some of the employees 
 had found him there, however, untied him, and 
 started in to play with him. Mr. Blathers, find 
 ing himself in strange company, slipped away 
 from them and went looking for his master. 
 Just as the battle scene began, he arrived at 
 the wings, where Marc Antony was waiting to 
 go on. Antonius was in very bad humor about 
 something. He asked in fluent Latin, What 
 
1 1 6 Harvard Stories. 
 
 the that dog was doing there ? and made 
 
 a kick at Blathers. I guess Blathers was in 
 much the same mood, for he turned around 
 and effected a prompt connection with the calf 
 of Marc Antony s leg. He was a disappointed 
 dog ; he got his mouth full of horsehair. An 
 tony was n t touched, and let Blathers have it 
 with the other foot. 
 
 " Now, Jack had not been assigned to the 
 army, and was off duty in that scene. He was 
 standing in the wings in Roman citizen s clothes, 
 trying to flirt with the vestal virgins. 
 
 " Hold on," interrupted Jack, "you told me 
 to correct any mistake. That s one." 
 
 " Well, perhaps they were not. You know 
 more about that than I do," admitted Ned. 
 " Any way, he turned around just in time to see 
 his faithful hound doing somersaults from Marc 
 Antony s toe. I 11 do Jack the justice to say 
 that he is generally slow to wrath he is too 
 lazy but when that ugly pup of his is con 
 cerned, he loses his head. 
 
 " He not only lost his head that time, but 
 tried to knock off Marc Antony s too. Marc 
 went staggering out into the field of battle, 
 and Jack, the fool, followed him up. As I 
 
Harvard Stories. 1 1 7 
 
 said, the battle had opened in earnest all along 
 the line when this happened, and the house 
 was already on it s feet. It was a good, warm 
 house. It was mainly from Sou Boston, and 
 had taken about thirty-five seconds to get on 
 to the magnificent realism of the scene. It 
 went wild with delight at this addition to the 
 affair. Blathers rallied and flew out on the 
 stage to the support of Jack s charge. This 
 time he tore all the padding off Marc s legs, 
 amid the enthusiastic plaudits of the audience. 
 " The stage-manager yelled for the policeman, 
 and went tearing about after him. Colonel 
 Dixey, of Kentucky, who was also off duty in 
 this scene, had enticed the cop into a distant 
 corner, along with the departed Caesar and a 
 bottle of fizz. J. Caesar was a tragedian who 
 would have been dear to the heart of a 
 Puck artist. He was a thirsty soul with a radi 
 ant nose and a beery eye. Shortly after his 
 death he had attached himself to Colonel Dixey 
 and his overcoat, and the Colonel had warmly 
 requited his affection. In fact, Dixey devoted 
 two whole bottles to the good work, and at the 
 end of the fourth act Csesar had had some dif 
 ficulty in doing his own ghost. He was free 
 
1 1 8 Harvard Stories. 
 
 after that, and during this last act, he and the 
 Colonel had let in the blue-coat, and retired 
 into a secluded nook among the scenery. The 
 Colonel had filled Caesar up to the brim, and 
 had got the law pretty well zigged, too, when 
 the manager brought the news of battle. All 
 three rushed to the front, the cop, of course, 
 getting there last. The conflict was at its 
 height, when dead Caesar appeared, boiling 
 drunk, and took sides with inspiring shouts 
 against his own avengers. Dixey pitched in 
 too, and these reinforcements turned the tide 
 at once. Brutus was victorious at all points. 
 We rushed Marc Antony and his gang clear of 
 the field, and destroyed the flying remnants 
 behind the wings. The audience fairly howled 
 and encored wildly. 
 
 " The cop was utterly useless, he grabbed the 
 small man that I had floored in the beginning 
 of the row, clubbed him a little, and hung on 
 to him like grim death. The manager was 
 crazy, and told him to send for a hurry-up 
 wagon, and run us all in. We showed the law 
 great respect, though, after the shindy was over ; 
 called him sergeant and offered to support 
 him in maintaining the peace. He did n t 
 
Harvard Stories. 1 1 9 
 
 know exactly who was responsible, so he con 
 tented himself with shaking the little man some 
 more, and declaring that he could * attend to 
 this business alone, and did n t want no help, 
 see ? Marc Antony wanted the blood of Jack 
 and Blathers, but Riley, the star, who played 
 Brutus, was inclined to think that Antony 
 was to blame for the whole thing. You see 
 Antony had got more applause than Brutus 
 all through. His great speech had had a par 
 ticular success, probably due to our able pre 
 sentation of the populace. Riley sat on Marc 
 first, and then they both went for Caesar, who 
 was maudlin in the corner. He had got a 
 helmet on, wrong side before, and was begging 
 us with tears in his eyes to go " once more into 
 the breach, dear friends, or close the wall with 
 our English dead." When Brutus cursed him he 
 drew himself up and hiccoughed, Et tu, Brute, 
 hie well hie you seen me at Philippi 
 anyhow. 
 
 " Riley went back on the stage and made a 
 little speech, and the audience cheered him to 
 the echo. Then the play went on, Brutus 
 died like a man, and all the principals, includ 
 ing J. Csesar and Blathers, were called before 
 
1 20 Harvard Stories. 
 
 the curtain. Jack made it up with Marc An 
 tony, and after the show we consoled the van 
 quished army with what was left of the 
 champagne. Most of the supes were Irish, any 
 way, and had enjoyed the pleasantry." 
 
IN THE EARLY SIXTIES. 
 
 IT was ten o clock and time for John Stuart 
 Mill to give place to Mary Jane, so Stoughton 
 threw the former into an arm-chair and took 
 the latter from the mantel-piece. He filled 
 and lighted her affectionately, and the content 
 of the evening pipe came upon him. Then he 
 bethought him of beer and pleasant converse, 
 and strolled around to the Pudding in pursuit 
 thereof. 
 
 There he found the usual ten o clock " rest 
 ing convention " in session beneath its blue 
 cloud of nicotine. The " earnest resters," as 
 Burleigh termed them, were stretched about in 
 various attitudes, more of laziness than repose. 
 They were just then engaged in the popular 
 pastime of blackguarding the last number of 
 the Lampoon for the benefit of Hudson, one of 
 the editors. 
 
 " Hullo, Dick," remarked that gentleman, 
 glad to change the subject as Stoughton en- 
 
 121 
 
122 Harvard Stories. 
 
 tered, " we knew you were coming ; smelt Mary 
 Jane as soon as you turned the corner." 
 
 " Did you, really," replied Stoughton, making 
 room for himself on the sofa by removing 
 Rattleton s legs to a neighboring chair, and 
 spilling the dog Blathers on the floor. " What 
 was that chum of yours doing in the building 
 last night? Were you also engaged in the 
 unseemly disturbance ? " 
 
 " No," answered Hudson, " I had nothing to 
 do with it. I decline all responsibility for 
 Edward Burleigh. I am not my room-mate s 
 keeper." 
 
 " I heard him carolling on the stairs at an 
 hour when singing should be left to the little 
 birds. He hammered on my door for a while, 
 but I knew enough not to get up. I wonder 
 he did n t raise the proctor. He shouted, 
 through my key-hole, something about the war 
 being over." 
 
 "Yes," said Hudson, " that was what he told 
 me when he woke me up by sitting on my 
 chest. He was going to carry the good news 
 all through the Yard, but I persuaded him to 
 go to bed and wait until morning." 
 
 " Where had he been ? " 
 
Harva rd Stories. 1 2 3 
 
 " Well, you see, Jack Randolph carried him 
 off yesterday evening to a meeting of the 
 Southern Club, as an invited guest, to span the 
 bloody chasm with him. They spanned it a 
 good many times there, I guess, and then as it 
 was a beautiful moonlight night and perfect 
 sleighing, they decided that the bloody chasm 
 ought to be spanned in Brookline and other 
 neighboring towns. So they got a cutter, and 
 must have conducted spanning operations on a 
 wide scale all over the country, for they did n t 
 get back until dawn. George Smith, the police 
 man, says he saw them sitting on the steps of 
 Harvard Hall, singing John Brown s Body 
 and * Dixie/ and hymns of peace while the sun 
 rose." 
 
 " I deny the aspersion on the Southern Club," 
 exclaimed Colonel Dixey, from the other end 
 of the long sofa. " I was present at the meet 
 ing, and we had nothing to induce sunrise 
 hymns. I don t know what Jack and Ned did 
 afterwards, but they did n t get it at the 
 Southern Club." 
 
 This somewhat veiled assertion raised an in 
 credulous chorus : " Oh, Dixey, may you be 
 forgiven." " Come, come, Colonel, do you 
 
124 Harvard Stories. 
 
 mean to persuade us that an organization con 
 taining at least three members from Kentucky 
 is run on a cold-water basis ? " " Where is the 
 glory of your old commonwealth?" " Bet the 
 meeting was full of rum rum and rebellion ! 
 Don t deny it, Colonel." " Drink and treason ! " 
 " Neither, sir, neither," replied Dixey to this 
 chaff. " I grieve to hear such narrow-minded ac 
 cusations. Prexy was there and made a speech. 
 Oh, Holworthy ! You know that man we 
 saw yesterday in the Transept of Memorial? 
 He was at the Southern Club with Prexy." 
 "Oh, yes," said Holworthy, "who was he?" 
 " A grad. from Georgia. I have forgotten his 
 name." 
 
 " I thought he was a grad., and not a stranger, 
 for he did n t have a guide book, and did n t 
 ask us to show him the " campus." Had he 
 been a soldier?" 
 
 " Did n t say. If so, he was probably a Confed." 
 " Well, he looked like an interesting old cock 
 anyway," said Holworthy to the others. " He 
 was standing before one of the tablets with his 
 hat off. Somehow, when we saw him, our own 
 hats felt so uncomfortable that we took them 
 off, too, as we passed through." 
 
Harvard Stories. 1 2 5 
 
 " Holly made up all sorts of poetry about 
 him," added Dixey. 
 
 " No, I did n t; but I do think he did the 
 right thing in uncovering." 
 
 " Of course he did," said Ernest Gray, em 
 phatically. " No man ought to keep his hat 
 on in that transept." 
 
 "Oh, now you ve done it, Hoi," groaned 
 Stoughton. " You have started the Only 
 Serious. " 
 
 " We get too careless going back and forth 
 in it every day," continued Gray. "We don t 
 fully appreciate it, or we forget what it means." 
 
 " Forget what it means ! Great Scott, Ernest, 
 have you never heard a Class Day oration or 
 poem? What would our inspired youths do 
 without the poor, hard-worked old transept? 
 How did they ever get inspired before it was 
 built ? Don t we have our hearts fired all up at 
 least once a year on that subject?" 
 
 " Except those of us who may have been 
 previously fired by the Dean," put in Rattleton, 
 with a contemplative sigh over eminent possi 
 bilities. 
 
 " Well, it is a pity then that the Class Day 
 conflagration doesn t last a little longer. I 
 
1 26 Harvard Stories. 
 
 don t believe in keeping sentiment for special 
 occasions. It would be better for all hands to 
 preserve a little of it throughout the year, and 
 in this place, of all others, I should think at 
 least a little reverence for the past might be 
 kept alive. But one might suppose that there 
 was no such thing as reverence at Harvard 
 nowadays." 
 
 "Hooray!" "Hear, hear!" "Go it, old 
 man ! " " Good for the Only Serious ! " " Pe 
 gasus in a canter ! " 
 
 " That s right," answered Gray warmly, to 
 this burst of invidious encouragement. " Laugh 
 at anything that is serious or the least approach 
 to feeling ; it is the fashion." 
 
 " Brought on by over-doses of gush," re 
 marked Stoughton, knocking the ashes con 
 temptuously out of Mary Jane. 
 
 " Of course, there is a lot of twaddle talked 
 about such things," answered Gray, " and I 
 acknowledge that exaggeration tends to cheapen 
 patriotism, but the existence of a lot of tinsel 
 in the world does n t make gold less valuable, 
 does it? " 
 
 " Quite true, " assented Hudson, " and be 
 cause Dick Stoughton smokes such a pipe as 
 
Harvard Stories. 127 
 
 Mary Jane, there is no reason why we should 
 all give up tobacco. That is a better simile 
 than yours." 
 
 " Well, it is a good thing that Harvard men 
 have not always been so afraid of appearing in 
 earnest," growled Gray. " I don t believe 
 there was so much brilliant wit wasted when 
 men were leaving college every day to join 
 their regiments. I wish I had been here 
 then." 
 
 "So do I," drawled Rattleton ; " what a 
 bully excuse a fellow would have had for not 
 getting his degree." 
 
 " What an excitement there must have been," 
 went on Gray, without noticing the interrup 
 tion. " Just think of being cheered out of the 
 Yard when you left for the war, and then per 
 haps distinguishing yourself, and coming back 
 to Class Day with your arm in a sling." 
 
 " Just think of coming back in a pine-box," 
 added Hudson, graphically. 
 
 " Well, suppose you did ? You have got to 
 die some time, and your name would have been 
 put on a tablet in memorial." 
 
 "Yes, but you would n t have been tickled 
 by seeing it there," said the irritating Stough- 
 
128 Harvard Stories. 
 
 ton. " Half your patriotism is vanity, Ernest, 
 you shallow theatrical poser." 
 
 " It would do you men good to read the 
 Memorial Biographies" Gray continued, now 
 thoroughly aroused, and paying no attention 
 to the side remarks. " They ought to be part 
 of the prescribed work for a degree." 
 
 " Yes, but as Hudson says, you could n t do 
 that if you were a biographee," reasoned Dane 
 Austin, the law-school man, taking a hand in 
 the baiting. 
 
 " It would be perfectly disgusting to hear 
 you fellows talk this way," Gray declared, " if 
 one did n t know that it was all affectation. I 
 am not sure that that fact does not make it 
 worse. You all really feel just as I do, but 
 you are afraid to say so." 
 
 " Another appalling case of Harvard indiffer 
 ence," observed Stoughton. "The modern 
 dilettante has no noble desire for red war." 
 
 " He likes to make people believe that he 
 has no noble desire for anything, and he has a 
 morbid fear of being a hypocrite. As a matter 
 of fact, you are all of you the worst kind of 
 hypocrites, for you try to appear worse than 
 you are." 
 
Harvard Stories. 1 29 
 
 " Oh, dear, no," Rattleton protested, lazily, 
 " that would be too hard work for any of this 
 crowd except me." 
 
 " A war would be a good thing to stir you 
 up. I almost wish the war times would com 
 again," exclaimed Gray, hotly. 
 
 " Now you are getting right down to work," 
 laughed Hudson. "What a rise we are getting 
 out of our earnest young man to-night." 
 
 " You let your feelings get away with you, 
 Gray," added Holworthy. " I don t believe it 
 was all glory and enthusiasm in those days. 
 You forget there was another side to it. For 
 instance, Jack Randolph s governor was not 
 cheered out of the Yard when he left for the 
 war." 
 
 "Yes, there was another side to it," came a 
 voice from the other end of the room, and a 
 big arm-chair, that had been facing the fire 
 with its back to the knot of men, was pushed 
 around so as show its occupant. He was evi 
 dently one of that wide class known to the un- 
 undergraduate as the " Old Grads." An old 
 grad. attains his title as soon as he ceases to be 
 a very young grad. ; there is no transition de 
 gree. In this case he seemed about middle 
 
1 30 Harvard Stories. 
 
 aged, perhaps fifty, with hair turning gray, and 
 a rather deeply marked brown face. The latter 
 was just then a little flushed, and had the ex 
 pression often seen on a face that has just been 
 looking a long time into a fire and a long way 
 through it. 
 
 The lounging students started a little at this 
 sudden interruption, and stirred as young men 
 do on finding themselves suddenly in the pres 
 ence of an older one. Rattleton took his long 
 legs down from their supporting chair, Hudson 
 pushed his hat back from his nose to its proper 
 place, Dixey took his hands out of his pockets 
 and sat up straight, while Dick Stoughton 
 paused in the act of relighting Mary Jane, and 
 when the match burnt his fingers forbore to 
 swear. As the cause of the disturbance rose 
 and came towards them they stood up. Hollis 
 Holworthy showed signs of positive uneasiness. 
 He turned bright red in the face, as he recog 
 nized the man whom he had just described as 
 " an interesting old cock." 
 
 " I I beg your pardon, sir," he began, " I 
 had no idea 
 
 " That the old cock was present ?" laughed 
 the older man. " I assure you, my boy, that I 
 
Harvard Stories. 1 3 1 
 
 was not in the least offended, and even had I 
 cause for offence, I deserved it. Your remark 
 was a retribution, a striking repetition of his 
 tory. I remember once asking Holworthy of 
 61 who the bully old boy in the beaver hat 
 was, and the bully old boy proved to be Hoi- 
 worthy 32. Thirty years are like a spy-glass 
 your views depend upon the end through which 
 you look." 
 
 The thirty years melted at once beneath the 
 laugh that followed this introduction, and, as 
 the stranger took a chair among the group, the 
 smoke went up again from Mary Jane and 
 other pipes. 
 
 " Then you were in college with my father ? " 
 asked Holworthy. "You must have been here 
 just in the time of which we were speaking." 
 
 " That is the reason why I took the liberty 
 of joining so abruptly in your conversation," 
 said the graduate. " I want to tell you young 
 men a story. I have never told it before, and 
 would not tell it to any other audience, but I 
 know that it can be fully appreciated by you, 
 and it belongs to your traditions. So I am 
 going to give it to you, if you do not mind be 
 ing bored for a while by an old grad." 
 
132 Harvard Stories. 
 
 " I don t think any of us will raise any serious 
 objections," said Stoughton, as he paused. 
 
 The graduate smiled and then began : " As I 
 said when I just now interrupted your discus 
 sion, there was another side to the glory of the 
 war times in the old college. To the war itself 
 there was, of course, another side, and I was on 
 it. Up to the breaking of the storm we boys 
 had not troubled ourselves much about the out 
 look. Most of us took politics lightly, and 
 though burning then, still, among us at least, 
 they were, as now I suppose, more the subject 
 of good-natured chaff than of bitter feelings. 
 However deeply the more thoughtful of us 
 may have felt, they never allowed their convic 
 tions to interfere with their friendships. Of 
 course, there were a few loud-mouthed zealots 
 who made themselves disagreeable, but they 
 were as much so to men of their own opinions 
 as to those of the opposite. 
 
 " Hardly any one really expected war, or, if 
 he did, ever said so. The historic shot fired on 
 Sumter was, therefore, as much of a shock to 
 our little community as to all of the North 
 even more, for a civil war meant more to us. 
 To us, you know, fraternity is a reality. 
 
Harvard Stories. 133 
 
 " When the news came so that it could not be 
 denied, it was not talked of between us South 
 erners and the rest. Next came the news that 
 my State had gone out. That night my chum 
 Jim Standish and I sat in our window-seat and 
 smoked a long time without speaking. Finally 
 the question came from him, * Well, old man, 
 are you going? I said, Yes/ Then he 
 put out his hand and I took it hard. When 
 we had nearly finished our pipes Jim spoke 
 again, When this is over, Tom, he said, 
 you will come back and get your degree with 
 us. I shook my head, I remember, and an 
 swered : It won t be over until long after our 
 commencement or else Harvard will be in a 
 country foreign to me. 
 
 " You see I remember that evening and the 
 conversation very vividly. It was all we ever 
 held on the subject. I knew what Jim s opin 
 ions were, and he knew mine well enough ; but 
 he was too much of a gentleman to make my 
 position any harder for me than it was. I was 
 going to do what I considered my duty, let 
 that pass now also ; it was more than a quarter 
 of a century ago. 
 
 " Very soon the letter came from home, but I 
 
134 Harvard Stories. 
 
 did not need it to hurry me. Jim and I were 
 together almost every minute until I went 
 away, and all my other friends seemed to go 
 out of their way to show me courtesy and 
 affection. 
 
 " The night before I left was Strawberry Night 
 at the Pudding, and I remember I had intended 
 not to go to the rooms. They were then in 
 the top of Stoughton. I was packing in my 
 room when Jim and Harry Rodes and one or 
 two others came in, as a committee, to insist on 
 my going. The committee accomplished its 
 purpose by the usual smooth-tongued diplo 
 macy of the undergraduate. They told me 
 not to make a damn fool of myself, and that 
 if I did not come round like a man, the theat 
 ricals should not go on. So I went, and tried 
 to forget on my last night in the Yard that 
 there was any world outside of it. That is the 
 play-bill of those theatricals hanging over there 
 on the wall now. What a time we had that 
 night ! 
 
 " I went home next day, with Clayton Ran 
 dolph, Jack Randolph s father, as the rising 
 generation always puts it. There was not 
 much difficulty in getting South at that time. 
 
Harvard Stories. 135 
 
 I enlisted soon after I arrived, and, as a result, 
 was rather busy for four years. 
 
 " Of course, for a long time I heard nothing 
 from Cambridge. You boys know how almost 
 the whole graduating class went to the front, 
 and many an underclassman did not wait for 
 his Commencement. You can read the degrees 
 won by some of them in Memorial Hall. 
 Every now and then I saw in that precious 
 booty, a Northern newspaper, a name that I 
 had last heard called in a recitation, or had 
 myself many a time shouted across the Yard. 
 
 "The stray Northern papers were not my 
 source of news in all cases. There was one 
 name that for a time was in the mouths of all 
 our men, and I had to risk their scorn and sus 
 picion in defending it. They would hardly be 
 lieve that the man who could lead a black regi 
 ment, and die in the front of his niggers in that 
 terrible charge on Fort Wagner, was not a 
 hardened ruffian, a desperate mercenary, but a 
 fair-haired boy of five-and-twenty, and the 
 most sunny, lovable gentleman that ever left 
 the ballroom for the battle-field. 
 
 " I saw myself the fall of a man of different 
 mould, but of the same metal. We were hold- 
 
136 Harvard Stories. 
 
 ing a strong position and had repulsed two 
 heavy charges, when we saw the enemy form 
 ing for a third. This time they came closer 
 than in either of the previous attempts, and it 
 looked for a minute as if they would reach us. 
 But our fire was frightful, aided by several 
 batteries that were pouring in grape and canis 
 ter at short range. The regiment immediately 
 in front of us came on well ; but no body of 
 men could stand it, and at last it wavered and 
 then broke. Through the smoke I could see 
 a mounted officer tearing about and trying 
 desperately to rally the men, striking with the 
 flat of his sword, and evidently beside himself 
 with anger. Then, as he found it was no use 
 and his men left him, he turned, rode all alone 
 straight at us, and was shot through and 
 through. I have seen too much of what is 
 ordinarily called courage to be attracted to a 
 man solely by that commonest of virtues; but 
 this man s splendid scorn of surviving his failure, 
 his fury at what he considered disgrace, and his 
 deliberate self-sacrifice, lifted his act above the 
 common run of bravery. That man had breed 
 ing, and I wanted to have a look at him, 
 After the fight was over, I went to where he 
 
Harvard Stories. 137 
 
 lay dead with his horse. It was Boredon of 
 61. I had hated that man. He had been one 
 of those disagreeable cranks of whom I have 
 spoken, a man absorbed with one idea and 
 allowing that idea to color all his feelings, and 
 spoil his manners. He had been to me as a 
 red rag to a bull. But when I recognized him 
 there, I would have given a great deal to have 
 been able to tell him how proud I was of him. 
 Evidently he had at least the hard part of a 
 gentleman. I went back to my brother officers, 
 and, with a good deal of boyish swagger I am 
 afraid, said to them, That fellow was at Har 
 vard with me. That is the sort of fools they 
 make there. 
 
 " Well, the war went on until we were hemmed 
 in around Richmond in 64. It was at that 
 time that I ran across Clayton Randolph, whom 
 I had not seen since we left Cambridge to 
 gether. I came near not recognizing him in 
 the circumstances in which I found him. A 
 battery of artillery had got stuck in the mud, 
 but as I came up to it the last gun was being 
 dragged out. An officer seemed to be doing 
 most of the work, shoving on the wheels and 
 encouraging his tired men. Shortly afterwards 
 
1 38 Harvard Stories. 
 
 we were again halted next to the same battery } 
 and there was the same officer sitting on a 
 stump. His old uniform was covered with mud 
 and axle-grease ; his beard was four days old ; 
 but he was Clayton Randolph, Randolph the 
 dandy, Randolph, the model of neatness, whose 
 perfect clothes had always been an object of 
 chaff among us ; Randolph, whose heaviest 
 labor had been to polish his hat, and deepest 
 thought to plan a dinner. He was sharing his 
 piece of stale cornbread with a hungry little 
 darky. You may imagine that we were rather 
 glad to see each other. Clayton, however, had 
 no more Cambridge news to give me than I 
 had to give him, which was rather a disappoint 
 ment. His battery was stationed near my 
 regiment that winter, so we managed to see a 
 good deal of each other in camp. 
 
 " One day, as I was sitting in front of my tent, 
 I saw Clayton come galloping into the com 
 pany street as though carrying urgent de 
 spatches. On seeing me he began shouting 
 and waving his cap, as if there was danger that 
 I might not see him and hear what he had to 
 say. He was evidently beside himself about 
 something, and so was I, when he pulled up 
 
Harvard Stories. 1 39 
 
 and yelled: What do you think? Jim 
 Standish is in Libby prison ! 
 
 " I forget how he had learned this, but I 
 remember he was very sure of it. By great 
 luck and much energy we both managed to get 
 leave that same day, and go to Richmond to 
 gether ; but we were disappointed in our hopes 
 of seeing Jim. We turned every stone we 
 could, and tried our best with the authorities, 
 but it was no use ; we could not get into the 
 prison. There had been several escapes at that 
 time, and no visitor of any sort was allowed to 
 enter. The provost in charge, however, who 
 knew Clayton, told us we might send Jim a 
 letter, subject, of course, to its examination by 
 the authorities. So we wrote him that we were 
 there, and asked if there was anything he wanted 
 us to send him. We explained that we could not 
 get in to see him, but that he must write us all 
 the news he could. 
 
 " In a short time the guard who had taken 
 our note came back and asked what relation 
 to us that young feller was. We told him no 
 relation by blood, but something a little closer, 
 perhaps. Well, said he, *I never saw a feller 
 take on so when I give him your note. He 
 
140 Harvard Stories. 
 
 begged me to let him talk to you, and he most 
 cried. Then he begged worse kind just to let 
 him look out of a window where he could see 
 you. He asked which side of the house you 
 was on, and I reckon if I d ha told him he d 
 ha made a break for the window and risked my 
 shootin him. I was right sorry, but I could n t 
 do nothin for him but get him some paper. 
 He s writin you a letter now, and says for you 
 to be sure and wait for it. 
 
 " There was no danger of our not waiting for 
 it. Neither of us had heard a word from the 
 old place or from any of our friends for three 
 years. I suppose none of you boys has ever 
 been separated from his college friends for a 
 longer time than the long vacation?" 
 
 " I was away for a year after graduating," 
 answered Dane Austin. " I was abroad with a 
 classmate, and I remember the first long letter 
 from one of our chums ; all about the Spring 
 field game, and what all the gang were do 
 ing. We read that letter over every day for a 
 month." 
 
 " Then you can imagine what it was to get 
 news after three years, and three such years. 
 We waited and waited for that letter, and at 
 
Harvard Stories. 141 
 
 last it came out to us a regular volume. I 
 have it now. I don t believe Jim ever wrote so 
 much in all his college work put together. We 
 sat with our backs against a wall while I read it 
 aloud. 
 
 " First it gave us all the news from Cam 
 bridge ; among other things, that we had won 
 the boat-race on Lake Quinsigamond. Ran 
 dolph said that almost made up for Gettysburg, 
 and we had a little cheer all to ourselves. I 
 remember a man came running up to hear what 
 the news was and whether the Yankees had 
 been licked anywhere. We told him not that 
 we knew of, but Harvard had beaten Yale, and 
 he went off damning us for making such a row 
 about nothing. The letter went on to say that 
 there would probably be no race that year, as 
 most of the rowing men had gone off to the 
 war. Almost all of our old set had gone into 
 the army, it said. That jolly, good-for-nothing 
 rattle, bad Bob Bowling, who was always on the 
 ragged edge of expulsion, always in hot water 
 with the Faculty, and who had been booked by 
 every one for a very bad end, had disappointed 
 them all and found a distinguished career in a 
 cavalry regiment. But the hero of the class 
 
142 Harvard Stories. 
 
 was little Digges, * Nancy Digges, the quiet, 
 shy, little pale-faced student who looked as if 
 he would blow away in a strong wind, and 
 whom no one had thought was good for any 
 thing but grubbing for Greek roots. This man 
 had been promoted several times for gallantry. 
 At Gettysburg, when Longstreet s corps was 
 right on top of his battery, when his supports 
 had been driven in, his horses shot, and his 
 gunners were falling around him, he had 
 dragged his guns back by hand, one by one, 
 and stopped to spike the last while one of our 
 men was reaching for him with a bayonet. 
 When I read this we both exclaimed : * Well, 
 I 11 be hanged, Little Nancy ! " 
 
 " It was at Gettysburg also that Jim had seen 
 Harry Rodes. The last time that Jim had seen 
 him before that was just before leaving college, 
 when Rodes had been elected president of the 
 Hasty Pudding ; this time he was lying in the 
 grass, where it was red. There was like news 
 of several other old chums. 
 
 " As for your humble servant, Jim wrote, 
 he has only succeeded in getting himself ig- 
 nominiously jugged by your Johnnies. I heard, 
 long afterwards, how he had been captured, pin- 
 
Harvard Stories. 1 43 
 
 ned under his dead horse, with a broken sabre, 
 and three of our men to his score. * This is not 
 so much fun, he went on, as that night in 
 the Newton jail, which perhaps you may re 
 member, Tom. You got me into that, you 
 riotous companion and perverterof my youth. 
 I remembered that scrape of our Sophomore 
 year very well, but I had a strong impression 
 that it was Jim who upset the officer of the 
 law. He told us he could stand Libby, how 
 ever, well enough, if he only had a little smoke, 
 and asked if we could not give aid and comfort 
 to the invader in the shape of tobacco. At 
 this Randolph exclaimed : Jim Standish with 
 out his pipe ! That is a real case of suffering 
 among the prisoners ! The letter wound up 
 with an injunction to answer it at once and tell 
 all about ourselves and the other boys on our 
 side, and with the hope that we should all be 
 at the next triennial dinner. 
 
 " As soon as we had read the letter we went 
 off and spent all our savings in tobacco. That 
 was the only cheap thing in Richmond in those 
 days, and we got enough to last Jim for months, 
 though I have no doubt that he at once gave 
 most of it away. Then we got some paper, 
 
144 Harvard Stories. 
 
 and wrote him all we knew of the Harvard 
 men on our side of the fence. We could give 
 an equally good account of them, too ; for 
 though, as disobedient children, Alma Mater 
 has frowned on us, she never had cause to 
 blush. We finished the letter before it was 
 time for us to go back to camp, and sent it 
 with the tobacco to Jim. We promised to try 
 again to see him, but neither of us could get 
 leave for a long time. If we had there would 
 have been little chance of our getting into 
 Libby ; and if we had gotten into Libby, we 
 should not have found Jim there." 
 
 As the speaker paused Stoughton asked, 
 " Why? did he es " and then stopped, in 
 wardly cursing himself, as he noticed a look 
 that was coming into the face of the narrator. 
 But the latter at once relieved him immensely 
 by continuing. 
 
 " Yes, he escaped very soon after our visit. 
 A lot of prisoners got out together, Jim among 
 them. The news was sent to all the troops 
 near Richmond and instructions to keep a 
 sharp lookout for them. Jim managed to get 
 to our very outer lines, and one pitch-dark 
 night tried to run the picket. The officer in 
 
Harvard Stories. 145 
 
 command saw him in the brush and challenged 
 him. Jim, trusting to the darkness and his old 
 hundred-yard records, tried to make a dash for 
 it. The officer fired and shot shot him down 
 like a dog." 
 
 The speaker s cigar had apparently gone out, 
 and no one looked at him while he relit it. 
 They looked at the walls where the firelight 
 danced over the rollicking play-bills of thirty 
 years ago. In a moment the graduate spoke 
 again : 
 
 "As I leaned over the dearest friend I ever 
 had, we recognized each other and he smiled. 
 I took his head in my lap and he died holding 
 my hand." 
 
 " Then you saw him before he died ? Were 
 you with the picket ? " asked Gray. 
 
 " Yes. I commanded the picket." 
 
LITTLE HELPING HANDS. 
 
 IT was all the result of a violent discussion 
 in Stoughton s room. Hudson held that four 
 miles an hour was an easy walking gait ; Stough- 
 ton and Gray said it was n t. 
 
 " I tell you/ said the latter, " when you are 
 doing better than three and a half, you are hit 
 ting it up pretty well, and you could n t keep 
 it up for any length of time. Don t you re 
 member, Dick, we timed ourselves when we 
 walked out from Boston the other night ? It 
 took us fifty minutes from the corner of Charles 
 and Cambridge Streets, and that is just about 
 three miles." 
 
 " Yes, and we went at a pretty good pace 
 too," added Stoughton. 
 
 " That was probably after a supper at Billy 
 Parks ," Hudson explained ; " under those cir 
 cumstances you undoubtedly covered a great 
 many more miles than the crow flies between 
 here and Boston." 
 
 146 
 
Harvard Stories. 147 
 
 " No, witty youth, it was n t anything of the 
 kind. We don t follow in your footsteps," re 
 torted Dick to this innuendo. " No, sir, you 
 could n t walk four miles an hour all day to 
 save your neck." 
 
 " I m betting I could," Hudson replied, " I 
 have done it often out shooting." 
 
 " I dare say you thought so ; have you ever 
 tried it over a measured stretch?" 
 
 " No, but I can guess at about what rate I am 
 walking, and four miles an hour is a good easy 
 swing. I 11 bet you a V that I can do twenty- 
 four miles in six hours." 
 
 " I 11 take that," answered Stoughton, 
 promptly. 
 
 " So will I, if you offer the same," said Gray. 
 
 " Yes, I 11 bet with you, too," said Hudson. 
 
 Just at that moment Ned Burleigh came in, 
 going through the form of giving the door a 
 thump as he opened it, and telling himself to 
 come in. 
 
 " What are you abandoned sports betting 
 about now? " he asked, as he covered the whole 
 front of the fireplace as usual. 
 
 " Steve thinks he can walk twenty-four miles 
 in six hours," answered Stoughton, " and we 
 
148 Harvard Stories. 
 
 each have five dollars worth of opinion that he 
 can t. What do you think about it?" 
 
 " I don t know ; he is a pretty fast young 
 man. Is it to be on a cinder track, or over an 
 ordinary road ? That would make a great dif 
 ference." 
 
 " Have you any fond hope," asked Hudson, 
 " that I am going to make a Roman holiday of 
 myself on Holmes Field for the edification of 
 you children and the whole University ? J am 
 quite aware that that is just what you would 
 like ; you would be out there with a brass band. 
 No, my friend, I ask for no advantages. I 
 am quite willing to take my chances over any 
 ordinary country road, and in ordinary 
 clothes." 
 
 " Extraordinary English knickerbockers, you 
 mean," corrected Ned. 
 
 " You can take the road from here to Fram- 
 ingham," suggested Stoughton. " That is a 
 perfectly straight one and you can t miss it. 
 It is a little short of twenty-four miles, but we 
 will allow you the slight difference." 
 
 " Yes, I know that road," said Hudson. " I 
 drove over it when I was at school at South- 
 borough. Strike the Worcester turnpike, don t 
 
Harvard Stories. 1 49 
 
 you, after crossing the river at Watertown, and 
 then keep on through Newton, Wellesley, Na- 
 tick, and all those places ? All right, I 11 take 
 that road. 
 
 Ned Burleigh reflected a moment. " I think," 
 he admitted, with a shake of his head, " that it 
 can certainly be done by any man with strength 
 and sand ; but Steve Hudson can t do it." 
 
 " I 11 tell you what, old fatty-cakes," declared 
 Hudson, indignantly, " I 11 bet you ten dollars 
 on the event." 
 
 " No, I won t go you ten, because I don t 
 believe in betting so much on a certainty. 
 Besides, you are hard up now, and you would 
 undoubtedly borrow from me the money with 
 which to pay me your bet. I can t afford to 
 have you do that, sweet me child, but I will 
 contribute a five like the others, towards this 
 purse." 
 
 It was arranged that Hudson should choose 
 his day, and give notice of it to the others in 
 the morning. Then the tones of the ancient 
 bell, tolled by the ancient Jones, came from the 
 ancient belfry of Harvard Hall, and Hudson 
 and Gray went over to a recitation in Univer 
 sity Hall. 
 
1 50 Harvard Stories. 
 
 When they had gone Burleigh delivered him 
 self of a great whoop of ecstasy. " He can do 
 it easily, I know/ he said. " We shall lose our 
 money, but, Great Csesar, it will be worth the 
 admission. We must get all the others to bet 
 with him, too, so that he won t back out. Let s 
 go and get ready for it at once." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " queried Stoughton, 
 " what are you going to do ? " 
 
 " Can t you guess, Mack, you Eyetalian ? 
 Come on, I 11 tell you," and they went out 
 over the Square towards a printer s. 
 
 Three or four days after this Hudson ap 
 peared at breakfast in his walking breeches and 
 big Scotch stockings and announced he was 
 going to start. He would leave Harvard Square 
 at half-past ten o clock and arrive at the town 
 hall in Framingham at half-past four on that 
 afternoon. 
 
 Stoughton and Gray said that they might be 
 at the finish to receive him, if they found noth 
 ing better to do, otherwise he could time him 
 self at the finish. Both of these men had ten 
 o clock lectures, so they could not see him 
 start. Holworthy and Randolph had promised 
 to make up a four for a morning pull on the 
 
Harvard Stories. 151 
 
 river. Rattleton, of course, had not yet come 
 to breakfast. Burleigh also had a ten o clock 
 that he felt he really ought not to cut (it did 
 not strike Steve at the time that this was no 
 reason to Ned for not cutting) ; so he regretted 
 exceedingly that he would have to let Steve 
 start off uncheered and time himself. He would 
 endeavor to be at the finish, however, to carry 
 Hudson home. 
 
 Promptly at half-past ten Steve left Haryard 
 Square, with a swinging stride, and struck up 
 Garden Street by the Washington elm and 
 thence to Brattle Street. He was in fine form 
 and spirits and had chosen his day well. It was 
 one of our glorious, manful November days that 
 have had much to do, I firmly believe, with the 
 progress of this nation ; days when a man can 
 do anything ; when the sparkling, drinkable 
 Northwester floods your lungs, and swells your 
 chest into a balloon that seems to lift you clear 
 of the ground. On such a day the twenty-four 
 miles ahead of him seemed nothing to Hud 
 son, and he sprang along overflowing with 
 spirits. 
 
 The historic University town, with all its as 
 sociations, seemed to him more beautiful and 
 
152 Harvard Stories. 
 
 interesting than ever. Washington, he thought, 
 might have taken command of an army under 
 the old tree four or five times a day in such 
 weather. No wonder Longfellow could keep 
 the Muse at his fireside in that fascinating 
 Craigie house. As he neared the end of Brattle 
 Street, he went by peaceful Elmwood, where a 
 poet, ambassador, scholar, and patriot was then 
 ending his days ; and buoyant, youthful Steve 
 was struck by that perfect waiting-place for 
 the great gentleman whose work was done. He 
 wondered whether any of his friends would ever 
 stir and honor the nation, and whether the 
 great man had been anything like them when 
 he was a fool undergrad. The traditions of the 
 Hasty Pudding said that he had been a good 
 deal like other boys. 
 
 Hudson reached Watertown well ahead of 
 time. To his annoyance he saw that the street 
 through which he had to pass was crowded, 
 principally with small boys. Something or 
 other must have happened," he thought. " A 
 dog-fight, or a runaway, or a man carried into 
 a drug store. If the attraction is still on, I 
 am all right ; if not, I shall have to run the 
 gauntlet." 
 
Harvard Stories. 153 
 
 He soon discovered that the latter apprehen 
 sion was the true one, and that he was in for 
 just that species of entertainment. A great 
 cheer went up as he approached, and a body of 
 embryo leading citizens ran forward to meet 
 him. They closed in all around and escorted 
 him along the main street between two lines of 
 shouting people. 
 
 " Hey, mister, give us some!" "Go on, 
 you 11 do it ; good boy, Wingsey." " When re 
 yer goin* to fork em out? " " Rats, dat ain t 
 him, dat fancy guy is one o de Ha vards, sure." 
 "Will yer look at de jay?" "Get on to de 
 legs ! " " What s he got em wrapped up in, 
 shawls ? " " Naw, carpets." " Say, mister, yer 
 pants is got caught inside yer socks." " I guess 
 them is English, yer know." "Ain t yer going 
 to give us no gum ? " "A ah, let m alone, he 
 ain t nothin but one o them stoodent jays. 
 He ain t no winged wonder, a ah ! " 
 
 The above was what Steve enjoyed in his 
 progress through Watertown. He finally shook 
 off his pursuers on the edge of the village, and 
 breathed freely again, as he " crossed the river 
 and mounted the steep." The beauty of the 
 Charles begins at this point, and he sat down 
 
154 Harvard Stories. 
 
 for a minute to look at it and rest. On his left 
 was the first dam, the end of navigation for the 
 college craft ; on his right the river wound 
 away from its high banks to the brown meadows 
 beyond. While he sat there a four-oared crew 
 shot under the bridge and rested on their oars 
 in the quiet pool at his feet, just in front of the 
 falls. He knew the man who was steering 
 and called to him. " Hullo, Hudson," came 
 the recognition, "what are you doing up 
 here ? " 
 
 " Off on a tramp. Glorious day for exercise, 
 isn t it?" 
 
 "Yes, you have no idea how I enjoy this 
 rowing," answered the coxswain. 
 
 " Have you seen Holworthy and Randolph 
 up around this part of the river? " 
 
 " No, they were coming in this boat, but 
 backed out because they had something else 
 on hand, I believe." 
 
 " Oh, did they ? Well, good-by, I have got 
 to hurry along. I am walking against time." 
 
 Steve strode on through Newton, and Newton 
 Centre, and Newton Lower Falls, and all the 
 other Newtons, and to his horror he found in 
 each town the same gathering, and went through 
 
Harvard Stories. 1 55 
 
 the same ovation that he had received in Water- 
 town. Had he gone to work and picked out a 
 public holiday ? No, he was sure it was not that, 
 and the fact that it was Saturday, and the schools 
 had therefore turned their swarms loose on the 
 suffering country, would not account for all of 
 the crowd in every village. Perhaps there was 
 an extra election going on in that county. 
 What puzzled him most, however, was that all 
 the urchins seemed to expect something of 
 him besides mere amusement, and a pitiable 
 example of dress. 
 
 He passed close by Joe Lee s at Auburndale; 
 several children ran across the lawn of the 
 famous hostel, and after " sizing him up," went 
 back with expressions of disappointment. The 
 worst trial of all, however, was the battery at 
 Wellesley. He had to go by the Female Col 
 lege, or Ladies Seminary, and there was a large 
 group of the students of that institution, by the 
 roadside. Steve had never before been afflicted 
 with bashfulness, and did not acknowledge that 
 he was troubled in that way now, but he felt 
 peculiarly alone, and would have given much 
 for another man or just a few less girls. By the 
 terms of his bet he could not run any of the 
 
1 5 6 Harva rd Stories. 
 
 distance ; but a giggle almost made him throw 
 up the stakes and break the pace. By a great 
 effort, however, he brazened it out, and even 
 smiled cheerfully. He made a penitent inward 
 resolution never to lean out of the window 
 again when a girl went through the Yard. 
 
 When more than half way, he stopped to 
 speak with a farmer leaning over the fence by 
 the road. The uncrossed Yankee of the rural 
 districts still clings to a prejudice of his fathers, 
 a prejudice, long since dropped in our more 
 progressive communities, that a man has a right 
 to wear what he chooses and do what he chooses 
 provided he neither shocks nor interferes with 
 any one else. This old farmer looked at Steve 
 with wonder and interest, but did not think it 
 necessary, as had the good citizens of the factory 
 towns, to heap scorn and derision on " de 
 dood." He bowed to the wayfarer, as he would 
 to any well-behaved stranger. 
 
 " Good afternoon," said Hudson, grateful for 
 this drop of human kindness. " Can you tell 
 me, sir, how far it is Jo Framingham? " 
 
 " Wa-al, abaout nigh on to ten mile or more, 
 they call it. There s a train goes pretty soon ; 
 ye won t find it so fur in the cars." 
 
Harvard Stories. 1 5 7 
 
 " Oh, I m going to walk it," explained Steve, 
 with a smile. 
 
 " Thet s a powerful long walk, young man. 
 How fur ye come already? " 
 
 " From Cambridge." 
 
 u Gosh ! Well your legs is young and pretty 
 long, but ye must want suthin to do pretty 
 bad. Be ye broke or anythin ? Want any 
 victuals?" 
 
 " No, thanks, I am walking for fun, trying to 
 do it on time, you see." 
 
 " Mebbe you re advertisin suthin ? Oh, I 
 want to know ! Be you the winged wonder 
 o Westchester, or some sech place I hear tell on 
 jest now ? " 
 
 A light began to glimmer in Hudson s mind. 
 He had been asked several times if he was the 
 "winged wonder," but had paid no attention to 
 the question, supposing that it was merely a 
 form of the great public wit. Now it was asked 
 him in perfect good faith, and the name of his 
 own home was added to the alliteration. He 
 began to connect his persecution with Holwor- 
 thy and Randolph s failure to row. 
 
 " No," he answered his friendly interrogator, 
 " not intentionally, but I am beginning now to 
 
15^ Harvard Stories. 
 
 suspect that I am occupying some such position. 
 I am much obliged to you for your informa 
 tion. I must move along now." 
 
 " Good day, sir ; guess ye 11 want a heap o 
 corn-plasters when ye git to Framin am." 
 
 " Not with these stockings," laughed Hudson, 
 glad of an opportunity to justify his clothes, 
 " they re thick and soft, great things to 
 walk in." 
 
 " They be, eh ? Well, I kinder thought they 
 was n t just for looks. I don t want none to 
 day, though, good day." 
 
 " Good-by," and Steve went on, feeling sure 
 that the old man still suspected him at least of 
 peddling footgear. 
 
 Just before the end of his tramp he sat down 
 for a rest on an inviting fence rail. He had 
 plenty of time to spare, but the grassy bank 
 might have kept him too long and made him 
 stiff. Oh, how pleasant that three-cornered 
 rail did feel! A piece of paper blew across the 
 road and whirled up in his face. It was a 
 hand-bill of some sort ; he remembered now 
 having seen several of them along the way, but 
 had picked up none. He caught this one and 
 turned it over. This was what he read : 
 
Harvard Stories. 159 
 
 HE IS COMING ! 
 
 WAIT FOR HIM ! WATCH FOR HIM ! 
 
 THE WINGED WONDER OF WESTCHESTER! 
 
 PEERLESS PEDESTRIAN PRODIGY! 
 
 He is matched to walk twenty-four miles to 
 day for an enormous purse. He holds world 
 records for pedestrianism. He will wear one 
 of our custom-made London suitings, unex 
 celled for natty outdoor wear and stylish ap 
 pearance. They are all the rage in England, 
 and therefore sure to be popular here. 
 
 He will also distribute, gratis, tops and 
 marbles to the boys and chewing-gum to the 
 ladies. Watch for him, everybody ; he will be 
 here soon, and will follow this road. 
 
 COME OUT, GIRLS! COME OUT, BOYS! 
 
 Now is YOUR CHANCE. 
 
 WAIT, WATCH FOR THE WINGED WONDER 
 
 OF WESTCHESTER ! 
 
 The glimmer dawned to a great light. He 
 jumped down and hurried along the remaining 
 mile or two as fast as his weary legs would go. 
 
1 60 Harvard Stories. 
 
 There was no crowd awaiting him on the out 
 skirts of Framingham, and for a few minutes 
 he hoped that he was going to at least finish in 
 peace. Vain hope ! As he approached the 
 public square he saw it crowded with people 
 and heard the strains of a brass band. On turn 
 ing the corner he was received with a great 
 shout. Then he saw a sight that explained it 
 all, and caused him to exclaim, " The three- 
 year-old idiots ! " 
 
 In front of the town-hall was drawn up a 
 barge with four plumed horses. In it were a 
 band of music and a full delegation of Steve s 
 devoted friends. Ned Burleigh was up on the 
 box haranguing the populace. 
 
 " What sort of a fool circus are you children 
 trying to make of yourselves/ asked Hudson, 
 as he came up. 
 
 " A grand one, old man, and you have been 
 the elephant, the shining star of the whole 
 show," replied Burleigh. " You will find beer 
 in the ambulance." 
 
 " You have won the money handsomely, 
 Steve," acknowledged Stoughton, " and we all 
 accept with pleasure your kind invitation to 
 dinner." 
 
A RAMBLING DISCUSSION AND AN AD 
 VENTURE, PERHAPS UNCONNECTED. 
 
 DICK STOUGHTON came to lunch that day in 
 a decidedly bad humor, cause unknown. He 
 was late, and all the other members of the club 
 table were there, including the two dogs. A 
 " Gray baiting " was going on. This sport con 
 sisted in working up the poetic feelings of 
 Ernest Gray, and then ruthlessly harrowing the 
 same. Gray was a fiery, imaginative little man, 
 whose soul compassed far more than his body. 
 His impulsive nature drove him constantly into 
 the net spread by his friends, but he had be 
 come used to the process, and perhaps it did 
 him good. Whether or not he had in him the 
 stuff for a true poet, he was at least in no 
 danger among those men of becoming a false 
 one. He was just then stirred to a fine con 
 dition on the subject of Philistinism, was 
 violently supporting the famous professor of 
 the Humanities, and had almost got to the 
 point of quoting poetry. 
 161 
 
1 62 Harvard Stories. 
 
 "It makes me laugh a low, sad laugh, " re 
 marked Stoughton, gloomily buttering a muffin, 
 " when I think what Gray will be doing thirty 
 years from now." 
 
 " We have arranged all that," said Burleigh. 
 " Ernest is going to marry a strong-minded 
 woman four times as big as himself, who will 
 take him out shopping and make him carry the 
 bundles and the twins." 
 
 "No, it will be a greater change than that," 
 continued Dick. " At fifty he will probably be 
 a keen, representative business man. He will 
 be celebrated for being better able than any 
 one in Wall Street to cheat his neighbor, and 
 he will be absorbed in the occupation. He 
 will be a man of strength and stamen, a man of 
 industry, a plain, hard-working mail. He will 
 publish Letters of a Parent, in bad English, 
 about the degeneracy of education at Harvard, 
 and will refuse to send his sons here for fear of 
 their becoming dudes and loafers. He won t 
 spoil good paper then with odes and fantasies ; 
 he will devote it, instead, to watering stock and 
 foreclosing mortages. Just see if he does n t." 
 
 "Are you narrow enough to think," asked 
 Gray, defiantly, " that a man cannot work in 
 
Harvard Stories. 163 
 
 this world, and work hard, without shutting his 
 mind to everything outside of his tool shop ?" 
 
 " Perhaps he can/ answered Stoughton, " but 
 he never does in this country ; he has n t time. 
 Whatever we take up, we have got to keep at 
 fever heat or else go to the wall. It will be 
 work, work, work until we become utterly un 
 interesting machines. It can t be helped, we 
 have got to make up our minds to it some day 
 and we had better do so now. We are all 
 wasting four valuable years in this anomalous 
 spot of Cambridge, when we ought to be learn 
 ing bookkeeping. We are a nation of one 
 sided workers, and we might just as well accept 
 the situation philosophically. I am sure I for 
 one don t care a cent. Only I wish I had not 
 fooled away my time so long, with a set of men 
 made up of dilettantes and bummers." 
 
 Dick emphasized the concluding word by 
 handsomely scooping the last sausage just 
 ahead of Jack Randolph, who with a bow and 
 wave of his hand gracefully acknowledged the 
 defeat. It was a strict rule of etiquette at the 
 club table to take the odd trick of any dish, 
 whether you wanted it or not. 
 
 " Hello," exclaimed Burleigh, with a happy 
 
1 64 Harvard Stories. 
 
 light in his face, " Dick has waked up to the 
 seriousness of life again. That is the third 
 time this month." Stoughton s occasional pes 
 simism was as fair game to his friends, as Gray s 
 poetry, so the victim for that day s lunch was 
 promptly changed. 
 
 " So he has," added Hudson. " He has a 
 good, old-fashioned attack of remorse. Where 
 were you last night, Dick ? Must have been an 
 awful spree." 
 
 " Is it a letter from your governor? " queried 
 Rattleton, sympathetically. 
 
 " Perhaps it is the letter on your forensic," 
 suggested Randolph. " Jack Rat got an E. 
 on his, but just see how sweetly he takes it." 
 
 " A little serious reflection is undoubtedly a 
 good thing for you, my son," observed Hollis 
 Holworthy. " But though I don t want to 
 flatter you, excuse my saying that you talk like 
 an ass. Even if your premises were true your 
 conclusion is false. If we Americans are all 
 such narrow-minded money-makers, that is all 
 the more reason for trying to be something 
 better. But it isn t so. I don t believe work 
 has necessarily any such effect. Gray is right." 
 
 " My conclusion is all right. The difference 
 
Harvard Stories. 165 
 
 between us is that I am perfectly contented to 
 be as the rest of my countrymen are ; you want 
 to be something different, ergo, you are a snob. 
 Furthermore my premises are true, and you 
 will find them so, my poor children. I am a 
 few years in advance of you, that s all. Just 
 see how men change after they leave college. 
 Go over to the Law School and look at those 
 grinds, each one working night and day to get 
 ahead of the rest. I met old Dane Austin the 
 other day crossing the Yard, three huge books 
 under each arm, and a pair of spectacles across 
 his nose. He used to be the best built man in 
 the Varsity boat, but he does n t touch an oar 
 now, and won t try for the crew, unless they 
 absolutely need him at the last minute. He is 
 getting red-eyed and pale, and looks almost 
 hollow-chested. A man can t keep up with the 
 law and pay any attention to his physique. 
 He is losing all his strength and good looks." 
 
 " You had better hit him once and find out," 
 suggested Holworthy. 
 
 " Thanks ; I don t care to put my theories to 
 quite such a test," acknowledged Dick, with a 
 grin. " But it is true just the same. It is true 
 of every other occupation. Go down to New 
 
1 66 Harvard Stories. 
 
 York and stand on Wall Street. You will see 
 a dozen men you knew, at least by sight, in 
 college, men who used to be well-dressed and 
 well-bred. Down there they rush by you with 
 a nod, in all sorts of costumes, dirty, slovenly, 
 nervous. Sometimes they will stop for a mo 
 ment to shake hands, and make some imperti 
 nent remark on your clothes. I don t mind 
 the prospect myself, but I am only laying it 
 fairly before you blissful, careless, conceited 
 youths." 
 
 " I rather think you will find that those 
 fellows have n t forgotten how to turn them 
 selves out properly when there is any need for 
 it," said Holworthy. " You don t wear your 
 town togs to recitations here." 
 
 " There is no doubt about it, this work and 
 worry does spoil a man s looks," said Burleigh. 
 " Just look at that poor wreck over there," 
 pointing to Rattleton. 
 
 That student had finished his lunch (or 
 breakfast) and stretched his legs as usual in the 
 next chair. He was engaged in throwing 
 crackers for his dog Blathers to catch, and was 
 rather out of the conversation. He caught the 
 last remark only. 
 
Harvard Stories. 167 
 
 " You have no idea what a handsome man 
 I d be if I did n t work so hard," he replied. 
 
 " It is all right for you, Jack," Stoughton 
 went on. "A watchful Providence has sent 
 you an income. It is almost a pity, though, 
 for you would make a fascinating tramp. No 
 amount of either starvation or public opinion 
 would ever make you change your calm, philo 
 sophical life. But the rest of us must all get 
 into the procession and keep up with the 
 brazen band. No wonder so many of our girls 
 marry Englishmen. They are dead right, too ; 
 they don t want to marry worn-out machines, 
 they prefer men." 
 
 " Hurray ! " shouted Hudson. " The secret is 
 out. Some Englishman has cut him out with 
 his best girl." 
 
 " I am not handicapped with any such non 
 sense, thank Heaven," growled Dick. " But 
 if I was, by Jove, I would n t be fool enough 
 to do any work for her sake, as so many mis 
 guided men do. No, sir, I d take life easily 
 and keep my figure, as our trans-Atlantic 
 cousins do. I d spend my days with the 
 daughter and live on the old man. That is 
 what girls like, and they do have some sense." 
 
1 68 Harvard Stories. 
 
 " That is perfect rot," exclaimed the poetic 
 Gray, expressing his roused sentiment with 
 more force than grace. " Life to-day is just 
 what it was in the days of chivalry. A true 
 knight must prove his love with his lance, and 
 win his wife like a man." 
 
 " There you go, of course," answered Stough- 
 ton ; " clap your leg over Pegasus, and off across 
 country, regardless of hedges and ditches, or 
 the narrow roads of commerce. Suppose his 
 lance got busted, as was frequently the case ? " 
 
 " Sic im, sic im " chuckled Burleigh. " We 
 have got the poet and the cynic by the ears. 
 Oh, this is lovely ! " 
 
 " Both of em amateurs," added Holworthy, 
 " and neither knowing what he is talking 
 about." 
 
 " Two to one on the poet, though," said 
 Randolph, " He is always in earnest, anyway." 
 
 " Shake hands, gents," said Rattleton, getting 
 interested. " Time." 
 
 " Now just listen to me," said Dick, tilting 
 back his chair and waving his fork pedanti 
 cally. " I 11 give you a really accurate picture 
 of your dear days of chivalry, such as you 
 never got out of a romance." 
 
Harvard Stories. 1 69 
 
 " Silence for Sir Walter Stoughton s account 
 of a tourney," commanded Burleigh. " Steve 
 Hudson, pull that pup of yours off the table ; 
 she 11 upset the milk pitcher." 
 
 " I have just been reading all about that sort 
 of game," interrupted Rattleton. " Seems to 
 me they were a most unsporting lot. They 
 had no classes or handicaps ; just lumped em 
 all in together, feather-weights and heavy 
 weights. No idea of a fair thing." 
 
 " Shut up your childish prattle, Jack," com 
 manded Burleigh. " If you will push your 
 researches far enough you will find that the 
 little fellows always won. The giants invari 
 ably got the heads smote off em. We are not 
 on the brutal subject of prize-fighting, we are 
 on chivalry. You know nothing about that, so 
 keep quiet and let Dick go on." 
 
 " I suppose you have an idea," Stoughton 
 went on, " that every interesting young gentle 
 man who entered the lists was a sure winner, 
 and then all he had to do was to crown the 
 heroine as Queen of Love and Beauty and live 
 happily ever afterwards. Now of course that 
 was n t so. Some one had to get thrashed, 
 and most young knights probably occupied 
 
1 70 Harvard Stories. 
 
 that position for the first ten years or so of 
 their career. Take an individual case ; Sir 
 Ernest Gray, bent on winning glory for Dul- 
 cinea, looks over the sporting calendar and 
 enters himself for every big field-meeting during 
 the season. He bears himself right bravely in 
 them all, but gets stood on his head with great 
 regularity ; in fact Dulcinea gets a little tired of 
 watching his performance. Nevertheless she 
 goes to the crack meeting of Ashby de la 
 Zouche, to see Gray try again. 
 
 " This tourney is carried off with great ease 
 by an old hand, Sir Thomas de Mainfort, who, 
 having been separated from his third wife on 
 the ground of brutal treatment, is not doing 
 any love-proving with his lance. He is simply 
 a mug hunter ; he is in for the white Barbary 
 steed, and the other fellows armor." 
 
 " Gate money ? " broke in Rattleton inter 
 rogatively. 
 
 " Same principle," answered Dick. " He 
 wins the appointment of the Queen of Love 
 
 and Beauty, and takes d good care to 
 
 choose the king s elderly daughter ; thereby 
 putting in good work for a government office. 
 Of course, none of the fair damsels in the ladies 
 
Harvard Stories. 1 7 1 
 
 gallery are in the slightest degree interested in 
 him, that goes without saying ; but do you sup 
 pose that they are a bit more interested in the 
 poor youngsters whom he has been knocking 
 about ? Not much. The fellow who takes 
 their eyes is a chap in a white satin doublet, 
 cut in the latest French fashion, who has sent 
 flowers to Dulcinea, and is hanging over the 
 rail of the ladies gallery, talking to her. He 
 is a delightful young man. He can sing the 
 songs of the Troubadours that he has heard 
 in Provence. He knows all the latest gossip 
 about that delicious row between the Pope and 
 the German Emperor. He spends the proper 
 season in each Continental court. He is so dif 
 ferent from the homely, insular youths who 
 are pummelling each other down below in the 
 lists. They never can think or talk anything 
 but fight. He says funny things about those 
 youths, and criticizes their armor. Altogether 
 he is charming. Handsome and well preserved, 
 too. Splendid figure, and could undoubtedly 
 fight well if he had to ; but he does n t have 
 to, and is n t fool enough to do it. No bruises 
 on him. 
 
 "After the fight is over young Sir Ernest 
 
172 Harvard Stories. 
 
 comes along, in a sheepish sort of a way, to see 
 what Dulcinea thinks of his day s work. Sir 
 Ernest was a pretty good-looking boy when he 
 started on the career of arms. Now, however, 
 he is showing marks of wear. The saddle has 
 made him bow-legged, the helmet has worn off 
 much of his hair, and the gauntlet has raised 
 corns on his knuckles. Some of his front teeth 
 have been knocked out. Besidos the wear and 
 tear in his personal appearance, his mind runs 
 largely on parries and thrusts, relative advan 
 tages of chain-mail and Milan plate, and all that 
 sort of shop talk. He can not sing the new 
 Romance songs, he knows only the old ones 
 that his nurse taught him. Dulcinea used to 
 like him very much, and is still fond of him in 
 away. If he had accomplished the marvel of 
 winning the whole tournament, of unhorsing 
 the old veteran De Mainfort ; if he had won the 
 crown of Love and Beauty, and brought it to her, 
 giving that hideous stuck-up old Princess the 
 go-by, Dulcinea would have loved him fondly, 
 and been ready to marry him then and there. 
 But he has not brought her the crown of Love 
 and Beauty ; he has only brought a stove-in 
 helmet and a black eye. True, he has been 
 
Harvard Stories. 1 73 
 
 fighting his level best, but how much good has 
 it done him ? He has unhorsed two or three 
 young men of his own weight ; he has even 
 put up a stiff set-to against big De Thumper, 
 who won the Templar stakes ; but Dulcinea 
 did not see him then, she was talking to the 
 interesting foreigner. Then he ran up against 
 Sir Thomas de Mainfort, and got landed on 
 his back ; Dulcinea was looking right at him 
 that time. He got up like a little man, with 
 out claiming his ten seconds, and went for the 
 redoubtable Sir Thomas again. Thereupon the 
 big fellow smashed him on the jaw, and put him 
 to sleep, so that it took his squires half an hour 
 to bring him round. Dulcinea took that in, 
 too, and the amusing foreigner remarked on 
 what conceit a youngster must have to go in 
 for this sort of thing against men like De 
 Mainfort. The highest renown that the young 
 knight has so far won may possibly be a line 
 next day in the Ashby Herald and Tournament 
 Gazette. It will run something like this : Where 
 are we to look for the De Mainforts and Thum 
 pers of the next generation ? There is absolutely 
 no new material worth mentioning. Young 
 Gray gives a little glimmer of promise in some 
 
I 74 Harvard Stories. 
 
 of his back-strokes, but his work is eminently 
 crude and boyish. However, if he gets over 
 his swelled head, he may in twenty or thirty 
 years of hard work become a fair lance. Do 
 you think that helps his chances with Dul- 
 
 cinea? D that dog of yours, Hudson, she 
 
 has stolen my muffin ! " 
 
 "Are you all through?" demanded Gray, 
 who had been restraining himself with diffi 
 culty. 
 
 " No ; hold on. I have n t shown you half 
 your trouble yet. At the banquet in the even 
 ing, Gray sits on one side of Dulcinea and the 
 handsome stranger on the other. Gray is sore 
 and tired and comes near falling asleep at the 
 table, while the other fellow discusses the Ital 
 ian painters, and tells anecdotes of the Dauphin 
 of France. Gray used to be able to play the 
 harp well, and can still play sometimes in the 
 evenings, when his fingers are not too lame ; 
 but they generally are. He can also get into 
 his satin doublet on Sundays and great occa 
 sions, and look almost as well as the other 
 chap ; but he does so only on occasions, whereas 
 the stranger keeps himself up to the mark all 
 the time. Dulcinea cannot help thinking, 
 
Harva rd Stories. 1 7 5 
 
 therefore, that Gray is a boor and a bore, even 
 though he sometimes shows capabilites other 
 than those of getting his head smashed. On 
 the other hand, Dulcinea s governor is a stout 
 baron of the old school. He looks upon Gray 
 as a dude and aper of foreign customs, for tak 
 ing a bath after a hard day in the lists and leav 
 ing off his breastplate at dinner. The old man s 
 chief boast is that with his own good sword 
 he has carved out all his fat lands and broad 
 baronies, and he asks, as he proudly thumps 
 his chest, how he could ever have done all that 
 if he had put on effeminate airs and fooled away 
 ten minutes every week in a bath-tub. Now I 
 ask you to drop your poetry for a minute, sub 
 stitute reason for imagination, and confess that 
 this is really what a young knight had to take. 
 Dixi, let s hear what you have got to say." 
 
 " Just this," answered Gray, " that your Dul- 
 cinea is a fool. Any true woman would appre 
 ciate a man s best efforts, even if unsuccessful. 
 I claim that such Dulcineas are the exception 
 and not the rule. Point two. Your young 
 knight is also a fool if he allows himself to 
 become nothing but a mere bruiser and cut 
 throat. He ought not to forget that he is a 
 
i 76 Harvard Stories. 
 
 gentleman as well as a fighting man. He can 
 pay some attention to the graces of life and 
 fight none the worse for it. You say he knows 
 the old songs, those are the best always and 
 he can pick up the new ones in spare moments. 
 It makes no difference how he dresses, so long 
 as he has a good excuse for dressing badly, and 
 does n t forget how to dress well. As for your 
 point about his personal appearace, that does 
 n t amount to a row of pins. It certainly can t 
 trouble him, and it would n t trouble Dulcinea 
 if she had any sense. I don t believe any 
 woman objects to honorable scars in a man." 
 
 " Every woman does n t throw poetry around 
 them as you do. Honorable scars received in 
 commonplace everyday scrapping don t count." 
 
 " This has not been a fair fight," declared 
 Holworthy. " I can see through this man 
 Stoughton, now, and understand it all. He has 
 prepared all this harangue, and is trying to pass 
 it off here as impromptu. Now, I am going 
 to give him away. I was with him the other 
 evening at a dinner. There was a girl there 
 who had been abroad for the first time. She 
 had spent the last season in London, for the 
 expenses of which her governor probably had 
 
Harvard Stories. 177 
 
 to do double work at home. She had quite 
 naturally, fallen completely in love with all those 
 great big, splendid-looking chaps who float about 
 London in long coats all day during the season. 
 A handsome leisure class. Some of the biggest 
 and best dressed of them, by-the-way, are quite 
 apt to be her own humdrum countrymen on a 
 vacation, but she had n t found that out yet, 
 and it has nothing to do with the present dis 
 cussion, anyway. I heard her remark to Dick 
 during dinner that Englishmen were so much 
 better looking and more agreeable than Ameri 
 can men. That is an undeniable fact, in daily 
 life, but Dick was fool enough to get a little mad 
 over the observation. He could n t think of 
 any brilliant repartee at the time, but came 
 home and slept over it. Next time he meets 
 that girl, or one like her, he will be loaded for 
 bear, but he wants to rehearse a little, first, so he 
 has brought his mediaeval metaphor here to try 
 it on the dog. He knew that our hair-trigger 
 poet, with a little joggling, would be morally 
 certain to shoot off something about love and 
 lances ; that was just the opening he wanted. 
 Keep it for your next dinner-party, Dick. It 
 does n t mean anything but it may make you 
 
1 78 Harvard Stories. 
 
 feel clever and entertaining. I hold that Brother 
 Gray has thrown you and your Dulcinea down 
 hard." 
 
 "It is perfectly true to life, anyway," said 
 Dick, with a conscious grin ; " but you are wrong 
 in accusing me of worrying about it. I don t 
 mind the prospect in the least, as I said before, 
 and am only warning you snobs who think you 
 are something pretty nice. You can t carry 
 your poetry out of college. Your graces of 
 life as you call em, either mental or physical, 
 won t raise your salary in an office, and your 
 hard work in the office won t help you to figure 
 in a ballroom. If you get to the top before 
 you are thirty, Dulcinea may smile on you ; but 
 you are not likely to do anything of the kind. 
 You will probably spoil all your other chances 
 with her in the attempt." 
 
 " Listen to our man of the world, you fel 
 lows," said Burleigh. " Jack Rattleton, stop 
 playing with that ugly pup and improve your 
 advantages. Uncle Richard, here, aged two 
 and twenty, has upon half a dozen occasions 
 made the exertion of going to a party in Bos 
 ton, where he has talked foot-ball with some 
 debutante and been floored on Esoteric Buddhism 
 by an elderly lady who had it. He has spent 
 
Harvard Stories. 1 79 
 
 all the rest of his time smoking a villanous pipe 
 in Cambridge. He is now giving us, from his 
 wealth of experience, a few opinions and straight 
 tips on the nature of woman." 
 " I don t pretend to know anything about 
 em," protested Dick, stoutly, " and care less. 
 But this I do know, that, among most men, suc 
 cess counts for more than endeavor, and I am 
 willing to bet that it is four times as much so 
 with women." 
 
 "And I know this," said Hudson, " that you, 
 on your own confession, don t know what you 
 are talking about, and are in a beastly humor. 
 You need exercise ; come on over to Fresh Pond 
 and go skating." 
 
 " Yes, do take him off," sighed Rattleton ; 
 " when he and Hoi and Gray get theorizing it 
 gives everybody a headache. They 11 go around 
 to the Pud. and keep it up there if you don t 
 take them skating." 
 
 Stoughton replied to this by kicking the hind 
 legs of Rattleton s carefully balanced chair, and 
 upsetting him on top of the dog Blathers. After 
 which exchange of courtesies the party 
 adjourned, arranging to meet and go to Fresh 
 Pond at three. 
 
 Holworthy did not join the skating party ; he 
 
180 Harvard Stories. 
 
 had promised to go for a walk with his chum 
 Rivers. Gray also had some engagement. As 
 the others were starting out with their skates, 
 they met the latter little gentleman arrayed in 
 his best. He tried to pretend that he did n t 
 see them. They promptly set up a cheer and 
 began ostentatiously making snow-balls. 
 
 " Did n t you say something at lunch about 
 men in New York who made impertinent re 
 marks about your clothes," demanded Gray of 
 Stoughton. 
 
 " This is n t New York," answered Stough 
 ton. " When a man puts on all his feathers 
 and paint on a week day in Cambridge, we 
 know he is on the war-path." 
 
 " Dog his trail, dog his trail," yelled Hudson. 
 "Let s see what wigwam it leads to." 
 
 "Does n t he look pretty?" shouted Bur- 
 leigh. " Only his coat does n t fit in the back." 
 
 " Look at that smooch on his collar," ex 
 claimed Randolph. 
 
 " I hope you children will grow up some 
 time," grumbled Gray, as he hurried on. 
 
 An hour or two afterwards Gray was walking 
 into Boston in very good company. The new 
 Harvard Bridge was not then built, and the 
 
Harvard Stories. 181 
 
 two (yes, only one other) were passing through 
 one of the more lonely streets of Cambridge- 
 port that lead to the Cottage Farms bridge. 
 A hard-looking citizen turned a corner ahead 
 of them, and on catching sight of the pair 
 stopped with some insulting remark. Gray s 
 blood boiled into his face, but he had sense 
 enough to cross to the other side of the street 
 with his convoy. The man, evidently in liquor, 
 promptly did the same, and showed that he 
 meant to give trouble. 
 
 " Run back as fast as you can to Main Street," 
 said Gray to his companion, upon which advice 
 she wisely and quickly acted. 
 
 The rough started forward, and Gray placed 
 himself in the middle of the path. 
 
 " Hold on," he commanded. " Don t come 
 a step nearer." 
 
 " Get out of my way, you little dude, before 
 I eat you up," answered the other. 
 
 The little dude naturally did not get out of 
 the way. He dropped his stick and squared 
 himself for the enemy. Then, contrary to the 
 generally accepted pleasant idea, the burly 
 ruffian proceeded to "eat up" the slender 
 thoroughbred. 
 
1 82 Harvard Stories. 
 
 The light-weight met his adversary s rush 
 handsomely, but utterly failed to stop it. 
 The tough closed, " back-heeling," and at the 
 same time landing his right with a door key 
 in it, used as brass knuckles, thereby cutting 
 Gray s face open. As the latter tripped and 
 went down under the blow, the tough kicked 
 him. Gray jumped to his feet again, how 
 ever, and managed to fasten on the rough s 
 back as he went by. They went down together, 
 the rough on top with his knee on Gray s 
 stomach. This knocked the wind out of the 
 little fellow terribly, still he clung to his adver 
 sary. The latter struggled to free one of his 
 hands, with the amiable purpose of choking, or 
 of gouging the eye of the youth under him, 
 when a shout made him look up. He managed 
 to tear himself away, and sprang to his feet. 
 Holworthy and his chum, Charles Rivers, who 
 was No. 4 in the Varsity crew, were tearing 
 down the street. 
 
 The second battle was quite as unequal as 
 the first, for there was as much difference 
 between the big college oarsman in the pink 
 of condition, and the rum-soaked Port tough, 
 as there had been between the latter and the 
 
Harvard Stories. 183 
 
 plucky little stripling. It is only justice to the 
 tough, however, to say that no idea of flight 
 entered his mind ; he was quite as ready to fight 
 the big dude as the little one. 
 
 His hand went to his hip-pocket, but evi 
 dently the weapon was not there. Then he 
 gathered himself and made a spring at the new 
 comer. As a result he ran his face into a big 
 fist at the end of a long, straight, stiffened left- 
 arm. At the other end of that arm were a hun 
 dred and ninety pounds of hard-trained muscle. 
 As he staggered back from this concussion, he 
 got the hundred and ninety pounds again, con 
 centrated in a right hander on his fifth rib. 
 That doubled him up, and then it was River s 
 turn to rush. He knew enough not to close, 
 for the brute, though practically knocked out, 
 could still use his teeth if he got a chance. Hold 
 ing him up by the throat with his left hand, with 
 his right Rivers pounded the ruffian on the jaw, 
 then threw him senseless on the ground. 
 
 " There, that will do. He 11 come to after 
 awhile," he remarked, " but he will do no more 
 mischief at present. You chivalrous little jack 
 ass," he continued, turning to Gray, who was 
 wiping the blood from his face, " I saw you 
 
1 84 Harvard Stories. 
 
 throw away your stick when we first caught 
 sight of you. It s lucky you were n t killed. 
 Of course you could n t help fighting under 
 these circumstances, but if you ever get caught 
 with a beast like that again, don t ever try fair 
 prize-ring methods with him. It is only in books 
 that the nice young man thrashes two or three 
 toughs bigger than himself in a square fight. 
 These chaps know how to fight just as well as 
 you ; what is more, they know how to fight 
 foul, and always do if they get a chance. Just 
 remember, now, if you ever have to tackle this 
 kind of cattle again, cut him right over with 
 your stick. Paste him under the ear for 
 keeps." 
 
 " If this is n t just my luck ! " said Gray, 
 looking ruefully at the blood on his handker 
 chief. " Here have I been longing and praying 
 for this sort of an opportunity, and when it 
 comes, by Jove, I get a thundering licking and 
 another fellow comes along and saves me and 
 the girl both. Hang it, Charlie, I could have 
 held on to him until she got away." 
 
 " Too bad," laughed Rivers, " I beg your 
 pardon. I did n t think. I ought to have let 
 you get killed or gouged for her and glory, 
 
Harvard Stories. 185 
 
 ought n t I ? Come, cheer up, old man, you did 
 a great deal more than I, and deserve all the 
 favors. Let s go back and see her." 
 
 They walked back to Holworthy and the fair 
 casus belli. The latter had paused in her flight 
 on the arrival of the reinforcements, and with 
 natural curiosity and anxiety had watched the 
 fray from a distance. As her rescued rescuer 
 and his rescuer came up, she held out her hand 
 to Rivers, and uttered her gratitude in nervous 
 broken sentences. 
 
 She expressed much sympathy for Gray. 
 
SERIOUS SITUATIONS IN BURLEIGH S 
 ROOM.* 
 
 SCENE : Room of Hudson, Burligh, and Co. (Co. being 
 
 Topsy, the terrier). 
 
 Burleigh seated in easy chair, legs stretched towards fire, 
 back to table, dog in lap, reading and smoking long pipe. 
 
 Hudson [from his bedroom]. Oh, Ned ! 
 Burleigh. Hullo? 
 
 Hud. Are n t you going to the Assembly 
 to-night ? 
 
 [Enter Huason from bedroom putting on evening coatl\ 
 
 Burl, [without looking up]. Did you ever 
 know me to go to more than one Harvard 
 Assembly? Don t ask foolish questions. 
 
 Hud. Well, don t you be such a lazy lum 
 mox. [Going to loo king-glass J] Really, Ned, 
 you ought to go out more among decent 
 people. 
 
 Burl. Yes. I have such a good time when 
 
 * This farce is printed by the kind permission of the Hasty 
 Pudding Club for which it was originally written. 
 1 86 
 
Harvard Stories. 187 
 
 I do. At the last and only party in Boston to 
 which I ever went, I knew just one girl, and 
 spilled ice-cream on her dress. After holding 
 up the wall for an hour and a half, and finding 
 it impossible to get you or any one else to come 
 back to Cambridge with me, I started home 
 alone in Riley s cab. Mr. Riley felt in a sport 
 ing mood as usual, and insisted on racing an 
 electric car. We broke down at Central Square. 
 It was snowing hard and the walk home in 
 patent leathers was lovely. When I got home, 
 of course, I found that my keys were chained 
 to my other trousers, and I busted the bags I 
 had on in climbing through the ventilator over 
 the door. I dropped on the rocking-chair and 
 the pup both at once, and then found there was 
 nothing to drink in the book-case. Oh, I 
 enjoyed the last Assembly thoroughly. I think 
 it would be fun to go again. Ugh ! 
 
 Hud. Very few ever go to a party for 
 pleasure, my dear boy. It is a duty that you 
 owe to yourself. If you never go to balls, you 
 will never know how to behave in a ballroom. 
 When you have learned to do that, why then 
 you need n t go to balls. 
 
 Burl. That is logical. 
 
1 88 Harvard Stories. 
 
 Hud. It is also a duty that you owe society. 
 
 Burl. Society can have my share of the 
 supper, and call it square. 
 
 Hud. Well, now look here, Ned, I want you 
 to go in to the Assembly to-night for a partic 
 ular reason, besides your own civilization. 
 
 Burl. I won t go. What is your reason ? 
 
 Hud. My mother and sister have come on 
 to Boston and are going to be at the ball to 
 night, and I want you to meet them. 
 
 Burl. Why did n t you say that in the first 
 place ? But, Steve, are n t you going to have 
 them out here pretty soon ? I can meet them 
 then. 
 
 Hud. [emphatically]. No, sir. Not if I know 
 it, until I can be sure of keeping out all the 
 duns and sporting gentry who are apt to call 
 unexpectedly. Numerous acquaintances, whom 
 I do not care to have my good mother meet, 
 might drop in to a little five o clock tea. I 
 shall probably get my quarter s allowance 
 before long, and then I can chain up the Furies 
 for a while, and have my family out here with 
 an easy mind. That bull mick Shreedy is 
 gunning for me just at present, and if my 
 mother knew I owed money to a prize-fighter 
 she would never get over it. 
 
Harvard Stories. 1 89 
 
 Burl. Well, won t it do if I go in to-morrow 
 and call? 
 
 Hud. No, I promised them that you would 
 be there to-night, and they will be awfully dis 
 appointed if you re not. They are naturally 
 anxious to know my chum as soon as possible. 
 
 Burl. Then they will be awfully disap 
 pointed if I am there. You know perfectly 
 well, when I talk to a girl at a party, what a 
 painful ordeal it is for both of us. You ought 
 not to spring me on your sister under such con 
 ditions. It s unfair to me and a poor joke on 
 her. 
 
 Hud. Oh, don t be such a bashful ass. You 
 can do well enough if you try. My sister knows 
 that you hate parties, and will appreciate your 
 coming. Now, do promise me, there is a good 
 fellow. 
 
 Burl. Well, I suppose I shall have to. But, 
 Steve, I have n t time to dress for this thing 
 to-night. 
 
 Hud. Nonsense. You have plenty of time 
 to dress. How long does that operation gener 
 ally take you ? 
 
 Burl. Three quarters of an hour to dress, 
 and an hour and three quarters to tie my cravat. 
 I think I shall have to get one of those nice 
 
1 90 Harvard Stories. 
 
 store cravats that come all tied, and strap on 
 with a buckle. 
 
 Hud. Yes, get a pretty satin one with pink 
 rose-buds on it. Oh, I should n t be surprised 
 to see you turn up in anything. [ Putting on 
 hat and over coat I\ I tell you what it is, Ned, 
 if you continue to shun all feminine society 
 you will soon become an unmitigated boor. 
 
 Burl. I am at college, thanks, and prefer it. 
 I shall have plenty of time to take up feminine 
 society, as you call it, after I graduate. 
 
 Hud. You will be a cub, and society won t 
 take^^w up. Now, old man, it is awfully good 
 of you to come in on my account to-night, so 
 don t back out, and make yourself look as 
 much like a gentleman as you can. Come in as 
 early as possible. \Exit Hudson^] 
 
 Burl. [sol. ]. Why the deuce does a fellow 
 want to go chasing into Boston, when he has 
 only four years of this sort of thing. Steve 
 does not half appreciate college. However, I 
 suppose if his family \Takingphotographfrom 
 table] is going to be there, I ought to go in. 
 It is only decent. [ To photograph. ] So, Miss 
 Hudson, you and I are going to meet, eh ? Oh, 
 what a fool you will think me ! Now, if I could 
 
Harvard Stories. 1 9 1 
 
 only look at you without trying to talk. Steve 
 is right, though ; I ought to cure myself of this 
 fool shyness and awkwardness before the other 
 sex, or I deserve to be called an ill-bred cub. 
 
 [Knock at kail door.\ 
 Come in ! [ Puts down photograph hastily^} 
 
 [Enter Jack Randolph in long coat and rubber boots.} 
 
 Randolph. Hullo, Ned ! Did I leave my 
 umbrella in here the other day ? 
 
 Burl. It is a pretty good one, is n t it? No, 
 I guess I have n t seen it. 
 
 Rand, [taking a cross-handled umbrella from 
 beside fireplace}. Lucky you have n t. 
 
 Burl. Oh, while I think of it, here is that X 
 I owe you [pulling bill out of pocket}. 
 
 Rand. Good man ! Marvellous memory ! 
 Remembered the wrong end of a debt. I am 
 glad you did, for I am devilish hard up just at 
 present. [ Taking cigar from mantel-piece."} 
 
 Burl. So is everybody at this time of year. 
 This is a great sacrifice on my part. 
 
 Rand. Don t give it to me now. Keep it 
 until to-morrow, won t you ? [Lights cigar .] 
 
 Burl. Better take it while you can get it. I 
 
1 92 Harvard Stories. 
 
 shall have spent it next time we meet. Why 
 don t you want it now? 
 
 Rand. Well, I will take it, just to relieve 
 you. I have n t anything on but this ulster, 
 which is not a good thing to put money in. 
 You see, I am going round to a dress rehearsal 
 at the Pudding. 
 
 Burl. Oh, that is why you are all bundled 
 up on this clear night. Let us see your dress. 
 
 Rand. No, you will see it soon enough at the 
 show to-morrow night. Where is Steve ? 
 
 Burl. Gone in town to trip in the mazy. 
 
 Rand. The habitual dude ! Oh, of course, 
 the first Harvard Assembly comes off to-night. 
 If it was not for this rehearsal I would go in 
 and do the butterfly myself. What would hire 
 you to go there, Charlie ? 
 
 Burl. Give me back that ten dollars and I 
 will go. 
 
 Rand. I don t believe you would ; but I d 
 give you the ten dollars if I could be there to 
 see you. 
 
 Burl. Well, if it will please you to know it, 
 I am going in. 
 
 Rand. What ! You going to a party ! What 
 has happened ? 
 
Harvard Stories. 193 
 
 Burl, [with dignity }. Nothing. It is a duty 
 that I owe to myself and society. If a man 
 never goes to balls he will never know how to 
 behave in a ballroom. 
 
 Rand, [with derisive laughter}. That is 
 pretty good from you. Steve has evidently 
 been giving you a lecture. Come now, Ned, 
 choke that off and tell me honestly what is up. 
 
 Burl. Nothing, I tell you. If a man shuns 
 all polite society, he will become an unmiti 
 gated boor. 
 
 Rand. If you don t drop that second-hand 
 stuff of Hudson s, and tell me who the girl is, 
 by Jove, I 11 tell every man in college about it, 
 and it shall be a very amusing story before I 
 get through with it, I promise you. 
 
 Burl. Well, you see er Steve s mother is 
 going to be there and he wants me to meet her. 
 
 Rand. Oho ! That is it, is it ? Steve s mother 
 is going to be there. Ha-ha-ha, that is pretty 
 weak, old fox. I suppose, of course, there is 
 no chance of Miss Hudson being there too. 
 Well, if she is half as pretty as her photograph, 
 I don t blame you for going in. Egad, though, 
 Ned, I would like to see you talking to her. 
 
 Burl. I have no doubt you would, sweet 
 
1 94 Harvard Stories. 
 
 me child, but you won t. That is just where 
 the best point of this funny joke comes in. 
 While I am talking to Miss Hudson, you will 
 be out here, at the rehearsal, getting sworn at. 
 " Go over that chorus again." " Randolph, 
 you re out of step." 
 
 Rand. Damn the rehearsal. Never mind, 
 Miss Hudson will probably be on here for some 
 time, and I shall get another chance of meeting 
 her. When I do, I will make a particular point 
 of cutting you out. You won t be in it, even 
 if you are her brother s chum. 
 
 BurL [getting up}. You are talking too 
 much. Come now, run along. I have got to 
 dress. 
 
 Rand. I wish I had time to watch you do 
 it. I don t believe you have put on a claw 
 hammer coat since you ve been up here, except 
 for club dinners. 
 
 Burl. Oh, go round to your rehearsal. You 
 will be late. 
 
 Rand, [going to hall door}. If it does n t 
 begin on time, I 11 come back here and help 
 you untangle your neck-tie. Don t make your 
 self too pretty. Leave me some chance with 
 Miss H. Exit 
 
Harvard Stories. 195 
 
 Burl. Jack is too fresh to-night. Come, pup. 
 {Picks up Topsy and exits into bedroom.^ - 
 
 a certain Prof. Shreedy (unattached to the 
 University) He softly closes door after him, and 
 knocks on inside~\. 
 
 Burl, [from bedroom]. Come in. 
 
 Shreedy {aside }. I will. [Calls ] Is Mr. Hud 
 son in, I dunno ? 
 
 Burl, {putting his head out of his bedroom}. 
 Hullo, is that you, Shreedy ? No, Mr. Hudson 
 is not in, and he won t take any sparring lesson 
 to-night any way. 
 
 Shreedy. Well, I just come to see him about 
 a little matter of business, see ? Maybe you 
 might - 
 
 Burl. No I might n t. There is not a dollar 
 in the firm, Shreedy, anywhere. Hudson has 
 gone in town. I can t give you a cent, and if 
 you don t get out of here pretty quickly, I may 
 have to borrow a car fare from you. Call again 
 next week. Good evening, and get out. {Slams 
 doorJ} 
 
 Shr. Ain t he getting pretty flip ? The 
 lippy dude ! Maybe he thinks he can put me 
 off that way. Hudson gone in town, ah, rats ! 
 
196 Harvard Stories. 
 
 What an old gag. I 11 wait round awhile, cause 
 I got to have that money to-night. I 11 lay for 
 him in this other room, that s what I 11 do, and 
 nab him when he comes in. {Helps himself to 
 two or three cigars and goes into Hudson s bed 
 room^ 
 
 [A so ft knock on door, then enter Mrs. and Miss Hud 
 son^ 
 
 Mrs. Hudson. Well, this is strange, I should 
 think Steve would have taken more care to 
 meet us here. 
 
 Miss Hudson. Perhaps he has just gone out 
 for a minute. 
 
 Mrs. H. He ought to have been on the look 
 out for the carriage, and not compelled us to 
 come up here after waiting twenty minutes at 
 the door. 
 
 Miss. H. He may not have received your 
 telegram. 
 
 Mrs. H. And has gone in town to meet us 
 there ? Good gracious ! I hope not. Well, 
 we will wait a little while and see. But it is 
 rather awkward for two ladies to be visiting a 
 college room in the evening in this way, even 
 if I am the mother of the occupant. 
 
Harvard Stories. 1 9 7 
 
 Miss H. I think it is lots of fun. What a 
 jolly room he has. I wish I were a boy. 
 
 Mrs. H. Under the present circumstances, 
 my dear, I wish so too. He has arranged his 
 room pretty well for a man. 
 
 Miss H. Now, let us look at all his things. 
 We will begin with the mantel-piece. 
 
 {They both turn toward mantel, backs to 
 roomJ] 
 
 [Enter Burleigh from his bedroom in evening trousers, 
 no coat or waistcoat, and four or five white cravats 
 in his hand. Without seeing the visitors, he crosses 
 the room to the looking-glass, which hangs on the 
 wall opposite the fireplace, where the visitors are 
 standing^ 
 
 Burl, [to himself}. Now for the great agony. 
 Oh, life is very short for this sort of thing. If 
 Steve s family could only see me tying my 
 cravat, they would realize what devotion 
 [Suddenly sees women in the glass and starts.] 
 Good Lord ! [ Turns head slowly and looks at 
 Mrs. and Miss H. whose backs are still turned^ 
 Oh, what in Heaven s name shall I do ? I can t 
 get back to my room. Ha ! the screen ! [Dives 
 behind a tall screen near the glass, ,] 
 
1 98 Harvard Stories. 
 
 Miss H. Look at all these pipes ! And what 
 a horrid smell of tobacco ! 
 
 Mrs. H. I see that Steve s chum, Mr. Bur- 
 leigh, smokes. 
 
 Burl, [aside over screen }. And Jack Randolph 
 just made the horrid smell with one of Steve s 
 weeds. 
 
 Miss H. [finding on the mantel-piece a cham 
 pagne bottle marked " cetat 21 "]. Oh, look at 
 this! 
 
 Burl, [aside over screen ]. Now she has got 
 hold of the memento of Steve s birthday. 
 What next ? 
 
 Mrs. H. [putting on glasses and taking bot 
 tle }. Hm ! I suppose that Mr. Burleigh also 
 drinks. I hope my son does all in his power to 
 restrain his comrade. 
 
 Miss H. I am so glad we are going to see 
 the great Ned Burleigh at last. Steve says he 
 is so interesting such a funny old bird. 
 
 Burl, {aside }. Damn him ! 
 
 Mrs. H. I wonder where they are. One of 
 them must be around, for they would not both 
 go away, and leave their light burning. We 
 cannot wait much longer. 
 
Harvard Stories. 199 
 
 [Enter Hudson, hurriedly.^ 
 
 Hud. Forgot my gloves, of course, and had 
 to come back. Hullo, mother ! why, how did 
 you two get here ? 
 
 Mrs. H. Did n t you get my telegram ? 
 
 Hud. Telegram ? No, I suppose the boy 
 will leave it, on his way to breakfast, in the 
 morning. 
 
 Mrs. H. We had to come out to Cambridge 
 to a dinner at Prof. Fullaloves, and thought we 
 would stop on the way back with the carriage, 
 and take you boys into the Assembly. I tele 
 graphed you this afternoon. 
 
 Hud. Well, it is lucky I came back. Have 
 you been here long ? Have you seen Ned 
 Burleigh ? 
 
 Miss H. Your chum ? No. 
 
 Hud. That is good. He must have started 
 in. If you had dropped in on Ned all alone 
 here, he would have had twenty Dutch fits. 
 
 Miss H. Now, Steve, before we go, you 
 must show us all your things. {Picking up 
 photographs from mantel-piece} Why, who are 
 these ? 
 
 Hud. Those, er oh ah those yes. Those 
 
2OO Harvard Stories. 
 
 are some of my chum s relations. [Aside] Ned 
 will forgive me for the emergency. 
 
 Burl, {aside over screen}. Well, I 11 be 
 
 Mrs. H. I thought those were not yours, dear. 
 
 Miss H. They are all in costume, are n t 
 they. 
 
 Hud. Yes, yes, private theatricals, you know. 
 The Burleighs are all great on private theatricals. 
 
 [Enter Prof. Shreedy from Hudson s bedroom.] 
 
 Shr. [aside ]. Begob, I have him now. 
 
 [Aside to HudJ] Mr. Hudson ! 
 
 Hud. [turning]. What! The devil ! Shreedy ! 
 What do you want here? [Takes him down to 
 frontJ] 
 
 Shr. A little matter of business. Look here, 
 cully, I want dat ten dollars you owe me for 
 sparrin , dat s what I want. Better let me have 
 it and not make a fuss before de ladies, see? 
 
 Burl, [aside, over screen^. Hurray, bind on 
 Steve. Serves him right. 
 
 Hud. I have n t ten dollars, Shreedy. I 
 have n t a cent. Now, do clear out, and I 11 see 
 you some other time about it. 
 
 Shr. Naw, some other time won t do. 
 
 Hud. I can t talk to you now before my 
 
Harvard Stories. 201 
 
 family. It is bad enough to have them see you 
 round here at all. 
 
 Shr. Dat s all right. Tell em I m your 
 chum. Just watch me do the nobby. {Smirks 
 and waves his hat at ladies J] 
 
 Hud. [aside]. Oh, this is awful! 
 
 Mrs. H. Stephen, who is this person ? 
 
 Hud. [aside ]. There is no other way out 
 of it. I can explain later \_aloud.~] This, 
 mother, is my dear old chum, Edward Bur- 
 leigh. 
 
 Burl, [aside over screen ]. By gad ! 
 
 Mrs. H. Ah, indeed, I am delighted to meet 
 you, sir. I feel that we are old friends, al 
 ready, Mr. Burleigh. I have heard so much of 
 you. 
 
 Shr. Oh, yes, me and Steve is great chums, 
 ain t we, Steve, old boy ? [slaps Hudson on the 
 backJ] [ To Hitd.~] Put me on to de young one. 
 
 Miss H. [aside to Mrs. H.~]. Oh, Mamma, he 
 is awful. How could Steve choose such a man 
 to room with ! 
 
 Mrs. H. Steve always said he was awkward 
 with ladies, you know. Perhaps he will improve 
 on acquaintance. 
 
 Shr. [to Miss H.}. Pleased to meet you, 
 
202 Harvard Stories. 
 
 ma am. How is the state of your health? 
 T ain t often we see such a daisy out here, is it 
 Steve? [To Hud. ] Oh, I can say perlite things 
 to a lady. You need n t be afraid, I won t dis 
 grace yer ! 
 
 Hud. [aside]. How long will this last? 
 
 Mrs. H. [to Hud. ]. Well, my son, I must 
 say, your chum seems hardly the retiring, bash 
 ful young man you have always represented 
 him to be. 
 
 Hud. Oh, he is, he is. That s er that is 
 just what is the matter. His shyness takes this 
 form, you see. He is really awfully embar 
 rassed, and er tries to pass it off in this 
 way. 
 
 Mrs. H. Curious forms of shyness. 
 
 Hud. Yes, very. It will pass off soon, and 
 you will like him better when the ice is broken. 
 
 Shr. [to Miss H.]. Ain t that a nobby dress 
 you got on ! 
 
 Mrs. H. I should think the ice was at least 
 badly cracked already. 
 
 Hud. [aside]. I must get them out of here. 
 [A/oud.] Come, do let us start for the Assembly. 
 
 Mrs. H. Well, dear, we have an extra seat 
 in the carriage, and if Mr. Burleigh would like 
 
Harvard Stories. 203 
 
 to come, we will wait for him to dress. [To 
 Shreedy] Won t you come with us, Mr. Bur- 
 leigh ? 
 
 Hud. [breaking in]. No no no ! Ned 
 never cares 
 
 Shr. Why, sure. I d be tickled to death. 
 I am wid you easy. Let s go right away. 
 
 Miss H. Don t you want to dress ? 
 
 Shr. What will I dress for ? Begob, I can 
 dance just the way I am as well as the next man. 
 Wait till you see me take de flure. Oh, I m 
 a dandy on me toes [illustrates by a few steps}. 
 
 Hud. [aside ]. Oh, this is too much. I shall 
 have to tell the truth. 
 
 \_Knock on doorl\ 
 
 There ! ! Come in ! 
 
 [Enter Randolph, still in his ulster, with the umbrella 
 and smoking the cigar J] 
 
 Rand. Well, Ned, how is . Oh, I beg 
 
 pardon ! [Starts to back out ; Hudson rushes 
 across and seizes him.~\ 
 
 Hud. Randolph ! Thank Heaven ! Come 
 here. [Takes him aside. ~] Jack, have you any 
 money with you ? As you love me, Jack, let 
 me have it. 
 
2O4 Harvard Stories. 
 
 Rand. What the deuce is the matter ? I 
 have ten dollars in this coat, but I need it. 
 
 Hud. Oh, kind Providence has taken care 
 of its own ! Let me have it, I tell you. {Ran 
 dolph gives him the ten-dollar bill. Hudson 
 rushes to Shreedy.~\ 
 
 Rand. Here is a nice position. Is Steve 
 crazy ? 
 
 Hud. [aside to Skr.~\. Here, you damned 
 blackmailer. Here s your money. Now get 
 out, and don t let me see you here again. 
 
 Shr. Well, I should have enjoyed the party, 
 but I need the money, so I 11 go. \_To the 
 others} Ladies, I m very sorry, but I find I 
 have a sudden engagement, so I can t keep 
 company wid you to de ball to-night. I m all 
 broke up about it, but I hope I 11 see you 
 again. Be good to yourselves. Good-by. 
 Good-by, Hudson, ta-ta. 
 
 [Exit Prof. Shreedy.] 
 
 Mrs. H. Why, Steve, what is the matter ? 
 
 Hud. I will explain to you some other time. 
 Let me present Mr. Randolph, mother, and my 
 sister. Mr. Randolph is one of my best friends. 
 I owe him a great deal. Are you going in to 
 the Assembly, Jack? 
 
Harvard Stories. 205 
 
 Rand, [decidedly embarrassed]. No, I can t. 
 There is a dress rehearsal at the Pud ; a dress 
 rehearsal, you know, and I must go right round 
 to it now. I just came in for a moment. If 
 you will excuse 
 
 Hud. Oh, nonsense ! Stay a little while. 
 Take your coat off. 
 
 Rand, [aside to Hud.~] Shut up, you jackass ! 
 
 Miss H. [looking at Randolph s rubber boots ]. 
 Is it raining, Mr. Randolph ? 
 
 Rand, [uneasily]. No, no, not yet, no, but 
 it looks like rain. 
 
 Miss H. Why, the stars were all out beauti 
 fully a moment ago. 
 
 Rand. Yes er they er the stars ? [ With 
 a noble effort] Ah, yes, yes, the stars were 
 out, yes. But, er they er they may go in 
 again, you know. [Aside] What rot I am 
 talking ! 
 
 Hud. Well, it is not going to rain in here, 
 anyway. Do take off your ulster and stay a 
 minute. 
 
 Rand. Really, Steve, I d like to, but that 
 dress rehearsal, you know. 
 
 Hud. Oh, let the rehearsal wait. We are 
 going in town in a moment, anyway. 
 
206 Harvard Stories. 
 
 Mrs. H. Don t leave us, Mr. Randolph. 
 
 Miss H. [at mantel-piece~\. Steve, of whom 
 is this a picture ? 
 
 Hud. [turning}. Why, that is Jack himself 
 in the last play. 
 
 Mrs. H. Oh, do let me see it. [Goes to fire 
 place. Hudson, Miss H., and Mrs. H. stand at 
 mantel ^vith backs to roomJ] 
 
 Burl, [from over the screen to Randolph]. 
 For Heaven s sake, Jack, hand up that ulster! 
 
 Rand, [seeing him\ What in the name 
 what are you doing there ? 
 
 Burl, [in a nervous and irritated under tone ]. 
 Confound it, man, I have n t any clothes on. 
 Give me the ulster, quick ! 
 
 Rand. Hurray ! Up a tree, are you ? 
 You 11 talk to her while I am at the rehearsal, 
 will you ? I told you that when I met her you 
 would n t be in it. 
 
 Burl. Give me the coat, Jack ; do, there s 
 a good fellow. 
 
 Rand. I 11 be hanged if I will ! 
 
 Hud. [to his mother and sister}. Here is 
 Ned s room. I expect it is a chaos just at 
 present. [ They move to door of BurleigJis bed 
 room, backs still to the rest of the roomJ] 
 
Harvard Stories. 207 
 
 Burl. Come round here. [Steps from behind 
 the screen, and pulls Rand, behind^ 
 
 Rand, [from behind^. All right, just for a 
 minute. You promise to give it back. [Burl, 
 comes out from behind screen, with ulster on. 
 Rand s head appears over screen.} 
 
 Burl. I 11 see. [Walks towards others. 
 Ladies turn. ] 
 
 Mrs. H. Pardon me, Mr. Randolph Oh ! 
 
 Burl. Allow me to present myself, Mrs. 
 Hudson 
 
 Hud. Ned Burleigh ! 
 
 Burl. Quite right, this time. / am Steve s 
 chum. 
 
 Mrs. H. Why, Stephen, I don t under 
 stand. 
 
 Burl, [to Hud., severely}. I do. 
 
 Mrs. H. Will you explain this ? 
 
 Burl. Yes, I think you had better. 
 
 Hud. [putting on a bold front\. Well, you 
 see, mother, it was just a little joke on Ned. 
 Just a little joke, that is all. [Forces a laugh^\ 
 
 Miss H. Then the other was not your 
 chum? 
 
 Burl. Most certainly not. 
 
 Mrs. H. Well, I don t understand it yet. 
 
208 Harvard Stories. 
 
 However, I am very much relieved to meet the 
 real Mr. Burleigh. 
 
 Miss H. Mother, I think we had better 
 start for the Assembly. 
 
 Mrs. H. Where is Mr. Randolph ? 
 
 Burl. Oh, he has just gone out. 
 
 Miss H. He must have left rather abruptly. 
 
 Burl. Yes, Jack Randolph has very queer 
 manners. You see, he is awfully bashful. 
 
 Rand, [to Burl, over the screen}. Here, 
 give me back that ulster. 
 
 Burl, [aside to Rand. ]. I 11 be hanged if I 
 will. Who is in it now, eh ? 
 
 Hud. Well, let us be going. 
 
 Mrs. H. Will you come with us, Mr. Bur 
 leigh ? 
 
 Burl. I will follow you in later. I will go 
 down with you to the carriage. 
 
 Hud. Well, come along. 
 
 Rand, [over the screen}. That is a low 
 trick. [Reaches for Burl, with handle of um 
 brella three times ; at third attempt screen falls 
 over and Rand, flat on top of it, in short ballet 
 dress and pink tights. His moustache, rubber 
 boots, and decidedly masculine arms and legs 
 make an excellent effect with the garb of a 
 premiere danseuse. Ladies shrickJ] 
 
Harvard Stories. 209 
 
 Mrs. and \ 
 
 I Mr. Randolph ! 
 Miss H. ) 
 
 Steve. Jack ! 
 
 Rand, \nervously spreading umbrella in front 
 of his legs }. I I beg your pardon. Please 
 excuse my my deshabille". [ To Hud., savagely} 
 I told you I was going to the dress rehearsal. 
 [Kicks Burleigh aside} I 11 get even with you, 
 Ned. 
 
 Mrs. H. Well, Steve, this has been an 
 exciting visit. Does a college room often 
 furnish such incidents ? 
 
 Hud. Well, it s all the fault of 
 
 Hud. } 
 
 L My awful chum ! 
 Burl. \ 
 
A HARVARD-YALE EPISODE. 
 
 " I M off for New Haven to-morrow," Rat- 
 tleton announced as he dropped into Hoi- 
 worthy s room, where several of the " gang " 
 were sitting. " Going to sojourn two days in 
 the Land of Eli." 
 
 "You are, eh?" said Burleigh. "Well, 
 you 11 have a rattling good time down 
 there." 
 
 " A smooth time, you mean," corrected Rat- 
 tleton. " Don t you know how to talk Elic 
 yet?" 
 
 " I beg pardon," said Burleigh. " When you 
 get back I suppose you will refer to the Pore 
 as your spot, and if any of us who are not 
 members asks you anything about it you will 
 cut him dead." 
 
 " Don t make any breaks down there about 
 queer pins and extraordinary buildings," said 
 Stoughton. 
 
 " They are funny about those things, are n t 
 
Harvard Stories. 2 1 1 
 
 they ? " replied Rattleton. " But I have no 
 doubt they can laugh just as much at us about 
 lots of things." 
 
 " Of course they can," asserted Holworthy. 
 " Vide the Dickey. That institution is quite 
 as absurd as anything they do down there." 
 
 "Nonsense, Hoi," protested Stoughton ; 
 " whoever thinks up here of taking the Dickey 
 seriously, except, perhaps, a few Sophomores 
 who are fools and snobs enough to be either 
 cocky about getting on it or sore about being 
 left off. And as for awe and reverence, if there 
 is any such feeling at all towards the Dickey, it 
 is confined to less than a tenth of the Freshman 
 class. What Senior ever cares two snaps about 
 it one way or the other ? " 
 
 " That may be known well enough to us," 
 answered Holworthy, "but what does an out 
 sider think when he sees Harvard men making 
 such asses of themselves, as those do who are 
 running for the Dickey. Don t you suppose it 
 looks pretty childish." 
 
 " For instance," asked Hudson, "if he saw a 
 handsome and accomplished gentleman holding 
 a horse and dog-cart as I did for you while 
 a low-down mucker goes in to call on the 
 
2 1 2 Harvard Stories. 
 
 handsome gentleman s best girl as you did for 
 me?" 
 
 " That was good for you," laughed Hoi- 
 worthy. 
 
 " Or if he saw as I did," added Burleigh, " a 
 dignified swell, named Hollis Holworthy, kiss 
 ing all the babies he met on the street." 
 
 " Or a large and portly person," rejoined 
 Hollis, " lying on his back in the public square 
 at Concord, and telling sympathetic citizens that 
 he was pierced by a British musket-ball. And 
 then running in the dead of night from Concord 
 to Lexington, dressed in a continental uniform, 
 banging on the door of every farm-house with 
 the butt of a musket until he brought out the 
 alarmed householder and told him that the 
 regulars were coming." 
 
 " Who made me do it ? " retorted Burleigh. 
 
 " I acknowledge I had a hand in it," answered 
 Holworthy. " I am confessing, not defending, 
 De gustibus Sophomoris non est disputandum. 
 But that is no excuse. At Yale they don t dis 
 grace their college that way at any rate." 
 
 " They may have a lot of poppycock about 
 their mysterious societies that seems ridiculous 
 to us," said Rattleton, " but they don t trouble 
 
Harvard Stories. 213 
 
 anybody else with it. Any way, they are good 
 fellows, and they always give you a royal time 
 when you visit down there." 
 
 "Yes, they do, my child," Burleigh assented 
 in a serious tone. " Remember that you rep 
 resent the dignity of the Oldest and Greatest. 
 Take care that they do not make a painful ex 
 hibition of our boy." 
 
 " Ned knows," chuckled Hudson. " No one 
 has ever been able to find out exactly what 
 happened to him when he stayed down there 
 after the ball-game last year. He came back, 
 looking like the last hours of an ill-spent life, 
 with a confused story about some Yale beverage 
 named Velvet and a wonderful loving cup 
 with no bottom, and a great many handles." 
 
 " Hush your idle scandal," said Burleigh. 
 " Who are you going to stay with, Jack ? " 
 
 " A first-rate fellow named Sheffield," an 
 swered Rattleton. 
 
 " What ! " exclaimed Hudson, " Joe Shef 
 field?" 
 
 " Yes, do you know him ? " 
 
 "Wow!" yelled Stoughton. "Does Steve 
 know him ! Mr. Hudson, do you know Mr. 
 Sheffield?" 
 
2 1 4 Harvard Stories. 
 
 11 Shut up, Dick," said Hudson ; " you prom 
 ised not to tell that." 
 
 " I never promised anything of the kind," 
 declared Dick. " I had almost forgotten it, 
 but I am glad I am reminded. All your friends 
 ought to know about it, Steve. I am sure they 
 would be pleased." 
 
 " Hold on ! " said Hudson, " if that yarn is 
 going to be told, I prefer to tell it myself. 
 There is no sting in a clean breast." 
 
 " Go ahead then," said Stoughton. " I 11 see 
 that you tell it straight. Tell the truth, the 
 whole truth, and nothing but the truth." 
 
 " It was down at Bar Harbor, last summer," 
 Hudson began. " I was spending two weeks 
 with this man, Stoughton, who lives there in 
 summer. Next to his place there was, er 
 there was er 
 
 "A girl," interjected Dick, putting in the 
 spur. 
 
 " Yes, there was, and an awfully pretty one, 
 too," declared Hudson, defiantly. " If you 
 will kindly refrain from interrupting, I can do 
 this thing myself. What I was going to say 
 was this : alongside of Dick s place, there was 
 another place, and a most attractive one. There 
 
Harvard Stories. 215 
 
 was a beautiful view from the piazza of this 
 house " 
 
 " On the piazza," corrected Stoughton. 
 
 " Who is telling this story ? " demanded 
 Hudson. " Shut up and let me tell it my own 
 way. I used to go over to look at this view 
 every day," he continued ; " so did this Yale 
 man, Joe Sheffield. I used to know Joe at St. 
 Mark s, and liked him very well, but it was 
 rather a nuisance to see him at that house so 
 much. Really he overdid it ; why, I used to 
 find him every time I went there. Finally I 
 made up my mind that the duel was on, and 
 I d see who was the better man. Of course 
 this was purely in a sporting spirit, you under 
 stand ; I only felt it my duty to beat Yale, that 
 was all." 
 
 " Careful, careful," murmured Dick, warn- 
 ingly. " Remember, the truth, the whole 
 truth, and nothing but the truth." 
 
 "At first I tried sitting him out by fair 
 means," Hudson went on, paying no attention 
 to Stoughton s side remark ; " but the persistent 
 bore outsat me every time. He d let me set 
 the pace and do all the talking, and then come 
 in with a fresh wind on the finish and do me 
 
2 1 6 Harvard Stories. 
 
 up. But early in the struggle a powerful ally 
 presented himself, the girl s small brother, 
 Freddy. He asked me one day why Sheffield 
 wore that funny little pin all the time. I have 
 forgotten now which pin it was ; but it was the 
 symbol of some particularly smooth and 
 secret band of brothers, and of course Sheffield 
 was never without it. I had been yearning to 
 jab him on his pin ; but I knew I could n t pre 
 tend to be innocent about it, and it would have 
 been a little too rude to deliberately and 
 openly make him uncomfortable. I told Freddy 
 that I thought the pin had something to do 
 with a club at Yale, but I had no idea why Mr. 
 Sheffield always wore it. I suggested that he 
 might ask Mr. Sheffield himself. It was a mean 
 trick, but I could n t resist it. Freddy said he 
 would, and I knew he was just the boy to do it 
 too. Freddy was of an inquiring and tenacious 
 turn of mind, and never dropped a research on 
 any subject until he had found out all there 
 was to be learned, he was a very fine little 
 fellow. 
 
 " A little while after that, we three were sitting 
 as usual on the piazza, when my young ally 
 came running up ; as soon as he saw us he sang 
 
Harvard Stories. 
 
 217 
 
 out in his delightful, eager, childish way, Oh, 
 Mr. Sheffield, I want you to tell me something. 
 Sheffield, pleasant as punch, said, What is it 
 Freddy? You ought to have seen him when 
 Freddy said, I want to know why you always 
 wear that funny little pin ? 
 
 " Sheffield tried to pretend in the weakest way 
 that he did n t hear him. The big sister told 
 Freddy to run away and play ; but Freddy was 
 not the lad to be bluffed that way. He laughed 
 in a knowing way and said, Ha-ha, / know. 
 It s got something to do with some club at 
 Yale, has n t it ? You have got some secret about 
 it, have n t you ? But / // find it out. Nell 
 has secrets too, but I always find em out. 
 
 " Hereupon his sister told him that if he did n t 
 mind her, and stop making a nuisance of him 
 self, she d tell his father and have him punished. 
 He said he was n t making a nuisance of himself 
 and appealed to me. " Mr. Hudson always 
 tells me all about the Harvard clubs, don t you, 
 Mr. Hudson? 
 
 " I assured him that I did n t mind any such 
 questions at all, and told him (Heaven forgive 
 and preserve me ! ) that if he would come and 
 see me at Cambridge I would make him have a 
 
2 1 8 Harvard Stories. 
 
 first-rate time, and show him the clubs to which 
 I belonged. 
 
 " There, he said, you don t think I m a 
 nuisance either, do you, Mr. Sheffield ? Is n t 
 there a club at Yale called the Skull and Keys? 
 I know there is, cause I once heard Nell say 
 she wondered how 
 
 " His sister grabbed him and said * Stop so 
 severely that she managed to choke him off for 
 a moment. But it had got too hot for Joe. 
 He suddenly remembered that he had an en 
 gagement at three, at the Kebo Valley Club, 
 and retreated, leaving the Crimson to wave 
 alone and victorious over the field. 
 
 " Then how that girl did go for Freddy ! He 
 went off almost crying. I tried to stand up 
 for the little man, and remarked how ridiculous 
 the Yale men were about their societies. She 
 did n t agree with me very heartily. She said 
 it was a relief to see some young men take at 
 least something seriously, and intimated that 
 she did n t believe Harvard men were ever 
 serious about anything, or had any reverence 
 in them. So for half an hour I dilated on our 
 great merits, and explained what worthy young 
 men we really are. 
 
Harvard Stories. 219 
 
 " Next day I tried to set Freddy on again, 
 but it was no use ; he had been temporarily sat 
 on. I was lunching at their house, and for a 
 wonder Sheffield was n t there. I asked Freddy 
 whether he had found out about Mr. Sheffield s 
 club yet. He said No, and I can t either. 
 Nell told on me, and Popper said he d 
 spank me if I troubled older people any 
 more. I did n t trouble anybody, did I, Mr. 
 Hudson ? I said you had told me yourself to 
 ask Mr. Sheffield about his pin, and Nell said 
 you 
 
 " I never knew what his sister had said about 
 me, because, just at this point, the old gentle 
 man banged the table and roared, You eat 
 your lunch, sir ! and Freddy subsided. 
 
 " A day or two after that, we all went on a 
 picnic. Even Dick, the old hermit, came along, 
 for a wonder. I persuaded his family it would n t 
 be polite for him to stay home, as I was his 
 guest." 
 
 " Yes," put in Dick, "you were my guest and 
 I was responsible for your behavior. It was n t 
 the etiquette that worried my family, it was the 
 danger of the thing. Besides, I wanted to see 
 you and Joe Sheffield making fools of your- 
 
220 Harvard Stories. 
 
 selves. You did it too, both of you. Go ahead. 
 I won t interrupt you again." 
 
 " We all piled into those delightful long 
 buckboards with four or five seats, and drove to 
 the foot of one of the mountains. There is 
 only one defect in the architecture of a Mt. 
 Desert buckboard. It holds three on a seat. 
 Sheffield had to shove himself in on the same 
 seat with the pretty neighbor, so I got in on 
 the other side of her. I did most of the talking 
 during the drive." 
 
 (At points such as this during the narrative, 
 Hudson would stop and violently puff his cigar, 
 while Stoughton would hug himself gleefully, 
 and show other signs of delight.) 
 
 " We carried the lunch up the mountain," 
 Hudson went on, " arid ate it, along with the 
 ants and other things, on the summit. After 
 lunch Sheffield managed to drop me, somehow, 
 and I went off for a smoke with Dick. I con 
 sulted with Machiavelli Stoughton, as to how I 
 might again cast down the man from Yale. I 
 knew the crafty Dago could help me, if any one 
 could. Dick wished for Freddy, for Dick always 
 knew how to use that interesting child ; but 
 Freddy had been left weeping at home. Dago 
 
Harvard Stories. 2 2 1 
 
 Mac came up to his form, though. He sud 
 denly pointed to a cluster of brilliant wild 
 flowers. I said, Yes, very pretty. What 
 about em. Then Dick said Do you see 
 that broad rock this side of them? It was a 
 smooth slab that reached from the path, about 
 twenty feet, down to where the flowers grew. 
 It slanted at a good steep angle, so that a man 
 could barely walk down it, with rubber-soled 
 shoes. I did n t get much inspiration out of 
 the rock. Then Dick showed me a blackberry 
 vine, or some sort of a bramble, that ran across 
 the face of the rock a little more than half way 
 down it. Still I could n t see what he was driv 
 ing at. He said to come along and he d show 
 me. We went to the basket where the remains 
 of the lunch had been stowed, and Dick took 
 what was left of the butter. Then we went 
 back to the rock and the Dago greased as much 
 as he could of it, just above the bramble. 
 Now, he said, * when we start back for the 
 buckboard, you fall in alongside of Sheffield 
 and the enchantress. When you get to this 
 rock, the method is very simple, you show the 
 flowers, Eli will do the rest. 
 
 " At last I took in at a glance all the grand 
 
222 Harvard Stories. 
 
 possibilities of the scheme. I remembered that 
 Joe Sheffield was very particular about his ap 
 pearance, and was dressed up to the hilt. He 
 was always sensitive about his clothes. I fell 
 upon Dick s neck and wept tears of gratitude. 
 Then we went back to the rest of the party. 
 Sheffield had had a monopoly the whole after 
 noon." 
 
 " A corner in Paradise ? " suggested Burleigh. 
 
 " Exactly," said Hudson, " or perhaps Para 
 dise in a corner. They did n t turn up until we 
 had shouted for ten minutes and the party had 
 all started down the mountain. I ranged up 
 alongside of the pair, thereby breaking up the 
 Paradise trust, and we three brought up the 
 rear. When we got to the point in the path, 
 just above the prepared rock, I called attention 
 to the flowers, with great art. Of course she 
 said : Oh, how perfectly lovely ! Oh, I must 
 have some of those ! and of course away we 
 both jumped. I let Sheffield get a little ahead 
 and then went carefully around the rock. He 
 bounded gallantly down the face of it until he 
 struck the butter. Then he sat down with a 
 dull, sickening thud ; but he didn t stop there. 
 He glided merrily on, over the blackberry vine, 
 
Harvard Stories. 223 
 
 and in among the seductive flowers. He sat 
 still for a minute, and I knew the situation had 
 dawned on him with all its hideous uncertain 
 ties. Then he turned himself round, face to the 
 path, and got up carefully and slowly, with a 
 sort of sideways motion. He did n t attempt 
 to pick any flowers. There was a great deal of 
 sympathy expressed above, and inquiries as to 
 whether he was hurt. Meantime I had arrived 
 safely, picked the whole cluster of flowers, and 
 brought them back in triumph. Sheffield 
 followed me up, and when we moved on, he 
 dropped in behind ; he acknowledged the path 
 was too narrow for three. 
 
 "On arriving at the foot of the mountain, he 
 leaned up against a big tree, while the buck- 
 boards were being manned. The poor girl 
 seemed to be very much worried about him ; 
 unnecessarily so, I thought. He assured her 
 that he was not in the least hurt, but he stuck 
 to the tree nevertheless. There was a bird s 
 nest up in the tree, and I heard Dick ask 
 Sheffield to climb up and see if there were any 
 eggs in it, to oblige the ladies. I helped the 
 girl into the buckboard and climbed in beside 
 her. After every one else had got aboard, the 
 
224 Harvard Stories. 
 
 last seat, with Dick, was good enough for 
 Sheffield. I ran the Paradise industry, without 
 competition, all the way home. There seemed 
 to be a certain hitch in it, however, for she 
 kept wondering whether Sheffield was hurt. 
 The bunch of wild flowers dropped out on the 
 way, and Dick and I both jumped out and 
 chased it ; Sheffield did n t even turn around to 
 see what had fallen. I slapped Dick on the 
 back as we were picking up the flowers and said : 
 She must have an opinion of his manners. 
 Great Scott ! that was all I knew about it ! " 
 
 Here Stoughton went through the hugging 
 pantomime for the fourteenth time. 
 
 11 She did n t seem to be very grateful when 
 I brought those flowers back, and would n t 
 talk much all the way home. She said she was 
 sure Sheffield was hurt, and all on her account. 
 When we arrived she asked him to dinner. He 
 stayed in the buckboard and drove to his hotel 
 to dress. She did n t ask me to dinner, and, by 
 Jove, she left those flowers over which I had 
 taken so much trouble in the buckboard ! I 
 was very grateful to the flowers, nevertheless." 
 
 "Well, I don t see where the joke on you 
 comes in," said Holworthy, as Hudson paused. 
 
Harvard Stories. 225 
 
 "Neither did I," answered Hudson. "I 
 thought, in fact, that I had been pretty clever 
 about the whole affair, until until," he went 
 on, gathering force by the repetition, " until the 
 engagement was announced! By Jove ! " hurling 
 his cigar butt into the fireplace as the recollec 
 tion grew on him, " that man and that girl had 
 been engaged all summer ; for a week I had 
 been playing smart Alec and steady number 
 three, making her hate the sight of me, while 
 the Yale man was undoubtedly all the time 
 laughing in his sleeve at seeing me make a fool 
 of myself." 
 
 " Go on," Commanded the relentless Stough- 
 ton. " Go on, there is an epilogue, or do you 
 want me to tell it?" 
 
 " No, I 11 do the whole thing," said Hudson, 
 humbly. " When Dick and I went round to 
 call after the announcement, and congratulate 
 Sheffield, my little friend Freddy came running 
 into the room. Oh, Mr. Hudson, he shouted, 
 * is n t it fun ! Now we know why Nell got so 
 mad about my bothering Joe. Joe s very nice, 
 but really I would rather have had you, and I 
 told her so. " 
 
 " That was n t all he said/ remarked Dick, 
 15 
 
226 Harvard Stories. 
 
 " but I 11 let you off the rest. I 11 hold it over 
 you for future occasions." 
 
 When Rattleton returned from New Haven 
 a few days later, he announced at the table that 
 his friend Sheffield was coming up for Class 
 Day, with his fiancee. He had sent a special 
 message to Hudson to say that they were going 
 to bring Freddy, because Freddy was crazy to 
 see Harvard, and Hudson had promised to show 
 him all over college and take him into all the 
 clubs. 
 
 "Whew!" whistled Hudson; "d that 
 
 horrid little boy." 
 
THE DAYS OF RECKONING. 
 
 JUNE, June, beautiful, glowing, fascinating 
 June, no doubt thou art tired of hearing thy 
 charms sung by lovers more eloquent than I, 
 but forgive this outburst from one who has 
 known thee in the shades of Cambridge. Never 
 art thou more seductive than where the old walls 
 and stately elm trees trace their cool outlines on 
 the turf of the Yard, where the earnest, eager 
 students, prone on the greensward, blow upon 
 blades of grass between their thumbs, and bet 
 on sparrow rights and caterpillar races. The 
 tennis-courts are alive ; there are ball games on 
 Holmes Field, and the river winding through 
 the green-flowing meadow (the tide being high 
 and the mud covered) is dotted with swift-glid 
 ing shells. In the long-fading twilight the 
 bright-beflannelled and straw-behatted groups 
 sit upon the fences, and lounge about the streets, 
 trying to screw up enough energy to disperse 
 to their rooms, and study for the FINALS. 
 227 
 
228 Harvard Stories. 
 
 Ah, June, that is the one worm i the bud 
 of thy beauty ! It is hard, indeed, to eschew 
 the racquet and the oar; to go over to the 
 Library at an early hour and hunt up Story on 
 the Constitution, or Dana s Wheaton, or Ruskin s 
 Stones ; to find it seized, and promised to five 
 other men before yourself ; to seek a retired al 
 cove less hot than the rest of the drowsy place, 
 and there, taking off your coat, to doze over a 
 volume until four o clock, when the reserved 
 books may be taken out ; then to carry a huge 
 book over to your room, and with an awakening 
 cigar, grind until dinner-time ; to go at it again 
 in the evening when the scent of early summer 
 drifts through the open window, together with 
 the singing and laughter of some inconsiderate 
 jackass who has finished his examinations, or 
 does not care whether he gets through them 
 or not. Hard is all this, but still, oh, June, I 
 would woo thee again in those shades even in 
 that wise ; for, perchance, I might finish my 
 examinations early and then would I enjoy life 
 to its fullest, and make it miserable for my less 
 fortunate friends. I would join with those who 
 had also finished their work, and we would have 
 a grand reaction. We would urge the others 
 
Harvard Stories. 229 
 
 to join us on the river and the tennis-courts ; 
 we would sing in the Yard of evenings, and the 
 free would put their heads out of window and 
 cry " More ! More ! ! " while the still grinding 
 slaves would cry " Shut up ! " and other things 
 that I should grieve to hear and will not state ; 
 and if haply we sat upon the steps of Mat 
 thews or of Holworthy, or any where within 
 range, these same scurvy slaves would throw 
 pitchers of water and other things, even eggs 
 kept for the purpose, until we untrammelled 
 souls betook ourselves elsewhere. Then would 
 we go to the " pop " concert, or the Howard 
 Athenaeum, or other abode of intellectual rest ; 
 and after that we would sup with great mirth. 
 We would found a recuperating club for weary 
 minds, and as each friend threw off the yoke and 
 joined us, we would receive him with becoming 
 ceremonies. Oh ! the last week before Class 
 Day is well worth the pains of the other three. 
 
 " What is so rare as a day in June ! " carolled 
 Hudson joyfully, as he danced into his room 
 and thumped Burleigh on the back. 
 
 " One in February," growled that portly 
 gentleman, " there are two less of em in the 
 year. Now look here ; if you are going to 
 
230 Harvard Stories. 
 
 kick up a row because you are all through, just 
 get out of here, and make your ill-timed noise 
 somewhere else." 
 
 " Don t be so sour. Hullo, Lazy Jack ; these 
 be hard times for you, old Butterfly. How 
 many more have you got? " 
 
 " Five," sighed Jack. " Pol. Econ. 23, Fine 
 Arts, Freshman English, and two entrance 
 conditions." 
 
 " Great Scott ! The way of the transgressor 
 is hard." 
 
 " Clear out of here," commanded Burleigh. 
 I am coaching this man Rattleton, and I don t 
 want any interruption in my private tutoring. 
 Get out," and Ned hove a dictionary at his 
 exuberant room-mate. 
 
 " Oh, if you are laboring with Jack, I won t 
 interfere with the good work of the Rattleton 
 Rescue Mission," said Hudson, dodging the 
 dictionary and taking himself off to irritate 
 some one else. 
 
 Ned Burleigh was never in such a mood about 
 his own examinations. He was one of the few 
 men for whom those trials had no terrors. None 
 of his friends could tell exactly when he did 
 work for an examination ; it might have been 
 
Harvard Stories. 231 
 
 at 4 A.M. on the same morning after a supper ; it 
 might have been on the train during an inter- 
 exam, excursion to Newport, or on a cat-boat 
 cruise in the harbor. Yet he had never failed. 
 He used to say that to know too much about a 
 course made the examinations mere drudgery, 
 but that when there was an uncertainty, then 
 there was some sport in the struggle, some ex 
 citement as to whether you could throw the 
 paper or the paper would throw you. That 
 was all very well for him, who generally " ragged 
 a B." and never got " flunked," but it was a 
 dangerous attempt for most men to follow his 
 example. 
 
 This year, however, Ned was devoting him 
 self to Jack Rattleton. It was a serious case 
 with Jack, for he had any number of conditions 
 to work off, so many, in fact, that every one was 
 rather astonished at his attempt to retrieve his 
 degree, and at the unwonted, desperate efforts 
 of Lazy Jack. It was a forlorn hope, and the 
 betting was heavily against him. Under any 
 circumstances Ned Burleigh would have done 
 all he could to help poor Jack pull through, but, 
 added to his unselfish interest in his friend, were 
 pride in his pupil and the fact that he had taken 
 
232 Harvard Stories. 
 
 some of the long odds against him. Nor could 
 Jack have found a better coach in the most high- 
 priced tutor in Cambridge. With a thorough 
 knowledge of the courses he had taken, Ned 
 combined a knowledge of the presiding minds 
 in those courses, and, moreover, he understood 
 perfectly the science of passing an examination. 
 " Now, Jack," he said, " you know the im 
 portant points and main definitions in that 
 course pretty well. Just remember that all that 
 is good is Greek, and all that is Greek is good, 
 and no modern work from the Brooklyn 
 Bridge to a beer mug is worthy of aught save 
 the abhorrence of cultivated men. If the 
 exam, is in Sever, you might throw in an allu 
 sion to the draughts and feul air in that mod 
 ern pile of bricks. Now how about Pol. Econ. 
 23? Let s see, does Jowler give that still? 
 Well, you are morally certain to have a question 
 on the Tariff of 46 that is his pet. Be cer 
 tain that the country has never been more pros 
 perous than under that tariff. Of course, there 
 was the discovery of gold and other causes of 
 prosperity at the same time, but unless you 
 know all about them, and can explain them 
 away, don t touch on them at all. Jowler is a 
 
Harvard Stories. 233 
 
 free trader, bear that in mind. I will do him 
 the justice to say that he would be delighted if 
 you knew enough about the course and were 
 clever enough to make any strong points for 
 protection ; but you are not, so don t try it. 
 Stick to plain, first principles, and show that 
 the country is going to the devil." 
 
 " Gad, Ned," said Rattleton, shaking his 
 head in mournful admiration, " it is a great 
 thing to have learned so much. I have wasted 
 my advantages awfully." 
 
 " Constant application, my son," quoth Bur- 
 leigh, (who for three years had been on the 
 ragged edge of probation, and had been saved 
 only by his high marks), " strict attendance on 
 lectures, and careful attention to the great men 
 under whom it is our privilege to sit. Even if 
 you never go near the library, you can learn 
 much in the lecture-room. Now I must leave 
 you ; I am going to a seminar over in College 
 House." 
 
 "All right, I have got to leave, too," said 
 Jack, looking at his watch. " There is a grind 
 ing bee in entrance Greek, in Jim de Laye s 
 room lot of foolish virgins like myself, who 
 have put off the job until Senior year, and are 
 
234 Harvard Stories. 
 
 doing their school work now. By the way, I 
 promised to collar a mucker to drive the 
 horse." 
 
 "Get my friend, Mr. James Casey; very in 
 telligent young man ; understands the job 
 thoroughly. You will undoubtedly find him 
 playing duck-on-a-rock in a vacant lot back of 
 Holyoke, or badgering the Dago fruit-man on 
 the corner. If you don t find him, drop a 
 package of cigarettes somewhere, and watch it ; 
 you will catch a mucker right away." 
 
 " A better way than that," said Jack, " is to 
 chain Blathers to the iron railing of the Pud 
 ding, and stand behind the door. In five 
 minutes all the best talent in muckerdom will 
 be there with tin-cans and stones." 
 
 Jack had no need, however, to expose his 
 faithful hound. He found a covey of muckers, 
 in the vacant lot before mentioned, and on 
 demanding whether any of them could read, 
 was at once besieged with volunteers to " drive 
 the pony." " Chimmie " Casey was among 
 them, and Jack secured his services. "Chimmie" 
 had been at school to some advantage, for he 
 could read Bonn s translations with great 
 fluency (which is the English of " driving the 
 
Harvard Stories. 
 
 235 
 
 pony "), and made many a half dollar by his 
 learning. 
 
 Jack took him round to De Laye s room, 
 where eight or ten men were already assembled, 
 with books, pipes, and siphons of seltzer, ready 
 for the services. The mucker was put in the 
 middle of the room with the "trot"; the 
 students sat around him and followed the 
 translation in their Greek texts. The following 
 is a short specimen of Prof. Casey s flowing 
 delivery of the Iliad: 
 
 " Den puttin on deir shinin mail, dey moved 
 apart from de great crowd of admirin Trojans 
 and well-greased Greeks. Den Jones spake " 
 
 "What!" 
 
 " I can t say dese hard names. Mr. Burleigh 
 told me to call em all Jones when I got stuck." 
 
 "All right, go ahead." 
 
 " Jones spake wid words of hate. Dog-eyed 
 son of son of Gosh ! dat s a hard name to 
 call a feller." 
 
 " Let it go at Jones." 
 
 " Dog-eyed son of Jones [I must learn dat], 
 now shalt dou meet dy doom. To him Jones, 
 de god-like son o Jones say, how did dese 
 fellers all have different names from der faders ? " 
 
236 Harvard Stories. 
 
 " Never mind ; go on with the trot." 
 
 " T ink not to turn my heart to water wid 
 your vauntin words [always jawin before dey 
 fight]. 
 
 " He spake and t rew his mighty spear and 
 struck full in de midst of Jones buckler round. 
 It pierced eight folds of tough bull-hide and 
 t rough de brazen breastplate and cut de linen 
 vest beneat [dat Jones was a daisy]. Den 
 Jones, poisin his mighty spear, prayed to 
 Jove : Oh, fader Jove, wreak now meet 
 punishment on dis offender; send him to de 
 shades by my arm/ say, what s he always 
 stoppin to talk to dat feller for in de middle 
 of a scrap ? " 
 
 " Shut up and go on ! " 
 
 " He trew his spear in turn, but de point fell 
 harmless. Den again he cried aloud : Oh, 
 fader Jove, dou art de most unkind was Jove 
 de referee?" 
 
 " Look here, Jamesey, if you don t stop 
 talking we 11 dock your pay." 
 
 " Den sure de light had sped from Jones 
 eyes, but mudder Venus, when she saw her son 
 hard-pressed, flew to his side. From de field 
 she bore him far from Jones wrat , wrapped in 
 
Harvard Stories. 237 
 
 a hollow cloud [de h she did ! Dat s de 
 silliest fight ever I hear on.] " 
 
 At the end of the " grinding bee " young Mr. 
 Casey was dismissed with coins, a cigarette, 
 and advice to restrict his annotations in future 
 lectures. 
 
 Rattleton struggled along in his new mode 
 of life for a week or two longer, until his last 
 examination a few days before Class Day. Ned 
 had sent him to bed early on the night before. 
 At breakfast, and on the way over to University, 
 Nestor gave his final advice. 
 
 " Look your paper over carefully before you 
 begin to write. Write only on those questions 
 that you can answer, and write a lot on them, 
 so that you apparently have no time for the 
 others. Don t try to bluff on the questions 
 that you don t know ; some men can do it, but 
 don t you try it. It rarely goes down with 
 Jowler. Take the whole three hours, and 
 don t go out early, even if you have written all 
 you know. Now, good luck to you, old man ; 
 go in and win. I 11 see you at lunch." 
 
 The paper was very easy. Dick Stoughton 
 had the same course, and finished his answers 
 early. While waiting a decent time for ap- 
 
2^8 Harvard Stories. 
 
 \j 
 
 pearance sake, before going out, he executed a 
 characteristic stroke. Brown, the proctor, was 
 a man who prided himself on his sharpness and 
 yearned for opportunities to show it. He was 
 taking a post-graduate course, and had been in 
 the University only one year. He had a custom 
 of walking stealthily about the room, and, in 
 the most offensive manner, peering over men s 
 shoulders while they wrote. On one of these 
 hunts he sat down on the corner of Stoughton s 
 desk and looked over the shoulder of the man 
 in front. Machiavelli Stoughton hastily wrote 
 out, on the back of the examination paper, the 
 gist of half the answers. This paper he pinned 
 on the back of the proctor s coat with the legend 
 "Read him and pass him along." Brown then 
 continued on his tour of inspection, to the 
 edification of all and the salvation of many. 
 
 Several other men came out early also. 
 They gathered on the steps of University, 
 and compared notes on the paper. The chief 
 topic of conversation, however, was Rattleton. 
 
 " I am afraid the jig is up with poor Jack 
 Rat," said one man. " He is stuck." 
 
 " Yes, I saw him biting his pencil and tearing 
 his hair," corroborated another. 
 
Harvard Stories. 239 
 
 " He looked gloomy as a funeral," said Dick ; 
 " besides that paper was so easy that, if he 
 knew anything about the course, he ought to 
 have finished by this time." 
 
 " He will lose his degree surely unless he gets 
 a squint at Brown s back," said Gray. " Can t 
 anything more be done for him ? Set your 
 crafty brains at work, Dago Dick." 
 
 " Of course, nothing can be done," said 
 another man. " How are we going to com 
 municate with him from out here ? We might 
 get him in an awful scrape " 
 
 " Hold on, I Ve got it ! " cried Stoughton, 
 and dashed off across the Yard. 
 
 Half an hour later a man hurriedly entered 
 the drowsy examination room in University, 
 and went up to the proctor with a telegram. 
 Brown looked at the address and took it over 
 to Rattleton. Jack was now slumped down in 
 his seat gazing blankly at a fly in his inkstand, 
 probably wishing to change places with the fly. 
 The proctor handed him the telegram and stood 
 near him. Jack opened the envelope, then 
 started and smiled a little as he read the mes 
 sage. He looked up suddenly and caught the 
 proctor trying to read the telegram. 
 
240 Harvard Stories. 
 
 "No bad news I hope, Mr. Rattleton," said 
 the latter, looking at him narrowly. 
 
 " Oh, no," answered Jack, " best of news." 
 He closed his blue book with a slam and re 
 turned the proctor s gaze squarely. 
 
 " Ahem ! " coughed that officer of the Court. 
 " I presume, of course, Mr. Rattleton, that your 
 message is in no way connected with this ex 
 amination?" 
 
 " I beg your pardon, Mr. Brown, "replied Jack 
 in his deliberate drawl, " you do not presume 
 anything of the kind. If you did, you would 
 have better manners than to be so inquisitive 
 about it ; at least I will give you credit for 
 such. As a matter of fact this telegram con 
 tains no information on the paper." 
 
 " I must insist upon seeing it, sir," exclaimed 
 the red and astounded proctor. 
 
 Jack rose to his feet. " You heard what I 
 said," he remarked quietly. " I am not in the 
 habit of being doubted." 
 
 He walked up to the desk at the end of the 
 room, and put his blue book on the pile of 
 others. " You notice, Mr. Brown, that I have 
 not written a word since receiving this message. 
 I do not know who sent it, nor anything about 
 
Ha rvard Stories. 2 4 1 
 
 it. Here it is if you would like to read it." He 
 threw the telegram on the desk and stalked out 
 of the room. 
 
 The group of men on the steps outside 
 crowded around him with eager inquiries. 
 
 " I don t know," said Jack, " but I guess I 
 got through. I had written most of the an 
 swers half an hour ago, but, of course, I was 
 not fool enough to go out early, and have the 
 proctor mark the time on my blue book. That 
 is all very well for you fellows who are sure of 
 your answers and have good reputations, but I 
 need to exhibit the full three hours of careful 
 thought. I should have stayed to the end if I 
 had n t had a tiff with Brown, the proctor, about 
 a telegram." 
 
 " What ! " cried the others. " Dick Stough- 
 ton s telegram ? What happened ?" 
 
 " Nothing much; Brown has it." 
 
 " Nothing much ! You are a ruined man ! 
 Did n t you see that telegram was a brilliant 
 idea of Dago Mac s. It had all the answers in 
 it; did n t it, Dick?" 
 
 Jack looked at Dick, and grinned. 
 
 "Oh, no," said that crafty genius, "that is 
 only what you fellows thought. I was n t fool 
 
 16 
 
242 Harvard Stories. 
 
 enough to write anything of the kind, when 
 that Argus Brown was proctor." 
 
 " If he is small enough to look at that tele 
 gram after I gave it to him," said Jack, " what 
 he read was this : Get into a row with Brown 
 about this telegram. He is a cad, and will 
 probably accuse you of lying. Old Jowler 
 hates that sort of thing, and has no love for 
 the Brown type of proctor. If he hears of the 
 row, he will count it up in your favor. " 
 
CLASS DAY. 
 
 THE conflict of evidence in the case renders 
 it difficult to decide whether Class Day is the 
 gayest or the saddest of the college year. Cer 
 tain graduates, being duly sworn, depose that 
 it was the happiest day of their whole lives ; 
 an equal number no, the Court will presume 
 the better a somewhat smaller number, refuses 
 to testify a, U, until kind Time has obliterated, 
 or, at any ; e, mitigated, important facts in 
 the case ; mtil, indeed, the memory of man 
 goeth not, or goeth gently, to the harsh Con 
 trary. Most of the Seniors bear witness as here 
 followeth. Were too busy to notice their im 
 pressions distinctly ; remember being blue at 
 intervals, decidedly so in the evening. Think 
 they felt jolly on the way to Saunders Theatre 
 behind the band ; know they felt gloomy in 
 Saunders . Were worried at their own spreads ; 
 believe the strawberries gave out ; had a very 
 fair time at the other fellows spreads. Got 
 243 
 
244 Harvard Stories. 
 
 badly banged around the Tree ; can swear they 
 got more flowers off it than anybody else. Took 
 good care of their families to the best of their 
 knowledge and belief; took their mothers up 
 to their rooms, when affected by the heat ; did 
 not see their sisters ; saw very little of any 
 other sisters. Enjoyed the singing of the Glee 
 Club until it came to " College Days are Over" 
 and " Fair Harvard " ; began to feel a little out 
 of sorts then, and grew more so after everybody 
 had gone. Continued in same frame of mind 
 until the wind-up at the club. How they felt 
 after that some deponents say not, others tes 
 tify to being still more depressed, and going to 
 bed in decided gloom. On the whole, think 
 the day was a sad one. 
 
 On the other hand, the testimony of the 
 Juniors and under-classmen is overwhelmingly 
 on the side of joy. So is that of the rank and 
 file of the army of occupation. The generals, 
 officers of the day, and provost-marshals of that 
 army testify that it is a day of hard work and 
 wearing responsibility. For on that day the 
 largest stronghold of Trouserdom capitulates 
 unconditionally, and from bastion to casemate 
 is swept by the skirts of the invading battalions. 
 
Harvard Stories. 245 
 
 Bright dresses everywhere dot the grass, and 
 float over floors that for twelve months have 
 known only the tread of the trousered boot. 
 Some of the clubs even are surrendered, and 
 only here and there is kept a hiding-place, to 
 which the overpowered defenders may flee to 
 rally on a cigar, or change their wilted armor. 
 The garrison is enslaved almost to a man, each 
 one being attached to the train of some con 
 queror. During the day the victors are content 
 with such triumph, and show some clemency 
 while their officers hold them in check ; but 
 when the shades of evening begin to fall, and 
 the provost-marshals have grown tired, then the 
 slavery is turned into a massacre. Scenes of 
 carnage are everywhere, and the helpless cap 
 tives are put to the fan without mercy. Some 
 are merely tortured a little, others slaughtered 
 outright, and at the end of the evening many a 
 scalp goes forth dangling from a slender waist. 
 On the other hand, however, it is a solace to 
 reflect that some of the invaders are themselves 
 captured, and paroled for life. 
 
 Dick Stoughton had declared that there was 
 to be no tomfoolery for him. His people had 
 gone abroad, and he would therefore incur no 
 
246 Harvard Stories. 
 
 filial liabilities. He rarely went anywhere in 
 society, and had no civilities to repay. He 
 thanked Providence that " not one mother s 
 daughter of em had any mortgage " on him. 
 The only people he invited lived in the far 
 West, and would n t come. It is often said 
 that a man never enjoys his own Class Day ; he 
 would see about that. He called for volun 
 teers in the good work. None of Ned Bur- 
 leigh s relatives were coming East, so he agreed 
 to stand on Dick s right hand and keep the 
 strike with him. Randolph was also family- 
 free and promised to join in the stand for 
 liberty. These three organized as the Pro 
 tective Brotherhood of Amalgamated Seniors. 
 The objects of the Brotherhood were declared 
 to be lunch, liberty, and the pursuit of happi 
 ness. The first rule was to assist each other in 
 obtaining nourishment and irrigation at the 
 crowded " spreads." They were to do com 
 missariat duty for no one. The second prin 
 ciple was to stand by each other through all the 
 perils of the day ; if any brother should be 
 captured the others were to rescue him at once, 
 three men could resist better than one. They 
 also arranged a plan of co-operation and mutual 
 
Harvard Stories. 247 
 
 relief, by which any member could talk to any 
 one he chose without fear of bondage. The 
 strategic moves were as follows. If one of the 
 three saw some one to whom he wanted to 
 talk, he was to notify the others, who would 
 stand at his back while he opened fire. A time 
 limit of five minutes was to be allowed him. 
 Brother Stoughton wanted to cut this down to 
 two minutes, and Brother Randolph desired 
 ten. The altercation roused suspicions in 
 Brother Stoughton s mind, and insinuations on 
 his part against Brother Randolph s sincerity ; 
 but Brother Burleigh smoothed over the incipi 
 ent breach and compromised on five minutes. 
 At the end of five minutes the fire was to be 
 slackened, and half of the reserves called up 
 by saying: "May I present my friend," etc. 
 One of the fresh supports should then wheel to 
 the front, and while he engaged the enemy, 
 the other two should go off and find a non 
 union man, a happy, irresponsible Junior, if 
 possible, one of those important, conceited 
 Juniors, who wear little silver ushers pins, and 
 think they are running the whole thing and 
 having a glorious time. The two brethren 
 were to tell this Junior that a very charming 
 
248 Harvard Stories. 
 
 girl had asked particularly to have him pre 
 sented. Then they should take him up to 
 where their companion was holding his ground, 
 throw the Junior into the action, and under cover 
 of this diversion the three would retreat and 
 leave him to his fate, pleasant or otherwise, as 
 the case might be. 
 
 Hudson thought the plan an excellent one, 
 but was precluded from joining by family cares. 
 Holworthy said " nonsense," and also expected 
 to be busy all day. Gray declared it was all 
 out of keeping with the spirit of the day, and 
 indignantly refused to have anything to do 
 with it ; whereupon the Amalgamated Brethren 
 called him " scab," and threatened to shadow 
 him during the evening. Jack Rattleton did 
 not show much interest on either side, and 
 indeed was not sure that he would stay up for 
 Class Day at all. There was something the 
 matter with Jack, probably the effects of his 
 abnormal efforts during the examinations. 
 
 It rains on Class Day every fifth year, and as 
 this was only the third, the weather was all 
 right on the great morning. The vanguard of 
 the invaders was first met in Saunders Theatre, 
 and there held in check and severely handled 
 
Harvard Stories. 249 
 
 for an hour and a half. That was the last re 
 sistance offered, however ; after that the bright, 
 victorious masses swarmed everywhere, and re 
 inforcements kept pouring in over the bridge. 
 The Protective Brotherhood formed square im 
 mediately, and bravely cut its way through the 
 opening spread at the Hemenway Gymnasium. 
 It moved on the other spreads with equal 
 success. There was a little friction early in the 
 day betwixt Brothers Stoughton and Randolph, 
 because the latter led into action with unneces 
 sary frequency and boldness. He wanted to 
 talk to some one every fifteen minetes, and the 
 supporting tactics had to be put in operation 
 too often to suit Dick. Furthermore, Randolph 
 frequently ran over the time limit. 
 
 In the struggle round the Tree, the " gang " 
 organized itself with great effect. Little Gray 
 was mounted on Burleigh s shoulders, and with 
 the others guarding him, tore down flowers 
 enough for all his supporters. After the Tree, 
 the Brotherhood prudently united again, and 
 towards evening went cautiously to the Beck 
 Hall spread. They had hardly got on the 
 grounds before Randolph in an undertone 
 ejaculated the omnisignificant, " By Jove ! " 
 
250 Harvard Stories. 
 
 " Are you going in again ? " demanded 
 Stoughton, impatiently. " You 11 tire us out. 
 We shall do this thing once too often, the 
 first thing you know, and one of us will get 
 stuck." 
 
 " You fellows need n t bother about relieving 
 me this time," answered Randolph, graciously, 
 and off he went. He was not seen again during 
 the evening. 
 
 " That is what I call rank desertion," ex 
 claimed Dick, in disgust. " I have been afraid 
 all along he d do that. The beggar uses us all 
 day until she turns up, then we can shift for 
 ourselves. 
 
 " Treason, treason ! " cried Burleigh, " let s 
 follow him up and make it pleasant for him." 
 
 " No," growled Dick, " let these squires of 
 dames run their heads into the yoke if they 
 want to. Come on, old man, you and I will 
 stand by each other, anyway, and live and die 
 free men. Let s strike the grub ; that Tree 
 shindy has made me ravenous." 
 
 But the " grub " was hard to " strike." Pale 
 famine threatened over the lawn of Beck Hall. 
 There was a surging mass around the table in 
 the tent, and as fast as a dish was brought in 
 
Harvard Stories. 251 
 
 (which was not very fast) it was snapped up by 
 the foragers with cries of " For a lady, for a 
 lady." There was little hope for a free patriot 
 guerilla among these enthralled commissaries 
 of the conquerors. 
 
 " Look here," said Dick, " I notice the dishes 
 are brought out of that door. The thing for us to 
 do is to trace these waiters up to their source." 
 
 They followed this Stoughtonian idea, and 
 worked up stream against the waiters, until they 
 arrived at the fountain of supply in the cellar 
 of the Hall. The springs were very nearly ex 
 hausted, but there was enough salad to load 
 two plates. A demijohn contained one glass- 
 full of claret punch. For this they matched, 
 and Dick won it. Then the explorers returned 
 upstairs, with their brilliantly won booty. Just 
 as they were emerging on the lawn, Dick ahead 
 with his plate in one hand and the glass in 
 the other, they heard an exclamation of " Why, 
 there s Mr. Stoughton ! " A huge frigate was 
 bearing right down upon them, with all sail set, 
 and four light craft in tow ! 
 
 Dick s knees shook together, and with a look 
 of astonished horror, he groaned, " Good Lord! 
 How did they ever get here ? " 
 
252 Harvard Stories. 
 
 " Quick ! " said Burleigh ; " give me the 
 punch. For Heaven s sake save that. You ve 
 got to take your hat off. Hang it, man, where 
 are your manners ? " 
 
 In his confusion Dick handed his glass to 
 Ned, and bowed. The next minute the enemy 
 was upon him. 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Stoughton, I m so glad we Ve 
 found you. You must be surprised to see us, 
 are n t you ? So good of you to ask us. I 
 did n t expect to get here, but the girls insisted 
 that they could not miss your Class Day. So 
 we Ve come all the way from Omaha. Think 
 of that ! You are the only friend we Ve met. 
 Oh ! where did you get all that salad ? " 
 
 " Ah er delighted, er so glad you could 
 come," murmured Dick. " Brought the whole 
 family too this is awfully jolly. By-the-way, 
 let me present my friend, Mr. Burleigh." 
 
 Dick turned round for his supporter. Ed 
 ward was gone ; so was the punch. 
 
 Ned Burleigh fled round a corner seeking a 
 secluded nook that he had marked down for 
 emergencies. His intentions were perfectly 
 loyal ; he meant to return and succor his ally 
 after he had safely disposed of the food and 
 
Harvard Stories. 253 
 
 liquid. But he had not gone a dozen steps be 
 fore he encountered Steve Hudson with a weary 
 look in his eye. That organ lit up when it fell 
 on the stout chum and his burden. 
 
 " Oh, Ned ! where did you get it ? Give it to 
 me." 
 
 " There may be a little more where this came 
 from," answered Ned, sweetly. 
 
 " Give it to me, Ned. I want it for my mother. 
 My whole family is starving on my hands." 
 
 " Hum," said Burleigh, suspiciously. " I 
 think I will take it to her myself. I know this 
 * fora lady dodge. If your statement is true, 
 I want the credit of the sacrifice." 
 
 " Good," exclaimed Hudson, the weary look 
 passing away entirely. " Come along. My 
 sister has been disappointed at not seeing you 
 all day." 
 
 The sister s alleged disappointment was not 
 relieved, for she was not with the family at all. 
 Two or three aunts and a pig-tailed cousin were. 
 While Burleigh was yielding up his hard-earned 
 spoils with a hollow, a very hollow grace, and 
 receiving thanks, Steve Hudson disappeared, 
 saying he would be back in a moment. 
 
 The pale, beseeching face of Dick, languish- 
 
254 Harvard Stories. 
 
 ing among five women, rose before Ned s vision ; 
 but this was no time to think of his comrade ; 
 he had to forage ice-cream for the aunts. Then 
 he had to get some water ; then he had to look 
 for the escaped daughter, an unsuccessful quest. 
 ("It s too bad to trouble you this way, Mr. 
 Burleigh " ) ; then he had to round up two 
 small boys. ( " The boys have no business 
 here, I know, but they begged so hard to 
 come " ) ; then he had to take the pig-tail 
 round the Yard ; then more water (" Oh, if 
 you could get some Apollinaris ") ; Apollinaris ; 
 then he had to order the carriage (" Where can 
 Steve be? We can t go away without saying 
 good-by to the boy, and telling him what a 
 good time we have had ") ; then he had to put 
 off the carriage ; etc, etc, etc. And thus fell 
 the last of the Amalgamated Seniors ! 
 
 The carriages were beginning to leave. 
 Ernest Gray got his family off among the first, 
 and then went on a search. 
 
 He looked everywhere, as far as the outlying 
 spread at the Agassiz ; but unsuccessfully. He 
 came to the conclusion that Class Day was 
 
Harvard Stories. 255 
 
 about over, and began to think that it was not 
 so merry as he had always thought it before. 
 As he strolled back over the Delta, it occurred 
 to him that he would not cross the old historic 
 battle-ground often again if at all. Memorial 
 Hall was brightly illuminated. The light shone 
 through the stained-glass windows, and showed 
 the array of those who had done their duty. 
 The window of 61 caught his eye most plainly. 
 On the one half was a student listening to the 
 trumpet, on the other he was going forth full 
 armed. Over the Senior s head, the calm face 
 of the Founder looked through the night into 
 the West, into the West, where spread the 
 nation. 
 
 He did not go through the Yard, he walked 
 slowly along behind it. He heard the sound 
 of music, and between the buildings caught a 
 glimpse of the enchanted quadrangle, the last 
 bright transformation scene before the drop of 
 the curtain. He wandered on and beneath a 
 well-known window looked up, perhaps from 
 force of habit. Then he stopped, for, though 
 the open window was dark, he thought he saw 
 a form in it. He went up-stairs and knocked at 
 the door. " Come in," said Jack Rattleton s 
 
256 Harvard Stories. 
 
 voice. The room was unlit, and Jack was sit 
 ting in the window-seat with his dog. 
 
 " Hello, old man/ said Gray. " I have n t 
 seen you since the Tree. Have you been up 
 here by yourself all the evening ? " 
 
 " Well, you see," drawled Jack. " Blathers 
 was up here all alone, and I thought I d sit 
 with him a little while. I can amuse him better 
 than I can a girl, you know." 
 
 Gray walked over to him, and for a longtime 
 the two men of opposite natures looked silently 
 out of the window together. Below, they could 
 see the Japanese lanterns, the white dresses, 
 and all the gay throng they could see them, 
 but they did n t. They saw, above the elms, 
 the belfry of Harvard Hall against the clear 
 night sky. They saw the familiar outlines of 
 the dark roofs and spires. Over all, they saw 
 the tower of Memorial pointing to the stars. 
 Up from the Yard floated, distinctly, the 
 measures of the Anthem. 
 
 " Thou then wert our Mother, the nurse of our souls 
 
 We were moulded to manhood by thee, 
 Till freighted with treasures, life friendships and hopes, 
 Thou didst launch us on Destiny s sea." 
 
HOW RIVERS LUCK TURNED. 
 
 I. 
 
 " WELL, it does concern me, because I don t 
 want any love-sick invalids in that boat." Thus 
 spake the practical William Bender, Esq., Cap 
 tain of the H. U. Crew. He had just come 
 into Hollis Holworthy s room and sat down 
 for a few minutes private conversation with 
 that gentleman. By a simple method of his, 
 he had come to the point of the interview in 
 the opening question, " Look here, Hoi, is 
 Charlie Rivers in love?" Holworthy, some 
 what startled, had replied that his chum s 
 affairs were not his, and intimated that he 
 could not see how they belonged to Bender 
 either. Hence the above remark. 
 
 " I don t want you to think," he continued, 
 " that I am merely inquisitive and impertinent ; 
 but you see I am responsible for the condition 
 of the men, and if anything of that sort is going 
 on I ought to know it. Last year I had one 
 17 257 
 
2 5 & ^# ^z># r d Stories. 
 
 man in the boat who was engaged, and two who 
 wanted to be, and I never knew anything about 
 it until after the race. Jim Lovell, who had 
 precious little money himself, was engaged, to a 
 girl without a cent, and all the spring he was 
 thinking about the price of beef when he ought 
 to have been watching the man in front of him 
 and improving his recover. As for Randal and 
 Bowers they had no right to be in the boat. 
 They were all out of condition, and I don t see 
 now how we won. Even at New London, just 
 before the race, those two men were moping 
 like a pair of sick pointers. They were off 
 their feed and so blue that they made every 
 body else so. I was scared to death, thought 
 they were overtrained, and laid them off several 
 times though they needed all the practice they 
 could get. I let them fill themselves up with 
 Bass, nearly a pint a day. Nothing did any 
 good, and I never knew what to make of it 
 until last summer when the engagements of 
 both were announced. Bah ! no wonder the 
 starboard side was weak." 
 
 " Well, I have heard you rowing men growl 
 about almost everything," laughed Holworthy, 
 "but this is a new complaint. So Dan Cupid 
 
Harvard Stories. 259 
 
 played the mischief with the Harvard crew, did 
 he? I should n t think the little winged god 
 would make such a heavy passenger in the 
 boat. Think how much harder his victims 
 must pull when their fair ladies eyes are upon 
 them. Why, it is quite like wearing a silken 
 scarf at a tournament." 
 
 " Wearing grandmother s ducks. That is 
 just all they know about such things, the chaps 
 who write novels. No amount of ladies eyes 
 or wearing apparel ever pulled Sir Launcelot 
 through a mill, if he was n t properly trained 
 for it." 
 
 " You have no poetry in your soul, you old 
 monk ; your heart is as hard as your muscles," 
 replied Hollis, smiling. " Wait until you get 
 an arrow yourself, and see what a spirit it will 
 put in you. Why, you will conquer anything." 
 
 " That is all nonsense, declared Bender. 
 " Every man on that crew will pull his best, 
 anyway, don t you be afraid about that ; but 
 his best won t amount to much if he spends all 
 his time worrying about some pink and white 
 girl. I think I know the symptoms of the 
 disease now, and what is more I think Charlie 
 Rivers has it. Thank goodness he sticks to 
 
260 Harvard Stories. 
 
 his beef yet, and seems to pull as strong an oar 
 as ever ; but there is something wrong. He 
 used to be the jolliest old cock in college, and 
 bright and quick as a steel trap. Now he 
 hardly talks at all at the training table, and 
 when he does make a joke it is usually stupid. 
 You re his room-mate and best friend, and you 
 must know what is up. Of course I don t ask 
 you to betray any confidence, and if he has 
 been spilling over to you, you are quite right in 
 telling me that it is none of my business. But 
 if you have diagnosed his case for yourself, I 
 wish you would tell me frankly what you think 
 about it." 
 
 " If Charlie is in love he has never told me 
 so," Holworthy answered rather evasively. " I 
 do know, however, that he has had a great 
 many things to depress him. His father died 
 last winter, you remember, and of course that 
 was enough to make him blue. Then he has 
 very little money, and is uncertain about get 
 ting any sort of a good job when he graduates, 
 and he is worrying over that. He will proba 
 bly brace up after a while. I hope you won t fire 
 him off the crew, for it would break his heart." 
 
 " Well, you know, Holly, it would break mine 
 
Harvard Stories. 2 6 1 
 
 too," said Bender. " Charlie has always played 
 in awfully hard luck, and he certainly deserves 
 another chance to win his oar, and a red one at 
 that ; but, of course, I can t keep him in the 
 boat out of personal friendship and admiration, 
 if he is not fit to row. I don t think there is 
 any danger of that yet, however. He is still 
 the prettiest oar I have ever seen, and surely 
 no one could work more conscientiously." 
 
 " He is a great deal too conscientious. It 
 would do him good to break training once in a 
 while," asserted Hollis. " You ought to let a 
 man in his condition smoke, anyway." 
 
 " I don t know about that," objected the 
 Tory oarsman. " I hope you will do your best 
 to cheer him up, though ; and, especially, if you 
 find out that any girl has got him on a string, 
 talk him out of it and clear his mind." 
 
 " Oh, thou untamed Hercules," replied Hoi- 
 worthy, laughing at this last simple request. 
 " I suppose you think you could snap such a 
 string as you can an oar. When Omphale ties 
 you up in her yarn, you won t find it so easy to 
 break." 
 
 " Well, I hope old Rivers is not snarled up 
 in any such tackle," said Bender, as he rose to 
 
262 Harvard Stories. 
 
 go. " After all, though, I believe I would 
 rather have him in the middle of the boat than 
 any other man in the University, even if he 
 were in love with twenty girls." And with this 
 acknowledgment in spite of such Mohammedan 
 possibilities, Billy Bender went off to the river. 
 
 As Bender had said, Charles Rivers had been 
 " playing in hard luck." Though a splendid 
 oarsman he had never won a race. In his 
 Freshman year he had been taken out of his 
 class crew to be a substitute for the University 
 eight. The next year he rowed No. 4 on the 
 Varsity ; but Yale won. He filled the same 
 place all through his Junior year, until a week 
 before the race, when he sprained his heel and 
 had to sit in the referee s launch and watch his 
 comrades get their revenge on the Blue. This 
 year was his last, and he had begun training, 
 even with the new men, before Christmas. 
 
 Few people realize through what a man must 
 go who tries for a university crew. Even those 
 who have been to the rowing colleges cannot 
 fully appreciate it unless they have themselves 
 trained with the big crew, or been closely 
 associated with some man who has done so. 
 True, it is only to lead a very regular abstemi- 
 
Harvard Stories. 263 
 
 ous life, and to do a good deal of healthful, 
 though hard work. It may seem easy to do 
 this for seven months perhaps it is so for those 
 superior to the little vices that make life pleasant 
 for us weaker ones. But you, my friend, who 
 like a good dinner and a cigar, and the merry 
 company of your fellow-men, you try it, par 
 ticularly if you are living in the midst of men 
 who are enjoying their youth to its utmost. 
 Leave them before ten o clock and go to bed 
 just as Tom is preparing to make a Welsh rare 
 bit, and Dick is brewing a punch, and Harry 
 has got out his banjo. Gaze day after day on 
 your favorite pipes that look beseechingly at 
 you from the mantel-piece. Run five miles 
 every day, and row ten or fifteen while the 
 coach and coxswain take turns at telling you 
 how utterly useless you are ; then try to study 
 all the evening for an examination. Watch 
 your friends starting off without you on moon 
 light sleigh rides, and theatre sprees, and yacht 
 ing and coaching parties. Go to a dinner and 
 refuse everything indigestibly tempting that is 
 put under your nose, look on the wine when it 
 is red and don t drink it, and smell the other 
 men s cigars. For six or seven months out of 
 
264 Harvard Stories. 
 
 the nine of a college year he must do all this 
 who would be one of the Varsity Eight ; and 
 at the end of the seven months he may be 
 appointed substitute, or thrown off altogether 
 for a better man. No doubt it is quite wrong 
 to consider such a proper mode of life as a 
 sacrifice ; nevertheless it is a great one to most 
 of the young men who go through it, and par 
 ticularly to such a one as Rivers. Yet this 
 sacrifice he had made all through his college 
 course. 
 
 But hard as the training is to a man in the 
 full flush of health and spirits, it is ten times 
 harder to one who is troubled and depressed. 
 When in such a condition the incessant and 
 monotonous exercise is apt to wear on his 
 nerves, and make him more despondent. If 
 used to tobacco he wofully misses the great 
 comforter. So poor Charlie found it, for in 
 this, his Senior year, one thing happened after 
 another to grieve and worry him. In the win 
 ter his father died, and Rivers keenly felt the 
 loss, for his father had been his best friend. 
 Added to his natural grief was a new feeling of 
 responsibility, as though left to fight a battle 
 unsupported, his reserves having been de- 
 
Harva rd Stories. 265 
 
 stroyed. On his own account he would not 
 have been troubled by this, but a young sister 
 had been left to him and very little else. He 
 would have left college at once, but it had been 
 his father s earnest wish that he should take 
 his degree, and there was little chance of find 
 ing anything to do before Commencement. So 
 the little sister was quartered with an aunt, 
 and Rivers came back to Cambridge, and went 
 to work again with the crew. The training wore 
 on him more than ever before. He did not 
 miss the fun that was going on around him, 
 but, oh! how he did long for his pipe. He 
 kept grimly on, however, more with the deter 
 mination of the man (trivial though the object 
 may seem) than with the former enthusiasm of 
 the boy. Holworthy used to do his best in the 
 evenings to lighten his chum s mood, and never 
 smoked himself when the latter was with him. 
 Besides these troubles, Hollis strongly sus 
 pected that there was another ; he had not 
 been altogether frank with Bender on the sub 
 ject. One day some one and her mother came 
 on to Boston for a fortnight, and Rivers at the 
 same time became bluer and more restless than 
 ever. He put all his pipes out of sight, and 
 
266 Harvard Stories. 
 
 would tramp up and down the room, or sit and 
 look into the fire for an hour at a time. Never 
 theless he would go into Boston nearly every 
 day, and get back only just in time for crew 
 practice. 
 
 When some one and her mother came out to 
 see Cambridge, a luncheon had to be given in 
 the room. There was the usual borrowing of 
 furniture, ruthless clearing up, and upsetting 
 of all established disorder in the room, all of 
 which Holworthy suffered in silence. He 
 watched his patient narrowly all through lunch ; 
 but when they went out to see the lions, he no 
 longer had any doubt about the case. For 
 Rivers took Mamma, leaving Hollis to convoy 
 the younger craft. 
 
 Before the two weeks were up, Rivers did a 
 very foolish thing. He came to the conclusion 
 that, in any event, hell would be better than 
 purgatory. That was of course illogical, but a 
 man in purgatory is not logical. Furthermore 
 when he makes up his mind to jump out of 
 that middle place, he shuts his eyes and always 
 hopes, with or without reason, that he will not 
 go the wrong way. If he were in a comfortable 
 state and could reason at his ease, he might not 
 
Harvard Stories. 267 
 
 delude himself with unfounded hope. Charlie 
 Rivers thought he had argued coolly with him 
 self. To the prospect of his responsibilities 
 and narrow means, he answered that he had 
 strength, energy, and education, and that his 
 little sister needed more than money. To the 
 cold reflection that he had never been shown 
 the slightest glimpse of anything more than 
 the dictates of natural gentleness and good 
 manners, he replied that perhaps it was not 
 right for a girl to show more until a man told 
 her that he loved her. At any rate he would 
 not trust his untutored perceptions to tell 
 whether she cared anything for him or not ; 
 the only way was to ask her and find out. If 
 he was afraid to do so he was a coward and did 
 not deserve her. Then he argued himself into 
 the idea that it was his duty to tell her squarely 
 how he stood, and give her the opportunity to 
 send him away if she so pleased and put a stop 
 to attentions that might be irksome to her. 
 This was all very silly and boyish. If he had 
 known all about such things, as of course do you 
 and I who read and write about them, he "would 
 have spent that Sunday, on which there was no 
 rowing, in his room, reading Thackeray, or gone 
 
268 Harvard Stories. 
 
 out with Rattleton and Holworthy in the 
 former s dog-cart, as he was asked to do. In 
 stead of either of these safe and normal Sab 
 bath amusements, he hurried away from his 
 untasted lunch at the training-table (making 
 Bender s blood run cold by showing that he 
 was " off his feed "), spent an hour in dressing, 
 and then went in to Boston. 
 
 That afternoon as Holworthy and Jack 
 Rattleton were driving through a suburb of 
 Boston, they saw walking ahead of them a big, 
 familiar form, towering beside another form of 
 very different proportions. Rattleton laid the 
 whip over his horse and went by the couple at 
 a pace that precluded any sign of recognition. 
 Holworthy was as much surprised as pleased 
 at this thoughtful act on Rattleton s part ; and 
 concluded that he must in some way have 
 guessed that things were serious with Rivers, 
 and no subject for teasing. Nor did Jack say 
 a word about the pair of pedestrians, or hint 
 that he had recognized Rivers, which reticence 
 confirmed Holworthy s conclusion. On this 
 drive Rattleton did not talk a great deal about 
 anything. He had been quite despondent 
 lately and unlike himself, probably on account 
 
Harvard Stories. 269 
 
 of the uncertainty of his Commencement, 
 though the dreaded end of Senior year was 
 still a good way off by Jack s ordinary compu 
 tation. On two evenings within that past week 
 had he been found in his room, " grinding" for 
 that degree, when the examinations were still 
 two months away. 
 
 It was dark when they got back to Cambridge, 
 and went up to Holworthy s room to sit until 
 dinner-time. There was a dark mass on the 
 couch, and when they lit the gas they saw 
 Rivers. The young giant was lying on his 
 chest, his great arms over his head and his face 
 in the cushions. 
 
 "The old boy is over-trained and tired," 
 whispered Rattleton. " I had better clear out 
 and not waken him," and he left the room. 
 
 Had Jack recognized Rivers that afternoon or 
 not ? wondered Holworthy. He hoped not. He 
 turned the light out again, not knowing exactly 
 why. Then, after a moment s hesitation, he 
 went up and laid his hand gently on the shoul 
 der of his prostrate room-mate. Let us not 
 turn the gas up again on those two. We will 
 go down-stairs instead with Jack Rattleton. 
 
 As he closed the door gently after him Jack 
 
2 70 Harvard Stories. 
 
 gave a little low whistle. Then he went slowly 
 down-stairs and into the Yard, followed by the 
 dog, Blathers. " Come along, pup," he said to 
 his constant companion ; " let s go take a 
 walk." He walked a long way and came back 
 to his club table rather late for dinner. 
 
 Holworthy was late, too. As they were 
 smoking with their coffee, the other men having 
 gone, Rattleton asked if Rivers was not getting 
 " stale " from his training. 
 
 " I think so, decidedly," answered Hollis. " I 
 have spoken to Bender about it, but he is such 
 a conservative old martinet that he won t break 
 any of the canons of training until he is satis 
 fied that a man is going into a rapid decline. I 
 know a cigar once in a while would do Charlie 
 more good than harm, but I can t make the 
 conscientious beggar steal a smoke without per 
 mission from his tyrant. He is blue as indigo." 
 
 "Is he troubled about money matters?" 
 asked Rattleton, hesitatingly coming now to 
 what he wanted to find out. " Did n t his 
 father leave him rather hard up ? Excuse my 
 asking, but I thought we might help him to find 
 something to do, don t you know." 
 
 " That is a great deal of the matter with him," 
 
Harvard Stories. 2 7 1 
 
 answered Holworthy, glad to see the tack on 
 which Jack was steering. " You need n t apolo 
 gize for asking about it. I wish to thunder we 
 could find him a job. He is worrying all the 
 time about what he is going to do after leaving 
 college." 
 
 That night Rattleton wrote a letter to his 
 father, who was president of a big corporation. 
 
 From this time on Rivers seemed to brace up 
 in his mental, and consequently in his physical 
 condition. This apparent improvement, how 
 ever, did not deceive Holworthy, who saw that 
 it was, in a way, unhealthy. Rivers had kept 
 at his rowing and training patiently and dog 
 gedly before ; but he now threw himself into 
 it heart and soul as a distraction. He dreamed 
 of the coming race night and day. He tried 
 his best to seem cheerful and encourage the 
 other men, and his plucky efforts succeeded very 
 well. Bender was delighted, declared there was 
 nothing like faithful training to keep a man in 
 proper shape, body and mind, unless he was 
 fool enough to fall in love, and concluded that 
 he had suspected Rivers unjustly on that score. 
 
 The latter showed every now and then to his 
 chum the intensity, almost fierceness, that lay 
 
272 Harvard Stories. 
 
 under this apparently happy enthusiasm. One 
 day he said that he must make a success of at 
 least one thing before leaving college, and if that 
 race were lost he should feel as though he were 
 going to fail in everything he undertook all 
 through life. Then Mentor Holworthy opened 
 on him with all his batteries. He told him that 
 he ought to be ashamed to make such a mere 
 sport the test of his life ; he descanted hotly on 
 the subject of the athletic fever, and laughed 
 scornfully at the fancied importance of such 
 intercollegiate contests. 
 
 " I suppose," said he, " that Hancock and 
 Adams and Emerson and Longfellow and all 
 the rest of them will sleep more peacefully in 
 their graves if we beat Yale, and if we get 
 thrashed no doubt old Dr. Holmes will be sorry 
 he ever came to Cambridge, and will at once go 
 down to New Haven to take his entrance exam 
 ination for the Freshman class there. Have n t 
 you grown up yet, that you look on these 
 things as a school boy? These overwrought 
 struggles can do good in just one way, and you 
 seem ready now to throw away even that ad 
 vantage. Every time a thoroughbred gets licked 
 it does him good. You have seen the men on 
 
Harvard Stories. 273 
 
 our different teams get up after a thrashing and 
 go at it as hard as ever the next year ; you have 
 yourself gone through a splendid school of 
 defeat and disappointment, yet now you talk 
 about lying down for all your lifetime if you 
 lose a boat-race. It is true you cannot row 
 against Yale again, but there is a bigger victory 
 than that to be won. Have you for the first 
 time lost all your heart after a failure ? You of 
 all men should not need to be told that a prize 
 is never lost until won. At any rate lay up in 
 reserve for yourself the consolation of having 
 done your best. Charley, Charley, if you throw 
 up the sponge after one knockdown, you are not 
 the man I have always thought you." 
 
 Rivers listened to all this, with head bent. 
 When Hollis stopped he raised his face again 
 and said : " I know what you mean, old man, 
 and you are right. I won t lie down like a cur. 
 I 11 pull it through to the finish, anyway. 
 But in the meantime I must do like a man 
 whatever I have taken up." 
 
 " Now you are talking like your old self," 
 answered Hollis, " but don t forget that doing 
 your duty like a gentleman is not confined to 
 rowing a boat-race." 
 
 18 
 
2 74 Harvard Stories. 
 
 After this broadside Rivers went on with his 
 rowing in a better spirit than he had shown 
 during that year. Before long he was immensely 
 cheered up also by the promise of a position 
 with a good salary and chance of advancement, 
 that was to be ready for him right after the 
 boat-race. Jack Rattleton, through his father, 
 had succeeded in getting this for him. His 
 absorbing devotion to his rowing fortunately 
 did not prevent him from getting his degree 
 but he lost a cum laude and had to " take his 
 A.B. straight," as Burleigh said, " without any 
 green leaves or nutmeg in it." 
 
 There was another piece of parchment made 
 out for Commencement Day, that was a sur 
 prise to every one. It was marked Johannes 
 Rattleton. 
 
 II. 
 
 Class Day and Commencement were over, 
 and every one was now bound for New London 
 to attend the post-Commencement carnival that, 
 for the undergraduate at least, really winds up 
 the college year. The crew had gone down to 
 their quarters at Gale s Ferry two weeks before; 
 there had been no Class Day for them. The 
 
Harvard Stories. 275 
 
 faithful flocked to the Thames mouth in squads 
 and divisions, and by all sorts of methods, some 
 in big yachts, some in cat-boats, others on 
 coaches, but most by train at special rates, for 
 the undergraduate is usually not rolling in 
 wealth, particularly at the end of June. The 
 fresh graduate who has just paid his Commence 
 ment bills is still less apt to do any coaching or 
 yachting except by invitation. 
 
 Dick Stoughton however had a small sloop, 
 and he and his friends had decided that the 
 cruise would not " break " them, and at any 
 rate that they would make it whether it broke 
 them or not. It would be cheaper to live 
 aboard, they argued very plausibly, than to get 
 swindled by New London hotel-keepers. They 
 would refrain from betting on the race ; then if 
 Yale won they would be no worse off financially, 
 and if the Crimson went to the front they would 
 not spend twice their winnings on the spot, as 
 they would be sure to do if they bet. This was 
 a highly praiseworthy resolution, and of course 
 the most sensible way of looking at the folly 
 of betting. Burleigh said it was easy enough 
 to look at anything sensibly. They would go, 
 then, on Dick s sloop, and they would not bet a 
 
2 76 Harvard Stories. 
 
 cent. They went on the sloop. The party was 
 made up of Stoughton, Hudson, Randolph, 
 Burleigh, and Gray. Holworthy did not go ; 
 he had taken a room in New London at the 
 Pequot House, and went there immediately 
 after Class Day, as he wanted to see all he could 
 of Rivers at the quarters. Strange to say, Jack 
 Rattleton also refused all persuasion to join his 
 friends on the cruise. In vain did Ned Bur 
 leigh, with tears in his eyes, assure him that it 
 would be the last and most beautiful " toot " 
 of his college course. Jack advanced several 
 good but utterly insufficient and unnatural 
 reasons for " shaking the gang." Ned exhorted 
 him more in sorrow than in anger. 
 
 "What has got into you lately? "he asked 
 anxiously. " That sheepskin seems to have 
 ruined you. I actually believe you have re 
 formed, or have caught a premature aim in life, 
 or some such fatal disease. You were a great 
 deal better fellow when you were Lazy Jack 
 and did n t amount to a row of pins ; John Rat 
 tleton, Esq., A.B., is a bore. You strained 
 yourself badly for those letters, and are run 
 down in consequence. Hang it all, Jack, come 
 along, it will do you good." 
 
Harvard Stories. 277 
 
 But Rattleton did not go along. He hung 
 around Cambridge until the day before the race, 
 and then joined Hollis at the Pequot House. 
 Capt. Stoughton s craft had arrived safely, not 
 withstanding her crew, and was anchored in the 
 river with the rest of the fleet in front of the 
 hotel, when Rattleton got there. 
 
 The night before the boat-race at New 
 London is one that bears recollection better 
 than description. The Pequot House is usually 
 the centre of ceremonies. Crowds of men are 
 down from Cambridge, and there are a few of 
 the advance-guard from New Haven, although 
 most of the Yale men come next morning. 
 Lectures and examinations are behind them, 
 the long vacation is ahead ; it is the last spree of 
 the year, the last gathering of the four years for 
 the Seniors, and full justice is usually done the 
 occasion. Many a grad., too, runs away from 
 his office to the Connecticut town, or comes 
 ashore there from his yacht, to renew his youth 
 on the eve of battle and to shout at the struggle 
 on the morrow. 
 
 Of course on that evening the party from 
 Stoughton s boat were ashore, and in the thick 
 of it. Ned Burleigh was master of ceremonies, 
 
2 78 Harvard Stories. 
 
 and organized a band of " cheerful workers." 
 Holworthy, however, kept out of it. He was 
 thinking of eight men up the river, five or six 
 miles away from all this roystering, and of one 
 big man in particular, whose whole soul, like 
 his muscles, was strung up for the next day. 
 He wondered whether Rivers was getting any 
 sleep, and the anxiety about his best friend left 
 him little heart to rollick with the others. He 
 was surprised to find Rattleton in much the 
 same mood, for notwithstanding the recent 
 change in that young gentleman, it seemed 
 hardly possible that Jack could sulk in his tent 
 at such a time as this. The two, with the dog 
 Blathers, walked out together on the piazza. 
 
 As they turned a corner of the veranda they 
 saw sitting in the light of a window two 
 feminine figures, one of which Holworthy at 
 once recognized. 
 
 " By Jove!" he thought to himself; "has 
 she come down to see that man kill himself, or 
 does she really want to see him win ? " Then 
 he growled to Rattleton, " This is a nice place 
 for a girl on this evening, is n t it ? " 
 
 Rattleton had stopped short. " Look here," 
 he said, " you go warn those Comanches, and 
 
Harvard Stories. 2 79 
 
 keep them in bounds. I am going to talk to 
 her." 
 
 "Why, do you know her?" queried Hollis 
 a little surprised. 
 
 " Oh, yes, slightly, well enough to speak 
 to. You go along." 
 
 Holworthy went to the back of the hotel, 
 and Jack towards the two ladies. 
 
 " Why, how do you do, Mr. Rattleton," said 
 the younger one, as he came up and bowed. 
 " Let me present you to my aunt, Mrs. West." 
 
 " Are you staying in the hotel ? " asked Jack 
 after the opening salutations. Just at this 
 moment he heard, from the direction of the 
 billiard-room, the silvery voice of Mr. Edward 
 Burleigh, leading the cheerful workers in the 
 strains of a hymn. He was greatly relieved 
 when Mrs. West answered, " No, we are stay 
 ing in one of the cottages, and came over here 
 only for dinner. Ethel, my dear, I think we 
 had better go back now. You will walk over 
 with us, Mr. Rattleton, will you not ? " 
 
 "With pleasure," answered Rattleton, truth 
 fully. " Do you mind my dog?" On the con 
 trary, they thought Blathers a lovely dog, and 
 all four went over to a quiet cottage at a little 
 
280 Harvard Stories. 
 
 distance from the hotel. The veranda looked 
 out over the beautiful river and was most in 
 viting. It was apparently not so, however, to 
 Mrs. West ; for as she went up the steps, she 
 said : " I feel a little chilly, and am going in 
 doors, Ethel. You may stay out here for a 
 little while, if you like." Ethel did like and 
 went over to a pair of chairs. As she passed 
 through the light of an open door, Jack caught 
 sight of a bit of blue ribbon pinned on her dress. 
 He sat down opposite her, and opened the 
 conversation, by remarking, " You are on the 
 other side of the fence, I see." 
 
 " Oh, yes," she answered. " Don t you know 
 that I have a cousin on the Yale crew ? I am 
 very proud of him." 
 
 " Oh, have you ? " said Jack, with an inward 
 groan. " I did n t know it. Well, I never was 
 a really clever, polite liar, but I am not such a 
 transparent one as to say that I hope he will 
 win." 
 
 A little rippling laugh followed this confes 
 sion. " No, you had better not strain the truth 
 to that extent. I will forgive you for sticking 
 to your colors and for being so frank about it." 
 
 " It is not only because I am a Harvard man 
 
Harvard Stories. 281 
 
 that I want to see our crew win," Jack went on 
 with a sort of gulp, "it is also because the 
 most splendid man I ever knew, and one of 
 my best friends, is in the boat. He has been 
 through an awful mill, and deserves to win if 
 ever a man did." 
 
 " Indeed ? " came the question, perfectly un- 
 interestedly. " And who is that ? " 
 
 " A man named Rivers. Do you happen to 
 know him?" Rattleton tried to see in the 
 moonlight whether or not there was any more 
 color in her cheek ; but he could n t. Besides, 
 he had enough to do in looking after his own 
 face. He felt cold all over. 
 
 " Oh, yes, I know him quite well," she an 
 swered, quite carelessly. " Nice fellow." 
 
 " He is more than that, he is a hero," de 
 clared Jack. " You can hardly form any idea 
 of what that chap has been through this year, 
 and the way he has borne it all is splendid. He 
 has had all sorts of troubles ; his governor died ; 
 he was blue about his exchequer ; and last, and 
 worst of all," Jack was glad the moonlight was 
 kind to him also, but looked at his boots, never 
 theless, " I am perfectly certain that he fell in 
 love with some girl and got a facer." 
 
282 Harvard Stories. 
 
 "A what? " exclaimed his listener. 
 
 " I beg your pardon a staggering blow in 
 the face, metaphorical, of course. I have got 
 so in the habit of using slang, that I fear I am 
 not fit to talk to a lady. I beg you will forgive 
 me for bringing such prize-ring language to 
 your ears." 
 
 " It is very expressive, at least," she said. 
 "And did Mr. Rivers tell you that he had 
 received a facer ? " 
 
 " No, no, no," protested Jack, " of course 
 not. I don t know it, I only suspected it from 
 his actions and condition. I don t even know, 
 of course, who the girl is. But whoever she 
 may be, she is making a big mistake. She is 
 throwing away the most magnificent fellow in 
 the world. If she does not amount to any 
 thing," he went on slowly, " I am glad she 
 does n t take him, for Charley ought not to be 
 wasted on her. But if she is the most beauti 
 ful, gentle, sweet woman who ever lived, then, 
 by Jove, such a pair ought to be married. And 
 I am sure she must be just that, or else, you 
 know, Rivers would not have fallen in love with 
 her. Don t you think so?" 
 
 Rattleton s hair was rigid at his boldness and 
 
Harvard Stories. 283 
 
 impertinence, but his hair had nothing to do 
 with his speaking apparatus. His heart was 
 taking charge of that, moving it very slowly 
 and just a little hoarsely. 
 
 "Why, what devout hero worship ! " said the 
 girl with a smile. " No, I don t think anything 
 of the kind. He might have fallen in love with 
 some one entirely unworthy of him, or, what is 
 more, who did not care for him. No matter 
 how perfect she might be, you would not have 
 her marry if she did not love him, would you ? " 
 
 "No o," assented Jack, reluctantly, "but 
 she ought to love him." 
 
 " He must, indeed, be all that you paint him, 
 then," she laughed, " but love does not neces 
 sarily take to paragons, you know. Why do 
 you admire him so very much ? " 
 
 " Because I have known him like a brother 
 for four years," answered Jack, earnestly. 
 " Oh, if you knew him as well as I do, you 
 would you would n t think I was exag 
 gerating." 
 
 "What made you think him so desperately 
 in love ? " 
 
 " Oh, I don t know. I think it is unmistak 
 able," was Jack s weak reply. 
 
284 Harvard Stories. 
 
 " Only those can tell who have themselves 
 been in that condition they say," came the 
 laughing response. 
 
 Jack s finger-nails went into his palms. 
 " No, no," he stammered, " no, I can tell. 
 Oh, you ought to have seen him," he went on, 
 desperately. " The way he went to work at 
 that rowing after it all, showed his sand. If 
 they lose to-morrow, I believe his plucky old 
 heart will break right in two." 
 
 " And is his sand/ as you call it, restricted 
 to rowing a boat-race ? " 
 
 " No, I did n t mean to imply that. He will 
 go on working to win that girl in every way he 
 can, I am sure. I only meant that his conduct 
 about his training, in such a hard time, shows 
 what stuff he has in him." 
 
 " Do you think, then, that winning a boat-race 
 is the best way to win a wife ? Might not Mr. 
 Rivers find some higher field for his qualities? 
 Is it not a little childish to make an athletic 
 contest the aim of a man s life ? Do you think 
 the only pluck worth admiring is that which 
 goes with muscle ? 
 
 Jack had heard endless discussions on this 
 subject, and was ready for these questions. 
 
Harvard Stories. 285 
 
 " No," he said in answer to the last one, " I 
 don t think anything of the kind. Please don t 
 imagine that at Harvard we are nothing but 
 gladiator worshippers. We admire a plucky 
 athlete, it is true, but not because he is strong 
 or successful, only because of his grit and self- 
 denial. Of course we want him to put the 
 Crimson ahead, but we like him none the less 
 if he fails, provided he has done his best and 
 done it like a gentleman. We admire the 
 same qualities just as much when we see them 
 in any other field than that of athletics, but I 
 suppose we don t recognize them so easily. 
 But in that our little world is not so different 
 from the big one. Now I am going to ask you 
 some questions. Has any man during the last 
 seventy years been elected President of these 
 United States for his greatness, unless he was 
 a soldier? Has not the general been preferred 
 time and again to the statesman? Has not 
 the warrior always been dear to the heart of 
 the people, while other men, who have ham 
 mered away all their lives with longer-winded 
 pluck and perseverance, must content them 
 selves with secondary honor? The reason of 
 this must be that when a man does his duty on 
 
286 Harvard Stories. 
 
 the battlefield, his merit is more patent to the 
 people than in the harder and less showy 
 struggle of civil life. Are we youngsters, then, 
 so very much younger than the old and wise 
 ones who criticise us? Why, you yourself just 
 now said that you were proud of your cousin 
 because he was on the Yale crew." 
 
 " Oh, no, I did n t say that," laughed the 
 girl ; " I only said that he was on the Yale crew 
 and I was very proud of him. Why, Mr. Rat- 
 tleton, what a sharp pleader you are ! I had 
 no idea that your talents lay in that direction." 
 
 " By Jove ! neither had I," exclaimed the 
 ingenuous Jack, really wondering and some 
 what abashed at his unaccustomed volubility. 
 " I am only trying, you know, to repeat what I 
 have heard other fellows say," he confessed, 
 apologetically. " I suppose I have got it all 
 mixed up and am talking like a fool, but please 
 make allowances for me, because I am one, you 
 know." 
 
 " No you are not at all," she said slowly, to 
 Jack s great relief. " But don t you think that 
 you rather belittle yourself and your fellows by 
 being too humble, and comparing yourselves 
 with people who have not had your advantages ? 
 
Harvard Stories. 287 
 
 Ought not educated men, men of the same 
 school that has produced our greatest thinkers 
 and workers, ought they not to discern between 
 the showy and the solid ? Should the manli 
 ness of the athlete be any more patent to 
 them than the higher courage of the student ?" 
 
 " I suppose not," admitted Jack, resignedly. 
 " That is just what Hoi worthy always says. I 
 tell him he is a prig, but of course he is right, 
 and so are you. But nevertheless, childish or 
 not, I cannot help admiring such a man as 
 Charlie Rivers for the qualities he has shown. 
 He has been so strong and patient and loyal, 
 oh ! such a man. No, even if it is all wasted 
 as you say, you can never convince me that I 
 ought not to love him for it." 
 
 There was silence for a moment, and then 
 came the admission very softly. " No, I don t 
 think I can." Jack s finger-nails went into his 
 palms again. 
 
 A moment later she arose and said : " Really 
 I ought not to keep my aunt up any longer. I 
 must say good-night, Mr. Rattleton." 
 
 Jack jumped to his feet. " I beg your par 
 don for staying so late," he said. " The time 
 has gone fast. And-er-by-the-way," he con- 
 
288 Harvard Stories. 
 
 tinued, a little awkwardly. " I have done 
 wrong in talking so much about Rivers trouble. 
 Of course, I really know nothing about it, and 
 it is none of my affair, you know, anyway. 
 Please don t think that I am in the habit of gos 
 siping about other men in this way. I got 
 rather carried away to-night, I am afraid. I beg 
 you won t say anything about it to any one." 
 
 " I never make conversation out of such 
 things, Mr. Rattleton," she answered. " You 
 may depend that I shall not repeat it to a soul. 
 And now good-night." 
 
 She looked into his eyes with a radiant smile, 
 and held out her hand. Jack took it as if he 
 were afraid of breaking the little thing, and then 
 dropped it quickly. " Good-night," he said, 
 shortly, and went down the steps and over the 
 lawn, followed by Mr. Blathers. 
 
 She stood for a moment and watched him 
 putting great stretches of moonlit grass behind 
 his long thin legs, the little dark figure trotting 
 beside him. Then she went in, threw her arms 
 around her aunt s neck, and kissed her. 
 
 "Has Mr. Rattleton gone?" asked Mrs. 
 West. " He seems like a nice fellow." 
 
 " Yes, and he is one. When I first met him, 
 
Harvard Stories. 289 
 
 I thought him easy enough to understand, and 
 like every other boy ; but I can t quite make 
 him out now. At any rate he is a species new 
 to me and an interesting one " ; and she ran 
 up-stairs to her room, singing. 
 
 Jack Rattleton strode along the river bank 
 and out to the end of the Pequot pier. He 
 stood there for a minute, looking over the river 
 and Sound, then sat down on a bench. That 
 enchantress, the moon, was aided in her fairy 
 work by the riding lights of the dark fleet of 
 yachts at anchor, and by the colored sailing 
 lights of the becalmed late comers drifting in 
 from the Sound. But the lights only hurt his 
 eyes. He had sat there some time when he 
 heard his name spoken. 
 
 " Beautiful, is n t it," said Holworthy, behind 
 him. 
 
 " Got a weed ? " asked Jack. 
 
 -Yes." 
 
 " Give it to me." He bit off the end of the 
 cigar nervously, and lit it with thick puffs. 
 " Gad! " he muttered, I m glad I m not train 
 ing for the crew. How did he ever stand it ! 
 But Charlie Rivers is a very different breed of 
 cats from me," 
 
290 Harvard Stories. 
 
 Holworthy looked on a moment in silence, 
 and tried to pull an idea out of his moustache. 
 
 "What is the matter with you, Jack? "he 
 asked, gently. 
 
 " Nothing only that I am such a poor sort 
 of a thing. No ambition, no backbone, no 
 sand. Just a worthless, dissipated loafer. 
 Let s go lush up with the rest of the crowd, 
 that is all I m good for." 
 
 " Don t talk like a fool," replied Hollis, by 
 way of comfort. 
 
 " A disgrace to the University. Have n t 
 you always told me the same thing ? " asked 
 Jack, with a ghastly grin. 
 
 " That is no reason why you should think 
 so yourself and get so blue about it. I never 
 thought you would ever take it to heart so. 
 You know I never meant half that I said. I 
 used to lay it on thick in hopes that a little 
 would soak in." 
 
 " I wish it had all soaked in long ago," 
 answered Jack, ruefully. " Don t take any of 
 it back, old man ; you have n t soured me. 
 Come along, let s go back to the old gang. 
 You are all a very bad lot and don t properly 
 appreciate my faults ; even you, you old prig. 
 Come along, Blathers." 
 
Harva rd Stories. 2 9 1 
 
 He tucked his arm through Holworthy s and 
 they went back to the hotel, Hollis musing 
 much. 
 
 Meanwhile, in the billiard-room the good 
 work was going on to Ned Burleigh s deepest 
 gratification. He himself, mounted on the pool- 
 table, was beating time with a broken cue for a 
 choir of sweet singers. They had cheered each 
 member of the crew and the coxswain, declar 
 ing in the time-honored measures that each was 
 a jolly good fellow, and intimating the men 
 dacity of any one who might deny the fact. 
 Grateful for his degree, and being in a broad 
 and liberal frame of mind, Burleigh had also 
 proposed each member of the Faculty of Har 
 vard College for similar honors, prefacing each 
 nomination with a few well-chosen remarks. 
 
 " And now, dearly beloved brethren," said 
 he, " omitting the next fifty-three stanzas, let 
 us all unite in singing the one hundred and 
 forty-fifth ; and as I look upon your happy, up 
 turned faces, I cannot help being touched by 
 the spirit of those beautiful lines. All sing! " 
 
 The earnest chorus roared, with cheerful zeal, 
 the one hundred and forty-fifth verse, as ex 
 horted. 
 
 " What ho ! " shouted the Lord of Misrule, 
 
292 , Harvard Stories. 
 
 " What is yon tall form i the doorway. Is it 
 the melancholy Jacques, forsooth ? Or is it our 
 long-lost wandering Brother Rattleton return 
 ing to the fold ? Pull off his coat, somebody, 
 and look for strawberry-marks. Joy, joy, mark 
 his old time smile ! Throw him up here. Once 
 more now, all sing, " For he s a jolly good 
 fellow ! " 
 
 III. 
 
 The day was beautiful and the water perfect, 
 a most unusual combination for the Varsity race* 
 day. All the steam yachts had gone up the 
 river, and most of the others towed up also and 
 anchored along the course near the finish. It 
 would be waste of time to try to describe the 
 picture of the great annual event of oardom, a 
 picture that is done every year in the sumptuous 
 paints of the press, with the sky and the river 
 and the yachts and the crowds, and above all 
 the two colors everywhere. It is painted every 
 year, but no one can appreciate it who has not 
 seen the original. It is not for this spectacle, 
 however, that all these tremendous crowds 
 gather ; it is to see two long thin yellow streaks, 
 
Harvard Stories. 293 
 
 each surmounted by nine bodies, eight of which 
 swing back and forth in a most monotonous, 
 uninteresting manner. That is all that the race 
 looks like to most of the spectators then why 
 do they go to see it ? Because they know tha 
 those sixteen men are going through about thl V^- 
 hardest physical strain that men can bear. To 
 the layman there is in tennis and base-ball 
 four times the skill and pretty playing that 
 there is in foot-ball, and in rowing there is none 
 at all. Yet a tennis match excites the least in 
 terest of all college sports, base-ball comes next 
 in the rising scale, and both of these combined 
 do not rouse a quarter of the enthusiasm pro 
 voked by a foot-ball game. But at the head 
 and front of all athletic contests is rowing be 
 cause it hurts the most. Foot-ball, it is true, 
 requires a dashing courage and disregard of 
 breaks and bruises (though " dashing courage " 
 and all that sort of thing never occurs to the 
 struggling youngsters), but there is always the 
 great relief of frequent short rests during the 
 game ; in a four-mile boat-race there is no let 
 up. The half-back makes his rush and plunge, 
 is slammed on the hard ground and buried under 
 hard muscle, is picked up, rubbed a little, and 
 
294 Harvard Stories. 
 
 with the cheers of the crowd in his ears again 
 goes at the line, head first, as hard as ever. But 
 for the oarsman there is only the incessant pull, 
 pull, pull, with the bees in his brain and the 
 growing hole in his stomach, the aching legs 
 and leaden arms, and before him, growing 
 dimmer and dimmer, the bare back that will 
 never stop rising and falling, and that he must 
 follow, it seems, to death. Oh ! it does hurt, 
 and that is why the great crowd goes to see it 
 and goes wild. Yes, fair and gentle one, that 
 is just why even you go to the Thames as 
 your predecessor went to the Colosseum. There 
 is this vast difference, however, between you 
 and Octavia the Roman Vestal looked at hired 
 gladiators, and prisoners who were forced to 
 hurt each other, whereas you go to see Tom, 
 and Jack, and dear Mary s brother Mr. Brown, 
 hurt themselves ; and, God bless you, I hope 
 you always will. So long as you do, this repub 
 lic will never fail from the effeminacy of its 
 young men. 
 
 The " gang " had got seats in the same car on 
 the observation-train and were waiting for it to 
 start. 
 
 " What were you doing with that Yale man 
 
Harva rd Sto ries. 295 
 
 just now?" Hudson demanded of Randolph, as 
 the latter joined the group on the platform. 
 
 "That was an old schoolmate of mine," an 
 swered Randolph, evasively. 
 
 ." Oh, yes ; and I suppose you were talking 
 over your happy childhood days, with a bunch 
 of bills in your fist. Fie ! Johnny, you have been 
 betting." 
 
 "You need n t put on airs. You were the 
 first backslider of the lot," answered Ran 
 dolph. 
 
 " I have n t put up a cent," protested Hudson. 
 
 " No, because you met a man who knew you 
 and bet on tick. I heard you." 
 
 " A man who did rit know him, you mean," 
 corrected Burleigh. " You are all a set of weak, 
 reprehensible young men. I am ashamed of 
 you. I depend upon you, at least, Hollis, my 
 son, not to indulge in this wicked vice of bet- 
 ting." 
 
 "Yes," laughed Holworthy, " there must be 
 some one left to float you home, if we lose." 
 
 " Now you mention it," Ned suggested, 
 " perhaps you had better lend me an X now, 
 in case we should get separated after the race. 
 I want to prevent the spread of this athletic 
 
296 Harvard Stories. 
 
 fever and the evils that follow in its train. I 
 am afraid my governor may become too enthu 
 siastic. If I go home to him again C. O. D. he 
 will begin to take a real interest in seeing 
 Harvard win, and I fear even a pecuniary 
 one." 
 
 "This betting is indeed a deplorable evil," 
 said Stoughton, solemnly, " in off years. Listen 
 to me, my children. Two years ago I, even I, 
 who now stand before you, was a reckless, un 
 godly Sophomore. I went 
 
 Just then the whistle blew, and Stoughton 
 jumped for the car to get a front seat before 
 the rest of the crowd. The long observation- 
 train, a peculiar feature of the New London 
 race, moved slowly out from the station on its 
 way to the starting-point, four miles up the 
 river. Then the cheering began, one car taking 
 it up after another, the sharp quick cheers of 
 the Yale men mingling with the slower full- 
 mouthed three-times-three of Harvard. Every 
 one is always in great spirits before the race 
 begins, it is different afterwards. They 
 chaffed each other, and shouted, and laughed, 
 and the enthusiastic choruses of " Here s to 
 good old Yale, drink her down," were answered 
 
Harvard Stories. 297 
 
 with the stirring, swelling cadences of " Fair 
 Harvard." 
 
 When they got to the starting-point, of 
 course the crews were not yet there. Across 
 the river, however, at Red Top, the H. U. B.C. 
 quarters, tall forms were seen entering the boat- 
 house. 
 
 " Oh, how I wish I were like those chaps," 
 sighed little Gray, who was already beginning 
 to tremble with excitement. " What would n t 
 I give to be able to pull an oar to-day." 
 
 " I have thought of it myself," said Burleigh; 
 " but they would n t build the boat to suit my 
 figure." 
 
 " The only thing I could do for the glory of 
 Harvard was to try for coxswain," went on 
 Gray, ruefully, "and they would n t have me." 
 
 " Was that the best you could do for Alma 
 Mater?" said Holworthy. " What a pity you 
 could n t succeed in putting such laurels on her 
 brow ! " 
 
 " There, Gray, take that," chuckled Stough- 
 ton ; " that is the time Pegasus fell down and 
 got his neck stepped on." 
 
 " Are n t you ashamed of yourself, you hot 
 headed little poet," put in Hudson, gravely. 
 
298 Harvard Stories. 
 
 " How can you speak so thoughtlessly, even 
 when sitting right beside Holworthy, the 
 Superb? Can you, a member of the Oldest 
 and Greatest take such a childish interest in. a 
 paltry boat-race ?" 
 
 " You are forgetting all about the atmos 
 phere, and the traditions, and all that sort of 
 game," added Randolph. " What difference 
 does it make to us whether we win or lose? 
 Remember the true glories and blessings of our 
 ancient University." 
 
 " For instance," drawled Rattleton, " whether 
 we want to celebrate or console ourselves, we 
 have all the royal crimson juices with which to 
 do it, whereas those poor Elis can t find a blue 
 drink to save their souls." 
 
 " Jove ! I never thought of that. Glad I 
 didn t go to Yale, aren t you, Gray?" ex 
 claimed Stoughton. 
 
 " I don t believe the color of their booze 
 troubles them much, as long as we pay for it," 
 reasoned Burleigh. " Still, that is the proper 
 spirit and the right way to look at these 
 comparative collegiate advantages. Is n t it, 
 Gray ? " 
 
 " If you chaps think you can get a rise out of 
 
Harvard Stories. 299 
 
 me," answered Gray to all this, " you are mis 
 taken ; but for your own sakes you had better 
 not try to be so funny in public. As for you, 
 Hoi, there is no use at all in your trying to play 
 the lofty indifferent. You are as much excited 
 as any man ; you look as if you were going to 
 row the whole thing yourself. I have been 
 watching you biting your knuckles and clench 
 ing your fist and staring over at 
 
 He was interrupted by a great shout, and 
 everybody jumped to his feet. Out of the 
 boat-house opposite, came the long shell borne 
 by the Crimson eight. As they put it in the 
 water another shout went up, and a volley of 
 cheers, for at that moment the Yale crew shot 
 round the point from Gale s Ferry, with a beau-, 
 tiful snap and dash, and " let her run " in front 
 of the train. They were not kept waiting 
 long for the Cambridge men got quickly 
 into their boat and came swinging across, 
 showing but one crimson back until they 
 turned. There was perfect precision and splen 
 did power in their sweep. There were five 
 men in the boat who had never pulled an oar 
 in the four-mile race, but they were all good 
 ones. Four had rowed on their class crews ; 
 
300 Harvard Stories. 
 
 the fifth, though a Freshman, had taken hold 
 wonderfully, had a magnificent physique, and 
 had come up with a good reputation from St. 
 Paul s. And there was Dane Austin, L.S., at 
 stroke, the hero of four Varsity races, and 
 behind him at 7, old Billy Bender, the iron 
 captain who, with all luck against him, had 
 made a winning crew before, and certainly 
 must have done so this year with such material. 
 These two could surely " hit up " the stroke 
 indefinitely, and in the middle of the boat 
 towered Charlie Rivers, looking as if he could 
 do all his own share and that of the three men 
 behind him, if need might be. 
 
 Now both crews backed up to the starting 
 boats, and off came the jerseys. They were 
 right opposite the car. " Attention ! " " Ready !" 
 Rivers leaned forward and buried his blade 
 alongside of Yale for his last chance. He had 
 never won. Holworthy, bent almost double, 
 gripping his chin in his hand, watched that 
 statue. He could see no expression whatever 
 in the sunburned profile and the motionless 
 eye fixed on the neck before it. He wondered, 
 " Row ! " He saw the oar bend so that his 
 heart stopped for a moment in the fear that 
 
Harvard Stories. 301 
 
 the spruce would break. A mingled roar that 
 sounded like "YAYAVARD!" then silence so 
 that he could hear the clear, cool tones of 
 Varnum, the coxswain. He saw the mighty 
 shoulders heave back, and swing forward again 
 in one motion, the arms rigid as steel pistons. 
 Again, with not a movement of the arms. 
 " Row ! " A third time, and this time the 
 great muscle leaped up and the arm was bent 
 until the oar butt touched the chest, then shot 
 out again like a flash, " Row ! That s good ; 
 steady, now hold it." The roar burst out again, 
 and this time it sounded clear enough. HAR 
 AR YARD ! Holworthy took his eyes from 
 his chum and looked at the whole picture. 
 The little red coxswain was even with No. 3 in 
 the Yale boat ! It had been a perfect racing 
 start ; those three tremendous lightning strokes 
 had shot the Harvard eight nearly half a length 
 ahead of their rivals. There was no question 
 as to which were the stronger men, but strength 
 is the least thing of all that wins a boat-race. 
 After this first leap the Yale crew hung right 
 where it was, and would not fall clear of the 
 Crimson oars. At the mile flag Harvard had 
 not increased her lead perceptibly. 
 
302 Harvard Stories. 
 
 " That s all right ; they 11 spurt in a minute," 
 shouted Randolph. So they did and gained a 
 little, at least so it seemed to the Crimson 
 wearers. 
 
 The shells were far out in the stream now, 
 and how slowly those two centipedes were 
 crawling ! The two eights, that had dashed away 
 from the starting-point (which is close to the 
 bank), now seem to swing back and forth with 
 aggravating deliberation. 
 
 " There ! There ! now Yale s coming up ! " 
 " Not much, sir, look at that ! " Since the 
 start that was the best struggle so far, just 
 before the Navy-yard, and there was no ques 
 tion that this time Harvard had gained. At 
 the end of two miles she had a good length. 
 
 Again the Yale men spurt ; gaining? no, but 
 holding, yes gaining, there! Of course the 
 train has gone behind the island just at the 
 most exciting point. Everybody leans back 
 and tries to take a long breath. For a minute 
 nothing is heard but the chug, chug, chug of 
 the train. Hark ! the front cars are out, listen ! 
 But that spontaneous indefinite yell may come 
 from the lungs of either, or both sides. " Yale ! 
 Yale ! YALE ! " the two crews are even ! Bow 
 
Harvard Stories. 303 
 
 and bow to the two and a half mile flag, and 
 the stroke is high now. But high as it is Dane 
 Austin is sending it higher, for Bender behind 
 him knows the vital importance of leading at 
 the three-mile flag, and has probably grunted 
 " hit her up." Slowly the Harvard shell pokes 
 ahead, a yard, two, a quarter of a length. 
 " Harvard ! Harvard ! Harvard ! " The Crim 
 son coxswain shows in the middle of the Yale 
 crew. " Can they hold it ? " " Yale is spurting 
 like fury too." " No, the red coxswain is drop 
 ping back." " They are even again." " No, 
 by Jove ! Yale is ahead ! " " YA-A-L-E ! " Two 
 miles and three quarters and Yale is ahead for 
 the first time. Another desperate spurt and 
 the Harvard bow comes up even again, but 
 holds there less than a minute, and another 
 beautiful effort of the Yale crew sends their 
 boat farther ahead than before. The Cam 
 bridge men are not rowing as they were ; they 
 are ragged ; can they be weakening? There is 
 a break somewhere ; seems to be in the middle. 
 The Blue coxswain is going ahead fast now. 
 Yes, there is a decided break right in the middle 
 of the Harvard crew. " Hullo ! no wonder ! 
 somebody is gone !" "What?" "No! Oh, 
 
304 Harvard Stories. 
 
 d it all, no, not No. 4? " " Man alive, you 
 
 don t know who No. 4 is." "Can t be!" 
 
 "Yes, but it is though." " Rivers, by 
 
 Charlie Rivers ! " 
 
 It was. Swaying irregularly, he was throw 
 ing himself back and forward all out of time. 
 
 " He is a passenger ! " exclaimed a Yale man 
 in the car. " It has been a fine race, but it will 
 be a procession now. Those big men are no 
 use in a boat." 
 
 " Hold on, my friend, look at that ! If he is 
 a passenger he is working his passage pretty 
 hard still." 
 
 He did seem to gather himself for a moment, 
 probably in response to a yell from the cox 
 swain, and for a second the glimpse of open 
 water between the boats was shut out by a 
 Harvard spurt. It was no use. Yale drew 
 away again faster than ever. Rivers was grow 
 ing worse and worse. His head was loosening, 
 but not falling yet ; it was snapping back at the 
 end of each stroke, a fault that showed he was 
 still pulling hard, though all out of form and 
 time. 
 
 Hollis Holworthy had not moved from his 
 first position since the beginning of the race. 
 
Harvard Stories. 305 
 
 He had taken no part in, and paid no attention 
 to the exclamations, shouts, and cheers around 
 him. He had grown paler, that was all. Only 
 now he muttered to himself, " He is too old an 
 oar to pull himself out in the first two miles." 
 
 Jack Rattleton sat beside him. " He is doing 
 it deliberately, Hoi," he said softly, with a 
 quivering lip. 
 
 " I don t believe it, Jack. You do him injus 
 tice. He has more grit and patience than that, 
 and if he had not, he would not sacrifice the 
 rest of the crew and the Crimson to his own 
 madness. No, I can t make it out, but I don t 
 believe that." 
 
 At the three and a quarter mile flag the New 
 Haven men had a fast increasing stretch of clear 
 water behind them and were going easily. How 
 prettily they did row ! A winning crew with a 
 safe lead always does. 
 
 And now began that most pathetic spectacle, 
 the finish of a beaten eight-oared crew. Yet 
 there was not one of their friends looking on 
 who would not have given anything to have 
 been pulling with them then. Where was that 
 faultless form, that clock-like time, that glorious 
 sweep, that at the start had raised an exultant 
 
306 Harvard Stories. 
 
 shout from every breast that bore the Crimson ? 
 Much of the mighty strength was still there, but 
 pitifully divided against itself, and therefore fast 
 waning. The new men were, every one of them, 
 " rowing out of the boat," that is to say, swing 
 ing in a circular motion around the ends of 
 their oars, in their desperate efforts to pull their 
 hardest. The temptation to do this is generally 
 irresistible to a green man when behind. It 
 seems to him as if he can pull harder in this way, 
 and indeed it looks so to the unknowing ob 
 server. Time and form are thrown overboard 
 in the wild struggle to row his heart out. Only 
 the two old veterans at 7 and 8 were still 
 swinging over the keel, not a hair s breadth 
 to starboard or port, coming forward steadily 
 and back with a simultaneous heave ; their 
 backs straight, their chins in, two parallel un 
 broken lines from hip to crown ; their oars 
 taking the water cleanly and together, pulled 
 clear through, and flashing back at once with a 
 perfect feather. So evenly and smoothly did 
 they row that, to the untaught eye on the dis 
 tant train, they might have seemed to be shirk 
 ing ; but to those on the yacht decks along the 
 course, the spread nostrils, clenched jaws, and 
 
Harvard Stories. 307 
 
 swollen veins told a very different story. An 
 old Yale stroke, when his hat came down on 
 deck again after the Yale crew had passed, let it 
 lie where it fell as he gazed at the struggling 
 tail-enders, and exclaimed, " Look at those two 
 men in the stern. By gracious, is n t that grand ! " 
 And Rivers, the third of the old guard, Rivers, 
 who had been relied upon to brace the waist of 
 the boat, who had before rowed that terrible 
 fourth mile in a losing race and rowed it well ; 
 how was he finishing ? Not an ounce of strength 
 in his blade. He was still throwing his body to 
 and fro with the others or nearly so, his head fall 
 ing forward and back as he did so, and his oar 
 moved ; but that was all. He was now being 
 carried over the line by the crew he had ruined. 
 He alone was doing nothing ; the others, though 
 ragged, were still pulling desperately, using up 
 the very last of their failing strength. 
 
 Through the buzzing in their ears they can 
 faintly hear the guns, the whistles, and the roar 
 of the crowd. Not for them, not for them. 
 What difference does that make ? They may 
 win, or at any rate they can lose like men. They 
 may win, they may win. " Let her run." 
 
 Over the water from all sides come the cheers 
 
308 Harvard Stories. 
 
 and shouts of " Yale, Yale, Yale." Leave them, 
 reader, if you so choose, they are beaten men ; 
 go and rejoice with the victors who have rowed 
 a splendid race and well deserve your congratu 
 lations. I always take a certain morbid interest 
 myself in the nine heartbroken men who are 
 quietly carried away in their launch as soon as 
 possible after a race. 
 
 All over and lost in twenty minutes, the work 
 and self-denial of seven months ! The big 
 Freshman has dropped his head on his knees 
 and is sobbing like a baby ; of course it must be 
 all his fault. Bill Bender is still grimly gripping 
 his oar and looking straight before him ; that 
 back is bent now, but the jaw is still set, the 
 eyes flashing, and through his teeth he registers 
 a vow to come back to the Law School and get 
 at em again. Varnum, the coxswain, is as pale 
 as the rest ; he has rowed every stroke of that 
 race without the savage comfort of the physical 
 torture ; he has seen what the others could not 
 the Blue coxswain going farther and farther 
 ahead, and he powerless to help his straining 
 men. They all hold on to something or clasp 
 their knees tightly to faint or fall over would 
 be a grand-stand play. 
 
Harvard Stories. 309 
 
 Nevertheless that was what Charles Rivers 
 did. He swayed for a moment, grasped blindly 
 at the side of the shell, and fell back uncon 
 scious in the lap of the man behind him. 
 And then, for the first time, No. 3 saw that 
 the bottom of the boat was red with blood. 
 Rivers had broken his sliding-seat before the two 
 mile flag was reached, and had rowed the last half 
 of the race sliding back and forth on the sharp 
 steel tracks that cut into him at every stroke.* 
 
 Before the observation-train had fairly 
 stopped Holworthy leaped from it and dashed 
 for the river bank followed by Rattleton. As 
 they passed one of the cars they both recog 
 nized a girl with a blue flag. Holworthy said 
 something that Jack did not hear ; the former 
 did not notice that the girl s face was deadly 
 pale and the blue flag motionless in her hand, 
 but the latter did. 
 
 " There is no use in our following them," 
 said Burleigh. " They won t be allowed to talk 
 to the crew even if they get out to the float." 
 Therein he was quite right ; before the two 
 could get a boat to go out to the Harvard float 
 
 * There is no fiction about this. It was done by a Harvard 
 oarsman. 
 
3io Harvard Stories. 
 
 at the finish, they saw the men helped out of 
 the shell and onto the University launch. 
 They saw Rivers carried aboard. Then the 
 launch steamed quickly up the river, towing the 
 empty shell. 
 
 " Hullo, there is my uncle s boat," exclaimed 
 Rattleton, pointing to a big schooner. " I am 
 going aboard her. You go back to New London 
 and get a trap, and I 11 meet you at the ferry." 
 
 Holworthy ran back towards the town. On 
 the way he met the others, who stopped him 
 to hear what was up. 
 
 " I don t know," he replied. " He is com 
 pletely gone. I am going up to the quarters. 
 You fellows must n t come. They won t allow 
 a crowd there." 
 
 "Where is Jack?" 
 
 " Gone aboard his uncle s yacht. Rather 
 think he has gone to ask for an invitation for 
 Charlie. Hope so." 
 
 " Is n t there anything we can do ? " 
 
 " Not a thing. Don t try to see him, please ; 
 you probably won t have a chance to, anyway." 
 
 " You won t dine with us then ? " 
 
 " Can t possibly." 
 
 " Well then, good-bye, old man. We 11 all 
 
Harvard Stories. 3 1 1 
 
 come back together next year and see them 
 win." 
 
 " Good-bye. Write to a fellow once in a 
 while and let me know how you are all getting 
 on in the world." 
 
 " Good-bye." " Good-bye." " Good luck to 
 you." " Thank heaven we have all been at 
 Harvard anyway." This last for the benefit of 
 a knot of radiant men who pushed by, with 
 violets in their button-holes, and who looked 
 back and laughed good-naturedly. 
 
 So " the gang " separated, and so separate 
 constantly, after this battle, not knowing when 
 they will ever meet again, men who have 
 lived together four years and have become the 
 closest friends that live. 
 
 Half an hour later Holworthy and Rattleton 
 in a buggy were on their way to Red Top. 
 All sorts of rumors had already spread about 
 No. 4 in the Harvard boat, and they were really 
 relieved to find, on arriving at the quarters, that 
 Rivers was nowhere near death s door, not 
 even permanently injured. But the great, 
 stalwart, glorious man was weak and limp as an 
 invalid girl. As soon as possible they got him 
 away from the gloomy group at the quarters, 
 
312 Harvard Stories. 
 
 and took him aboard the cruiser of Rattleton s 
 uncle for perfect rest and sparkling blue water. 
 There they kept him prisoner for two weeks, 
 though before he had fairly got back his 
 strength, he began chafing to get to work. 
 When at last they let him go, he buckled down 
 to his desk, as he had to his oar, and kept at it 
 until, at the end of the summer, a short vaca 
 tion was forced on him. 
 
 The following cablegram, received by " Herr 
 Holz Holvordy," at St. Moritz, explains itself : 
 
 NEWPORT, Sept. 5. 
 She is mine. Hurrah. Be my best man. 
 
 RIVERS. 
 
 At the wedding every one remarked what a 
 handsome couple they were, and how well 
 suited to each other. Holworthy.of course was 
 best man. The ushers were Messrs. Bender, 
 Burleigh, Gray, Hudson, Randolph, and 
 Stoughton. Jack Rattleton happened to be 
 abroad at the time. 
 
 THE END. 
 
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