WILLIAMS SKETCHES 
 
 ARTHUR KETCHUM 
 
 PERCIVAL H. TRUMAN 
 
 HENRY R. CONGER 
 
 EDITED BY 
 
 HERBERT H. LEHMAN 
 
 ISAAC H. VROOMAN, JR. 
 
 SECOND EDITION 
 
 WILLIAMSTOWN, MASS. 
 1898
 
 Copyright, 1898 
 BY HERBERT HENRY LEHMAN 
 
 ALBANY, N. Y. 
 JAMES B. LYON, PRINTER
 
 TO 
 
 ALL WILLIAMS MEN 
 
 2024033
 
 TABLE OF CONTENTS 
 
 PREFACE ix 
 
 THE BLACK SHEEP - ... r 
 
 ODYSSEUS 39 
 
 THE SIN OF HOLY HEDGES - - 53 
 
 CONCERNING A FRESHMAN 91 
 
 THE VALLEY OF DECISION - - 109 
 
 THE CONQUEST I29 
 
 THE BOOTLICKING OF BRONSON - 151 
 
 His FIRST RUSH xgr 
 
 TEMPORA MUTANTUR ... 209 
 
 THE NEXT MORNING - 263 
 
 IN HONOR OF THE SAINT - - 285 
 
 THE END OF THE BEGINNING - - 315
 
 PREFACE 
 
 T^O begin a book by apologizing for it 
 seems rather an undignified pro- 
 ceeding. Neverthless we have deter- 
 mined to preface these sketches with a 
 few words of explanation. 
 
 When college stories have been written 
 before it has always been by some alum- 
 nus. Now, the alumnus and the under- 
 graduate look at college life from two 
 very different points of view. The former 
 has perspective and greater discrimina- 
 tion; his judgments in many respects are 
 the more correct ones. But the under- 
 graduate has the same advantage over 
 him that the man in the street parade 
 has over the person watching him from 
 the sidewalk.
 
 Preface. 
 
 College opinions and college problems 
 are very vital matters to him, while they 
 are dead issues to the older man. His 
 views may be neither very mature nor 
 very just, but at least they should be in- 
 teresting as a study. If this book has 
 any right to existence at all it is because 
 it endeavors to present the undergradu- 
 ate side of the question. 
 
 We are painfully aware of its imma- 
 turity, and are probably as much alive to 
 its literary shortcomings as our most se- 
 vere critics. But we shall be quite satis- 
 fied if those who read these stories find 
 in them something which may serve to 
 recall the half-forgotten memory of their 
 life at Williams; that, supplementing 
 our deficiencies by their own experience, 
 they may look back with pleasure on the 
 college that we all know and love.
 
 THE BLACK SHEEP
 
 The Black Sheep. 
 
 '"FHE black sheep is the spice of the 
 flock. It has long been held that 
 no fold is complete without him. 
 He has been held up as an example, 
 and has done duty as a simile so long 
 that he has gotten to hold a place 
 among the literary " properties." As 
 an animal, he has been misjudged and 
 underrated ; as an illustration, he is 
 too useful to be eliminated. Some- 
 times the black sheep is not black at 
 all, and, after he has been out in a 
 kindly shower, comes back to his fel- 
 lows as white as the rest. Sometimes 
 he wanders far afield and gets lost on 
 the hills and sometimes he wanders 
 3
 
 The Black Sheep. 
 
 again, and is led back to the fold with 
 a blue ribbon about his neck. 
 
 This is how it happened once. 
 
 If you know anything about Wil- 
 liams you must know something about 
 Billy Withers. Withers' power of get- 
 ting himself talked about amounted 
 to something like genius. Unfortu- 
 nately, too. It is never pleasant to be 
 fully aware that people are " onto " 
 you, especially when you are in col- 
 lege, and your doings are not always 
 in accordance with the rules and 
 precepts contained within the flimsy 
 green covers of the Administrative 
 Rules of the institution. At least, 
 Withers did not care for the sensa- 
 tion. Sometimes the reports about 
 him were grossly incorrect. Take, for 
 instance, the time the Dean's dwelling 
 was frescoed. Withers got all the 
 4
 
 The Black Sheep. 
 
 blame, whereas, as a matter of fact, he 
 had only suggested the scheme and 
 superintended the decorations. And 
 then, that memorable occasion when 
 the pet donkey got into one of the in- 
 structor's class rooms. Why should 
 Billy Withers have been responsible 
 for that? Besides, as Bellew said, 
 wasn't it just like a donkey to go to 
 one of Sandy's lectures of its own 
 free will ? But all this, and much more, 
 happened before Billy's senior year. 
 There was not so much said of With- 
 ers and Withers' doings after that. 
 Perhaps he had learned the gentle and 
 useful art of covering his tracks. 
 There was that silence about him 
 which it might be well for Those in 
 Authority to regard and investigate 
 as suspicious. If they did, they 
 could not have had the courage of 
 5
 
 The Black Sheep. 
 
 their suspicion ; for they made no 
 sign, and the number of cuts against 
 Withers' name on the absence list, 
 posted in the hallway of Hopkins, 
 grew weekly more portentious. 
 
 It was one afternoon in early May 
 that Billy had to take a make-up for 
 one of Sandy's little exams, which he 
 had missed. He had just left the 
 room and was coming down the stairs 
 with the pleasing reflection, that, inas- 
 much as he had flunked the exam., 
 there had been really no reason for 
 his having taken the trouble to climb 
 them, when Winthrop trotted down 
 after him and caught up with him. 
 
 "How did you hit it, Billy?" he 
 asked. 
 
 " I didn't touch it," said Withers, 
 " How'd you ? " 
 
 Winthrop and Withers had roomed
 
 The Black Sheep. 
 
 together their freshman year. The 
 bond formed from mutual Greek les- 
 sons and extra work troubles, how- 
 ever, did not seem strong enough to 
 stand the separation of sophomore 
 year, and they had lost each other. 
 Besides, Withers had gotten an 
 uncomfortable feeling once that Win- 
 throp did not approve of him, and 
 therefore, he had done the only thing 
 possible in defense of his self-respect, 
 and had disapproved of Winthrop. 
 
 So it came about that an occasional 
 word and a passing nod was the whole 
 story. Worthington Winthrop was 
 a young gentleman whose morals were 
 very much like his neckties, always 
 of the correct shape and never out of 
 place. He always did his duty in an 
 unenthusiastic, relentless way and was 
 exasperating as an example. At least 
 7
 
 The Black Sheep. 
 
 Withers had thought so, whenever he 
 had given the matter any considera- 
 tion, but to-day, 
 
 Do you happen to know what mid- 
 May is in Williamstown? When the 
 great elms along Main street make 
 deep caverns of shade for you to lie in 
 and look out across sunny stretches of 
 green lawn and terrace ; with only the 
 gleam of the white ducks of the men 
 straggling out of a recitation in Hop- 
 kins, to divert your attention ; and 
 the tinkle of a mandolin drifting 
 across to you through the Morgan 
 ivies, or an echo of a song floating up 
 from some where to weave into your 
 dream when the hills themselves- 
 seem to have renewed their youth and 
 grown sentimentally tender toward 
 evening? Do you understand what it 
 is to know all this, with the underly-
 
 The Black Sheep. 
 
 ing remembrance that you are a 
 senior, and are living and feeling, and 
 being it all for the last time ? Billy 
 Withers did, as they came down the 
 broad steps. There were some fellows 
 on the lawn opposite playing ball, the 
 strong afternoon sunlight bringing 
 their white-clad figures out in clear- 
 cut relief against the greenness. 
 
 Billy forgot that he had disapproved 
 of Winthrop, or indeed, everything, 
 except that it was good " to walk wi' 
 man in fellowship." He lit a cigarette 
 and put an arm over Winthrop's 
 shoulder. " Where have you been 
 keeping yourself for the last month ? " 
 he inquired, affably, " I've hardly seen 
 you." 
 
 Winthrop refrained from turn- 
 ing the question back to the ques- 
 tioner. "Oh, I don't know," he an- 
 9
 
 The Black Sheep. 
 
 swered, " fooling around, mostly. This 
 last week I've been pretty busy, 
 though ; my mother and sister are 
 staying here, you know." 
 
 " No ! are they ? I didn't know 
 that," said Billy. 
 
 " Yes, they're going to be here 
 right on through Commencement. 
 By the way, they have been asking 
 about you. They both want to see 
 you." Winthrop put the last tenta- 
 tively. It was as if he had said : 
 "Will you come, or will you not?" 
 
 Billy puffed for a moment in 
 silence. It was odd how the mere 
 mention of Winthrop's mother and 
 sister's being in town raised that feel- 
 ing of defiant recklessness. Billy 
 himself had no mother, and Win- 
 throp's, he remembered, was sweet 
 and dignified and gracious, all that his
 
 The Black Sheep. 
 
 ideal had always been. Billy remem- 
 bered Winthrop's sister, too. He 
 blew out another mouthful of smoke. 
 " I shall be very glad to see them 
 again," he said. " I have not had the 
 chance since the Christmas vacation 
 freshman year, I spent with you." 
 
 " Well, they haven't forgotten you," 
 Winthrop said. " Let's see ; they will 
 be at home to-night. Can't you come 
 up ? " 
 
 Winthrop hesitated a second. 
 
 "I should be very happy to," he 
 said. 
 
 " All right ; they'll expect you then," 
 and Winthrop went off across the lawn, 
 whistling softly. When Billy got to 
 his own room he threw himself down 
 on his window bench and looked out 
 into the quiet street. The sound of a 
 
 cheer, softened by distance, came up 
 ii
 
 The Black Sheep. 
 
 from Weston Field. A little wind 
 set the trees outside to whispering 
 together. And Billy cursed himself 
 for having been an ass, and fell asleep. 
 The Gym. clock had rung the hour 
 and the quarter after when Sportie 
 Bellew came up the stairs to Withers' 
 door. As a warning of his approach 
 he gave the door a kick, not because 
 he wanted to announce his appearance, 
 but he liked the noise. Bellew was 
 the sort of a man who couldn't even 
 breathe without making a fuss about 
 it. He was a cheerful youth, withal, 
 and of an infinite good nature. Billy 
 Withers called him a " kid," but Bel- 
 lew was a young person of experience. 
 He came into Withers' room, and, 
 standing in the middle of the floor, 
 gazed at his host in silence. Then 
 he went over and began piling up sofa
 
 The Black Sheep. 
 
 cushions on the sleeping man's face. 
 Withers brushed them off on to the 
 floor, and, sitting up, winked in the 
 light stupidly. " Oh, it's you, is it, 
 Sportie?" he said, in a disappointed 
 sleepy voice. 
 
 Bellew sat himself upon the desk. 
 "Yes, it is I," he said. "And now, 
 please tell me, where your college 
 spirit is. Why aren't you down at 
 practice instead of lying here asleep, 
 and looking like a busted flush?" 
 
 " Make-up, in Sandy," Withers an- 
 swered laconically. 
 
 "Hit it?" 
 
 " Flunked." 
 
 " Get out ; you know you've had a 
 drag with Sandy ever since you gave 
 him thirteen reasons for divorce in- 
 stead of the nine on the syllabus." 
 
 " I wish I thought so ; but it doesn't 
 13
 
 The Black Sheep. 
 
 make much difference. I wouldn't have 
 come back for it if it hadn't been for 
 chapel." 
 
 " Pious boy ! Have you seen the 
 King to-day? Haven't you? Well, 
 the Band of Mercy's going over to 
 Stamford to-night." 
 
 Withers got up and crossing the 
 room carefully straightened a picture 
 before he spoke. 
 
 "Well, I am afraid the Band of 
 Mercy will be without one of its 
 brightest gems, then, because I can't 
 be with you." 
 
 " You can't ? Well, will you please 
 tell me why ? " 
 
 Withers studied the angle of the 
 picture attentively. 
 
 "Because I've promised to call on 
 Winthrop's mother and sister," he said. 
 
 His friend stared a moment. 
 14
 
 The Black Sheep. 
 
 " Well, I'll be damned," he remarked 
 softly to himself. 
 
 Winthrop's people were staying at 
 the Greylock. They had just come 
 out from dinner when Worthington 
 told his mother of Withers' coming. 
 
 " I am glad," she said. " What a 
 nice boy he was. I wonder if he has 
 fulfilled the possibilities of his face." 
 Winthrop's mother was of the kind 
 which young men of warm feeling and 
 a limited vocabulary designate as 
 " great." She was the sort of woman 
 who could be motherly without ap- 
 pearing fussy, and who understood 
 what questions not to ask. Winthrop 
 adored her, and most of his friends 
 followed suit. 
 
 " Elsie," said Mrs. Winthrop to her 
 daughter, " will you find me my wrap ?
 
 The Black Sheep. 
 
 I think I will go for a little walk in the 
 park before it gets too dark." 
 
 The after-glow was dying in the west 
 when they went out. Against the fleet- 
 ing brightness the sharp cut hills 
 seemed to have gained a new height 
 and strange dignity. It was like a back- 
 ground that the early Italians painted 
 behind some sweet-faced saint or the 
 Madonna, Elsie Winthrop thought 
 as she watched the color die, and the 
 shadows, surging up through the cuts 
 and ridges, grow cavernous and full of 
 mystery. 
 
 Winthrop and his friend came across 
 the little straggling park to find them 
 just then, and together they all went 
 back to where the lights of the big, 
 barn-like hotel gleamed out through 
 the deepening darkness. 
 
 When they came into the light of 
 16
 
 The Black Sheep. 
 
 the flaring gas jets, set at intervals 
 along the broad piazzas, Withers, 
 turning suddenly, met Mrs. Win- 
 throp's eyes full on his face. The 
 color mounted to the roots of his hair. 
 " Oh, Mrs. Winthrop, you aren't going 
 to tell me how much I've grown, are 
 you?" he said, trying not to appear 
 embarrassed. Mrs. Winthrop smiled. 
 
 " No, I can't tell you that, honestly, 
 but you have changed," she said. 
 
 " College wouldn't amount to much 
 if it did not change a man a little in 
 four years," her son broke in. 
 
 Billy moved in his chair uneasily 
 and began to talk about championship 
 chances, that safe conversational 
 commonplace which is used so often 
 in Williamstown that the usual obser- 
 vations on the weather almost acquire 
 the dignity of epigrammatic originality.
 
 The Black Sheep. 
 
 There was an impersonality about the 
 permutations and combinations of de- 
 feat and victory which should win or 
 lose the pennant, that was grateful to 
 Withers, and he explained the system 
 to Elsie and Mrs. Winthrop with great 
 exactness. It was easy to pass from 
 base ball to other college topics, and 
 the sound of the Gym. clock chiming 
 the full hour came like a surprise to 
 Billy, at least. 
 
 Winthrop stayed to say good- 
 night, and Billy went on down to 
 his room alone. He lit a cigarette 
 and pulled at it meditatively, as he 
 walked slowly under the rustling 
 arches that the elms made in the sum- 
 mer darkness over his head. " Mrs. 
 Winthrop is a corker," he said, half 
 aloud. " And what a nice little girl 
 Winthrop's sister is ! I had forgotten 
 18
 
 The Black Sheep. 
 
 she was so pretty no ; not that either 
 exactly. She is more like the arbutus 
 the fellows get in the spring. That's 
 it." 
 
 There was a note stuck behind the 
 card on Withers' door. Billy lit a 
 match and read it while he was fumb- 
 ling for his keys. It was brief and 
 to the point. 
 
 " You're a quitter. 
 
 " (Signed) THE BAND OF MERCY." 
 
 It was in Bellew's handwriting, and 
 Billy laughed and tore it up. Some- 
 how he felt very respectable and de- 
 cent. He even thought he would read 
 Sandy's ten pages, and would have, if 
 he had known where they began. He 
 did not, however, so he took a cold 
 bath instead, and then tumbled into 
 bed. 
 
 Long after their visitor had gone 
 19
 
 The Black Sheep. 
 
 and her mother was asleep, Elsie Win- 
 throp's light still burned. It was very 
 late and the village street was dark 
 and forsaken. The girl stood at her 
 open window, looking out into the 
 brooding night. There was a photo- 
 graph in her hand and she was study- 
 ing it intently. It was a picture of a 
 young man with very much towsled 
 hair and with a foot ball in his arms. 
 
 " He has changed," she said slowly 
 at last, " mamma was right." 
 
 A sudden sound outside startled 
 her. It was the noise of disordered 
 singing. The men were driving 
 evidently. 
 
 " Here's to you Sportie Bellew, 
 Here's to you, our jovial friend, 
 And we'll drink to your health in this 
 
 God forsaken company, 
 We'll drink e'er we part 
 Here's to you Sportie Bellew." 
 20
 
 The Black Sheep. 
 
 They sang in inconsequent broken 
 harmonies. The song grew fainter 
 until the kindly silence received and 
 hid it. Elsie held the little picture 
 close to her. 
 
 " If he should be like that," she said 
 in a frightened whisper, " I couldn't 
 bear it." 
 
 Winthrop came over to Billy's room 
 a day or so afterwards. He had 
 hardly been in there since Billy had 
 had it. Some of the things about 
 gave a strangely familiar atmosphere 
 to the place. The big brown photo- 
 graphs of the Landseer lions, with 
 the fencing foils and masks stuck 
 behind their frame, for instance ; and 
 the plaster cast of the pretty girl with 
 the big hat and Parisian smile. Then 
 Winthrop remembered that these 
 same things had served to decorate
 
 The Black Sheep. 
 
 the study that he and Withers had 
 had in common. Billy was at the 
 desk with his coat off, engaged in 
 writing, when Winthrop entered. 
 
 " Be through in a minute," he said 
 to Winthrop, " sit down." 
 
 There were other fellows lounging 
 about the window seat and in the big 
 chairs Bellew and Rollins "Didn't 
 know Billy hung around with him" 
 Winthrop thought little Jack Ware 
 of the Varsity and King Barnes. 
 
 Bellew had a mandolin and was try- 
 ing to play " Tis with Love, true 
 Love," from ear. 
 
 " For heaven's sake, Sportie, break 
 away, I'm trying to write," growled 
 his host, and the music stopped. 
 
 Presently the other fellows began to 
 drop away with the unconventionality 
 of great familiarity with the room and
 
 The Black Sheep. 
 
 its owner, and Winthrop and Billy 
 were left alone together. Billy brought 
 the paper, on which he had been writ- 
 ing, down upon the blotter. " Thank 
 the Lord that's through with," he said. 
 "Have a pipe?" He filled his own 
 carefully and lit it, puffing luxuriously. 
 The two men sat talking idly of unim- 
 portant things until Winthrop got up 
 and said he would have to be going. 
 
 " By the way," he said, as if he had 
 just remembered it although they 
 both knew it had been the reason for 
 his coming "my mother wants to 
 know if you will drive with us to the 
 game to-morrow." It rather pleased 
 Withers that they wanted him to be 
 with them, and he accepted without 
 any hesitation. If he had had time to 
 think about it he would have refused, 
 probably. 
 
 2 3
 
 The Black Sheep. 
 
 " Yes, he'll go," Winthrop told his 
 mother later. "And we'll have to start 
 early, because there's going to be a 
 crowd." 
 
 " Worth," his sister said, " what is 
 the Band of Mercy, or is that one of 
 the things I oughtn't to ask about ? " 
 
 " Where did you hear of the Band 
 of Mercy?" asked Winthrop quickly. 
 
 " I saw it in the Gul. and was inter- 
 ested, because Mr. Withers' name was 
 in the list." 
 
 " Oh, it's a sort of club," her brother 
 answered "a crowd of fellows, rather, 
 who go together a good deal." 
 
 " Did you want to be in it ? " in- 
 quired Elsie with sisterly directness. 
 
 Winthrop laughed. 
 
 " Under the circumstances, no," he 
 said. " It's really not an organization 
 anyhow, but merely a crowd of con- 
 24
 
 The Black Sheep. 
 
 genial fellows who trot about together 
 and call themselves ' The Band of 
 Mercy/ as a sort of joke. There are 
 half a dozen or so of them ; Barnes 
 and Bellew 
 
 " Bellew, Bellew?" Elsie broke in. 
 Somehow the mention of the name 
 had stirred a chord of memory. " Bel- 
 lew why, that is the name they were 
 singing." 
 
 "Who were singing?" asked her 
 brother. 
 
 " Oh, nothing; I was just trying to 
 remember something," Elsie answered 
 quickly. 
 
 When she was alone she sat down to 
 think. " So those are his friends," she 
 said ; " those men who were drunk, 
 and perhaps he, too, that very night, 
 with them." And she hid her face 
 in her hands. That was because she 
 2 5
 
 The Black Sheep. 
 
 was very young and a girl into the 
 bargain. 
 
 The game was a great success, at 
 least from the Williams standpoint, 
 and after the crowd had cheered and 
 cheered again, they streamed up across 
 the field and over the old Campus to 
 the Morgan terrace for more cheering. 
 
 Elsie watched it all with great 
 excitement ; it was very inspiring ; 
 the cheers, the songs, the clanging of 
 the chapel bell ; the crowds of hot but 
 enthusiastic " heelers," and she en- 
 joyed it all. It gave Withers an odd 
 little thrill of pleasure when she asked 
 if this was the first game we had won. 
 She had puzzled him to-day; there 
 had come between them a sort of con- 
 straint and self-consciousness. Of 
 course, he could not explain it, nor 
 could Elsie either, only she was aware 
 26
 
 The Black Sheep. 
 
 that it was there. Withers thought of 
 her as he went up to dinner. How 
 pretty she was! He wondered why 
 all girls didn't dress as she did. She 
 wore awfully pretty dresses, Withers 
 decided. And how different she was 
 from all the others ! The others With- 
 ers thought of some of them and 
 called himself a beast. Then he be- 
 gan to think of the game, and remem- 
 bered again the twenty-five dollars he 
 had won. 
 
 There was a special " Thanksgiving 
 meeting "of the Band of Mercy that 
 night. It was very long, and there 
 was much business transacted. Billy 
 Withers was there. Indeed, there is 
 no telling how long he might have re- 
 mained if King Barnes, just as the 
 dawn was breaking, had not brought 
 him home and put him to bed. 
 27
 
 The Black Sheep. 
 
 Of course, the next morning the 
 usual occurred. It began when With- 
 ers, with a sick pain in the back of his 
 head and dizzy eyes, staggered into 
 his study from his bedroom and found 
 there on the desk, where he had 
 thrown it the night before, a crumpled, 
 purple ribbon that she had worn. It 
 deepened during the weary round of 
 morning recitations. Sportie Bellew's 
 facetious observations on the proceed- 
 ings of the night before were not re- 
 ceived amicably. The other fellows, 
 seeing that he had a grouch, kindly 
 left him alone. 
 
 Later in the afternoon Withers' 
 meditations took shape and were put 
 into action. He went up to the Grey- 
 lock with a determination to tell her 
 exactly what a beast he had made of 
 himself ; that he wasn't worthy to 
 28
 
 The Black Sheep. 
 
 touch her hand ; that he wanted her 
 to give him another chance, and other 
 confessions which would, no doubt, 
 have been good for his soul, but were 
 exceedingly hard to put into words. 
 Unfortunately, there was a dapper 
 little freshman calling on Miss Win- 
 throp at the same time, and Billy's 
 confessions had to be postponed. 
 Perhaps the walk in the fresh spring 
 air had done him good ; at any rate, 
 he was rather glad that the little 
 freshman had been there, when he re- 
 flected on the matter as he walked 
 back to the colleges. 
 
 There were a lot of seniors singing 
 on the Morgan steps, but he did not 
 care to join them. He saw Win- 
 throp among them, and somehow he 
 did not feel like having to talk to 
 Winthrop just then. 
 29
 
 The Black Sheep. 
 
 Meanwhile Elsie had been coming to 
 conclusions. Perhaps her brother had 
 told her more than he had realized, in 
 answering some of her questions. 
 
 To think with Elsie Winthrop was 
 to act. But what could she do, she 
 asked herself, in something like de- 
 spair. There was no one to tell her 
 what to do; it seemed almost hope- 
 less. And yet she must do some- 
 thing. When she thought of the hero 
 she had made of him for so long she 
 wanted to laugh at herself, but even 
 with the thought came a sense of tri- 
 umph in the possibility of her helping 
 him, " Even though he never knows," 
 she told herself, " or cares." 
 
 We play our parts in the human 
 
 comedy so completely sometimes that 
 
 we lose ourselves in them, and begin 
 
 to think that we are no longer actors 
 
 30
 
 The Black Sheep. 
 
 but masters of destiny. And then 
 Fate pulls the strings, and we remem- 
 ber that we are only puppets after 
 all, and must follow the stage direc- 
 tions. 
 
 Withers had grown inexplicable to 
 his friends. The Band of Mercy 
 frankly admitted that it was puzzled. 
 " It's some confounded girl," said the 
 gallant Hollins. 
 
 " Clever boy," Barnes answered. 
 " How did you guess it ? " 
 
 Hollins met Withers and Miss Win- 
 throp on the Stone Hill road the next 
 day, and began to see that Barnes 
 had been sarcastic. When they re- 
 proached him with having shaken his 
 old comrades, Billy only laughed and 
 told them not to make that mistake. 
 
 The college year was drawing to an 
 end. The senior exams, came, and
 
 The Black Sheep. 
 
 Billy Withers, to his own and every 
 one else's surprise, passed them all. 
 Maybe that was because Elsie read 
 all her brother's careful notes to him 
 and heard him go through yards of 
 Sandy's syllabus, headings and sub- 
 headings, points and by-points. The 
 last days were bringing the little 
 cliques of men closer together. It 
 was almost pathetic to see how each 
 one tried to get as much out of every- 
 thing as possible. 
 
 The King and Bellew and Hollins 
 were planning for a last blow out of 
 the Band f Mercy. They were talk- 
 ing it ovet one morning on the Grey- 
 lock piazza.. 
 
 "It had better be to-night," the 
 King said, " I'll telephone over now." 
 
 " Tell him we don't want American 
 this time," said Bellew. 
 32
 
 The Black Sheep. 
 
 " Do you suppose that we can get 
 Billy Withers ? He ought to go if it's 
 the last time," Hollins said. 
 
 At the sound of the name a pretty 
 girl sitting next to him, put down the 
 embroidery she was working with and 
 leaned a little nearer. 
 
 " We'll make him. It 'Can be his 
 farewell performance, but he's got to 
 go," the King said. 
 
 " What time do you start. Five ? " 
 
 "Yes, its better to get over there 
 early." 
 
 Elsie Winthrop's heart was beating 
 quicker as she went into the hotel. 
 She had decided on her course of 
 action. It was for the last time as 
 they said. But could she do it ? 
 
 Withers found a note on his desk 
 when he came back from lunch. 
 
 It read : 
 
 33
 
 The Black Sheep. 
 
 "DEAR BILLY. I want to go up 
 through the other glen this afternoon, 
 to find maiden-hair. But I don't 
 want to go alone. Will you not come 
 with me ? Besides, I want to see you 
 about something. Come about four. 
 " Always yours faithfully, 
 
 " ELSIE COPE WINTHROP." 
 
 Barnes and Bellew came in just 
 then and unfolded their plan for the 
 evening. 
 
 " Of course you're with us, Billy," 
 the King said. 
 
 " I don't believe " Billy began. 
 
 Bellew interrupted : " Look here, 
 Billy, it's the last time, you know, that 
 we're going to be together. You 
 aren't going to back out and spoil 
 every thing at the very end of it all, 
 are you ? " 
 
 Withers looked out of the window 
 34
 
 The Black Sheep. 
 
 for a moment. It did seem like going 
 back on them, and they had been 
 his friends. Besides 
 
 "What time do you start?" he 
 asked. 
 
 " At five from Tom's," Bellew 
 answered. 
 
 " If I'm not there at five don't wait 
 for me," he said. And they parted. 
 
 It was a strange afternoon for 
 Withers, an afternoon of more 
 serious thinking than he had ever 
 known. It was a time when he spread 
 out his whole life before his judgment, 
 and calmly, coldly, almost, decided 
 between the good and the evil in it, 
 the worth while and the worthless. 
 He seemed to look into the face of all 
 his possibilities, and he knew exactly 
 where he stood. But the old habit 
 clung ; it is not so easy to relinquish 
 35
 
 The Black Sheep. 
 
 one's pleasant lawlessness that the 
 sacrifice does not bring a struggle. 
 Which should it be ? It was for him 
 to choose which. And before he could 
 decide it was four o'clock, and he was 
 on his way to the Greylock. Though 
 neither knew it of the other, each was 
 passing through a strange and new 
 phase of life that warm, still after- 
 noon, up under the wood shadows. 
 They talked of the little things about 
 them, and if a deeper note was struck 
 by chance, they both went back again 
 to the old careless mood as if they 
 dared not trust themselves. The 
 light grew fainter and they turned 
 homeward. Withers glanced at his 
 watch as he walked ; he could just 
 get to Tom's on time if he hurried. 
 For one mad moment he thought of 
 leaving her there alone and run- 
 36
 
 The Black Sheep. 
 
 ning on to catch them before they 
 started. 
 
 Perhaps the other understood from 
 the look in his face what was passing 
 
 in his mind. She felt the time had 
 
 \ 
 
 come. 
 
 " Do you remember," she said, try- 
 ing not to appear conscious, " that va- 
 cation you spent with us? I shall 
 never forget it. You were the first 
 college man I had ever met, and some- 
 how, of course it was absurd of me, 
 but I invested you with all the quali- 
 ties I had dreamed of. You were a 
 sort of hero, who couldn't do anything 
 evil or weak or unmanly " her voice 
 trembled a little. " I was away at 
 school then, you know, and I used to 
 have your picture a little kodak 
 Worth, took of you, in a purple 
 frame there in my room. It was 
 37
 
 The Black Sheep. 
 
 foolish and young, of course, yet it 
 can't be so bad for a man to have a 
 girl's reverence and trust like that, 
 can it? " 
 
 They were standing on a little hill 
 through which the roadway made a 
 sharp cut. As they stood there a 
 three-seater passed beneath them. 
 Some of the fellows in it looked up 
 and, recognizing Withers, bowed. 
 
 " Who are they ? " Elsie asked. Her 
 heart was beating so she could hardly 
 speak. 
 
 Withers watched the yellow carriage 
 until it disappeared around a sudden 
 turn. 
 
 " Oh, some fellows I knew once," he 
 said slowly, after a pause. 
 
 And then he raised her hand to his 
 lips and kissed it.
 
 ODYSSEUS 
 
 39
 
 Odysseus. 
 
 "117" HEN Perkins was a freshman, 
 circumstances over which he 
 had no control forced him into the 
 society of Cecil Bancroft, the profes- 
 sor of the Greek language and litera- 
 ture. He not only met him with the 
 rest of the class during the hours regu- 
 larly devoted to the study of " Fresh- 
 man Required," but on several occa- 
 sions he was invited to be present at 
 smaller and more select affairs, known 
 to the initiated as " make ups." 
 
 However, Perkins was an affable in- 
 dividual, and he so conducted himself 
 during his enforced attendance at these 
 gatherings that they lost much of their
 
 Odysseus. 
 
 disagreeable character, and partook 
 more of the nature of informal Hel- 
 lenic afternoon receptions, with the re- 
 freshments omitted. One day, at the 
 close of a long conversation, which be- 
 gan with some remarks on the necessity 
 of his maintaining a better average in 
 Greek, and closed with the discussion 
 of a common friend, the principal of 
 Perkins' prep, school, the Professor 
 asked him to call ; and the call was 
 the beginning of a very pleasant 
 friendship, which lasted during the re- 
 mainder of his college course. 
 
 After a while it became an under- 
 stood thing that once or twice a term 
 Perkins should dine with the Profes- 
 sor ; and he frequently, at the invita- 
 tion of Mrs. Bancroft, attended faculty 
 teas; exciting affairs, where the pro- 
 fessors' wives assembled and met to- 
 42
 
 Odysseus. 
 
 gether, apparently in order to discuss 
 the difficulty of inducing competent 
 cooks to remain in Williamstown. 
 
 It was during the winter term of his 
 senior year that Perkins met the hero 
 of this tale, and the circumstances of 
 the meeting were as follows : He had 
 been dining with the Professor, dinner 
 was just over, and Perkins and his host 
 were lighting cigars, at the urgent re- 
 quest of Mrs. Bancroft, who was one 
 of those unselfish women who profess 
 a fondness for tobacco smoke. 
 
 Suddenly something was heard 
 scratching in the next room, and, 
 when the door was opened, there en- 
 tered a large black and white cat. 
 
 "Isn't this something new?" asked 
 Perkins, " I don't remember seeing 
 that cat before." 
 
 " Yes," answered Mrs. Bancroft, 
 43
 
 Odysseus. 
 
 "we've only had him a short time; 
 I must introduce you. Mr. Perkins, 
 may I present my friend, Odysseus ? 
 Odysseus, this is Mr. Perkins." 
 
 " What a curious name for a cat," 
 said Perkins, laughing. " How did you 
 happen to give it to him ? " 
 
 " That is an idea of mine," explained 
 the Professor ; " I call him Odysseus 
 because he is so seldom at home." 
 
 " He's a handsome beast at any rate," 
 answered Perkins, and, stooping down, 
 he lifted the animal into his lap. Odys- 
 seus at first objected, but finally be- 
 came reconciled to his position, and 
 purred loudly as Perkins stroked his 
 thick fur. 
 
 " Yes," said the Professor, taking up 
 the conversation again where it had 
 been interrupted, " I have always main- 
 tained that this growing neglect of the 
 44
 
 Odysseus. 
 
 classics is one of the worst tendencies 
 of modern education. Now, take the 
 study of Homer. What could be more 
 
 ? I beg your pardon! Did you 
 
 say anything?" 
 
 " Oh, no ! nothing at all ; I quite 
 agree with you," answered Perkins, con- 
 fusedly, and he breathed a sigh of relief 
 as the Professor mounted his hobby 
 afresh and ambled pleasantly on. For 
 Perkins had made a discovery. 
 
 In stroking the cat his hand had en- 
 countered what seemed like a hard 
 lump under the skin of the fore leg. 
 He felt of it first curiously, then ex- 
 citedly, then triumphantly. Yes, there 
 could be no doubt about it, the two 
 bones of the antebrachium had been 
 ossified into one, either naturally or as 
 the result of some accident. There 
 was a thick ridge running completely 
 45
 
 Odysseus. 
 
 around the limb. Only that morning 
 Professor Clarkson had lectured on the 
 fusion of bones, and here was a splen- 
 did example of that very thing. 
 
 Perkins intended to be a surgeon, 
 and was devoting himself to biology 
 with an energy which partially atoned 
 for the neglect of his other studies. 
 He felt a wave of professional enthu- 
 siasm rise in his heart. What a chance 
 for original investigation! Such cases 
 he knew were rare, and he might never 
 have this opportunity again. Clearly, 
 Odysseus must be sacrificed on the altar 
 of science. 
 
 His first impulse was to beg the cat 
 from the Professor. Then he remem- 
 bered that Mrs. Bancroft was probably 
 fond of the animal, and might not be 
 willing to part with him. Perkins re- 
 flected. There are, proverbially, three 
 46
 
 Odysseus. 
 
 ways of obtaining anything: we may 
 beg, borrow or steal. Begging was, to 
 say the least, very uncertain ; borrow- 
 ing was clearly out of the question. 
 By the process of elimination Perkins 
 felt himself forced to adopt the third 
 method. 
 
 But to return a man's hospitality 
 by stealing his cat ! The baseness of 
 it daunted him. He felt cautiously of 
 the limb. Yes, the bones were clearly 
 ossified. " Besides," whispered the 
 tempter, " you can easily give Mrs. 
 Bancroft another cat." He cast his 
 scruples to the winds and began to 
 consider how the theft might best be 
 accomplished. 
 
 By skillful and apparently innocent 
 
 inquiries about the habits of Odysseus, 
 
 he learned that the cat was accustomed 
 
 to leave the house at night and wander 
 
 47
 
 Odysseus. 
 
 forth on mysterious nocturnal enter- 
 prises. In the morning he would 
 always be found asleep in a particular 
 corner of the kitchen. How he got in 
 and out of the house, and what he did 
 during his wanderings, no one had 
 been able to discover. 
 
 Having learned these facts, Perkins 
 was not long in resolving on a plan of 
 action, and about ten o'clock he said 
 " good night " and departed. As long 
 as he thought the Professor was watch- 
 ing him he walked steadily in the di- 
 rection of Morgan Hall. Then, when 
 he heard the front door close, he re- 
 turned cautiously and began a careful 
 patrol of the garden, watching both 
 the front and rear of the house. 
 
 Ten minutes passed fifteen 
 twenty and still no Odysseus. It 
 was very cold standing there in the 
 48
 
 Odysseus. 
 
 snow, and he felt his first scruples re- 
 turning. After all, it was not a very 
 nice thing to steal the cat. It was cer- 
 tainly a poor return for the good din- 
 ner he had just eaten. He would go 
 around in the morning and ask the 
 Professor to give him Odysseus, offer- 
 ing in exchange another and more valu- 
 able cat. Yes, that was certainly the 
 better plan. 
 
 Suddenly he started! Thirty yards 
 away a dark object was slowly moving 
 across the snow. He gave a suppressed 
 whoop and dashed off in pursuit. The 
 snow was very soft and deep so that 
 Odysseus could only flounder slowly 
 along, and in a minute Perkins had 
 him by the neck. But this had not 
 been accomplished without a struggle 
 and considerable noise; and just as he 
 was about to stifle the yowls of the 
 49
 
 Odysseus. 
 
 animal in the folds of his ulster, the 
 door of the house opened and the Pro- 
 fessor appeared. 
 
 " Who's that ?." he called out. " What 
 are you doing there ? " And then, 
 receiving no answer, he started to 
 investigate. 
 
 But Perkins waited not. Holding 
 his hat with one hand, and grasping 
 the loudly protesting Odysseus with 
 the other, he rushed wildly away, and 
 disappeared from the sight of the be- 
 wildered Professor behind a clump of 
 trees. 
 
 The next morning Perkins was bend- 
 ing over all that remained of the un- 
 lucky cat. The fusion of the bones 
 had been perfect, and he eagerly dis- 
 sected away the muscles in order to 
 get a better view of it. Suddenly the 
 5
 
 Odysseus. 
 
 scalpel fell from his hand, and he 
 jumped violently as the mild voice 
 of the Greek Professor said close to 
 his ear "I was showing Professor 
 Cuttin of Harvard through the labor- 
 atory, Mr. Perkins, and I thought 
 perhaps he might be interested in 
 your work." 
 
 For the life of him, Perkins could 
 not say a word. He had a wild im- 
 pulse to throw the cat out of the win- 
 dow, but the Professor had stepped 
 between him and the table. " What 
 are you working on ? " he asked, and 
 bent down to examine the animal in 
 the dissecting tray. Alas ! there was 
 no mistaking the black and white fur 
 and the little dark spot on the tip of 
 the tail. The Professor rubbed his 
 eyes and looked again. Yes, that was 
 certainly Odysseus. 
 5 1
 
 Odysseus. 
 
 Some men would have laughed, 
 others would have become angry ; the 
 Professor did neither. " I should have 
 told you," he remarked pleasantly to 
 the visitor, " that Mr. Perkins is one of 
 our most zealous students of Biology."
 
 THE SIN OF HOLY HEDGES 
 
 33
 
 The Sin of Holy Hedges. 
 
 T T EDGES was grinding Greek, as 
 usual, in his room in East. Out- 
 spread on the desk before him lay his 
 Sophocles, directly in the range of the 
 big, round spectacles ; on one side of 
 the old Grecian his Liddell and Scott, 
 to purchase which he had denied him- 
 self the necessities of life (that is, the 
 apparent necessities), and on the other 
 side a translation closed. In fact, 
 the latter was destined to be opened 
 not more than half a dozen times at the 
 most during the evening, for Hedges 
 was one of those strong-minded young 
 men who are able to keep a trot to use 
 only in cases of absolute need, when 
 the underbrush of idiomatic construc- 
 55
 
 The Sin of Holy Hedges. 
 
 tions gets so inextricably tangled as to 
 require Gordian methods. This was 
 Hedges' strong point, self-restraint. 
 
 He was probably the only man in 
 East who was grinding at that time. 
 It was one of those soft, mild nights, 
 infrequent enough in the early Berk- 
 shire springtime, that, when they come, 
 seem to inspire a sort of complacent 
 laziness quite irresistible. But there 
 was another reason ; quite a large num- 
 ber of the fellows had left town for 
 Amherst, to witness a championship 
 game, and those that had remained 
 had scarcely as yet recovered from the 
 epidemic of enthusiasm and cheering 
 which the telegram, just received from 
 the seat of war and bulletined in Wat : 
 son's, had inaugurated. Occasionally 
 still a straggling " Yums ! Yams ! 
 Yums ! " from some irrepressible was 
 56
 
 The Sin of Holy Hedges. 
 
 borne in to Hedges as he sat at his 
 desk. But the big spectacles remained 
 persistently focused on the Sophocles. 
 
 Presently there was a series of kicks 
 on the door, evidently in place of 
 knocks, and a moment later, before 
 Hedges had a chance to respond to 
 them, a youth in a golf suit, with a 
 pipe of sophomorical dimensions in 
 his mouth, entered the room. 
 
 " Hello ! grubbing?" cried the new- 
 comer, in surprise. 
 
 " Yes, won't you sit down, Bald- 
 win ? " said Hedges, in his formal way. 
 
 Baldwin complied with the spirit, if 
 not with the letter of the request, by 
 flinging himself on the divan and blow- 
 ing smoke rings out of the window into 
 the darkness. 
 
 " Say, old man," he began, "we want 
 you to come along later and help us 
 57
 
 The Sin of Holy Hedges. 
 
 root out the freshmen and make 'em 
 pull up the team. It's a glorious vic- 
 tory, and it'll give 'em a chance to 
 show their college spirit if they have 
 any, which I doubt." Both fellows 
 were sophomores. " And, by the way, 
 you'll probably be needed to dock 
 that precious room-mate of yours," 
 he added with a laugh. " He went 
 down, didn't he? " 
 
 " Yes, he went," answered the other, 
 shortly. 
 
 Baldwin looked at his classmate with 
 amusement. He felt tempted to jolly 
 Hedges about exerting his influence 
 on the erring one, but he looked at the 
 firmly closed lips, and thought he had 
 better not. They talked for a few min- 
 utes about the game, the prospect for 
 another championship that year, and, 
 after Hedges had renewed his promise 
 58
 
 The Sin of Holy Hedges. 
 
 to aid in getting out the freshmen, 
 Baldwin left to continue his self-ap- 
 pointed mission among his classmates. 
 
 Hedges did not relish Baldwin's re- 
 mark about his room-mate, though it 
 was not because he thought the 
 prophesy would prove a false one ; 
 quite the contrary. But it hurt him 
 to have the matter spoken of in such a 
 flippant way, as if it were of no conse- 
 quence. Perhaps he imagined a sneer 
 in Baldwin's laugh, which there prob- 
 ably was not. It was a sore point with 
 Hedges, his room-mate's waywardness. 
 He was an older man than Jamieson, 
 and he felt that he ought to have some 
 influence over him. But he had none, 
 that was certain. 
 
 He and Jamieson had been friends 
 together at prep, school. There they 
 were much the same sort of fellows; 
 59
 
 The Sin of Holy Hedges. 
 
 they had similar pursuits and similar 
 aims ; at least there was no such 
 divergence in their manner of life 
 as was noticeable now at the end 
 of sophomore year. But, perhaps, 
 that was due more to the force of 
 external circumstances than to inner 
 tendencies. 
 
 Mount Lebanon was of that species 
 of boys' schools which aim not only to 
 give the youth the requisite prepara- 
 tion for admission to college, but also 
 attempt the more difficult task of im- 
 parting a moral impetus, calculated to 
 carry him safely through the manifold 
 temptations which may assail him later 
 in his course. Their motto is : " As 
 the twig is bent so will the tree in- 
 cline ; " and the twigs are bent with a 
 vengeance. Result, you have a model 
 set of young men entering college from 
 60
 
 The Sin of Holy Hedges. 
 
 these institutions sometimes. Yet, 
 frequently, the result seems to be quite 
 the reverse of the one contemplated. 
 Restraint being removed, some of the 
 young saplings, it is true, remain do- 
 cilely bent ; but others revert to the 
 obstinately vertical position of origi- 
 nal sin and often with remarkable 
 quickness. 
 
 Jamieson was one of the latter sort. 
 When he came to college he was like 
 Mr. Seaman's unfortunate poetess ; he 
 was in Eve's predicament, and would 
 not be happy till he'd sinned. He was 
 in a mood of revolt. No more of the 
 namby pambyism of Mount Lebanon 
 for him. In short, he felt it was obli- 
 gatory on him, as a young man who 
 had become his own master, to sow a 
 few wild oats, and he had been sowing 
 assiduously now for nearly two years. 
 61
 
 The Sin of Holy Hedges. 
 
 He would tire of it before long, most 
 likely, but while the process continued 
 it was very trying for his conscientious 
 friend. 
 
 For Hedges, college was a serious 
 matter, a matter of opportunities and 
 duties. He labored under the delusion 
 that one comes to college primarily to 
 study ; an heretical doctrine among 
 undergraduates, though many can 
 always be found who are more or less 
 guilty of putting it into practice 
 secretly, if not openly. And then 
 there were Y. M. C. A. meetings and 
 class prayer meetings, opportunities 
 not to be neglected. To teach Sunday 
 school in the little school house up on 
 North West Hill was another opportu- 
 nity, and every Sunday afternoon, rain 
 or shine, found Hedges with Bible and 
 
 Peloubet under his arm setting out on 
 62
 
 The Sin of Holy Hedges. 
 
 his three-mile tramp with the enthusi- 
 asm of a missionary in his heart. All 
 this was easy enough ; Hedges took to 
 it like a duck to water. But some 
 things he found hard to do. It was 
 not easy, for instance, to get up and 
 leave a dormitory room when the rep- 
 artee got a little coarse, or the anec- 
 dotes a trifle risque ; and it was harder 
 still to know that one was called Holy 
 Hedges in consequence, for Hedges 
 was quite human under his prematurely 
 ministerial air. But hardest of all 
 perhaps, it was to shut his lips tightly 
 together and say nothing when he saw 
 his friend doing things he should not. 
 But Hedges did all these and other hard 
 things, because he considered it his 
 duty to do them and Hedges always 
 did his duty at any cost. 
 
 Towards half-past ten a crowd of 
 63
 
 The Sin of Holy Hedges. 
 
 sophomores came through East, mak- 
 ing as much noise as possible, and inci- 
 dentally assuring themselves that all 
 the freshmen were out and ready to 
 pull up the team. They rushed up the 
 stairs shouting "All out ! " a great many 
 times, and making considerable need- 
 less racket with their feet. On the top 
 floor some one found two ash cans that 
 had been left out of the rooms inad- 
 vertently, and down stairs they were 
 sent, making the noise of a dozen boiler 
 shops on the iron sheathing of the 
 steps. On the floor below, some one 
 else, whose brains had just escaped 
 being knocked out by the cans in their 
 mad career, picked them up and sent 
 them down another flight. This was 
 celebrating the glorious victory. 
 
 Some one began kicking mightily at 
 the door of the room next to that of 
 64
 
 The Sin of Holy Hedges. 
 
 Hedges. " Get to hell out, you sleepy 
 freshman," he shouted. Potter, blase* 
 youth that he was, had gone to bed 
 some time since, remarking that he'd 
 a hang sight rather be sleeping at mid- 
 night than pulling those lazy beggars 
 up Consumption Hill. But the invita- 
 tion of the enthusiastic committee was 
 urgent, punctuated as it was with vigor- 
 ous kicks that tested the strength of 
 his oak, and was not to be slighted. 
 At first Potter pretended to be asleep, 
 but at last when the lock seemed about 
 ready to break at any moment, a stone 
 came cleanly through his window and 
 landed in his wash bowl, deciding him 
 that it was necessary to capitulate. 
 "All right," he grunted, "just let me 
 get my clothes on, can't you ? " And 
 he began tumbling into his trousers, 
 boots and sweater. 
 65
 
 The Sin of Holy Hedges. 
 
 Baldwin opened Hedges' door. 
 " Come on," he shouted, and slammed 
 the door again. 
 
 Hedges waited five minutes to finish 
 the work he was engaged upon, and 
 then got up from his desk and began 
 to put up his books and get ready to 
 go out to join the crowd who were now 
 well on their way toward the station. 
 He had just completed an orderly 
 arrangement of the things on his desk 
 when he heard a light tap on his door. 
 
 " Come in," he shouted somewhat 
 crossly. This going down to meet the 
 team was a rather foolish business any- 
 way. A moment later the door was 
 opened and an elderly man entered, 
 followed by a slender girl of sixteen or 
 seventeen. 
 
 " I beg your pardon for not coming 
 to the door," said Hedges, somewhat 
 66
 
 The Sin of Holy Hedges. 
 
 abashed. " I thought it was one of 
 the fellows." 
 
 " So it is," answered the elderly 
 gentleman, "One of the old fellows 
 And you, I presume, are Mr. Hedges." 
 
 Hedges replied in the affirmative. 
 
 "And you are wondering, I see, who 
 it is that is calling on you at such an 
 unseasonable hour," he continued, no- 
 ticing the perplexed look on Hedges' 
 face. " I am Harry Jamieson's father, 
 and this my daughter, Dorothy." 
 
 Hedges shook hands with both of 
 them, and begged them to be seated. 
 
 " Harry is not in now," he explained, 
 " in fact is out of town. He went to 
 Amherst this morning with the rest 
 to see the game, and has not got back 
 yet. I suppose he will return with the 
 others on the midnight train." 
 
 " Ah, to be sure. I had quite for- 
 67
 
 The Sin of Holy Hedges. 
 
 gotten that there was a ball game at 
 Amherst to-day. Harry wrote that he 
 was intending to go down this year." 
 Mr. Jamieson took out his watch. 
 " After eleven," he exclaimed, " I 
 really did not think it was quite so 
 late as that. We owe you an apology, 
 I am sure, for intruding at such an 
 hour, but having gone so far I am go- 
 ing to venture a bit farther, and ask 
 you if we may remain here till my son 
 arrives ? " 
 
 "Yes, certainly," answered Hedges. 
 If there was any lack of cordiality in 
 the reply, Mr. Jamieson, evidently, did 
 notice it. 
 
 He went on to explain the reason 
 for his visit. He had been asked to 
 exchange pulpits for the following day 
 with the pastor of a church in North 
 Adams, and so had taken the occasion 
 68
 
 The Sin of Holy Hedges. 
 
 to pay a visit to Williamstown at the 
 same time, and to bring his daughter 
 with him, as he had long promised 
 her. He had written when the ar- 
 rangements had been completed, but 
 evidently the letter had not come 
 when Harry left town. They had 
 come over from North Adams a short 
 time before, and were staying for the 
 night at Prof. Harvey's, an old friend 
 since the time of college days. Late as 
 it was, Dorothy had insisted that they 
 should walk over to the dormitory, on 
 the possible chance that Harry might 
 still be up. They had seen the light 
 at the window and inferred that he 
 was. 
 
 Hedges appeared to be listening to 
 Mr. Jamieson, but in reality he was 
 paying little attention. He was think- 
 ing of Baldwin's disagreeable remark 
 69
 
 The Sin of Holy Hedges. 
 
 about his room-mate's probable condi- 
 tion on his return to town, and, what 
 was more, he was forced to admit that 
 his own apprehensions pointed in the 
 same direction. The victory, a close 
 one and rather unexpected, the crowd 
 of fellows he had gone with, everything 
 forced the conclusion ; experience had 
 taught him temptations considerably 
 less strong than those that lay in the 
 present circumstances would have been 
 sufficient to insure it. But what could 
 he do ? To tell the truth, it did not 
 occur to him that there was anything 
 he could do. Artifice of any sort was 
 a thing so far removed from Hedges' 
 character that the possibility even of 
 practicing any deception on the elder 
 Jamieson did not enter his mind. If 
 Harry came home drunk on the night 
 his father and sister chose to visit him 
 70
 
 The Sin of Holy Hedges. 
 
 there was nothing he could do about 
 it. Still, when he pictured to himself 
 the scene, from the secular, so to speak, 
 and as yet little explored region of his 
 conscience, a voice cried to him that it 
 was wrong to passively allow the catas- 
 trophe to come ; it would be nothing 
 short of cruelty toward the father, 
 worse than cruelty toward this sensi- 
 tive girl, and rank infidelity besides 
 toward his friend. But the messenger 
 did not have the usual credentials 
 and then what could he do anyway ? 
 They talked the usual common- 
 places ; about the beauty of the Berk- 
 shire country in springtime ; the change 
 time had made in the college and town ; 
 prospective improvements and the rest. 
 Mr. Jamieson bore the weight of the 
 conversation ; Hedges felt in no mood 
 for talking, and Dorothy, who had
 
 The Sin of Holy Hedges. 
 
 evidently been brought up in the good 
 old-fashioned rule, "children should be 
 seen and not heard," gave herself up 
 to silent but absorbing observation of 
 the contents of the room. Hedges un- 
 consciously tried to keep the conversa- 
 tion impersonal, but it was in vain. It 
 was Harry, Mr. Jamieson was thinking 
 of, and of him he was determined to 
 speak. 
 
 They had been talking of the 
 many delightful walks the country 
 afforded. 
 
 "The value to a young man," Mr. 
 Jamieson was saying, " which a four 
 years' residence in a college like Wil- 
 liams has, lies of course, first of all in 
 the opportunities for study and intel- 
 lectual advancement which it offers. 
 First of all, I repeat, for I have no pa- 
 tience with the men who neglect such 
 72
 
 The Sin of Holy Hedges. 
 
 opportunities. Yet there are other 
 things, possibly of nearly as great value 
 in the end, subtle influences which per- 
 vade the place, giving it its character, 
 and which cannot help affecting those 
 who live here for four years. One of 
 the best of these, it seems to me, is the 
 influence of nature. I wonder how 
 many men it has inspired. If Bryant 
 did not write Thanatopsis while sitting 
 in Flora's Glen, and I believe the 
 higher criticism would have us doubt 
 the story, at least he may have been 
 inspired to do it by a visit there at 
 any rate I like to think so. But there 
 is a higher sort of inspiration than that 
 which results in the expression of the 
 best thoughts in poetry, and that is the 
 inspiration which leads to the forma- 
 tion of high ideals which express them- 
 selves in right living. You see, I can- 
 73
 
 The Sin of Holy Hedges. 
 
 not help preaching," he added, smiling. 
 " But I speak from my own experience. 
 It was on a trip up Greylock, just when 
 we entered the Hopper I remember 
 the time very well it was a glorious 
 autumn day, with the foliage as you 
 know it that I finally decided to 
 make my life work the preaching of 
 the Gospel." 
 
 " We hope Harry will choose the 
 ministry," said Dorothy. It was the 
 first time the girl had spoken, and the 
 words were uttered almost unconsci- 
 ously. A few moments before, she had 
 risen and become absorbed in looking 
 at a cluster of photographs over Harry's 
 desk. Hedges watched her as she took 
 down the two or three pictures of her 
 brother's girl friends whom she evi- 
 dently did not know, and studied them 
 with tender, half jealous curiosity. 
 74
 
 The Sin of Holy Hedges. 
 
 The corporate interest which her " we " 
 implied struck him keenly. 
 
 For a moment he had a notion of 
 telling Mr. Jamieson, so that he might 
 take the girl away, but the thought of 
 betraying his friend, and needlessly, 
 perhaps, made him hesitate. He was 
 afraid of the result. Occasionally 
 gleams of hardness and rigorousness 
 had shown themselves in the father's 
 conversation, evincing an unrelenting 
 nature under his apparent gentleness 
 of manner. Harry was thoughtless, 
 but not a bad fellow at heart, and an 
 over-severe punishment, injudiciously 
 timed, might do no end of injury. No, 
 he would risk it. Harry might come 
 home all right. He thought he had 
 seen in him a growing weariness for 
 the sort of fun he had been amusing 
 himself with Hedges was a born 
 75
 
 The Sin of Holy Hedges. 
 
 physician of souls, and watched his 
 friend for symptoms continually. But 
 the hope had little consolation in it. 
 At heart he did not believe it. 
 
 " I suppose we old fellows," Mr. 
 Jamieson was prosing away, " are in- 
 clined to view the past through rose- 
 colored spectacles, but I, for one, can- 
 not help thinking that there is not the 
 strong religious spirit pervading the 
 college life that there used to be. In 
 my day there was much opposition to 
 religion from some quarters, but not 
 that spirit of indifference which seems 
 so rife at present. An indifference in 
 matters of creed, if you like, which is 
 sure to react on morals. And indiffer- 
 ence is more dangerous, don't you 
 think so, than the best directed oppo- 
 sition that is open and tangible." 
 
 "Yes, I've always thought so." 
 76
 
 The Sin of Holy Hedges. 
 
 Hedges had made the same criticism 
 a dozen times, but somehow he re- 
 sented it now. It seemed a narrow 
 one. 
 
 The older man appeared to appreci- 
 ate the unuttered qualification. " I 
 may do you injustice," he explained. 
 "Young men are not so enthusiastic 
 about anything as they were in times 
 gone past, or at least do not express 
 their enthusiasm so freely. But, per- 
 haps, the feeling is just as strong as 
 ever. I hope so. Now, Harry scarcely 
 ever talks to me of his own accord on 
 religious subjects. Yet he is a good 
 boy, and I would not like to believe 
 that he does not think about such 
 things." 
 
 Hedges said nothing, and Mr. Jamie- 
 son asked : " You are intending enter- 
 ing the ministry, are you not ? " 
 77
 
 The Sin of Holy Hedges. 
 
 " I hope to be able to," Hedges 
 answered. 
 
 " I am glad to hear it. I understood 
 you were, and I assure you I feel that 
 it is very fortunate that my son should 
 constantly associate with one who has 
 a definite, serious purpose in view. 
 Harry is only a boy, scarcely formed 
 in character yet, and he needs the in- 
 fluence of an older, steadier man." 
 
 Hedges got up abruptly and went 
 to the window. " They should be 
 here in a few minutes," he said. 
 Under the circumstances, he could 
 hardly be expected to relish the com- 
 pliment. But there was a keener 
 sting in the remark than one would 
 perhaps imagine. It forced the old 
 question which he had asked him- 
 self so many times. " If I have no 
 influence over this boy whom I know 
 78
 
 The Sin of Holy Hedges. 
 
 so well, how can I expect to prevail 
 over strong men with evil habits, deep- 
 rooted in their natures ? " And he had 
 no such influence, not a particle. But 
 yet how could one hope to gain effect- 
 iveness if not by a consecration of one's 
 self to the cause of religion ? Was not 
 that the road that had always been 
 pointed out to him as the only possible 
 one ? He believed it was, himself, but 
 sometimes there came doubts. 
 
 The Gym. clock had struck twelve 
 some minutes before, and already 
 the noise of fireworks and cheering 
 could be heard faintly down toward 
 the railroad station. Mr. Jamieson 
 and Dorothy came and stood beside 
 Hedges at the window. 
 
 " There is to be a demonstration on 
 account of the victory," Hedges ex- 
 plained. " Almost every one who re- 
 79
 
 The Sin of Holy Hedges. 
 
 mained in town has gone down to the 
 station. The horses will be unhar- 
 nessed from the barge that brings up 
 the team, and some of the fellows will 
 pull it up to the gymnasium, while the 
 rest march along beside and make as 
 much racket as possible. They will be 
 in sight in a moment." 
 
 "Harry will be with the rest?" 
 Dorothy asked. 
 
 Hedges looked at her expectant 
 face. " Yes, I suppose so," he an- 
 swered, and turned away quickly. 
 
 By leaning out of the window they 
 could get a good view of the procession, 
 if it could be so called, as it advanced 
 up Main street. The central figure 
 was the barge containing the nine 
 heroes of the day and the substitutes, 
 who would have been heroes if they 
 had been given a chance. In front of 
 80
 
 The Sin of Holy Hedges. 
 
 the barge was a long line of freshmen 
 pulling at the rope which was fastened 
 to the tongue of the wagon. On all 
 sides, behind, before, in the street and 
 on the sidewalks, were crowds of fel- 
 lows blowing tin horns, exploding fire- 
 works promiscuously in all directions 
 without regard for consequences, and 
 dancing like dervishes. The air was 
 thick with dust and gunpowder smoke, 
 and ruddy with colored fire ; the re- 
 markable feat of the " Grand old Duke 
 of York, who had ten thousand men," 
 was celebrated in song over and over 
 again, enthusiastically, if not harmoni- 
 ously. The barge, with its escort, was 
 now half-way up Consumption Hill. 
 Here was the tug. But in a moment 
 it had reached the top and then began 
 rushing down the incline toward the 
 Gym. 
 
 81
 
 The Sin of Holy Hedges. 
 
 Before long the noise of feet was 
 heard on the stairways, and doors be- 
 gan to be opened and slammed. 
 Hedges listened. 
 
 "Damn it, I'm not going to bed. I'm 
 goin' out'n' have a hell of a time," 
 some one cried, in a high-keyed, child- 
 ish voice. It was little freshman Haw- 
 kins. The rest of the party laughed 
 boisterously. Another began to sing 
 " Some vaunt the crimson, some the 
 blue," but missed a step and came to a 
 short stop. Hedges recognized the 
 singer as Ned Allerton, and he knew 
 that Jamieson would be with him. The 
 crowd was worse than usual to-night. 
 
 They came on stumbling up the 
 stairs. Hedges got up. He didn't 
 know just what he would do, but at 
 any rate he was going to keep Harry 
 Jamieson from coming into the room. 
 82
 
 The Sin of Holy Hedges. 
 
 "I I hope you'll excuse me a mo- 
 ment," he stammered, " I want to speak 
 to one of the fellows before he goes to 
 his room." He felt that he was blush- 
 ing, and that Mr. Jamieson was wonder- 
 ing what rattled him so. In a moment 
 he had slipped out of the room. 
 
 When he saw his friend, Hedges de- 
 cided what to do. A few moments 
 later he came back to his room with 
 his courage screwed up and a lie 
 ready to tell. It was a big one, and 
 not so very plausible, and it might not 
 deceive the father, but it would, at 
 least, make him take the girl away and 
 prevent a scene. 
 
 " I am sorry to tell you," he said, 
 looking Mr. Jamieson squarely in the 
 face, " that Harry did not come back 
 to-night with the rest." He hesitated, 
 and then continued, trying to assume 
 83
 
 The Sin of Holy Hedges. 
 
 his natural tone : " I went out to speak 
 to one of the fellows and chanced to 
 meet Griswold, who was just coming 
 here with a message from Harry, that 
 he had decided to stay with a friend in 
 Amherst over Sunday. Of course, he 
 did not know you were coming," he 
 added weakly, seeing the look of dis- 
 appointment in Dorothy's face. 
 
 " It is very unfortunate that he 
 should have chosen this particular 
 Sunday. I suppose it means that we 
 shan't see him this time, Dolly." 
 
 Hedges studied the man's face. He 
 could not decide whether or no the 
 deception had succeeded. They left in 
 a moment, and Hedges went out and 
 found Jamieson and got him to bed. 
 
 The next morning Hedges was 
 spending the time between breakfast 
 and the hour for chapel service in writ- 
 84
 
 The Sin of Holy Hedges. 
 
 ing his usual weekly letter home. It 
 was after half-past nine and his room- 
 mate's bedroom door was still closed. 
 Presently he heard a tap which he 
 recognized. He got up this time and 
 went to the door himself instead of 
 calling " Come in," as usual. It was 
 Mr. Jamieson, as he had expected 
 but alone. 
 
 " Come in, won't you ? " asked 
 Hedges. He did not say, " I am glad 
 to see you " he was not going to tell 
 lies gratuitously at any rate. 
 
 Mr. Jamieson came in and sat down ; 
 neither said a word for a moment, but 
 Hedges knew what was coming. 
 
 At last Mr. Jamieson spoke. " I 
 have come to talk with you, Mr. 
 Hedges, very seriously. I shall be 
 quite frank with you, and I trust you 
 will be equally so with me." He 
 85
 
 The Sin of Holy Hedges. 
 
 paused a moment. " I could scarcely 
 help knowing that there were sev- 
 eral men who came into the dormi- 
 tory last night under the influence 
 of drink. I was not mistaken in 
 that, was I?" 
 
 " No, there were a few, I am sorry 
 to say." 
 
 " You said that my son had sent you 
 word that he was intending to stay out 
 of town over Sunday. You will par- 
 don me for harboring such a suspicion 
 if it is a wrong one, but I have not 
 been able to rid myself of the thought 
 that you were concealing something 
 from me. I am probably mistaken. 
 And in that case I can only beg your 
 forgiveness, yet I could not refrain 
 from coming to you and asking you to 
 assure me of it. Needless to say, I 
 shall accept your word implicitly and 
 86
 
 The Sin of Holy Hedges. 
 
 without questioning of any sort." Mr. 
 Jamieson waited for a reply. 
 
 Hedges looked him squarely in the 
 face, as on the night before. " It was 
 quite true what I said," he answered, 
 "your son stayed at Amherst last 
 night at least such was his message 
 to me." There was a touch of 
 contempt in his voice. What right 
 had this man to try to force him into 
 a betrayal of his friend ? 
 
 But his conscience troubled him just 
 a little when the other got up, and, 
 extending his hand, said, in his former 
 cordial voice, " I am glad to hear it, 
 Mr. Hedges. More glad than you can 
 well imagine. It has relieved my mind 
 wonderfully. I cannot tell you how 
 much." And he took a hurried leave, 
 explaining that a man was waiting be. 
 low to drive him over to North Adams. 
 87
 
 The Sin of Holy Hedges. 
 
 Hedges sat down to his writing. In 
 a few minutes Jamieson come out into 
 the study half dressed. He stood in 
 the middle of the room with his hand 
 on the table, looking down at the floor. 
 Hedges continued his letter. "Your 
 father has just been here," he said, in 
 a matter of fact way, without looking 
 up. 
 
 " Yes, I recognized the governor's 
 voice," Jamieson replied. Neither 
 spoke for a moment. 
 
 " Phil, old man, you're a brick," 
 Jamieson burst out impetuously. 
 
 Hedges kept on with his writing, 
 and made no reply, but there was 
 something in the voice and the atti- 
 tude of the boy that pleased him 
 mightily. It gave him a sense of 
 effectiveness that was new to him ; 
 conscience or no conscience, he had 
 88
 
 The Sin of Holy Hedges. 
 
 learned something, and a something, 
 by the way, quite necessary for him to 
 learn sooner or later. Hedges had 
 a dim sort of realization of this fact, 
 and it gave him genuine satisfaction 
 for, after all, to learn was the purpose 
 for which Hedges came to college. 
 
 89
 
 CONCERNING A FRESHMAN
 
 Concerning a Freshman. 
 
 "T^RESHMEN," remarked Camp- 
 bell from the divan, " are nec- 
 essary evils. Necessary, because the 
 college must be perpetuated; evils, 
 because well, because they are 
 freshmen." 
 
 " So, that's what has kept you quiet 
 for the last fifteen minutes," said 
 Thompson ; " really, Campbell, if I 
 couldn't make a better epigram than 
 that after a quarter of an hour's medi- 
 tation I'd give up trying to." 
 
 "What's the matter now?" chimed 
 
 in Perkins. " Has one of them been 
 
 fresh to you ? Take my advice and 
 
 wear corduroy trousers. Of course, no 
 
 93
 
 Concerning a Freshman. 
 
 one will take you for a senior even then, 
 but they can't help seeing that you're 
 an upper classman." 
 
 " You go to thunder ! " said Camp- 
 bell good naturedly. " Give me some 
 tobacco and I'll tell you the particular 
 application of my general remark. Do 
 any of you know Witherbee ? " he 
 asked, as he lit his pipe and leaned 
 back among the cushions. 
 
 " Yes," answered Green, " he has the 
 next room, and I've seen him in the hall 
 once or twice ; what about him ? " 
 
 "Why, he's one of those fellows," 
 replied Campbell, "who come to this 
 place with their ideas of Williams 
 formed from a perusal of the cata- 
 logue that the registrar sends to the 
 principal of their high school. I don't 
 believe he ever heard of college cus- 
 toms, or, at any rate, he hasn't the 
 94
 
 Concerning a Freshman. 
 
 least idea of observing them. In fact, 
 he publicly informed several persons 
 that he considered himself quite as 
 good as a senior." 
 
 " It seems to me," said Green, " that 
 a course in common sense would be a 
 splendid addition to the curriculum of 
 the average prep, school. Some of the 
 freshmen that we get here appear to be 
 utterly lacking in it. Now, I presume 
 that our friend Witherbee believes that 
 he is acting quite an heroic part in tak- 
 ing the stand he does." 
 
 " I'm sure of it," said Thompson ; 
 "in fact he told me himself that he 
 considered it unmanly to allow any 
 one to interfere with his personal 
 rights. I'm proud to add that I never 
 cracked a smile. What has he been 
 doing anyway ?" he added. 
 
 " Why, the first thing he did," an- 
 95
 
 Concerning a Freshman. 
 
 swered Campbell, "was to tack up his 
 card outside his door, and it was 
 promptly torn down. Then he ap- 
 peared on Weston Field in cordu- 
 roy trousers, and disappeared without 
 them ; after that, to cap the climax, he 
 smoked a pipe in the street, and the 
 sophomores took it away from him, 
 whereupon my young friend called 
 them several unpleasant names, and 
 informed them that he intended to 
 do as he pleased." 
 
 " He certainly is fresh," said Thomp- 
 son, " but he's not a bad sort of a fel- 
 low. Some one at home gave him a 
 letter to me, and, of course, I did what 
 I could in helping him furnish his room 
 and find a boarding place. The trouble 
 is that he has come here without the 
 slightest idea of what college life is 
 like." 
 
 96
 
 Concerning a Freshman. 
 
 " Well," said Green, " he'll have a 
 lively time finding out. I heard the 
 sophs were going to visit him this 
 evening." 
 
 " He must have been reading some 
 of those fool stories about the evils of 
 hazing," said Perkins. " You know the 
 style : ' The Boy Who Would Not Be 
 Hazed,' with illustrations showing the 
 heroic freshman hurling defiance (and 
 other things) at a crowd of brutal soph- 
 omores, three of whom he has knocked 
 down. Why do people write such stuff 
 anyway ? " 
 
 " I'm sure I don't know," answered 
 Green, " and what is more I don't care 
 very much, either. I was invited here 
 to eat a rabbit, and I'm not going to be 
 sidetracked into a discussion on fresh- 
 men. You cut up the cheese and I'll 
 get out the rest of the eatables." 
 97
 
 Concerning a Freshman. 
 
 In a short time Thompson, who ex- 
 celled in such matters, was bending 
 over the chafing-dish, while the others 
 assisted him with advice as to the 
 seasoning. 
 
 " Now, then, Perkins," called out the 
 cook, " hurry up with that beer! Not 
 so much ! This isn't soup we're mak- 
 ing ! Get the mustard, quick, some 
 one ; it's in that brown paper on the 
 table. A little more pepper, Green. 
 More yet ! Great Heavens, man ! don't 
 put in the whole two ounces. Now 
 wait a minute, it's nearly done. Ready 
 with your plates! There you are! 
 You'd better eat it before it cools." 
 
 The man who makes a Welsh rabbit 
 has no time to think of anything 
 else ; and the same is true, in a lesser 
 degree, of the man who eats one. It 
 was not until the five plates were 
 98
 
 Concerning a Freshman. 
 
 deposited clean upon the table that 
 the subject of Witherbee was brought 
 up again. 
 
 " I feel sorry for that freshman," said 
 Campbell, in the tone of fatherly pat- 
 ronage that upper classmen learn to 
 employ when speaking of those two or 
 three years behind them ; " I shouldn't 
 think his first term would give him any 
 very deep love for Williams." 
 
 " It won't," answered Bronson; "he 
 probably thinks this is the worst hole 
 he ever got into. But if he has good 
 stuff in him he'll come out of it all 
 right in the end." 
 
 " That's just it," said Thompson. 
 " If he has good stuff in him. But 
 supposing he hasn't? I wonder if 
 many men get so sick of the mill 
 they're put through freshman year 
 that they clear out in disgust." 
 99
 
 Concerning a Freshman. 
 
 " Lots of them," said Campbell ; 
 " but they are the ones who ought 
 never to have been allowed to come 
 to college at all. This isn't a hot- 
 house, you know. We're not sup- 
 posed to be a nursery for freaks. The 
 college takes a hundred, more or less, 
 crude and unformed boys, and turns 
 them out in four years with their ef- 
 fectiveness doubled and trebled, and a 
 sort of general superficial polish that 
 people call college training. That's 
 all it tries to do, and if the weak ones 
 break during the process you can't 
 blame the system. 
 
 " It makes me tired to see the way 
 people bring up a boy, without any 
 idea of what the world is like, and then 
 look surprised and grieved when he 
 goes to the devil the minute he leaves 
 home. While I'm just as fond of Wil-
 
 Concerning a Freshman. 
 
 Hams as any of you, and think there's 
 no place like it, I don't imagine for 
 a moment that it's going to work 
 miracles. You can't expect this col- 
 lege to take the place of a nurse, and 
 as for its trying to be father and 
 mother and condensed milk to all 
 the fools that come here, it's simply 
 ridiculous!" 
 
 " Now, fellows ! " cried Bronson, " a 
 Williams cheer with Campbell on the 
 end." 
 
 " That was a burst," admitted Camp- 
 bell, joining in the laugh; "but I get 
 hot sometimes when people talk rot 
 about the evils of college life. As for 
 hazing, I've never heard of any one 
 being hurt by it since I've been here, 
 and there is nothing like it in the 
 world to correct swelled head. A 
 man may come here conceited, and 
 101
 
 Concerning a Freshman. 
 
 leave here conceited, but at least he 
 has an intervening period of sanity." 
 
 " When you get through settling the 
 affairs of the nation, Campbell," said 
 Perkins, " I wish you would come to 
 the window and see the fun. There's 
 a crowd of sophs in front of the Gym., 
 and I imagine they're getting ready to 
 visit our friend in the next room." 
 
 The four looked out of the window. 
 It was too dark to distinguish faces, 
 but they could make out a group of 
 men gathered on the gymnasium steps 
 giving their class yell. 
 
 Newcomers constantly arrived, and 
 when forty or fifty were assembled, 
 they started for "Hell's Entry" of 
 Morgan Hall, and came pouring up 
 the narrow stairs, while a general bolt- 
 ing of freshman doors, and extinguish- 
 ing of freshman lights heralded their 
 approach. 102
 
 Concerning a Freshman. 
 
 " Now he's in for it," said Green, 
 " Lord, what a noise they're making ! " 
 
 Up the stairs rushed the sophomores 
 shouting and singing. " Witherbee ! 
 Witherbee ! we want Witherbee ! " they 
 yelled ; then they stopped before his 
 room. " Open up there ! " they called, 
 pounding and kicking an the door. 
 
 No answer. 
 
 "Come! Come! Open the door or 
 we'll break it in ! " they shouted. 
 
 Still no answer. 
 
 " Now, fellows ! " said some one, " all 
 together! One! Two! Three!" 
 
 Twenty men flung themselves 
 against the door. It held for a mo- 
 ment, then burst open, and the crowd 
 rushed in. 
 
 " Look here," said Thompson, " let's 
 go in and see that they don't go too 
 far." 
 
 103
 
 Concerning a Freshman. 
 
 "Don't you do it," answered Per- 
 kins; "they won't hurt him, and if 
 ever a man needed a calling down he 
 does." 
 
 However, they went out into the 
 hall where they could hear all that 
 went on. 
 
 " I tell you I won't," said Wither- 
 bee passionately. "Bullies! Cowards! 
 Leave my room ! " 
 
 A chorus of derisive yells, followed 
 by a half a dozen orders flung at him 
 at once was the only answer. 
 
 " No," he cried again, " I won't sing 
 songs ! I won't make a speech ! I'm 
 not going to be bullied by any one ! 
 Get out I tell you ! " 
 
 The yell which followed was not 
 quite so good natured as the first ; the 
 crowd was getting angry. 
 
 " Look here," said someone, "we've 
 104
 
 Concerning a Freshman. 
 
 fooled with this man long enough. If 
 he won't be decent he's got to take the 
 consequences. Now, then, fresh, will 
 you sing or speak ? Hurry up, we can't 
 wait all night ! " 
 
 "No!" answered Witherbee, "I 
 won't do anything! You're a pack 
 
 of ." The rest of the sentence 
 
 was lost in the sound of a struggle. 
 
 " O, damn it all ! " said Thompson, 
 " they'll hurt him ! I'm going in." 
 
 He pushed through the men outside 
 the door and elbowed his way to the 
 center of the group around Wither- 
 bee. Then some one in the crowd rec- 
 ognized him, and the noise stopped. 
 
 " See here, fellows ! " he said, 
 " You've gone far enough ; you 
 don't want to hurt him." 
 
 " O nonsense, Thompson," answered 
 a man from the crowd ; " it'll do him 
 I0 5
 
 Concerning a Freshman. 
 
 good. He's the freshest man in col- 
 lege." " That's so ! " came from a 
 dozen men. "If we stop now he'll 
 be worse than ever." 
 
 "You've gone far enough," repeated 
 Thompson. " You're not going to do 
 anything more to him to-night. Get 
 out!" 
 
 They didn't like it ; but he was a 
 senior, and, after a moment of hesita- 
 tion, they departed, to console them- 
 selves with the freshmen in the next 
 entry. Witherbee picked himself up. 
 
 " O, thank you, Mr. Thompson ! " he 
 exclaimed excitedly. " Thank you for 
 rescuing me from those bullies ! If 
 ever I can do anything for you just 
 
 let me ." He stopped abruptly, 
 
 for Thompson was not paying the 
 slightest attention to his thanks, nor 
 to the hand he had half extended. 
 106
 
 Concerning a Freshman. 
 
 " Witherbee," he said, " I think you 
 are, without exception, the blamedest 
 fool I have seen since I entered col- 
 lege ! " And he followed the sopho- 
 mores out of the room. 
 
 107
 
 THE VALLEY OF DECISION 
 
 109
 
 The Valley of Decision. 
 
 TX7HEN Paul Lorrimer received 
 Mrs. Endicott's invitation to 
 come up and stay at her country house 
 in Williamstown for a week or so, 
 about commencement time, he de- 
 cided, without much hesitation, to ac- 
 cept. He had not been back to the 
 quiet little town in the five years that 
 he had been an alumnus, and he had 
 a great desire to see the old place 
 again. In addition to this loyal senti- 
 ment Mrs. Endicott always made a 
 charming hostess, and there were to 
 be other pleasant people, he heard, 
 staying at her house at the same time. 
 But he did not happen to know that
 
 The Valley of Decision. 
 
 Miss Sterling was to be among the 
 number. That was a surprise await- 
 ing him on his arrival. It was a bit 
 prophetic, if they both had only 
 known it, that she should have been 
 the first person he saw when the trap 
 that had brought him up from the sta- 
 tion pulled up under the porte-cochere 
 of The Hillocks. "Why, Pollie," he 
 said, as he took her hand, " I didn't 
 know that I was to see you here.' 
 
 " It's as much of a surprise to me as 
 to any one," Miss Sterling answered. 
 " Elsie Winthrop was taken ill at the 
 last minute, and Aunt Geraldine tele- 
 graphed me to come and take her 
 place. It wasn't entirely flattering, 
 was it ? But," she added with a sud- 
 den upward look, " I wanted to come." 
 The astute Lorrimer understood the 
 look. 
 
 112
 
 The Valley of Decision. 
 
 " Pollie Sterling is an awfully at- 
 tractive little girl," he said to himself 
 later, as he was dressing for dinner. 
 " But I hope she clearly understands 
 that all that nonsense we indulged in 
 down at St. Augustine last winter was 
 nonsense. You never can quite 
 trust these girls, though, who are just 
 young enough to take life seriously. 
 I hope the fascinations of some chap 
 in a black gown and mortar board 
 will relieve me from all necessity of 
 enlightening her. But if it is neces- 
 sary He broke off his soliloquy 
 abruptly. A man tying an evening 
 cravat before a looking-glass cannot be 
 impressive, even to himself. 
 
 That night, after dinner, when the 
 others had gone out onto the piazza., 
 Miss Sterling went to the piano and 
 sang Charminade's song about the girl
 
 The Valley of Decision. 
 
 who broke her heart waiting for a 
 lover who never came, and Lorrimer 
 decided, between whiffs of smoke, 
 that, after all, he had not come to 
 Williamstown to impose a disagree- 
 able duty upon himself. It is sur- 
 prising with what promptness the 
 members of a house party understand 
 each other. After a day or two cer- 
 tain combinations are received in a 
 matter-of-fact, unquestioning way, and 
 it is perfectly understood that no one 
 will poach on the preserves of another's 
 monopoly. The advantages of this 
 system are, of course, relative to the 
 character of one's " corner," and occa- 
 sionally but that is exactly why one 
 should exercise discretion in accepting 
 invitations to country houses. 
 
 Pending the arrival of the seniorial 
 middleman, who should divert Miss 
 114
 
 The Valley of Decision. 
 
 Sterling's emotional attention, Lorri- 
 mer had let matters drift back into 
 their old course. It was made so easy 
 that it was almost unconscious. And 
 why should he spoil a simple, pleasant 
 friendship with some bungling pru- 
 dishness? Lorrimer was well on in 
 the middle age of his youth, yet he 
 used the word with a half sincerity. 
 It was not because he did not under- 
 stand, either, but rather because it 
 had never occurred to him to apply 
 the excellent epigrams he had made 
 concerning life to himself. 
 
 Most experience is divided into a 
 before and an after by a climax. 
 
 And Lorrimer's climax came. 
 
 The fellows at his fraternity house 
 had arranged a dance and most of the 
 people staying at The Hillocks decided 
 to go. " Of course you and Pollie will 
 
 V
 
 The Valley of Decision. 
 
 go," Mrs. Endicott had said to Lorri- 
 mer when they were all talking it over. 
 The "of course" had stung a little. 
 He would have preferred if everything 
 had not been entirely taken for granted. 
 Pollie's attitude annoyed him too. He 
 kept away from the house that day 
 and, when they met at dinner, he con- 
 fined the conversation strictly within 
 the bounds of impersonalities. The 
 next day he spent playing golf with 
 Jack Ellis. The one little glimpse he 
 had of Pollie made him miserably 
 remorseful, but he felt that he was tak- 
 ing the right course. That night when 
 he came up to his room to dress for the 
 dance, he found lying among the silver 
 things on his dressing table some white 
 sweet flowers. He knew that she had 
 sent them for his buttonhole, but he 
 put them in a glass of water instead. 
 116
 
 The Valley of Decision. 
 
 Lorrimer drove over from The Hil- 
 locks to the dance with Mrs. Endicott 
 and her niece. Pollie had hardly 
 spoken to him all the evening, but 
 now she was unusually gay, and rat- 
 tled on about everything and noth- 
 ing, with reckless inconsequence. 
 " Pollie," Mrs. Endicott said, " you 
 are as excited as if you were going to 
 your first dance. Ah, here we are ! 
 Tell him when we shall want the 
 carriage, Paul, please." 
 
 The pretty house was bright with 
 lights and gay with laughter when they 
 came in. In the long room, where they 
 were dancing, they had filled the big 
 fireplace with flowers, and the walls 
 were nearly hidden with college ban- 
 ners and festoons of evergreen. 
 
 Lorrimer danced first with Pollie and 
 then gave her up to the others. He 
 117
 
 The Valley of Decision. 
 
 did not see her again until he went 
 later to claim a promised dance. " I 
 am tired," she said, " I would much 
 rather go outside and rest. Do you 
 mind not dancing it?" 
 
 There was a little group of close-set 
 trees on the lawn near the house, and 
 some one had put seats under them. 
 Out of the leafy dimness of their 
 boughs some colored lanterns glowed 
 like great globe-like fruit. 
 
 " Let's go over there," Pollie said, 
 when they had gotten out on to the 
 piazza. 
 
 The music came to them faintly, out 
 there under the trees. The warm 
 darkness seemed to have grown sensu-' 
 ously tender with it. From where 
 they were sitting they could see the 
 yellow lights of the house blaze out 
 into the night, and sometimes, over the 
 118
 
 The Valley of Decision. 
 
 wail of the violins, came the crowded 
 sound of the chatter of many voices. 
 Pollie had taken off her long gloves and 
 had lain them limply across her knees. 
 She bent forward, smoothing the 
 wrinkles out of them with a kind of 
 nervous indifference. The light of one 
 of the lanterns, hung in the leaves above 
 her, fell on her soft hair, and caressed 
 the smooth, babyish roundness of her 
 throat and breast. Lorrimer, leaning 
 back in the shadow, regarded her with 
 a sort of pitying admiration. 
 
 " Would you mind if I lit a cigar- 
 ette?" he inquired. He did not care 
 about smoking, but he felt the conver- 
 sational blank must be filled somehow. 
 
 The girl turned to him quickly. 
 " Why are you so formal ? Have I ever 
 cared ? Have I ever stopped you do- 
 ing anything you wanted ? " 
 119
 
 The Valley of Decision. 
 
 Lorrimer smiled. It was his theory 
 that a man should always indulge 
 women as long as it did not give him 
 too much trouble. There was a mo- 
 ment's silence. The sob of the waltz 
 music thrilled the night and made 
 it pulsate with answering rapture. 
 "Youth! Youth!" the violins seemed 
 to be sighing. " So soon lost ! So 
 soon lost ! Love and youth ! Love 
 and youth ! " The music caught at 
 the girl's heart convulsively. She 
 crushed the soft gloves between her 
 hands. " It is always this way," she 
 said with hurried vehemence. " I do 
 all the caring and you 
 
 " Is this apropos of cigarettes, or of 
 nothing?" Lorrimer asked quickly. 
 He wanted to avert the melodrama if 
 possible. She did not hear him. 
 
 " Look," she went on. " You are 
 120
 
 The Valley of Decision. 
 
 older than I. You know more of the 
 world and people. Perhaps I am not 
 like all the others. Maybe I have 
 amused you. Perhaps you have never 
 realized it, but you have made me 
 love you. Do you understand, love 
 you ? I know I haven't any decency 
 or I wouldn't tell this to you. I don't 
 care for decency or anything else. 
 I love you ! " Her voice shrilled 
 softly with the defiance of despera- 
 tion. 
 
 Lorrimer threw his half-smoked ciga- 
 rette away. He was enough of a man 
 to be more sorry than flattered by 
 what he had heard. He would have 
 given much to have known the right 
 thing to say ; a sick feeling of shame 
 came over him and a wordless tender- 
 ness. The other had covered her face 
 and was crying, softly and brokenly.
 
 The Valley of Decision. 
 
 Lorrimer drew away one of the little 
 cold hands, still wet with her tears. 
 
 " Don't cry," he said with gentle 
 firmness. " You really mustn't, you 
 know. How are we to go back and 
 face all those people if you do ? 
 There! Now we can talk it all over 
 quietly and perhaps we can under- 
 stand each other better. You say you 
 love me. Can you tell me why at 
 first, I mean ? " 
 
 She had straightened up and had 
 stopped crying, although her lips were 
 still working tremulously. There 
 were white roses pinned to her gown 
 and taking one, she began to tear it 
 to pieces, petal by petal. After a lit- 
 tle pause she answered him. 
 
 " It sounds silly, but it was your 
 dancing at first, and then then other 
 things. And then I knew that you
 
 The Valley of Decision. 
 
 were my ideal." Lorrimer could have 
 laughed there in the shadow, but the 
 pathos of the little fluttering hands 
 deterred him. 
 
 " And I am that now, and you want 
 to marry me ? " He asked the ques- 
 tion quite simply. He thought it bet- 
 ter if they left nothing unsaid. 
 
 Pollie looked up and met his eyes 
 bravely. " Yes," she said. " You are 
 the best and finest and 
 
 " Wait ! " Lorrimer said. " Wait ! 
 You don't know me yet." He had de- 
 cided that she should know. " I sup- 
 pose that if I were to tell you that 
 I'm none of these good things, you 
 wouldn't believe me." 
 
 The girl shook her head, smiling 
 faintly. " No," she said. " I won't 
 
 " Of course not. We never believe 
 anything evil about our ideals, until 
 123
 
 The Valley of Decision. 
 
 we have ceased to have them. Never- 
 theless, it's not true I'm very far 
 from being even respectably virtuous, 
 and certainly I'm not fine in any way. 
 There is really no reason why you 
 should make anything more of me 
 than of the twenty-odd other men who 
 have asked you to dance, and have 
 sent you flowers occasionally." 
 
 " Ah ! But I know you too well to 
 believe you, now. You aren't like any 
 of those others not like any one else 
 in the whole world. How can you be ? 
 I don't love any of them, and I do 
 love you." Her eyes were shining 
 like stars, and leaning forward, she 
 rested her hand on his knee. Lorri- 
 mer saw that another method of pro- 
 cedure was necessary. 
 
 " My dear," he said, " will you allow 
 me to talk to you just as your father 
 124
 
 The Valley of Decision. 
 
 might? I'm old enough to be at least 
 your older brother." 
 
 " Yes," assented Pollie, quietly. 
 " Go on." 
 
 " Do you know you don't really love 
 this er person we have been talk- 
 ing about ? He isn't your ' ideal ' at 
 all. He merely happened to step into 
 your life when you were in need of a 
 figure to wear the costume your imagi- 
 nation had made, and masquerade as 
 your ideal. Very soon you would 
 have seen for yourself how badly the 
 costume fitted and then you would 
 have blamed him for being an impos- 
 tor. It's not me you're loving, dear, 
 but your idea of me, and if I let you 
 go on thinking as you do, it would 
 merely hurt us both." 
 
 "Why do you talk to me in this 
 way ? " she broke out, passionately. 
 125
 
 The Valley of Decision. 
 
 " Because you are a sweet, simple 
 little girl, and I care for you too much 
 to let you think you love me, and that 
 your heart is broken because I can't 
 feel for you in the same way." 
 
 "If it is not love what is it, 
 then ? " she asked, almost harshly. 
 
 "Just a part of your youth, little 
 one," he answered, gravely. " Just a 
 part of the moonlight, and roses, and 
 white frocks, and waltz music. A very 
 sweet and beautiful part, and some- 
 thing you'll remember some day very 
 tenderly but no more love than 
 those lights in there where they're 
 dancing are the sun. Can you believe 
 me?" His tone had become very 
 earnest. 
 
 " Yes," she answered, listlessly, " I 
 believe you anything, always." 
 
 They sat silent again until she had 
 126
 
 The Valley of Decision. 
 
 pulled the last petal from the rose in 
 her hand ; then she asked, very quietly 
 and slowly : " Do you think I'll ever 
 know this other love now ? " 
 
 Lorrimer took her hand into his. 
 " I can ask no greater happiness for 
 my dear friend than that, some time, 
 she may," he said. 
 
 Withers came through the trees be- 
 hind them just then. " Oh, here you 
 are ! " he said. " They're just going 
 to begin our dance, and I've been look- 
 ing for you everywhere." 
 
 Pollie stood up, sweeping the white 
 rose petals from her lap as she did so. 
 " I'm all ready," she said. " I'm sorry 
 you had such a bother to find me. 
 Mr. Lorrimer has just been teaching 
 me a new game. Good bye, Mr. Lor- 
 rimer," she said to him, " thank you so 
 much for the lesson. I'm afraid I was 
 127
 
 The Valley of Decision. 
 
 very stupid at first, but I I un- 
 derstand perfectly now," and she 
 laughed. 
 
 When they had gone, Lorrimer set- 
 tled back in his old seat again. " I'm 
 glad she laughed," he said, half aloud. 
 " When a woman laughs, because she 
 is afraid she will cry if she doesn't, she 
 has learned how to take care of her- 
 self." His eye fell on the flowerless 
 rose-stem on the seat beside him. He 
 took it into his hand for a moment. 
 
 " Poor little rose," he said, softly. 
 " I am sorry it had to be pulled to 
 pieces; it was so pretty too pretty 
 to last," he added, under his breath. 
 
 128
 
 THE CONQUEST 
 
 129
 
 The Conquest. 
 
 n^HERE comes in the lives of most 
 of us, after we have nibbled all 
 the frosting off the cake, and before 
 we have gotten to like plain bread and 
 butter, a time that is, perhaps, the 
 most trying we will ever experience. 
 We are then in a sort of emotional 
 hobble-de-hoy period, for which there 
 is little help or sympathy to be 
 gained from the outside world. If one 
 happens to be in college, when he goes 
 through this unpleasant adjusting of 
 himself to his intellectual environment, 
 he is lucky, for there are so many 
 doing the same thing that he is hardly 
 noticed. It seems to be the chief use
 
 The Conquest. 
 
 of college, anyway, to supply a safe 
 place for one to recover from one's 
 extreme youth. 
 
 But all this is in Joe Thayer's story. 
 It was one of those gray, inhospitable 
 days in late autumn, while he was in 
 the Gym. dressing after a discouraging 
 practice game, that Thayer came to 
 the conclusion that life college life 
 was not worth the living. That is 
 a somewhat uninspiring outlook to 
 take, especially when one has advanced 
 no further towards the end than the 
 first term of his junior year. Thayer 
 was not cheered with the prospect. 
 He hurried his dressing to escape from 
 the crowded room, heavy with the 
 odor of liniments and littered with 
 dirty foot ball clothes. 
 
 It was dreary enough outside, with 
 little bleak whirls of dust and dead 
 132
 
 The Conquest. 
 
 leaves along the walks, and the wind 
 muttering in the bare trees. The 
 lights were already showing in Hop- 
 kins as Thayer went across to Mor- 
 gan, although it was yet comparatively 
 early. 
 
 He hoped he would find his room 
 empty ; he wanted to be quiet before 
 he faced the hubbub at the training 
 table later. But he was disappointed. 
 Bradford Gray and Ned Vernon were 
 there, both, apparently, perfectly at 
 home. " We have been waiting for 
 that wandering room-mate of yours 
 nearly an hour," Vernon said from the 
 window ; " he promised to be here at 
 four." 
 
 " That's why we oughtn't to have 
 expected him," Gray broke in, in the 
 finitive, assured manner of a man who 
 gave the last word. " Only the unex-
 
 The Conquest. 
 
 pected occurs." Vernon laughed. He 
 took a cigarette from his case and lit 
 it. He always smoked cigarettes with 
 a pungent, heavy smoke. Gray had 
 called the odor the very essence of 
 Bohemianism once. 
 
 "Bradford," Vernon said, "you're 
 too clever to be allowed to go about 
 unmuzzled; you're an humiliation as 
 a conversational example." 
 
 " Conversation ought to be like a 
 Cheret poster blocked in in broad 
 quick color with little regard for the 
 details," answered Gray. 
 
 He was a small, dark man with a 
 drawling, insistent voice that was im- 
 possible to escape. He had a knack 'of 
 saying half truths in a terse, convincing 
 way that passed for cleverness. He 
 wrote occasionally for little mushroom 
 magazines with gaudy covers and
 
 The Conquest. 
 
 limited circulation, and his pose was 
 that of a literary cynic. The most 
 charitable of the men who knew him 
 said that there really wasn't any harm 
 in him, but the others disliked him 
 with a heartiness that would have been 
 franker had they not been secretly 
 afraid of him. Unpopularity, how- 
 ever, did not disturb Gray's self-re- 
 spect in the least. He managed to turn 
 it into a tribute paid by mediocrity to 
 a dominant personality. 
 
 Ned Vernon and he were insepa- 
 rable. They were sufficiently alike 
 to thoroughly appreciate each other, 
 and Vernon was just weak enough not 
 to rebel against Gray's leadership. 
 Lately Stafford, Thayer's room-mate, 
 had been taken into their partnership. 
 They had a commonality of taste for 
 refined things to start with, and Gray
 
 The Conquest. 
 
 managed the rest so successfully that 
 the result had been brought about al- 
 most unconsciously. It fell out that 
 Stafford's and Thayer's room had be- 
 come a sort of rallying place, and the 
 three were together constantly. Thayer 
 they accepted as a necessary evil. 
 
 It was always difficult for Joe Thayer 
 to observe the ordinary decencies of 
 hospitality toward these friends of 
 Stafford's. There was nothing sub- 
 tle about Thayer, his mind was as 
 straightforward as his face, and his 
 intellect refused to play practical 
 jokes upon itself. He thought as 
 simply as he spoke. When Bradford 
 Gray had said that his mind was as 
 uncompromising as a right-angled tri- 
 angle, he had come nearer the truth 
 than was his wont. 
 
 His sentiments in regard to his 
 136
 
 The Conquest. 
 
 room-mate's new friends were definite 
 enough, certainly. It filled him with 
 an unreasoning anger when he thought 
 of them. The number of men Thayer 
 admired and liked was large, but the 
 number of his friends was small. He 
 had taken Stafford into his affection 
 with an entireness that almost was 
 pathetic. 
 
 To-day, especially, he was least pre- 
 pared to be even ordinarily civil to 
 them. He sat staring out into the 
 gathering darkness, hardly speaking. 
 " Mark how the noble brow is dark 
 with sadness," Vernon said to Gray. 
 " Can it be that he has not come off 
 victor in the arena this afternoon?" 
 
 " Impossible that the mere fortunes 
 of war should ruffle his classic calm," 
 Gray answered. The clock was ring- 
 ing out the hour. Gray pulled him-
 
 The Conquest. 
 
 self slowly up from the depths of 
 the Morris chair he was occupying. 
 " Duty calls me and I must go," he 
 said. " What a lot of valuable time 
 one wastes doing one's duty, anyway," 
 he added. " Tell Stafford he's as unre- 
 liable as the reward of virtue. Coming, 
 Verny ? " And they went out together. 
 Thayer sat as they had left him, 
 gazing into blankness. He was hardly 
 thinking. A terrible mental dumb- 
 ness comes to certain natures at times, 
 when the mind cannot tell to itself, 
 even, the cause of its pain. He had a 
 great craving for a pipe, but he was 
 the sort of a man who kept his word, 
 even to the detail of training. " The 
 game's up," he thought slowly, after 
 a little. " I've made failure of the 
 whole business, from start to finish. 
 If I could have only taken a decent 
 138
 
 The Conquest. 
 
 stand that would have been something, 
 but just to play a little foot ball, 
 and to know enough to keep from get- 
 ting dropped. Bah ! Gray was right 
 when he called me commonplace. I 
 don't blame Stafford a bit for shaking 
 me for somebody who knows some- 
 thing. Well, that's all over, and the 
 best thing for me is to get myself out 
 as soon as I can." 
 
 The shadow in the room had deep- 
 ened into darkness. From his window 
 Thayer could see in the rifts of the 
 wind-swept clouds the gleam of the 
 keen wintry stars. 
 
 Some one came up the stairs sing- 
 ing. Thayer recognized the voice as 
 Stafford's. There came into the room 
 a sudden brightness from the entry 
 light outside, as he opened the door. 
 "Is that you, Joe, in here in the dark?
 
 The Conquest. 
 
 Why the deuce don't you light up?" 
 he asked. 
 
 " Your gang has been here looking 
 for you," Thayer said, as he went over 
 to light his lamp. 
 
 " Who do you mean by that ? " 
 asked Stafford. He was tearing up a 
 letter into minute square pieces. 
 
 " I mean," Thayer answered slowly, 
 " Gray, of course, and Ned Vernon. 
 Look here, Dick, the fellows are all 
 talking about it, the way you are 
 running around with those chaps. 
 They think you're too good a man for 
 that sort of business. Why, those 
 men aren't 
 
 The bits of paper had fluttered 
 down like a miniature momentary 
 snowstorm. " For gad's sake, Joe, 
 don't begin any of that cant about 
 Gray and Vernon. You can hold any 
 140
 
 The Conquest. 
 
 private opinion you like about them, 
 only kindly remember, when you speak 
 of them, that you are talking about 
 my friends my best friends." 
 
 Stafford picked up a book and 
 turned over the leaves with elabo- 
 rate carelessness. There was a mo- 
 ment's silence. Thayer pulled his cap 
 down over his eyes and turned toward 
 the door. 
 
 " You can have what friends you 
 please it's none of my business, of 
 course," he said, as he went out. 
 
 Stafford went into his room to get 
 ready for dinner. " I'll be hanged if 
 I'll have him trying any missionary 
 game on me," he said, half aloud. " If 
 he did it because he cared a two-penny 
 hurrah about me it would be different. 
 But I object to being made an object 
 of Christian Endeavor." He put out 
 141
 
 The Conquest. 
 
 the lights and, going out, shut the 
 door behind him as if he were venting 
 a personal spite upon it. 
 
 Thayer had to be at the Gym. for 
 signal practice for a while after he had 
 finished dinner ; and afterwards, in- 
 stead of going back to his room, he 
 stuffed his hands into his pockets and 
 tramped off up Main street. 
 
 The moon had come up, and some- 
 times it peered out from behind scud- 
 ding drifts of cloud for a moment, then 
 drew back again as if afraid of what it 
 had seen. A sharp wind from the 
 north blew straight in Thayer's face. 
 He hardly knew where he was going, 
 or, indeed, how far he had gone. He 
 met almost no one after he had gotten 
 a little way out of the village, and the 
 hills lay grim and silent in the darkness 
 ahead of him. 
 
 142
 
 The Conquest. 
 
 He had come to the place where the 
 road, leading down a sharp little hill, 
 crosses a narrow bridge, and then 
 mounts again to lose itself in a strag- 
 gling pine wood. The moon had come 
 out again and was sailing serenely 
 through a stretch of starless blue. 
 
 Just as Thayer came to the little 
 bridge some one entered it from the 
 opposite side. " Gray ! " Thayer said. 
 
 Gray raised his head and saw him 
 for the first time. " Yes," he said, 
 doggedly, "perfect night for a walk 
 isn't it ? " 
 
 Thayer did not seem to hear him. 
 " For God's sake ! what's the matter? 
 You look as if you'd seen a ghost." 
 
 " Your acumen does you credit," 
 Gray said, in an echo of his old way of 
 talking. " I have just been taking a 
 promenade with one."
 
 The Conquest. 
 
 Thayer's impulse was to let him 
 continue it uninterrupted. Conversa- 
 tion with Gray, under ordinary circum- 
 stances, was not an unmixed joy, and 
 now he desired it less than ever. He 
 started to pass on. 
 
 Gray had been watching him, and 
 now moved toward him as if stirred 
 by a sudden impulse. " Thayer," he 
 said, in a curiously tense voice, and 
 with a sort of desperate simplicity, " if I 
 had been drowning in the water down 
 there when you came by, would you 
 have taken the trouble to pull me 
 out?" 
 
 Thayer was silent a moment. " I 
 suppose I would have," he said. 
 
 " Of course," Gray went on, quickly, 
 " of course, I understand it would 
 have been for purely impersonal rea- 
 sons. Well, I'm drowning to-night, if 
 144
 
 The Conquest. 
 
 you only knew it. Will you help me, 
 now ? " 
 
 " Gray," said Thayer, harshly, " drop 
 all this confounded mystery. What's 
 the matter, in plain language ? " 
 
 " But will you help me ? " Gray 
 persisted. 
 
 " I'll help you if I can," Thayer said, 
 briefly ; " you've got to tell me first." 
 
 Gray looked down into the rush- 
 ing stream, clamoring below in the 
 darkness. 
 
 " I'm not going in for an artistic 
 statement," he began, slowly. " It's 
 very simple. I had to have some 
 money. I had no way of getting it, 
 except one. I made out a check for 
 the amount and wrote Ned Vernon's 
 name on the back of it. Of course, I 
 intended that it should be deposited 
 again before he knew it. But I haven't 
 MS
 
 The Conquest. 
 
 been able to do it, and to-morrow, I 
 have just found, that he's got to know 
 all about it." 
 
 Thayer wanted to take the man by 
 
 the throat. " You " he began, 
 
 then breaking off with an effort he 
 asked how great the amount was. 
 
 Gray laughed mirthlessly. " Not 
 large enough to add tne eclat of a 
 magnificent recklessness, I'm afraid, or 
 even to assure me a name with the 
 mighty forgers of history. It was for 
 a mere paltry one hundred and fifty 
 dollars." 
 
 The sound of the rushing stream 
 and of the wind in the pines filled the 
 lonely silence. There was a momen- 
 tary conflict going on in Thayer's 
 right-angled brain. But only for a 
 moment. Then he came to his con- 
 clusions quite calmly. Of course, he 
 146
 
 The Conquest. 
 
 couldn't let this disgrace come to his 
 friend's friend if he could prevent it. 
 He scarcely considered Gray, his mind 
 was so busy thinking of how he could 
 save Stafford. 
 
 Presently he spoke. " Look here, 
 Gray," he said, curtly, " I said I'd help 
 you if I could, and I guess I can. I'll 
 get you the money, and probably 
 you'll be able to fix it up some way." 
 
 " Thayer, how can I ever thank 
 you " Gray began. 
 
 Thayer interrupted him. " Don't 
 try to, for heaven's sake. You don't 
 for a moment suppose it's for you that 
 I'm doing it." 
 
 " Of course not," Gray said, almost 
 humbly. " And if you tell Dick Staf- 
 ford about all this " 
 
 " Do you think that I'm quite a
 
 The Conquest. 
 
 cad?" said Thayer, and they walked 
 on in the darkness in silence. 
 
 Thayer was at his desk a day or so 
 after writing a letter to his people. 
 Letter writing amounted almost to a 
 matter for fasting and prayer with 
 Thayer at any time, and to-day it 
 came harder than usual somehow. He 
 was just finishing when Stafford came 
 in. 
 
 He wandered about the room in an 
 aimless fashion, when suddenly he said, 
 " I've just heard that Bradford Gray's 
 resigned from college." 
 
 Thayer bent lower over his desk. 
 " Has he ? " he said. 
 
 Stafford hesitated for a moment, then 
 
 he came over and put his hand on 
 
 Thayer's shoulder. " Joe," he said, a 
 
 little huskily, " he's told me the whole 
 
 148
 
 The Conquest. 
 
 business. I wish I could tell you what 
 I think of you, but I can't. Anyhow, 
 I've been a fool and worse 
 
 For answer, Thayer stretched out 
 his hand, and in silence they both 
 understood. 
 
 There are some things that are not 
 for words, after all. 
 
 149
 
 THE BOOTLICKING 
 OF BRONSON
 
 The Bootlicking of Bronson. 
 
 liked Jack Bronson. 
 He was one of those men of 
 whom we are accustomed to say that 
 "they might amount to anything;" 
 usually a euphemistic way of express- 
 ing the fact that, as yet, they amount 
 to nothing. No one ever knew him to 
 do or say anything especially brilliant, 
 and yet he impressed you as being in- 
 tensely clever. He was a tall youth, 
 with a splendid pair of shoulders ; his 
 clothes were irreproachable, and he 
 wore them with an air. I have seen 
 Jack enter chapel in a sweater and 
 rubber boots, and make the man who 
 sat next to him, in all the glory of a
 
 The Bootlicking of Bronson. 
 
 high collar and black coat, look shabby 
 by contrast. 
 
 But, after all, his distinguishing 
 characteristic was his attitude toward 
 work. I say attitude because no other 
 word quite expresses it. Aversion 
 would not do ; he was not averse to 
 it. But he seemed to live apart in a 
 little world of his own, where work 
 had not only no existence, but no pos- 
 sibility of existence. 
 
 Sometimes he studied, but always 
 because he wanted to, not because he 
 had to ; and if you talked to him of 
 the necessity of working harder he 
 would answer you, politely indeed 
 (Bronson was always polite), but with 
 an air of boredom, mingled with a 
 slightly suppressed impatience, very 
 much as you might answer some ar- 
 dent mathematician who tried to con- 
 154
 
 The Bootlicking of Bronson. 
 
 vince you of the necessity of compre- 
 hending the fourth dimension. 
 
 How he ever stayed in college we 
 never discovered. Those who knew 
 him only slightly suggested that he 
 worked at night, when no one was 
 around; but his intimate friends re- 
 jected this explanation with scorn, 
 and attributed his continued residence 
 among us to the direct intervention of 
 Providence. He was usually either on 
 special probation, or out of college, or 
 just getting back again ; and when he 
 had no condition to make up, which 
 happened but rarely, he was sure to 
 have extra work for over-cutting. 
 
 You would think that a life of such 
 uncertainty would have driven him 
 into nervous prostration ; on the con- 
 trary, he was the most cheerful man at 
 Williams. He continued his Damo-
 
 The Bootlicking of Bronson. 
 
 clean existence during four unruffled 
 years, and finally graduated, and had 
 his degree framed and hung up in his 
 room, where it remains to-day, the 
 wonder and admiration of his friends. 
 
 But he frequently had narrow es- 
 capes, and this story is about one of 
 them. 
 
 It was the spring term of Jack's 
 Junior year, and he had been flunking 
 steadily for three weeks. The Dean 
 wrote to him, the professors exhorted 
 him after class, the President himself, 
 who knew his father, stopped him in 
 the street to urge the necessity of re- 
 form. It was no use ; the flunking con- 
 tinued. At last matters came to a cri- 
 sis, and one morning Jack received a 
 communication from the Secretary of 
 the Faculty, informing him that, un- 
 less he passed a certain examination 
 156
 
 The Bootlicking of Bronson. 
 
 on the following Saturday, his " con- 
 nection with the college," such was 
 the wording of the note, " would at 
 once and finally terminate." 
 
 Bronson did not take this very se- 
 riously. He handed the letter to a 
 crowd of us at the post office and 
 wandered leisurely up Spring street, 
 merely remarking that he "guessed 
 he'd get through all right." But we 
 were less sanguine, and, after talking 
 it over, several of us decided to try 
 to arouse him to the gravity of the 
 situation. 
 
 We found Bronson in his room smok- 
 ing, and, after accepting his proffered 
 tobacco, sat down and began to talk. 
 We wanted to make an impression, 
 and I think we talked steadily for 
 nearly half an hour. When we were 
 quite through Jack removed his pipe
 
 The Bootlicking of Bronson. 
 
 from his mouth and blew the smoke 
 reflectively across the room. 
 
 "Really, fellows," he remarked, 
 slowly, " I begin to think that I may 
 be in some danger. After all, it is 
 possible that the faculty intend to 
 hold to that letter." We admitted 
 that it was just possible. 
 
 " Well," he continued, " I don't see 
 how I'm going to pass that exam Sat- 
 urday. This is Tuesday, and I cer- 
 tainly can't do a whole term's work in 
 three days." The moral was obvious ; 
 but no one ever thought of moralizing 
 in connection with Bronson. 
 
 " Professor Parker is a good-natured 
 chap," he went on thoughtfully, " May 
 be if I bootlick him artistically he'll 
 let me through. I believe I'll try it ; 
 it's my only chance, anyway." He 
 paused a moment and then added po- 
 158
 
 The Bootlicking of Bronson. 
 
 litely, " It's awfully good of you fel- 
 lows to take this trouble for me." 
 
 We waived his thanks, and urged 
 him to brace up, and not trust to any- 
 thing so unreliable as bootlicking. 
 "Oh, don't worry," he answered, "I'm 
 sure it will turn out all right." And 
 we had learned by experience that 
 when he made this remark there was 
 no use saying anything more. 
 
 The next morning it was pretty 
 well known throughout the class that 
 Jack Bronson was going to bootlick 
 Professor Parker. The news created 
 something of a sensation. That Jack 
 should exert himself sufficiently in the 
 interests of his education to bootlick 
 a member of the faculty, was regarded 
 as little short of marvelous. Then, 
 too, we felt sure that he would not 
 proceed according to the cut and dried
 
 The Bootlicking of Bronson. 
 
 methods of ingratiation. We looked 
 for something new and striking. 
 
 Professor Parker was a nice old man, 
 with about as much of an idea of dis- 
 cipline as a six weeks' old kitten. One 
 of those delightful, easy-going old gen- 
 tlemen who are found on the faculty 
 of every college in the country. Be- 
 nevolence radiated from his entire per- 
 son ; kindliness was written in the lines 
 of his wrinkled face, and every glance of 
 his pleasant old eyes, and every tone of 
 his quiet, leisurely voice, proclaimed a 
 spirit of universal peace and good will. 
 
 He knew his subject thoroughly, and 
 any one who was interested in the 
 work could get a great deal from his 
 course. If not, you simply loafed 
 through the term, studied a couple of 
 hours for the final, and then passed on 
 a D minus. Sometimes the Professor 
 160
 
 The Bootlicking of Bronson. 
 
 conditioned a man, for form's sake, 
 apparently, but he always let him 
 through the make-up, not that he was 
 too lazy to flunk him again, but sm% 
 ply because he was utterly incapable 
 of inflicting pain on any one. 
 
 Naturally, Parker was very popular. 
 His elective was filled to overflowing, 
 and if many of us learned very little 
 from our books, we learned something 
 from contact with the man, that was, 
 perhaps, quite as valuable to us as 
 anything in the curriculum. 
 
 That morning he was even more 
 easy-going than usual. He beamed 
 upon us all as we came in, called a few 
 men up, helped them out with their 
 recitations good naturedly, and started 
 on his lecture. He concluded it 
 some fifteen minutes before the hour, 
 and then, after reading the list of ab- 
 161
 
 The Bootlicking of Bronson. 
 
 sences, proceeded to what he had evi- 
 dently been looking forward to all 
 through the recitation. 
 
 " For a long time," he began, " I 
 have been planning an expedition to 
 the old battlefield of Bennington. I 
 am glad to say that at length the op- 
 portunity to visit it has come, and I 
 would like very much to have any of 
 you who care to go accompany me. 
 We shall start this afternoon at five, 
 spend the night at Bennington, and to- 
 morrow drive out to the battlefield, 
 which, as you know, is about seven 
 miles from the town. I have always 
 tried," he continued, " to awaken an 
 interest in American history among 
 the men who take this course, and if I 
 have succeeded with any one of you, I 
 think I can promise him a most inter- 
 esting trip." 
 
 162
 
 The Bootlicking of Bronson. 
 
 The Professor paused, and Bronson, 
 who was sitting in the front row, said 
 quietly : " I should be delighted to go 
 with you, sir, if you care to have me." 
 
 We looked at each other signifi- 
 cantly. Of course it was just what 
 we had expected ; and yet we felt 
 slightly disappointed. You see, we 
 had looked for something startlingly 
 original from Jack, and this was, after 
 all, only what any of us would have 
 done under similar circumstances. 
 
 But when we suggested this to him 
 after the recitation he withered us with 
 a look of scorn. " Really ! " said he, 
 " I gave you credit for more discern- 
 ment." We apologized meekly and he 
 condescended to explain. 
 
 " You see what the whole trouble 
 is, of course, don't you?" he asked. 
 " You know Parker ; he'd let me 
 163
 
 The Bootlicking of Bronson. 
 
 through in a minute if the rest of the 
 faculty would let him. But they're 
 dead onto him, and if he passes me 
 they'll make him show them my paper, 
 and then it's all up with little Willie. 
 I've simply got to win his heart so 
 completely that he'll refuse to let them 
 see it, and stick by his refusal." 
 
 " Of course," he went on, noticing 
 our incredulous air, " Of course I'm 
 not going to trust entirely to my own 
 personal charms. I may be conceited, 
 but I hope I'm not quite so bad as 
 that. But I have an idea. I can't tell 
 you what it is just now ; but if you 
 want to find out come round to my 
 room at half-past four." And he 
 positively refused to tell us anything 
 further. 
 
 Promptly at four-thirty we turned 
 up at his room. Bronson was packing 
 164
 
 The Bootlicking of Bronson. 
 
 for the trip. His suit case lay open on 
 the floor, and upon the divan was what 
 looked like a very rusty old cannon 
 ball. Some one started to lift it out 
 of the way, but Jack stopped him. 
 "Don't touch it," said he, "That is 
 my idea." And then he explained the 
 whole scheme to us. 
 
 "You see," he began, " I remember 
 reading somewhere that every man 
 had his weak point, and if you only 
 knew what it was you could do any- 
 thing you pleased with him. So I re- 
 flected that Parker's weak point was 
 American history, and if I attacked 
 him there I stood a good chance of 
 winning. 
 
 " You will notice this object," indi- 
 cating the ball with a wave of his 
 hand. " Between you and me that is 
 the old sixteen-pound shot that the 
 165
 
 The Bootlicking of Bronson. 
 
 athletic team used last October at the 
 fall meet. They forgot to take it back 
 to the Gym., and I saw it lying out on 
 Weston Field one day, just before the 
 Christmas vacation. As soon as Par- 
 ker proposed the trip to Bennington I 
 thought of this shot and went down to 
 look for it. It was just where I had 
 seen it last, and I carried it up here. 
 Of course, it is very rusty, but that's 
 all the better." He paused to light a 
 cigarette, and then went on. 
 
 " Now, let me briefly outline our 
 programme for to-night and to-mor- 
 row. We drive to Bennington and 
 have dinner. After dinner I betray a 
 deep interest in the battle, and, of 
 course, Parker is delighted to tell me 
 all about it. Well, we finally go to 
 bed, and the next morning, just as we 
 are starting out, I propose that we 
 166
 
 The Bootlicking of Bronson. 
 
 take a spade along and dig for relics. 
 He approves of the scheme, and dur- 
 ing the course of the day we discover 
 the old Revolutionary cannon ball 
 which you observe on the divan. We 
 return in triumph, and I'll guarantee 
 that Parker will resign from the faculty 
 sooner than let me be dropped for 
 flunking his exam." 
 
 We simply gasped. The magnitude 
 of the plan fairly took our breath 
 away. Bronson received our congrat- 
 ulations with modest pride, and asked 
 us to help him pack. 
 
 But now an unlocked for difficulty 
 presented itself. The ball was too 
 large to go into the suit case Jack 
 was in despair. " Haven't you a big 
 valise ? " suggested some one. " Yes, 
 I know," he answered, disconsolately, 
 " but I hate to carry a valise ; it always 
 167
 
 The Bootlicking of Bronson. 
 
 looks so sloppy." He really seemed 
 quite distressed about it, but finally, 
 with a sigh, he submitted to the 
 inevitable. 
 
 Just as we finished packing, the Pro- 
 fessor appeared in front of Morgan, 
 seated in a broad, comfortable looking 
 buckboard, that had done service on 
 many similar expeditions. 
 
 " There he is," said Jack ; " we 
 mustn't keep him waiting. Have I 
 everything packed? Let me see ; shot 
 at the bottom ; heavy shoes ; old golf 
 suit ; clean shirt and two extra collars ; 
 soap box, brushes, sponge and pajamas. 
 Anything else ? O, yes; my pipe !" 
 
 He put this last article in his pocket 
 and went down stairs. From the win- 
 dow we saw htm place the valise care- 
 fully under the seat and then clamber 
 into the wagon himself. The Professor 
 168
 
 The Bootlicking of Bronson. 
 
 clucked to his horse, and the expedi- 
 tion to Bennington disappeared down 
 the road. 
 
 If to be talked of is fame, Jack was 
 famous that night. Nothing like this 
 had ever been heard of in all the an- 
 nals of bootlicking, and every one 
 had something to say about it. Some 
 predicted success; others, failure; but 
 all agreed that the plan could only 
 have originated with Jack Bronson. 
 
 We expected him back about nine 
 o'clock Thursday evening, and a lot of 
 us went up to his room to wait for 
 him. However, it was almost ten be- 
 fore the sound of wheels on the drive- 
 way, followed by a loud "Whoa!" an- 
 nounced his return. 
 
 "Good night, Mr. Bronson," said the 
 voice of Professor Parker (and as soon 
 as he began to speak we could tell 
 169
 
 The Bootlicking of Bronson. 
 
 that he was fairly trembling with joy- 
 ful excitement). " Good night, sir ! 
 Good night ! This has been a most 
 fortunate expedition ; and its success 
 is entirely due to you, for I should 
 never have found it if you hadn't gone 
 with me. Good night again ! " 
 
 " Good night, Professor," answered 
 Jack, and then we heard him coming 
 up stairs. We rushed out and fell 
 upon him in a body. 
 
 " Quick ! Tell us about it ! How did 
 it turn out? Did he find it? Is he 
 going to let you through? When 
 
 " Shut up all of you ! " answered 
 Bronson, " or I'll go straight to bed 
 without telling you a thing. Now 
 then," he continued, as we stopped, 
 utterly cowed by this threat ; " first 
 of all, has anyone something to eat ? 
 I'm half starved." 
 
 170
 
 The Bootlicking of Bronson. 
 
 We gave him a box of crackers, 
 and he ate them for what seemed an 
 interminable time. Finally he fin- 
 ished, lit his pipe, leaned back in the 
 most comfortable chair in the room, 
 and began. 
 
 " Well, I had a splendid time. Par- 
 ker is a great old boy, and he treated 
 me so white that I felt ashamed of 
 myself for fooling him. We didn't get 
 to Bennington until quite late. It's a 
 long drive anyway, and it's a good 
 deal longer behind that horse of his. 
 Really, though, the trip's worth tak- 
 ing ; we had about the finest sunset 
 last night that I ever saw ; and if any 
 of you are interested in scenery you 
 want to " 
 
 But we were not interested in scen- 
 ery, and said so. Jack looked at us 
 
 reproachfully for a moment, and then 
 171
 
 The Bootlicking of Bronson. 
 
 went on, exactly as though there had 
 been no interruption. 
 
 " You want to take that drive be- 
 fore you graduate ; it is really mag- 
 nificent. We got there long after 
 every one else was through dinner, 
 and they had to cook one specially 
 for us. But it was worth waiting for 
 when it came. Yes," he repeated, 
 thoughtfully, " It was worth waiting 
 for. 
 
 "Then, after that, we sat out on the 
 piazza, lit our pipes, and felt at peace 
 with the world for half an hour. I tell 
 you what, it was great, sitting there 
 with a good dinner inside of you, and 
 nothing to do but watch the smoke 
 drift off through the dusk. I never 
 felt more thoroughly comfortable in 
 my life. 
 
 " By and by we began to talk, and 
 172
 
 The Bootlicking of Bronson. 
 
 Parker told me a lot about Benning- 
 ton, and drew a map of the battlefield 
 on the floor of the piazza., which I 
 copied for future use. 
 
 " The old buck really got eloquent. 
 It seems that some relative of his com- 
 manded an American regiment, and 
 you should have heard him describe 
 the charge that won the victory. He 
 talked so loud that one of the hotel 
 people came out and asked him if he 
 wanted anything, and then he laughed 
 and sort of apologized to me for get- 
 ting so excited. 
 
 " Finally, we went to bed, and when 
 Parker wasn't looking I told the clerk 
 to have me waked at half-past five. 
 
 " Next morning I got up, took a cold 
 tub and came down stairs, feeling like 
 a prince. I went round to the livery 
 stable and asked them for the best
 
 The Bootlicking of Bronson. 
 
 horse they had, and they gave me a 
 little mare who hadn't been out for 
 three days, so they said. She took 
 those fourteen miles as if they were 
 nothing at all, and I got back long be- 
 fore eight with the shot nicely planted 
 in the spot where the regiment of Par- 
 ker's ancestor had stood. I located 
 the place pretty nearly from the map. 
 "When I reached to the hotel the 
 old gentleman was just coming down 
 stairs. He complimented me on my 
 early rising, and asked me what I had 
 been doing. I told him that I had 
 been looking around a little, which was 
 more or less true, and we went in to 
 breakfast. By the way, if any of yo-u 
 ever go to Bennington you want to 
 stop at that hotel ; their cooking is 
 excellent, and they have an awfully 
 pretty waitress.
 
 The Bootlicking of Bronson. 
 
 " After breakfast we got them to put 
 up a lunch for us and started off for an 
 all day trip to the battlefield. When 
 I suggested taking a spade along he 
 wasn't very enthusiastic, for he said 
 the whole field had been dug over for 
 relics twenty times before. But I told 
 him we might happen to find some- 
 thing, and that, at any rate, I would 
 do all the digging. 
 
 " I intended to save the cannon ball 
 for the afternoon, so we spent the 
 morning wandering around the place, 
 while Parker turned himself into a 
 guide book. He got even more ex- 
 cited than he had the night before, and 
 ranged over the field like an old war 
 horse. It really was great to listen to 
 him, and he knows an awful lot about 
 the Revolution. 
 
 " You ouht to have seen me do the
 
 The Bootlicking of Bronson. 
 
 deeply-interested act. I simply laid 
 myself out to be agreeable, and agreed 
 with all his pet theories respectfully. 
 Then he switched off from the Revolu- 
 tion and began to lecture me on my 
 low stand. I took it all in without a 
 smile, and promised to try to be a 
 good boy in the future. When he 
 finally wound up his discourse we were 
 both ready for something to eat. 
 
 " We ate our lunch under some trees 
 and lay in the shade, smoking and loaf- 
 ing until about three. Then I said 
 I thought I'd dig for relics, and he 
 laughed and answered, ' All right, go 
 ahead,' he would take a nap. So I got 
 him to point out what he thought was 
 a likely place, and dug around for over 
 half an hour. Of course, I could simply 
 have gone straight for the shot, but 
 I wanted to do the job up artistically. 
 176
 
 The Bootlicking of Bronson. 
 
 " Well, after I had excavated a small 
 cellar and was feeling pretty tired, I 
 thought it was about time to work up 
 to the climax. So I went over to the 
 Professor and told him I was going to 
 try the place where the regiment of 
 the original Parker had stood. He 
 got quite interested at that, and said 
 he ' guessed he'd come and watch me.' 
 
 " I started about eight feet from the 
 shot and dug straight towards it. 
 When I got pretty close, Parker asked 
 if I didn't want him to take a turn. I 
 had intended to find the ' relic ' myself, 
 but, of course, I saw at once how much 
 better it was to let him do it, so I gave 
 him the spade and sat down to wait 
 for developments. 
 
 " He dug for a minute or two, and 
 then I saw him drop down on his 
 
 knees and begin to scrape around in 
 
 177
 
 The Bootlicking of Bronson. 
 
 the dirt with his hands. Suddenly he 
 gave a yell like an Indian. 
 
 "' What's the matter?' said I, 
 innocently. 
 
 " ' Matter ! ' he cried, and I swear 
 the old fellow was almost crying from 
 pure joy ; ' Matter ! ' he lifted out the 
 shot and held it up triumphantly! 
 
 " ' Do you know what this is ? ' he 
 asked. 
 
 " I did, but I thought I'd better not 
 tell him. 
 
 " ' No,' said I, ' I don't.' 
 
 " His voice sank into an awed 
 whisper. 
 
 " ' It's a cannon ball,' said he ; 
 ' found in the exact spot where my 
 ancestor stood ! Perhaps it was fired 
 at his very regiment! Mr. Bronson, 
 this is a most priceless relic of the 
 Revolution ! ' 
 
 178
 
 The Bootlicking of Bronson. 
 
 " Well, naturally, I was all sympa- 
 thetic enthusiasm in a minute. He 
 gloated over that shot as though it 
 had been a gold nugget, and would 
 hardly let me carry it for him. Then, 
 of course, everybody at the hotel had 
 to hear about it ; and you should 
 have seen him standing there, beam- 
 ing away, while they all congratulated 
 him. 
 
 " Finally we got started for home, 
 and he talked a steady stream all the 
 way back, and thanked me over and 
 over again for going with him. Doubt- 
 less you witnessed from the window 
 our affecting good nights. 
 
 "That's all there is to tell, except 
 that I'll bet four to one with any man 
 here that I pass that exam." 
 
 But not even the most reckless of us 
 would take him up. 
 179
 
 The Bootlicking of Bronson. 
 
 The next day Professor Parker 
 brought the shot into the class-room, 
 and we listened with much outward 
 gravity to the description of its dis- 
 covery. Only once did we come near 
 breaking down, and that was when the 
 good Professor remarked innocently : 
 
 " I am unable as yet to discover the 
 significance of the lettering on the 
 ball ' W. & D., Boston ' but I pre- 
 sume that ' W. & D.' may be the 
 initials of the company who made it." 
 
 Subsequently the " relic " was placed 
 in Clark Hall, and, after a considerable 
 portion of the college had viewed it, the 
 manager of the athletic team wrote to 
 Professor Parker, explaining the situa- 
 tion, and asking him to return the shot. 
 
 It was returned. 
 
 But long before that happened Bron- 
 son had passed his examination. 
 1 80
 
 HIS FIRST RUSH
 
 His First Rush. 
 
 A/TRS. KENDALL'S devotion to 
 her son amounted almost to a 
 religion. It was delightful in theory, 
 but rather a mingled blessing in prac- 
 tice, and Mr. Kendall, who for some 
 years had viewed, with increasing 
 anxiety, the development of his off- 
 spring's character in the hothouse 
 atmosphere of motherly solicitude, 
 decided that it was time to interfere, 
 if Percy was ever going to amount 
 to anything. College was the readiest 
 solution of the question, and Wil- 
 liamstown was two hundred miles 
 from New York and the maternal cod- 
 dling; he decided to send Percy to 
 Williams. 
 
 183
 
 His First Rush. 
 
 Mrs. Kendall, who was, after all, a 
 sensible woman if rather a foolish 
 mother, acquiesced in her husband's 
 decision after some opposition, and 
 went up to Williamstown the next fall 
 to see Percy settled in his new quar- 
 ters ; somehow it never occurred to 
 her that he was capable of attending 
 to the settling process himself. 
 
 They stayed at the Greylock, and 
 were very pleasantly surprised, when 
 they came downstairs on the evening 
 of their arrival, to find Mrs. Armitage 
 and her daughter in the dining room. 
 Now Percy liked Louise Armitage 
 very much, and the month they had 
 spent together at Lakewood the win- 
 ter before furnished them with abun- 
 dant topics for conversation. 
 
 " I wish you were going to be there 
 this winter," she said, as they were sit- 
 184.
 
 His First Rush. 
 
 ting after dinner in one of the little 
 parlors ; " but I suppose you are a fix- 
 ture in Williamstown for some time to 
 come. Do you remember the long 
 inclosed piazzas at the Laurel House, 
 and the conservatory with all those 
 queer-looking palms?" 
 
 " Of course I do," answered Ken- 
 dall, " and the artificial lake and the 
 trees with the long moss hanging from 
 them. But I am afraid this is the last 
 chance that I will have to see you until 
 next summer. When do you leave 
 here ? " 
 
 " Oh, not for a week. Mamma has 
 an idea that the climate agrees with 
 her; it's rather dull for me, though, 
 for I really don't know any one here 
 well except Jack Updyke. He's in 
 college, you know." 
 
 " Yes ; a junior, isn't he ? " 
 185
 
 His First Rush. 
 
 " I believe so ; anyway he's been 
 awfully nice. He said he was coming 
 up to the dance to-night." 
 
 " Do they dance here ? " asked 
 Percy. 
 
 " Oh, yes, every evening. It's 
 splendid, there are so many men. 
 Quite a contrast to the usual summer 
 hotel, isn't it? But they're all sort of 
 alike, and what's worse, they all say 
 the same things. I've really got tired 
 of telling them how fine the scenery 
 is, and I don't dare ask them too 
 much about the college, because there 
 are such lots of things here one musn't 
 talk about at all. It's very puzzling 
 sometimes, but I suppose it doesn't 
 seem so to them. Still I wish " 
 But just then the music began in the 
 ballroom and Louise departed in 
 search of her mother. 
 1 86
 
 His First Rush. 
 
 Thus it came about that when Jack 
 Updyke reached the hotel that even- 
 ing, the first person he saw was Ken- 
 dall dancing with Miss Armitage, in 
 blissful ignorance of the scandalized 
 looks of the upper classmen present. 
 
 " How does that strike you for 
 freshness?" said one of them to Jack 
 as he came in, " he's been dancing 
 here for twenty minutes and he won't 
 leave that girl long enough to give us 
 a chance to call him down." 
 
 Updyke was rather amused to hear 
 the meek, ladylike, be-mothered Percy 
 called fresh. " I don't believe he 
 understands," said he, " I'll speak to 
 him myself." 
 
 And, being a person of considerable 
 
 tact, he crossed the floor, greeted Mrs. 
 
 Kendall effusively, insisted on taking 
 
 Percy off with him to see his room, 
 
 187
 
 His First Rush. 
 
 and had him half way down Main 
 street before he had a chance to 
 object. Then Updyke walked him 
 around for half an hour and told 
 him things. Kendall listened with a 
 growing bewilderment. 
 
 " But how was I to know that fresh- 
 men weren't allowed to dance at the 
 Hotel?" he protested; "I suppose 
 I've got all those fellows down on 
 me? " 
 
 " Oh it's not quite so bad as that," 
 said Jack, laughing, " but you see 
 there are a lot of things that a man 
 has to be careful of when he first 
 comes here, if he doesn't want to queer 
 himself." And then he preached to 
 Kendall the great doctrine of college 
 custom, which seems so foolish to 
 the outsider, and so vital to the 
 undergraduate. 
 
 188
 
 His First Rush. 
 
 If Percy had not been an exceed- 
 ingly meek individual he would prob- 
 ably have resented Updyke's patron- 
 age, for they were about of an age ; 
 but instead, he thanked him humbly 
 and returned to the Greylock, to 
 parry as well as he could his mother's 
 inquiries as to what he had been 
 doing. 
 
 During the next few days he was 
 pretty well occupied. He bought fur- 
 niture, saw the Registrar, attended his 
 first recitations, and incidentally met 
 a good many of his class. His mother 
 left the day college opened, and Percy 
 missed her more than he had expected 
 to ; but he was too busy to feel home- 
 sick just yet, that came later. 
 
 He was sitting in his room one after- 
 noon when there was a knock at the 
 door, and Updyke came in. 
 189
 
 His First Rush. 
 
 " I thought I'd stop for you," he 
 said ; " all ready for the ball game ? " 
 
 " I don't understand," answered 
 Kendall ; " what ball game ? " 
 
 Updyke whistled. " Really, my dear 
 Percy," said he, " pardon me, but you 
 need a nurse. Don't you know that 
 the annual freshman-sophomore base 
 ball game, with its attendant rush, 
 occurs this afternoon ? " 
 
 " I heard something about it," re- 
 plied Kendall, "but I thought I 
 wouldn't go. I don't play base ball, 
 you know." 
 
 " So I imagined ; but unless you 
 want to be queered from one end of 
 Main street to the other you'd better 
 hustle right down to Weston Field 
 this afternoon and lay for sophomores. 
 The man who cuts this rush is apt to 
 get himself disliked." 
 190
 
 His First Rush. 
 
 " O, I don't want to get out of the 
 rush," answered Percy hastily ; and to 
 do him justice he didn't. " Just wait 
 until I change my clothes, will you? 
 I suppose I'd better wear a sweater." 
 
 " It's just as well to," answered Up- 
 dyke ; " a high collar is apt to be awk- 
 ward in a rush." 
 
 Kendall went into his bedroom and 
 returned with a pair of worn-out 
 trousers. ' I brought these with me 
 on purpose," he remarked, holding 
 them up for inspection. 
 
 Updyke smiled ; he had done ex- 
 actly the same thing himself fresh- 
 man year. "You certainly can't hurt 
 them," he replied, non-committally. 
 
 The other went on with his prepara- 
 tions ; evidently he had thought them 
 all out before. He put on the trous- 
 ers, fastened them with a disreputable 
 191
 
 His First Rush. 
 
 belt, and then, having donned his 
 sweater and slipped on a very ancient 
 coat, stood up with the air of one who 
 has made up his mind to face what 
 must be faced cheerfully. " I'm all 
 ready," he announced. 
 
 Updyke laughed outright. " You 
 talk as if you were going to war," said 
 he; "it's only a ball game." 
 
 Percy colored. " But there'll be a 
 rush, won't there?" he asked 
 defensively. 
 
 "Yes," answered the junior, "but a 
 rush isn't such a very serious affair 
 after all." He looked out of the 
 window. " The fellows seem to be 
 going down," said he ; " suppose we 
 start." 
 
 The two went down stairs, Kendall 
 carefully locking his study door, after 
 the manner of freshmen during the 
 192
 
 His First Rush. 
 
 first few weeks of the fall term. On 
 the way Updyke proceeded to tell his 
 companion something about the nature 
 of the afternoon's amusement. 
 
 " You see," he explained, " the game 
 is only a fake ; the sophomores almost 
 always win ; the main thing is the rush, 
 and the fun that the seniors have with 
 the freshmen. You'd better stick close 
 to your class, and don't make yourself 
 any more prominent than you can 
 help, or you may get into trouble. 
 There go some fellows I want to speak 
 to," he added, as a group of juniors 
 passed by on the other side of the 
 street ; " I'll see you later. Good- 
 bye," and he was gone. 
 
 Kendall walked on alone, hoping 
 that he didn't look as nervous as he 
 felt. The first weeks of college are 
 rather bewildering, and he lived in a
 
 His First Rush. 
 
 state of constant apprehension, for 
 fear he should do something to queer 
 himself ; for Jack had not failed to 
 impress upon him the vast number of 
 ways by which a freshman may 
 accomplish that deplorable result. 
 
 Just at present, however, he was 
 chiefly concerned about the rush ; he 
 wondered what it would be like, and 
 whether there was much chance of his 
 getting badly hurt. Various stories 
 that he had heard at home recurred 
 unpleasantly to his mind. At any rate 
 he was in for it now, and he might just 
 as well make the best of things. After 
 all it would be something to talk of. 
 A rush was only a rush, and he was a 
 fool to be so frightened about it. 
 
 "Oh, Fresh!" 
 
 Percy jumped as if he had been 
 shot, and a party of sophomores just 
 194
 
 His First Rush. 
 
 behind burst into a roar of laughter 
 and, hustling him out of the way, went 
 on down the street. Blushing furi- 
 ously, and trying to look as if he didn't 
 know it, he started to walk on, when 
 he was hailed by a man in his own class, 
 whom he knew slightly. 
 
 " Hello, Kendall ! Going to the 
 game? " 
 
 "Yes," he answered, and the two 
 went down together. 
 
 Weston Field presented quite a fes- 
 tive appearance. Almost the whole 
 college was there. Between home and 
 first base the sophomores were lined 
 up in a solid body, and their yell rang 
 out at intervals, sharp and distinct, in 
 marked contrast to the straggling cheer 
 that came from the crowd of freshmen, 
 gathered between home and third. 
 The upper classmen were seated in the
 
 His First Rush. 
 
 grand stand, and quite a number of 
 visitors had come to look on, most of 
 them in carriages of one sort or 
 another. Presently a coach came 
 through the rustic entrance gate 
 with a great blowing of horns and, 
 bowling up the field at a fast trot, 
 swung into position on the east side 
 of the diamond. 
 
 There was some delay in starting 
 the game, but at last the umpire 
 called the two captains to him and 
 tossed up a coin. The sophomore 
 glanced at it and nodded to his 
 class, who cheered vigorously ; a mo- 
 ment later the team trotted out to 
 their positions, the freshman batter 
 took his place, and the game began. 
 
 As the first ball pitched struck the 
 catcher's mitt, the upper classmen com- 
 menced to pour out of the grand 
 196
 
 His First Rush. 
 
 stand, the juniors going among the 
 freshmen to encourage them to deeds 
 of violence, while the seniors gathered 
 on one side of the field and consulted 
 together with great animation. 
 
 The man at the bat was a loosely- 
 built youth, with very red cheeks, 
 whose color was considerably height- 
 ened by the extremely personal com- 
 ments showered upon him by the 
 sophomores. They ranged from allu- 
 sions to his personal appearance to 
 remarks on the utter impossibility of 
 his hitting the ball. He was badly 
 rattled even before the game actually 
 began, and when the pitcher craftily 
 threw the first ball straight for his 
 head, so that he only saved himself by 
 a quick dodge, it destroyed his small 
 remnant of self-possession. He hit 
 wildly at three distant outs and re- 
 197
 
 His First Rush. 
 
 tired, amid the triumphant jeers of the 
 entire sophomore class. 
 
 The next man was of a different 
 sort. He took his place quickly, and 
 pounded the plate confidently with his 
 bat, quite undisturbed by shouts of 
 " How well he does it ! " "Where did 
 you get that shape ? " "I can't keep 
 my eyes off your feet," and similar 
 specimens of sophomoric wit. He let 
 the first ball go by, and, when the next 
 came, knocked a neat single just over 
 the short-stop's head. The freshmen 
 cheered, the sophomores groaned, the 
 fielder ran wildly after the ball, and 
 the umpire called safe. 
 
 But the man who followed him 
 went out on a little pop fly to the 
 infield, and his successor sent a 
 grounder straight into the first base- 
 man's hands. 
 
 198
 
 His First Rush. 
 
 The sophomores came in for their 
 half of the inning, and the freshmen, 
 aided and abetted by the juniors, grew 
 eloquent in their denunciation of the 
 batters, for in this game all the usual 
 rules of procedure are laid aside ; a 
 freshman may, without reproach, make 
 himself conspicuous by loud conversa- 
 tion, and the cheering of errors is, on 
 that day, and on that day only, coun- 
 tenanced on Weston Field. 
 
 Two innings went by without either 
 side having scored, and the third was 
 just beginning when Kendall felt him- 
 self pushed violently to one side by 
 a sudden movement of the crowd. 
 The cause of the disturbance was a 
 long line of seniors marching in single 
 file, with their hands on each other's 
 shoulders. 
 
 They went straight for the home 
 199
 
 His First Rush. 
 
 plate, everybody hastily making way 
 for them, and walked solemnly around 
 the diamond, while the game stopped, 
 and the players waited for further de- 
 velopments. Suddenly they rushed 
 into the crowd and returned, bearing 
 in their midst three hapless freshmen, 
 who were soon standing, hat in hand, 
 making trembling speeches to their 
 captors. 
 
 When their eloquence was exhausted 
 the seniors sought other victims, and 
 the ball game speedily degenerated 
 into a wholly transparent excuse for 
 horse play. They placed the batter 
 on the scorer's table, and shouted with 
 glee when he swung at the ball and 
 fell off ; they took up the bases, and 
 substituted instead three men stand- 
 ing on all fours ; they called upon the 
 outfielders for " a few remarks on the
 
 His First Rush. 
 
 game," and would not be denied, and, 
 finally, they retired behind the grand 
 stand, where a quartet of freshmen 
 sang for their edification. 
 
 All this time the two under classes 
 had gradually been growing more and 
 more violent in their mutual abuse. 
 They howled and yelled in wild at- 
 tempts to drown each other's cheers. 
 To the derisive cry of " Oh, Fresh ! " 
 the freshmen responded by an equally 
 scornful shout of " Oh, Sophs ! " and 
 although these expressions appear in- 
 nocent enough, they had a very irri- 
 tating effect on both parties. A bellig- 
 erent sophomore called loudly on his 
 class to " Rush those freshmen off the 
 field," and his advice seemed to find 
 favor with them, in spite of the defiant 
 " Don't you wish you could ? " that 
 greeted it.
 
 His First Rush. 
 
 Kendall felt that matters were com- 
 ing to a crisis, and, stuffing his cap un- 
 der his sweater to keep it from being 
 lost, prepared for battle. 
 
 Now the juniors came to the fore, 
 and with shouts of " Close up ! " 
 " Bunch together there!" formed the 
 freshmen into a compact body, with 
 the largest men in front. Then one of 
 them, who had thoughtfully stolen a 
 sophomore sweater earlier in the after- 
 noon, handed it to a man in the center 
 of the mass, with instructions to wave 
 it upside down when the proper mo- 
 ment came. 
 
 Everything now being ready, the 
 sweater was elevated on high, amid 
 loud cheers from the freshmen, and 
 cries of " Oh, Sophs, are you going to 
 stand that ? " from the upper classes. 
 Evidently the sophomores were not ; 
 202
 
 His First Rush. 
 
 they gathered together in close order, 
 and came rushing across the field. 
 Kendall, who somewhat against his 
 will, found himself in the front rank, 
 wondered vaguely what was going to 
 happen to him when the crash came, 
 but he really didn't have time to be 
 very much frightened. The green 
 strip of grass between the classes nar- 
 rowed rapidly ; the flushed, excited 
 faces of the advancing sophomores 
 glared close into his ; there was a great 
 heave of the mass behind him, and 
 the rest was blind, suffocating, intoler- 
 able pressure, with a man striking at 
 his head. 
 
 The front ranks of both parties were 
 lifted off their feet by the force of the 
 encounter, and held there; when they 
 came to earth again the rush had re- 
 solved itself into a confused mass of 
 203
 
 His First Rush. 
 
 struggling men, in the midst of which 
 was the sweater. Those near it fought 
 savagely for its possession, and the 
 men on the outside took long run- 
 ning dives and clambered recklessly 
 over the heads of the crowd to join in 
 the main battle that raged in the 
 center. Some fell down and the rest 
 fought over them, which is not so dan- 
 gerous as it sounds, because, if one 
 is careful to protect his head, and 
 watches a favorable chance to clamber 
 up by the legs of those around him, he 
 may escape with very little damage. 
 
 A rush is too violent a form of ex- 
 ercise to last very long, and this one 
 ceased as suddenly as it had begun. 
 The solid mass broke into struggling 
 segments ; these, in turn, split into lit- 
 tle groups of three or four men ; the 
 upper classmen ran in and pulled 
 204
 
 His First Rush. 
 
 these groups apart and behold it was 
 all over. 
 
 Percy found himself with a torn 
 coat and a very black eye, standing with 
 one foot through a derby that some one 
 had been foolish enough to wear, while 
 Updyke grinned at him cheerfully. 
 
 " Feel used up ? " he inquired. 
 
 "A little," answered Kendall, and in 
 fact he felt very much used up indeed. 
 He sat down to get his breath again, 
 and the process took longer than he 
 expected, for most of it had been 
 driven forcibly out of him. Just as he 
 was beginning to feel better some 
 seniors came along, escorting two very 
 scared looking men. 
 
 " Here's the freshman who danced at 
 the hotel," called one, noticing Kendall 
 sitting there ; " let's bring him along, 
 too." 
 
 205
 
 His First Rush. 
 
 Percy remembered what followed as 
 one remembers a bad dream. The 
 seniors led their victims in front of 
 one of the carriages at the edge of the 
 field, and made them dance for the 
 amusement of its occupants. He was 
 too conscious of the very absurd figure 
 he must cut to dare to lift his eyes 
 from the ground until the performance 
 was over ; and when he did so he 
 wanted nothing so much as a place to 
 hide in. For there on the front seat, 
 laughing quite as heartily as any one, 
 sat Louise Armitage. 
 
 He called on her that evening. He 
 felt that matters couldn't possibly be 
 made any worse than they were, and 
 she was going away the next morning. 
 So he appeared at the hotel, black eye 
 and all, and found her in. 
 
 " I hope you have enjoyed your 
 206
 
 His First Rush. 
 
 visit here," he said, as he shook hands 
 with her. " At any rate, you'll have 
 an awfully good story to tell about 
 me." 
 
 But Louise was a very nice girl, and, 
 moreover, she liked Percy. 
 
 " No," she answered, " I don't think 
 I will. You know I said that there 
 were some things here one mustn't 
 talk about at all well, this is one of 
 them." 
 
 207
 
 TEMPORA MUTANTUR 
 
 209
 
 Tempora Mutantur. 
 
 T F there is one time in all the year 
 when one can call himself most 
 fortunate in being a Williams man and 
 an undergraduate, it is during the last 
 two or three days of May. For most 
 it is a time of pure carelessness and 
 enjoyment. 
 
 To be sure, those who set their hap- 
 piness on being somebody and figuring 
 in a prominent position in college, are 
 apt to have work enough and worry 
 enough. For instance, if you are a 
 sophomore and of this ilk, you will be 
 chosen, perhaps, on the Prom, commit- 
 tee, and then you will find yourself no 
 end busy with the thousand and one
 
 Tempora Mutantur. 
 
 arrangements connected with the 
 dance pillaging your friends' rooms 
 for decorations for the Gym. ; receiving 
 the palms and other potted plants that 
 come up from Troy, and tending to 
 numberless other details. Perhaps 
 you have dramatic talent and are cast 
 for the comedy which " Cap and Bells " 
 is to give, and then, of course, you can 
 have no thought for anything else. 
 Or, possibly, you may be the manager 
 of the base ball team and have the 
 grave responsibility on your shoulders 
 of winning the Decoration Day game 
 and of providing good weather there- 
 for. But supposing you are none of 
 these, only an ordinary undergradu- 
 ate, without ambitions for collegiate 
 distinction or, at least, ambitions 
 which have materialized you can 
 have a most thoroughly good time.
 
 Tempora Mutantur. 
 
 For two or three days you have very 
 little to do with your books. There 
 are recitations and lectures, of course, 
 except on the Thirtieth, and it is just 
 as well to go to them if you are short 
 of cuts and have no other engagements ; 
 but preparation is hardly expected and 
 quite out of the question, anyway. 
 Even the most abandoned grinds allow 
 the dust to collect on their desks 
 nor, if scientific, do the Labs, see them 
 for forty-eight hours together while 
 they sally forth in ducks and ne'glige 
 shirts to track meets or tennis games, 
 or mayhap to no more profitable occu- 
 pation than mere idle saunterings and 
 smokings on the soft new grass, with a 
 neglect that is shocking of precious 
 time and patent opportunities. 
 
 The latter part of May is the play- 
 day season of the year. You can 
 213
 
 Tempora Mutantur. 
 
 stand in the middle of Main street and 
 look in either direction under the arch 
 of the trees, into a very paradise of 
 new verdure and with more or less 
 of a belief in earthly paradises, too. 
 Summer is just in the first triumphant 
 flush of her youth. The sky is soft 
 and blue, the air mild, and the Berk- 
 shires stand clad in a green seductive- 
 ness that is a thousand times more 
 fetching than the vaunted splendors 
 of their autumn attire. Very com- 
 monplace things are these, blue sky 
 and green hills ; but they do not seem 
 commonplace when the recollection is 
 still fresh of the long winter, or when 
 you have not yet forgotten the rain 
 and the chill and the mud of that in- 
 terregnum of anarchy between a New 
 England winter and summer, which is 
 
 charitably called spring. 
 214
 
 Tempora Mutantur. 
 
 And then there is more color about 
 the streets than at other times, and a 
 few soprano voices can be heard in 
 chapel mingled with the accustomed 
 masculine bass, when the hymn is sung. 
 Williams entertains friends from sister 
 colleges, and from the neighboring 
 cities, after the long months of hiber- 
 nation. 
 
 They begin to come a day or two 
 before the festivities commence, and 
 are shown about the town and the col- 
 lege buildings or taken to drive out in 
 the country. They are conscious of 
 being favored guests, and the happy 
 interest they take in everything is in- 
 fectious. Many a man becomes quite 
 enthusiastic in pointing out, among 
 the treasures of Clark Hall, the price- 
 less jaw bone of some ancient geologi- 
 cal unpronounceable, and explaining 
 215
 
 Tempora Mutantur. 
 
 how desirous was the curator of such 
 and such a museum to get that jaw 
 bone at any cost, and how his tenders 
 had been rejected ; or on showing the 
 other objects of interest connected 
 with his Alma Mater the existence 
 of which, in all probability, he had 
 been quite ignorant of, until, out of 
 the necessity of playing the cicerone, 
 came some slight knowledge of the 
 place he had been living in for several 
 years. 
 
 A great shout of triumph went up 
 when the last man crossed the plate, 
 bringing to an end the wild cheering 
 which had continued without pause 
 throughout the last three innings. 
 The game was over the Decoration 
 Day game, which is the base ball game 
 of the year. It had taken twelve in- 
 216
 
 Tempora Mutantur. 
 
 nings to finish it, but it had ended 
 finally in a victory for the home team. 
 This was in keeping with the old es- 
 tablished custom of the college, " re- 
 nowned for base ball and free trade," 
 that there should be on Decoration 
 Day a close game, and yet one that 
 should terminate in victory. 
 
 Consequently every one was hila- 
 riously, even frantically, happy and 
 patriotic. Confusion reigned on the 
 field. The players, with bat bags and 
 sweaters under their arms, ran for the 
 barges which were to take them to 
 the Gymnasium, or were carried there 
 on the shoulders of enthusiastic ad- 
 mirers. The gate was choked with 
 coaches and drags, crowded with girls 
 wearing purple ribbons or carrying 
 flags with the " W" on them. The 
 
 masses on foot who had stood along 
 217
 
 Tempera Mutantur. 
 
 the ropes and borne the brunt of the 
 cheering fell in behind the vehicles, 
 hoarse and weary, but none the less 
 enthusiastic, and tramped up through 
 the village, singing, " We want those 
 streets all paved with purple, royal pur- 
 ple," and the other familiar snatches 
 of doggerel through which the Wil- 
 liams undergraduate gives vent to his 
 feelings in times of high pressure. 
 
 The crowd gathered on the terrace 
 at the east end of Morgan, dusty and 
 perspiring, and there the singing was 
 continued in better form. Then Dr. 
 Dane, one of the " Kid Faculty " and 
 not over-popular, was seen crossing 
 Main street, and immediately a com- 
 mittee waited upon him with an urgent 
 request for a speech. The doctor came 
 up on the sidewalk before the crowd, 
 said as many pleasant and congratula- 
 218
 
 Tempora Mutantur. 
 
 tory things as he could think of im- 
 promptu, and was sent away with a 
 cheer that was more good-natured than 
 the one that had ended the serenade 
 he had been favored with not many 
 weeks before. 
 
 Next Jack French, who had cap- 
 tained the team to victory in the early 
 nineties, was pounced upon and made 
 to prophesy on the chances for a cham- 
 pionship that season. Then there were 
 cheers for the team as a whole, and 
 cheers for each member of the team 
 individually, and for the Amherst 
 players as they came out of the 
 Gym. and scrambled into their barge. 
 One can do a great deal of cheering on 
 Decoration Day after a victory with- 
 out having it seem to get monotonous. 
 
 By this time the crowds were begin- 
 ning to gather in front of the Labs, to 
 219
 
 Tempora Mutantur. 
 
 watch the election of the juniors to the 
 Gargoyle Society. Already several 
 men were sitting on Thompson perch, 
 and the rest came by twos and threes 
 till the whole junior class was 
 assembled. 
 
 There were some men, of course, 
 who felt sure they would be pulled off 
 the fence the captains and managers 
 of the athletic teams and those at the 
 head of the other organizations and 
 there were others who were equally 
 certain that they would not be, but 
 there still remained not a few whose 
 fate hung in the balance, so that quite 
 a number of men in the long line found 
 it difficult to maintain the appearance 
 of indifference they considered re- 
 quired of them. 
 
 Bigelow, of the senior class, stood 
 over by Kellogg, with his room-mate's
 
 Tempora Mutantur. 
 
 mother and Miss Blodgett, waiting for 
 the election to begin. Bob Spaulding 
 was a junior, and consequently had to 
 be with his class on the perch. Bige- 
 low had just been explaining to Miss 
 Blodgett the way in which the men 
 were chosen. 
 
 " But what sort of a society is it, Mr. 
 Bigelow ? " she asked. " I have heard 
 Bob speak of the Gargoyle often 
 enough, but I never asked him to ex- 
 plain what it was. He talks about so 
 many college things I don't know 
 about." 
 
 " It's rather hard to classify as an or- 
 ganization, I should say," Bigelow re- 
 plied. " Perhaps one might call it a 
 mutual admiration society." 
 
 " No, but what do they do when 
 they get elected with all this fuss ? " 
 the girl persisted.
 
 Tempora Mutantur. 
 
 " Why, in the first place, they have 
 a banquet, and then they hold secret 
 meetings every little while and talk a 
 great deal at them, I understand, and 
 when the faculty endangers the sta- 
 bility or the good name of the college 
 by any rash act, they come to the 
 rescue. Now, you have it all, I be- 
 lieve, that is, as well as an outsider can 
 give it to you." 
 
 " You are joking with me ; you col- 
 lege men can never be serious," the 
 girl said petulantly. " I wish you 
 would tell me. But I believe you are 
 'sore' that's the word, isn't it 
 because you weren't elected last year." 
 
 That was the word, but it made 
 Bigelow wince to hear a girl use it. 
 
 " That remark does more credit to 
 your penetration, Miss Blodgett, than 
 to your charity," he answered. " I
 
 Tempora Mutantur. 
 
 shall have to be more careful in future 
 and not disclose any more of my weak- 
 nesses to you." 
 
 After a day or two's acquaintance 
 with his friend's fiancee, Bigelow had 
 come to the conclusion that he rather 
 liked her, in spite of but Bigelow's 
 likes were usually qualified by a rather, 
 before, and an in spite of, after them. 
 The girl was certainly different from 
 the average, and she interested him as 
 a type. Then she was pretty decid- 
 edly pretty, and that covers a multi- 
 tude of defects in a casual acquaint- 
 ance. Still, Bigelow rather wondered 
 why Bob should have got engaged to 
 her. But he did not worry about this. 
 The engagement had lasted ever since 
 the time Bob had entered college, and 
 she probably suited him. Bigelow had 
 
 always the comfortable consciousness 
 223
 
 Tempora Mutantur. 
 
 that all men were not so fastidious as 
 he ; and that, in measuring most things, 
 it was necessary to subtract something 
 from his own standards in order to get 
 normal results. 
 
 "Ah, there they come at last," he 
 said. 
 
 The twenty seniors forming the Gar- 
 goyle Society had just come in sight 
 beyond Kellogg. They were walking 
 slowly, two by two, dressed in their 
 caps and gowns. The procession came 
 down the path that leads across the 
 campus to the Laboratories, and then 
 turned off to the left and formed a 
 circle on the grass. 
 
 " I want to laugh," said the girl, 
 " but I suppose I shouldn't. It looks 
 just like an Odd Fellows' funeral, only 
 solemner." 
 
 When the circle was formed, one 
 224
 
 Tempora Mutantur. 
 
 gowned figure left the others, and, 
 walking out to the path, made a square 
 military turn, and then went down to 
 the fence, where another turn was exe- 
 cuted. Then he walked with measured 
 strides along the line of expectant 
 juniors. 
 
 "That's Kendrick, president of the 
 Gargoyle," Bigelow explained. " He 
 chooses the first man as he comes back." 
 
 Kendrick reached the end of the 
 fence, faced about and walked slowly 
 back, scanning the row of attentive 
 faces. Halfway down the line he 
 stopped and extended his hand to one 
 of the men on the fence, who slipped 
 from his seat at once and was con- 
 ducted with head uncovered to the 
 circle of seniors, while his classmates 
 and the spectators applauded. 
 
 "That's Judson, captain of the foot 
 225
 
 Tempora Mutantur. 
 
 ball team," said Bigelow. " Everyone 
 knew he would make it." 
 
 Another Gargoyle left the circle, 
 went through the same elaborate 
 manoeuvres and returned with a sec- 
 ond junior. It was the manager of the 
 next year's base ball team that was 
 chosen. Then followed the president 
 of the Y. M. C. A., the editor of the 
 GuL, and the captains and managers 
 of the other teams. At first there was 
 no very great interest in the election. 
 These men, from the offices they held, 
 were practically sure of it. But as the 
 number of chances decreased and the 
 doubtful men began to be chosen, 
 there was considerable suppressed ex- 
 citement among the juniors and in the 
 crowd of spectators. 
 
 "Who is that?" Miss Blodgett 
 asked. " I danced with him last night 
 226
 
 Tempora Mutantur. 
 
 in the Gymnasium, but I've forgotten 
 his name." 
 
 " Harper. He's one of Bob's quite 
 intimate friends." 
 
 " I don't like him," she said de- 
 cisively. 
 
 Mrs. Spaulding gave the girl a de- 
 precatory glance. " Why, Margery, I 
 thought he was a very pleasant young 
 man when Rob introduced him to me 
 at the hotel." 
 
 Mrs. Spaulding had taken no part in 
 the conversation up to this time. The 
 caste of age is very strong with people 
 who have lived all their lives in coun- 
 try towns, and she evidently thought 
 it would be an unpardonable intrusion 
 for a middle-aged matron to mingle in 
 the talk of young people. This atti- 
 tude amused Bigelow not a little. 
 
 There remained three men to be 
 227
 
 Tempora Mutantur. 
 
 chosen. Bigelow was beginning to 
 feel uneasy about his friend's chances. 
 Bob had played on the foot ball team 
 for three years at center, and had been 
 one of the most faithful workers 
 never brilliant, but steady, and always 
 to be depended upon, and Bigelow had 
 hoped that he would make it. 
 
 The next choice put his fears to rest. 
 The eighteenth man stopped before 
 Spaulding, and led him to the circle 
 now almost complete. The applause, 
 which had become rather perfunctory 
 as time went on, was loud and hearty 
 as Bob Spaulding's six feet two slipped 
 off the fence, for Bob was one of the 
 most popular men in the class, and 
 had not an enemy in college. 
 
 " I'm afraid Bob's head will be turned 
 by such an ovation," Miss Blodgett re- 
 marked. 
 
 228
 
 Tempora Mutantur. 
 
 She had said it laughingly, but there 
 was something in the tone which made 
 Bigelow look up at her quickly. 
 
 " You must give him a lesson if he 
 gets to putting on airs, Miss Blodgett," 
 he said gravely. 
 
 "If I can but, perhaps that isn't 
 so easy as it sounds," she answered 
 gaily. " But I'll try, I assure you, if 
 his vanity gets too insufferable." 
 
 The twentieth man had just been 
 led within the circle of seniors, and 
 now they all began marching away 
 in double file, each senior leading the 
 man he had chosen. The procession 
 came up the path, around in front of 
 Kellogg, and down the driveway be- 
 fore Morgan. They stopped under 
 the stone gargoyle, which is over the 
 further of the two north entrances of 
 the building, and Kendrick stepped 
 
 out from the others. 
 229
 
 Tempora Mutantur. 
 
 " Now, fellows, the old yell for the 
 senior Gargoyle, " he said. 
 
 ' Rah ! rah ! rah ! Willyums, yams, 
 
 yums, Willyums, Ninety ," the 
 
 juniors shouted. 
 
 " And now for next year's Gar- 
 goyle," said Kendrick. 
 
 The cheer was repeated, with the 
 numerals of the junior class at the 
 end. 
 
 " And now one for the college." 
 
 The yell was given again and the 
 crowd 'separated. 
 
 Bob Spaulding hastened over to the 
 sidewalk where his friends were wait- 
 ing. On the way he was stopped a 
 dozen times by men who were eager to 
 congratulate him. Bob's election was 
 a surprise to him, for he had always 
 been inclined to underrate his own im- 
 portance on the team and in college, 
 230
 
 Tempora Mutantur. 
 
 and the general approval which it 
 called forth gave him a great deal of 
 pleasure. 
 
 The sun had just gone down as they 
 walked up Main street to the Grey- 
 lock, and above the green bank of the 
 Petersburg range the sky was a dull 
 red. A quiet reigned in the broad 
 elm-shaded street that was very agree- 
 able, after the excitement and com- 
 motion of the afternoon. People were 
 wending their way supperward in all 
 directions. 
 
 Bob walked with his mother. They 
 had just turned into the long shady 
 path that leads from West up to the 
 end of the street. Margery was a lit- 
 tle way ahead of them with Bigelow. 
 
 Bob could see that people turned to 
 look at her in admiration. He was 
 aware of the fact that wherever he had 
 231
 
 Tempora Mutantur. 
 
 taken her during the last two or three 
 days she had attracted attention, just 
 as half his friends had fallen in love 
 with the photographs he had of her in 
 his room. He remembered the feel- 
 ing of pleasure and pride it had given 
 him to notice the covert glances which 
 the early acquaintances of his fresh- 
 man year had bestowed upon the pic- 
 ture of her that stood on his desk. 
 
 For some reason he did not have that 
 sort of feeling now. To tell the truth, 
 though he had never admitted it, even 
 to himself, he had hoped, all along, 
 that something would happen to pre- 
 vent the visit that Margery and his 
 mother had planned. He did not 
 know why, or would not, for he had 
 never allowed the thought to remain 
 long enough in his mind to analyze it. 
 It was a fear, only, that in some way 
 232
 
 Tempora Mutantur. 
 
 she would not be all that he might 
 wish her to be, or that he once thought 
 her to be. 
 
 He had always combatted the fear, 
 despising himself for having to com- 
 bat it, just as now he was engaged 
 in the same sort of honorless fight 
 with what struggled in his conscious- 
 ness to be recognized as the realiza- 
 tion of it. These sneaking, disloyal 
 thoughts were a new thing to Bob 
 Spaulding, and he did not know how 
 to deal with them. He could not be 
 brutally truthful with himself without 
 regard for consequences, as Bigelow 
 always was. 
 
 With a mother's intuition Mrs. 
 Spaulding had guessed what was in 
 Bob's mind at least partially in 
 the last few days. She watched him 
 as he walked on in silence beside her. 
 233
 
 Tempora Mutantur. 
 
 " Has there been any misunderstand- 
 ing between you and Margery, Rob- 
 ert?" she ventured. 
 
 Bob looked up quickly. 
 
 " No, mother. What made you 
 think so? Madge and I are as good 
 friends as ever, I guess." He was 
 startled that the question should strike 
 as closely as it did. 
 
 " Good friends, Robert ; you should 
 be more than good friends." She 
 paused for a moment. " Since I have 
 been here I have thought that you and 
 Margery haven't the same feeling for 
 one another as you used to have. 
 Don't think that I am reproaching you, 
 Robert, but I can't help seeing that 
 you have changed in more than one 
 way it's quite natural that you 
 should. But remember, if it is true 
 
 that you do not love Margery " 
 
 234
 
 Tempora Mutantur. 
 
 " But it's not true, mother," Bob 
 burst out impatiently ; " you're all 
 wrong." 
 
 They walked the rest of the way in 
 silence. 
 
 She detained him a moment as he 
 turned to leave her on the veranda of 
 the hotel. " I don't believe my boy 
 will ever lose his love for his father 
 and mother, even if he does give up 
 their old-fashioned ways," she said. 
 " I didn't mean you to think that, 
 Robert." 
 
 Bob was sitting with the rest of his 
 class in Prof. Harvey's lecture room. 
 The festivities of the Thirtieth were 
 past, the visitors from out of town had 
 gone away, and the college had settled 
 down to its routine of work and play. 
 Bob had been restless and dissatisfied 
 235
 
 Tempora Mutantur. 
 
 with himself ever since his mother and 
 Margery had gone home. This morn- 
 ing he was especially uneasy and would 
 have cut, except that his limit of ab- 
 sences had already been passed some 
 time before, and the number of over- 
 cuts increasing ominously. 
 
 At first he made an attempt to take 
 notes, writing down quite at random, 
 and without the slightest regard for 
 logical sequence, whatever seemed like 
 an important statement in the profes- 
 sor's lecture. This was Bob's usual 
 method of taking notes; and why he 
 took them at all was a mystery, which 
 he would have found it hard to explain 
 very satisfactorily. He never thought 
 of looking at them again, for when ex- 
 amination came he always borrowed 
 some one else's note book. Still a 
 vague sense of duty made him fill a 
 236
 
 Tempera Mutantur. 
 
 book with something or other for each 
 of his lecture courses. 
 
 This morning it was harder than 
 usual to follow, with even tolerable 
 understanding, the professor's dis- 
 course. Bob gave it up at last, and 
 began looking out of the window. 
 Presently the Gym. clock struck the 
 three-quarters. Bob sighed wearily. 
 That meant forty-five minutes more, 
 unless Teddy should relent and let 
 them out early. 
 
 Then, for the want of something 
 better to do, he began to observe what 
 was going on in the room. His seat in 
 the back row commanded a good view. 
 
 A little further along, on the same 
 line of seats with him, Billy White and 
 Guy McLane were playing tit-tat-toe 
 on the fly leaf of a text book, and 
 indulging in suppressed giggles, in a 
 237
 
 Tempora Mutantur. 
 
 manner worthy of sixteen-year-old 
 school girls. In another direction Cav- 
 erly Harper was reading a yellow- 
 covered novel, and taking no pains 
 that Prof. Harvey should not notice 
 his inattention either. Caverly was 
 always frank to a degree in his atti- 
 tude toward his instructors. Not far 
 away Markham was composing some 
 verses to a real or imaginary Marjorie, 
 which would probably appear among 
 the Cobwebs in the next Weekly. 
 
 To be sure, there were some men 
 who were evidently following the lec- 
 ture with interest more in fact than 
 Bob would have said, had he been 
 asked, but they did not form a large 
 majority. A good many had note 
 books in which they scribbled, list- 
 lessly, when there was nothing to dis- 
 tract their attention elsewhere ; and 
 238
 
 Tempora Mutantur. 
 
 not a few were sitting with vacant 
 faces diddling their pencils and think- 
 ing of Heaven knows what, certainly 
 not of Teddy's lecture. In the very 
 front row was Fred Knowles, with his 
 head on his arm, apparently asleep. 
 Yet in spite of this there was no dimi- 
 nution in the earnestness of the pro- 
 fessor's manner. 
 
 What a farce it all was. Bob had 
 been attending just such exercises 
 now for almost three years, and until 
 this morning it had never struck him 
 that there was anything peculiar about 
 them. It had been a matter of course 
 that in certain required subjects one 
 should go to lectures every day, pay 
 as little attention to them as possible, 
 and, when examination time came, 
 cram enough from a syllabus the night 
 before to get through. 
 239
 
 Tempora Mutantur. 
 
 At last the hour was over. Bob lit 
 his pipe, as usual, in the little niche in 
 the doorway of Hopkins, and strolled 
 down Spring street to Watson's, and 
 loafed about there for a while. Some 
 one asked him to play pool but he re- 
 fused, without giving any reason, and 
 started for his room in Kellogg, with 
 the rather vague purpose of looking 
 over some German for an afternoon 
 quiz. 
 
 He found Bigelow there, stretched 
 out on the divan in an exasperatingly 
 comfortable, contented manner, read- 
 ing a volume of French poetry. 
 
 Bob did not find his German book 
 in the bookcase, and began overhaul- 
 ing the papers and magazines on the 
 center table, with a great to do. Big- 
 elow watched him placidly. 
 
 The search proved vain. Bob began 
 
 walking about the room. 
 240
 
 Tempora Mutantur. 
 
 " Look here, Dud," he broke out 
 suddenly, " I wish you would tell me 
 why the hell I came to college, any- 
 way." 
 
 Bigelow looked at him with amuse- 
 ment. " Why, what's wrong with the 
 place, Bob ? " he asked. " I always 
 considered you a most staunch and 
 loyal supporter of the purple, not to 
 say a fanatic. This is rank heresy and 
 treason." 
 
 " You ought to have been in Teddy's 
 lecture this morning," the other inter- 
 rupted, " though it was really no worse 
 than usual. Why, half the class know 
 absolutely nothing about his subject, 
 and never will." 
 
 " Among whom we might men- 
 tion? 
 
 " Yes, I know that, and it's just what 
 
 makes me sore on myself." 
 241
 
 Tempora Mutantur. 
 
 Bigelow laughed. " Really," he be- 
 gan, " I don't see as there will be any 
 objection to your finding out what 
 Teddy is lecturing about, if you choose. 
 They say it can be done, and while it's 
 not the customary thing to worry one's 
 self about such matters, there's noth- 
 ing criminal in it." 
 
 "Come, Dudley, don't give me any 
 more of that sort of stuff. I'm tired 
 of it. Everywhere around college you 
 hear fellows talking about the courses 
 they are taking, as if they were the 
 only things of no importance here. It's 
 the fashion to pretend not to know 
 anything about what you are supposed 
 to be studying. With some of the 
 fellows I admit it's no pretense, but I 
 don't see that that's anything for them 
 to be proud of. With such a fellow as 
 you it's a damned affectation, and it 
 242
 
 Tempora Mutantur. 
 
 makes me sick. Seriously, what do 
 you think a man comes to college for 
 if not to study and make the most of 
 his opportunities for study ? " 
 
 Bigelow winced a little at his friend's 
 frankness, but he did not allow his 
 manner to be ruffled at all by it. 
 
 " Capital, Bob," he said, laughing. 
 "You will outdo in zeal Hedges the 
 Holy, if you keep on. But, seriously, 
 I think that is just what a man does 
 come here for, if he has a taste for it. 
 It's really a good opportunity to get 
 an education, and I'm patriotic enough 
 to think one can't get a better any- 
 where in the country than just here." 
 
 " Then why do you talk that way ? " 
 demanded Bob. 
 
 " To be frank with you, my dear 
 boy, I suppose it is because I am just 
 enough of an ass to do so, for the 
 243
 
 Tempora Mutantur. 
 
 simple reason that the rest do. But 
 that's neither here nor there. As I 
 was saying, if a man has a taste for 
 study let him grind, within modera- 
 tion, as hard as he pleases. If he 
 hasn't such a taste, and would rather 
 put his energy into athletics, let him 
 devote such a part of his time to the 
 curriculum as he can spare enough of 
 course to get through and enjoy life 
 for the rest of it. He will get a bow- 
 ing acquaintance, at least, with the hu- 
 manities, which is worth something, 
 and he can't help being influenced for 
 the good by personal contact day after 
 day with men of intellect and schol- 
 arly attainments." 
 
 " By which you mean, I suppose, 
 
 that if a man is unfortunate enough to 
 
 be a blockhead the best thing he can 
 
 do is to stay here, in the hope that he 
 
 244
 
 Tempora Mutantur. 
 
 may by chance absorb something," 
 suggested Bob. 
 
 "That's partially it," Bigelow an- 
 swered coolly. " The fact is that 
 \vhether a man is a dunce or an intel- 
 lectual prodigy, the best thing he gets 
 or can get from his college course is 
 not what he learns from books. They 
 have their worth and great worth, 
 too but the thing that counts the 
 most is the life here as a whole. 
 That's a very trite observation. You 
 hear it from everybody but it's true, 
 I think, notwithstanding." 
 
 " I think you're wrong, Dud," Bob 
 answered slowly. " I know you hear 
 it everywhere, but I think it's gen- 
 erally from fellows too lazy to work. 
 It seems to me if a fellow can't learn, 
 or won't try, he's no business to be 
 here. He'd better get out and sell 
 245
 
 Tempora Mutantur. 
 
 beans behind a counter, or do some- 
 thing else that he can make a success 
 of and what is more, I think I shall 
 put my theory into practice before 
 long," he added, with a short unpleas- 
 ant laugh. 
 
 Bigelow sat up quickly. His room- 
 mate's decisive tone made him think, 
 for the first time, that something seri- 
 ous was wrong. Bigelow was a year 
 ahead of Spaulding, and this advan- 
 tage, together with a certain alertness 
 of mind and wider experience, gave 
 him an influence over his friend that 
 was not slight. But he knew that if 
 Bob once made up his mind to a thing, 
 there was no moving him. 
 
 "You'd be very foolish to go now, 
 Bob," he said earnestly. " It's only 
 one year more, and the letters them- 
 selves are worth something. If you 
 246
 
 Tempora Mutantur. 
 
 want to believe that you have wasted 
 time and opportunities by not paying 
 more attention to the curriculum, be- 
 lieve it. Perhaps you have In that 
 case go ahead and grind for the rest 
 of your course. But, to tell you the 
 truth, in spite of wasted opportunities 
 and all that, I don't know a man whom 
 college has done more for than your- 
 self. It has changed you completely. 
 You can't realize it yourself, perhaps, 
 but you are not the same sort of fel- 
 low you were when you came here 
 three years ago." 
 
 Bob jumped up from his chair and 
 began walking up and down the room. 
 " I know I'm not I realize that quite 
 as well as anybody better, perhaps," 
 he added a little bitterly. " I've got a 
 lot of damn silly notions in my head, 
 
 for one thing, that I didn't have when 
 247
 
 Tempora Mutantur. 
 
 I came here, and a good many lazy 
 habits for another, and a great dis- 
 inclination, besides, to fill the posi- 
 tion in life I've been booked for. You 
 know about what my case is. I am 
 an only child, and father and mother 
 thought it would be a good stunt to 
 send me to college. They didn't have 
 any particular purpose in view for me, 
 nor I for myself, but they could afford 
 it easily enough, and they thought, in 
 their ignorance, that it would make 
 more of a man of me. Consequently, 
 here I am." 
 
 Bigelow watched his friend nar- 
 rowly. Bob was evidently deeply 
 moved, and Bigelow thought he per- 
 ceived a specific cause for his dissatis- 
 faction with himself under the general 
 reasons he had given. At any rate, it 
 was not the fact Spaulding had found 
 248
 
 Tempora Mutantur. 
 
 out that he was failing to learn as 
 much Latin and Math, as some of his 
 classmates, or that he was frittering 
 away his time in idleness, that made 
 him think of leaving the place. That 
 was more or less of a pretext. The 
 truth was, he had suddenly come to 
 the realization of the fact that the in- 
 fluences he had come under at college 
 had been drawing him further and fur- 
 ther away from the old life to which 
 he was doubly pledged ; and this, he 
 felt, was treason. Whether there was 
 anything more definite than this it was 
 certain Bob's pride would not let him 
 disclose. 
 
 Bigelow could see that it would be 
 foolish for him to try to dispossess 
 Bob now of the idea that college was 
 causing a breach between him and 
 the old associations. The only thing 
 249
 
 Tempora Mutantur. 
 
 was to frankly admit this to be true, 
 and then overrule the objection with 
 considerations of more weight. It was 
 a risky thing to do, but he decided 
 to try it. Bigelow was conscious 
 of the influence he had always had 
 over Bob an influence due primarily, 
 perhaps, to the fact that he had 
 broader, more mature, and, as a gen- 
 eral rule, more correct views on most 
 subjects than his friend ; but quite as 
 much because he always asserted them 
 with a cool indifferent sort of superi- 
 ority which causes conviction of 
 itself. 
 
 " College has made you more of a 
 man, Bob," he said, decisively. " And 
 I think you will acknowledge it if you 
 reflect. It has given you new ideas, 
 which you are pleased to call ' damn 
 silly notions,' though you really don't 
 250
 
 Tempora Mutantur. 
 
 believe them silly notions; it has re- 
 fined your tastes, developed your char- 
 acter, and given you a broader and 
 more sympathetic view of men and 
 things. And what did you come to 
 college for if not that very thing?" 
 
 Spaulding preferred looking uncon- 
 vinced to any more direct response. 
 
 Bigelow continued : " When you 
 came here if you pardon me for say- 
 ing it you were nothing but a green 
 village lad. Up to that time you had 
 only a very narrow circle of associates, 
 all of them with more or less the same 
 interests. You came here, and for 
 three years you have mixed with fel- 
 lows of all sorts and conditions, rich 
 and poor, gawky farmer boys, and 
 fellows who have every social advan- 
 tage, gospel sharks and dead game 
 sports ; in fact, men of every station 
 251
 
 Tempora Mutantur. 
 
 in life, with aims as diverse as the cut 
 of their clothes, and what is more, you 
 have associated with them on terms of 
 an intimacy, which without any 
 great experience in the world I 
 should say, was only possible in such 
 a genuine democracy as the American 
 college." 
 
 " Oh damn your democracies," Bob 
 muttered. 
 
 " This has naturally changed you," 
 Bigelow pursued calmly, " and you 
 must admit the change was for the 
 better, even though it carries with it 
 some discomfort to yourself and others. 
 But, at any rate, it is irremediable. If 
 you think that, by any possible means, 
 you could leave college and revert to 
 the country boy stage, you are mis- 
 taken. That's out of the question. 
 The damage is done, if such it be, and 
 252
 
 Tempora Mutantur. 
 
 the only thing to do is to make the 
 best of it." 
 
 Bob got up and put on his hat. 
 
 " Perhaps you're right, Dudley," he 
 said. " I'm going to dinner now, 
 anyway." 
 
 But in his heart he did not think 
 Bigelow was right. As much as Bob 
 admired his friend, as much as he 
 acknowledged his superiority, as he 
 would have called it, he was by no 
 means blind to his shortcomings. He 
 felt, instinctively, that if Dudley had 
 to choose between his loyalty to 
 another and the culture he made his 
 god, the former would be sacrificed. 
 
 Bob went to dinner, and then after 
 an hour spent smoking and reading 
 the newspaper in a friend's room, he 
 strolled over to his German quiz in 
 Hopkins. Not having made any prep- 
 2 53
 
 Tempora Mutantur. 
 
 aration for the quiz, he flunked it cold, 
 the process taking ten minutes in alh 
 "What the deuce is a man like me 
 doing at college anyhow? " he thought. 
 " The best thing I can do is to clear 
 out of here as soon as possible." 
 
 He spent another hour or so loafing 
 about doing nothing, and then went 
 down to base ball practice for the want 
 of something better to do. 
 
 There he met Caverly Harper. 
 Whatever else Caverly might neglect, 
 he never missed a practice when he 
 was in town ; and almost every after- 
 noon he was to be found on the field 
 ready to criticize the team collectively 
 and individually, and the management 
 as well, for the benefit of any one who 
 would listen to him. 
 
 " Hello, Robbie," Caverly called out. 
 " What makes you so glum to-day ? " 
 254
 
 Tempora Mutantur. 
 
 " I flunked my German exam, just 
 now, for one thing," Bob answered, 
 rather absent-mindedly. 
 
 Harper evidently considered this a 
 subterfuge, and one that was transpar- 
 ent enough to be taken as a hint that 
 further remark on the subject would 
 be out of order, so he turned the con- 
 versation on other topics. 
 
 "What do you think of the 
 new freshman pitcher?" he asked. 
 " Hardly varsity material yet, in my 
 opinion doesn't watch the bases very 
 well. They never do, any of them, 
 when they begin." 
 
 They stayed on the field until prac- 
 tice was over, and then strolled up- 
 town together. 
 
 " Going to the show in Ad to-night, 
 Bob ? " Caverly asked on the way. 
 
 " What is it ? " 
 
 2 5S
 
 Tempora Mutantur. 
 
 "English opera Robin Hood, I 
 think. I don't know the name of the 
 troupe. Bronson and Reg. and I are 
 going to drive over. Better come 
 along and make the fourth." 
 
 Bob walked along for a moment in 
 silence. 
 
 " I'm afraid I can't, Cav.," he an- 
 swered. " I've got to go home for a 
 day or two, and I think I'll start to- 
 night on the 8.19." 
 
 Bob went to his room and began 
 putting some of his things into his 
 suit case. He decided not to pack his 
 trunk. He could have it sent on after 
 him. It might happen, of course 
 but it shouldn't happen. He was go- 
 ing to clear out for good, and he reso- 
 lutely stifled the hope that anything 
 should make it possible for him to 
 change his mind. Yet, the possibility 
 256
 
 Tempora Mutantur. 
 
 gave him an excuse to let it be under- 
 stood that he was only going home to 
 spend Sunday, and so avoid explana- 
 tions and good-byes. He could come 
 back when he had once made the break 
 final and see all the fellows. 
 
 It would have been hard to say what 
 brought him to this decision. It was 
 a foolish one enough, for he could just 
 as well have waited a few weeks longer 
 until college closed, and then gone 
 home with the rest, and not returned 
 in the fall. Then he would not have 
 felt like a deserter. 
 
 The truth was that he was in a mood 
 for heroic remedies. He felt that a 
 sacrifice was needed on his part to 
 atone for his implicit disloyalty toward 
 the girl he had promised to marry. 
 The remembrance of their silent mis- 
 understandings, too intangible to be 
 2 57
 
 Tempora Mutantur. 
 
 set aright, try as he would, returned to 
 him again and again like an accusation 
 against his honor. It was his fault, 
 not her's. She was the same as when 
 the romance of their boy and girl love 
 was everthing to both of them. It 
 was he that had changed. College, 
 and the association with his betters, 
 had made a fool of him. He stuck to 
 this resolutely. Yet, somehow he 
 blamed her for not having perceived 
 the change in him, and resented it 
 openly. She lacked the fineness of 
 perception or the pride that a girl 
 should have. It was this conflict of 
 mind, in itself degrading, that forced 
 him to take some action immediately, 
 that would be final and decisive. 
 
 He went to supper purposely late, so 
 as not to meet the fellows at his table. 
 When he got back, Bigelow had not 
 258
 
 Tempora Mutantur. 
 
 yet come down from his fraternity 
 house. Bob waited for him awhile, 
 and then, remembering that he had 
 not called for his mail since supper, 
 he started for the Post Office. 
 
 Under the trees near West a half a 
 dozen of his classmates were crowded 
 on a single settee, smoking and talk- 
 ing. They called to him to come and 
 join them, but he made some excuse 
 and went on. In front of Morgan the 
 usual crowd was playing ball, and from 
 one of the windows of the dormitory 
 came the familiar strains of an old col- 
 lege troll, with the tinkling accompani- 
 ment of the ever-present mandolin. 
 The streets were full of men in neg- 
 lige, with tennis rackets under their 
 arms, or perhaps strolling hither and 
 thither in sheer idleness. 
 
 How foreign to him it all felt. Ex- 
 259
 
 lempora Mutantur. 
 
 cept for the familiar faces everywhere 
 it was as if he had come back to the 
 place after years of absence. Then it 
 struck Bob that it would be harder to 
 leave college than he had imagined ; 
 and he realized how much it all meant 
 to him. What a void there would be 
 in his life when the whole of it should 
 be a thing of the past. 
 
 Bob found a letter from Margery at 
 the Post Office. He took it from his 
 box with a feeling of irritation and 
 walked half way back to Main street, 
 carrying it in his hand. At last he 
 broke the seal and began reading 
 indifferently. 
 
 He was totally unprepared for what 
 he found in the letter. Margery asked 
 that their engagement should be 
 broken. 
 
 At first he could not suppress a 
 260
 
 Tempora Mutantur. 
 
 feeling of pleasure, that his release 
 gave him. But the humiliation of 
 the position was not slow to make 
 itself felt. A few words in the let- 
 ter cut him keenly. " I could see, 
 Bob," she wrote, " that you did not 
 care for me as you thought you did 
 once. I tried not to believe it at first, 
 but I had to in the end. Perhaps it 
 is natural that it should happen so. 
 I do not blame you for I know 
 you were going to act honorably, and 
 keep your promise as well as you 
 could." 
 
 Bob's self-contempt was tinged a lit- 
 tle, perhaps, with a sort of regret. At 
 any rate it was all over now. He 
 might as well stay at college and make 
 the most of his good time. 
 
 Just then Caverly Harper drove by 
 in a double phaeton with the two other 
 261
 
 Tempora Mutantur. 
 
 fellows. He stopped his horses when 
 he saw Bob. 
 
 " We've got lots of room for you," 
 he cried, " if you'll change your mind 
 and go with us." 
 
 Bob hesitated a moment. It seemed 
 as if, in some way, the moment was 
 sacred. Then he laughed at himself 
 for the idea. 
 
 "All right," he cried, "I'm with 
 you." He stuffed the letter into his 
 pocket and climbed into the phaeton, 
 wondering whether college had made 
 a cad of him. 
 
 262
 
 THE NEXT MORNING 
 
 263
 
 The Next Morning. 
 
 n^HORNTON came out of the 
 chapel and started toward Hop- 
 kins. There was a weariness in his 
 body and a sour taste in his mouth, 
 and the fresh beauty of the morning 
 hurt him like a reproach. Some one 
 called out to him jokingly, " I hear 
 you were in Ad. last night, Bob ! " and 
 he laughed back, as a man laughs 
 when he must. 
 
 He had plenty of cuts left, for it was 
 early in the term, and, when half way 
 to the recitation, changed his mind and 
 turned up Main street, without any 
 very definite idea of where he was go- 
 ing. He wanted to get away from 
 265
 
 The Next Morning. 
 
 everybody for awhile and think the 
 thing over. 
 
 Twenty minutes' walking carried him 
 well out of the town, almost to the top 
 of Stone Hill, and looking down he 
 could see the college, lying there in 
 the valley, shut in by its circle of hills. 
 The fellows were passing in the street ; 
 he almost recognized some of them ; 
 the outlines of the buildings stood out 
 sharply against the background of the 
 mountains, and, as he looked, the boom 
 of the Gym. clock came to him through 
 the soft spring air. No Williams man 
 ever forgets that chime. 
 
 He half smiled as he remembered 
 how different it had looked to him 
 when he came up from school to take 
 his entrance exams. Then college was 
 a long-desired goal, soon to be at- 
 tained ; an enchanted country inhabi- 
 266
 
 The Next Morning. 
 
 ted by a privileged race of beings. 
 Even a freshman commanded respect 
 in those days, and a Gargoyle pin was 
 the summit of all earthly wishes. 
 
 And now but he laughed at the 
 idea of comparing himself with that 
 green boy. 
 
 The four years had done much for 
 him ; they had improved his manners, 
 taught him how to wear his clothes 
 as if they belonged to him, and given 
 him self-confidence and poise. He had 
 made what is called " a success of col- 
 lege," but somehow that morning he 
 didn't seem to care much for any of 
 the offices in the formidable list that 
 followed his name in the last Gul.; 
 even the Gargoyle seemed of compara- 
 tively little importance, now that he 
 was in it, and about the only thing he 
 really valued was his class day elec- 
 267
 
 The Next Morning. 
 
 tion as pipe orator, because that 
 showed that the fellows liked him. 
 
 He did not particularly regret the 
 events of the night before ; he knew 
 that his present gloomy frame of mind 
 was caused quite as much by headache 
 as by the prickings of conscience, and 
 after all, he wasn't sure that he had 
 done anything to be ashamed of. To 
 the undergraduate, drunkenness, un- 
 less habitual, is a very venial sin, and 
 there really seemed no need of being 
 so exceedingly remorseful over what 
 he himself would have readily con- 
 doned in another. 
 
 What troubled him was, to use a 
 colloquialism, " the whole game ; " he 
 was not quite sure that his college 
 course hadn't been a failure in spite of 
 its apparent success. He thought of 
 men he knew in the class ; men with- 
 268
 
 The Next Morning. 
 
 out either his money, or associations, 
 or ability ; men to whom college meant 
 a host of daily sacrifices and mortifica- 
 tions ; to whom life was a serious mat- 
 ter, and self-improvement the end and 
 aim of it. If he had lived as they did 
 would he not now be infinitely better 
 than he was ? 
 
 But in his heart he knew that he 
 would not change with one of them 
 for worlds. Men admired them in a 
 way, but, after all, they were pitifully 
 ineffective outside of class-room and 
 prayer-meetings. Granted that they 
 were good Christians, they seemed for 
 the most part narrow and intolerant ; 
 and if they were excellent characters, 
 they were also exceedingly tiresome 
 companions. Faugh ! The whole tribe 
 disgusted him, as he thought of them, 
 with their serious faces and their 
 269
 
 The Next Morning. 
 
 flabby muscles. If this were virtue he 
 wanted none of it. 
 
 Yet these men were, in a way, his 
 superiors ; they were unselfish, earnest 
 and sincere ; he felt ashamed to think 
 how many times he had sneered at 
 them. But their life was not his life, 
 and their virtue repelled him. He 
 had great respect for their principles, 
 but he found them uninteresting as 
 friends; and their religion had always 
 seemed to him just a little bit 
 Pharisaical. 
 
 And, after all, were they more virtu- 
 ous than he, or only more scrupulous? 
 He had his principles as well as they, 
 and kept them, for the most part, quite 
 as carefully. He was loyal to his 
 friends, and told the truth on all occa- 
 sions. If he sometimes indulged in a 
 risque story, or drank a little too much, 
 270
 
 The Next Morning. 
 
 as he had done last night, he was, on 
 the whole, neither foul-minded nor 
 intemperate. He was simply " one of 
 the crowd," an average college man, 
 with the usual vices and virtues, min- 
 gled in about the usual proportions. 
 
 No, he was better than that. He 
 did not do many things that most peo- 
 ple took as a matter of course. There 
 were stories he would not tell, and 
 jokes that he would not laugh at, and 
 more than once he had risked unpopu- 
 larity when some one had spoken slight- 
 ingly of a girl in a room full of men. 
 
 But he felt that he had lost some- 
 thing in those four years, or rather 
 that it had been taken away from him. 
 It is impossible for a man to go through 
 college without getting, as people say, 
 " a knowledge of the world," which 
 
 phrase also includes a knowledge of 
 271
 
 The Next Morning. 
 
 the flesh and the devil ; even if we fight 
 against evil the contact soils us, and 
 Thornton had not always fought. 
 
 He had come to college straight 
 from home, younger in many ways 
 than most of the men in his class. His 
 virtue was the virtue that his mother 
 had taught him as a little boy, and 
 though he was not prudish, nor a fool, 
 he was innocent and pure. It hurt 
 him to think how he had changed since 
 then ; how, one by one, he had lost his 
 ideals and abandoned his principles, 
 until now he had scarcely anything 
 left except his honesty and his chivalry. 
 
 Yet he knew that he had fared better 
 than many, and that his former inno- 
 cence was founded quite as much upon 
 ignorance as upon virtue. It had been 
 all very well for the boy, but it would 
 have looked a little out of place in the 
 272
 
 The Next Morning. 
 
 man ; one cannot be too particular if 
 one wishes to be effective. 
 
 And he was effective. He knew it 
 and rejoiced in the thought. He was 
 a force in college ; his opinion was 
 sought and his example followed, and 
 probably he did quite as much good 
 as the most pious Y. M. C. A. man 
 with all his self-conscious religion. 
 But he flushed a little when he 
 thought how he must have appeared 
 last night, with his stained, disordered 
 clothes, and his foolish, maudlin con- 
 versation. No, he had wasted his 
 time and misused his opportunities; 
 if he was not positively bad, he was 
 certainly weak, and weakness was 
 worse than vice. 
 
 He thought of Jack Thompson and 
 felt ashamed of himself. Jack was in 
 the Gargoyle, too, and had played foot 
 2 73
 
 The Next Morning. 
 
 ball four years, and won the Clark 
 scholarship besides. No one ever 
 called him a Y. M. C. A. shark, and 
 no one ever told a doubtful story 
 when he was in the room. 
 
 Jack led the class prayer-meetings 
 and the cheering at Amherst with 
 equal enthusiasm. He was going to 
 be a medical missionary in some out 
 of the way place with a bloodthirsty 
 population and an unhealthy climate. 
 Thornton admired a man like that 
 thoroughly; he wished he knew him 
 better, and it surprised him a little 
 that, in spite of his admiration, he had 
 never made any serious attempt to 
 become intimate with Jack Thompson. 
 Perhaps if he had 
 
 "Shay, old feller, isn't thish the 
 way ter Williamstown?" 
 
 He looked up quickly. The speaker 
 274
 
 The Next Morning. 
 
 was a man of about thirty, dressed in 
 overalls and a loose flannel shirt, and 
 evidently very, very drunk. Thorn- 
 ton smiled a little. 
 
 " I suppose I should take you for a 
 moral lesson, my friend," he said, half 
 aloud, " but why did you select this 
 unusually early hour for your little 
 indulgences ? " 
 
 " Wha'sh that?" said the individual, 
 thickly ; " isn't thish the way ter 
 Williamstown ? " 
 
 " I beg your pardon," answered 
 Thornton, " I was merely thinking 
 aloud ; most impolite of me, I am 
 sure. Yes, this is the way to 
 Williamstown." 
 
 " There ! " exclaimed the other, tri- 
 umphantly, " I knew it were ! Some 
 damn fool back on the road told me 
 it weren't, but I knew it were ; yes," 
 275
 
 The Next Morning. 
 
 he repeated, after a long and thought- 
 ful pause, " I knew it were." 
 
 " My dear sir," replied Thornton, 
 gravely, "you are indeed fortunate. 
 After having spent three hours a 
 week for many months in discussing 
 the question, ' What is it to know ? ' I 
 am rejoiced to find one who has solved 
 the problem. Let me congratulate 
 you." 
 
 " Tha'sh true," said he of the over- 
 alls, obscurely, but heartily, " tha'sh 
 true. Shay," he continued, confiden- 
 tially, " ye'r an awful nice feller." 
 
 "Thank you," answered Thornton. 
 
 " Yesh ye are," said the man, com- 
 ing nearer, " and I'm goin' ter stay 
 and talk ter-ye-while," and he lurched 
 down on the grass and threw one arm 
 around the other's neck. 
 
 " Really," said Thornton, a little 
 276
 
 The Next Morning. 
 
 startled, " this affection is very touch- 
 ing, but it would be rather embarrass- 
 ing if any one should see us, and I 
 really think I'll have to be walking 
 on." 
 
 " Tha'sh right," answered the man, 
 staggering to his feet, " we'll both go 
 down tergether and tell the sup'rin- 
 tendent how it was." 
 
 Here was a new development ; evi- 
 dently he was not going home. Thorn- 
 ton felt curious. " What superintend- 
 ent do you mean ? " he asked. 
 
 " Why, the one at the Bleachery," 
 replied the man, indignantly; "what 
 one did ye think I meant? Why, I 
 work down there, didn't ye know that ? 
 I thought ye was a nice feller ! " 
 
 "I'm afraid I'm shamefully igno- 
 rant," answered Thornton. 
 
 " Well," said the man, " I'll tell ye 
 
 277
 
 The Next Morning. 
 
 'bout it. Ye see, the sup'rintendent, 
 he sez ter me last month, ' Doyle,' 
 sez he, tha'sh me, 'if ye come here 
 drunk again I'll discharge ye.' 'All 
 right,' sez I, ' wait till I do ; ' and I ain't 
 been drunk since, and I ain't goin' ter 
 be ; and I'm goin' right down there 
 now, and if the sup'rintendent starts 
 ter shay an'thing, do ye know what 
 I'm goin' ter do?" He paused and 
 sunk his voice into a hoarse whisper ; 
 " I'm goin' ter knock him down ; " he 
 finished impressively. 
 
 Thornton laughed, and started on 
 up the road, then changed his mind 
 and came back again. " Look here ! " 
 he said, " don't you want to take a 
 walk with me ? " 
 
 " No," answered the other, suspi- 
 ciously ; " No, ye think I'm drunk 
 
 and I ain't ; and ye ain't no business 
 278
 
 The Next Morning. 
 
 to think I'm drunk when I ain't ; I'm 
 goin' ter see the sup'rintendent." 
 
 " Of course you are," said Thornton, 
 soothingly, " we'll go together." He 
 locked arms with him, and, by means 
 of persistent pulling and constant talk- 
 ing, finally got him to come with him 
 with no more active opposition than 
 an occasional " Shay, w'ere we goin' 
 ter ? " which he answered by a con- 
 fident "That's all right, we're going 
 to see the superintendent." 
 
 Thornton led his charge across the 
 fields, having considerable trouble with 
 the fences, and at last arrived at the 
 brook that runs to the west of Stone 
 Hill. He walked along the bank until 
 they came to a pretty deep place, and 
 then picked the man bodily off his 
 feet, and, without further ceremony, 
 tumbled him in. It was pretty heroic 
 279
 
 The Next Morning. 
 
 treatment, for the water was almost 
 ice cold, but it was the only quick and 
 sure method available of sobering him, 
 and Thornton resolved to risk the 
 chance of giving him pneumonia. 
 
 There was a great deal of splashing 
 and sputtering, considerable bad lan- 
 guage, and a very wet and dazed look 
 ing man crawled out of the brook and 
 stared round about him confusedly. 
 
 Thornton took him by the shoulder. 
 " Look here," he said, "pull yourself 
 together and listen to me. May be 
 you don't remember meeting me up 
 on the road and talking nonsense 
 about assaulting people. Listen," he 
 repeated, roughly, "you were drunk. 
 Do you understand ? Dead, rotten, 
 foolish drunk, and you were going 
 down to the Bleachery to lick the su- 
 perintendent. You'd have been dis- 
 280
 
 The Next Morning. 
 
 charged if I hadn't brought you here 
 and thrown you into the brook to 
 sober you up ? Can you hear me ? 
 To sober you up; " and he assisted the 
 sobering process by shaking the man 
 until his teeth rattled like castanets, 
 and he raised his hand protestingly. 
 
 " Quit," he said, weakly, " quit, will 
 ye; I'm not drunk now." 
 
 Thornton let go of him and he sank 
 limply down on the grass and stayed 
 there, half sitting and half lying down, 
 while his scattered faculties came back 
 to him. Finally, he got up on his feet 
 and pushed the wet hair uncertainly 
 from his face. 
 
 " Drunk, was I ? " said he, slowly. 
 " Well, I guess I was. What did I say 
 ter ye, anyway ?" 
 
 Thornton told him again, and the 
 man looked at him with a gradu- 
 281
 
 The Next Morning. 
 
 ally growing comprehension of the 
 situation. 
 
 " So I was goin' ter lick the superin- 
 tendent?" he asked, at length, "and 
 ye kept me from gettin' fired. What 
 a damn fool I was." He stopped a min- 
 ute ; then his face lighted up with a 
 new idea, and he held out his hand. 
 " Shake," he said, awkwardly. 
 
 " O, that's all right," said Thornton, 
 shaking hands with him ; " now, you'd 
 better get home as fast as you can. 
 You don't want to have a chill, you 
 know." 
 
 " That's so," he answered. " Well, 
 good day to ye, and thank ye again." 
 He turned to go and then faced around 
 suddenly. " Say," he exclaimed, " ye'r 
 a damn good feller." 
 
 " Never mind that now," said Thorn- 
 ton, " run home, or you'll catch cold." 
 282
 
 The Next Morning. 
 
 But the man was thinking of some- 
 thing else. 
 
 "Yes," he repeated, "ye'r a damn 
 good feller ; ye didn't try any 
 preachin', and ye acted like ye knew 
 just how I was feelin' and wasn't dis- 
 gusted, ner helpin' me becuz ye 
 thought ye ought ter. Say," he con- 
 tinued, almost timidly, " 'scuse me fer 
 askin' it, but ye seem different from 
 most of 'em. Beg yer pardin, but ain't 
 ye been drunk yerself ?" 
 
 Thornton winced. "Yes," he an- 
 swered, slowly, " yes, I've been drunk 
 myself." 
 
 283
 
 IN HONOR OF THE SAINT 
 
 285
 
 In Honor of the Saint. 
 
 " ' But what good came of it at last?' 
 
 Quoth little Peterkin, 
 'Why, that I cannot tell,' said he, 
 ' But 'twas a famous victory.' " 
 
 TT all happened because the fresh- 
 man class was so very fresh. Of 
 course all freshman classes are fresh, 
 otherwise what fun would there be for 
 the sophomores fall term; but that 
 year it was unusually so. Some even 
 said that it was the freshest class that 
 ever entered college, and one must 
 admit there was some ground for the 
 statement. A few men there were, of 
 a certainty, in it, whose assurance was 
 apparently unbounded. Take Clarence 
 287
 
 In Honor of the Saint. 
 
 Raeburn, for instance, who arrived in 
 town, clad in a pink and green plaid 
 golf suit, with a bundle of canes in one 
 hand and a silk hat case in the other, 
 and succeeded during the first week in 
 making himself so much at home that 
 he called half the upper classmen by 
 their Christian names. 
 
 Then there was Fitch, who compla- 
 cently congratulated Mrs. Harding, at 
 the President's reception, on the good 
 work her husband, Prof. Harding, was 
 doing in his freshman French course, 
 the President's reception is a famous 
 place for mauvais mots; and Pritchard, 
 who made the well-intended but inef- 
 fectual attempt to lead the cheering at 
 the first foot ball game on Weston 
 Field ; not to mention Kendall, who 
 attended the dance at the Greylock, 
 and little Witherbee, with his silly 
 288
 
 In Honor of the Saint. 
 
 notions about the right of a free-born 
 man, even if he be a freshman, to do 
 what he pleases. These are a few 
 shining examples, but there were many 
 more like them. 
 
 Indeed, Clyde Hamilton himself 
 was decidedly fresh, and to this 
 quality he owed beyond question 
 something of the popularity which 
 had secured him his election as 
 speaker for the freshmen in the Shirt 
 Tail parade celebration; and in conse- 
 quence the misfortunes which befell 
 him on that memorable day. 
 
 Clyde, from the time he entered col- 
 lege, had taken a prominent position 
 among the freshmen, a position which 
 was strengthened, rather than the re- 
 verse, by the attention, not entirely 
 flattering, which he received from the 
 classes above his own. As it hap- 
 289
 
 In Honor of the Saint. 
 
 pened, he was one of the trio at the 
 sophomore-freshman base ball game 
 who were made to stand on the scor- 
 er's table and sing " Three Little 
 Maids from School " before a coach 
 load of visitors from out of town. But 
 considerably before this the sopho- 
 mores had marked his lack of proper 
 freshman-like humility of manner, and 
 had already made one or two friendly 
 calls upon him in his room in Morgan, 
 at which the host was asked repeat- 
 edly to give evidence of his vocal and 
 declamatory powers. During these 
 little informal at homes Clyde was 
 always very affable and obliging, com- 
 plying gracefully to the requests of 
 his guests, and afterward was as im- 
 perturbably fresh as ever. 
 
 All this gained him considerable 
 notice among his classmates, and when 
 290
 
 In Honor of the Saint. 
 
 the time came to elect the St. Patrick's 
 Day orator, Clyde was chosen to the 
 office unanimously and with great 
 enthusiasm. 
 
 Every one said the parade that year 
 would be a great success on account 
 of the warmth of feeling between the 
 lower classes ; or at least that there 
 would be plenty of fun of one sort or 
 other, for the sophomores had vowed, 
 that, as far as the procession itself was 
 concerned, it should be a most dismal 
 failure if there was muscle enough in 
 the sophomore class to break it up. 
 On the other hand, the freshmen, who 
 were spending no end of time and 
 money on fireworks and transparen- 
 cies and so forth, resolved to do their 
 best to give their opponents a warm 
 reception if they should make any 
 such attempt ; and as the upper class- 
 291
 
 In Honor of the Saint. 
 
 men were supposed to be on the side 
 of peace, they hoped to get down to 
 the campus in good order. 
 
 The first skirmish occurred on the 
 eve of St. Patrick's Day, and its ter- 
 mination greatly elated the freshmen. 
 The sophs, of course, had been on the 
 lookout for the freshman canes for 
 several days, and when some one dis- 
 covered that a box had come to the 
 express office that morning from Troy, 
 addressed to the chairman of the cane 
 committee, they decided at once to 
 capture it at any cost. During the 
 whole day some of them hung about 
 the express office, but no one appeared 
 to claim the box. At last, however, a 
 little after six o'clock, twelve or fifteen 
 of the biggest men in the freshmen 
 class collected at the office, got out the 
 box and carried it up the hill toward 
 292
 
 In Honor of the Saint. 
 
 the Labs., all bunched together ready 
 to repel any attack. 
 
 Fred Hillis, the football player, was 
 on guard for the sophomores. 
 
 " Canes ! Canes ! Freshman canes," 
 he shouted, and in a moment there 
 were thirty or forty sophs pushing 
 and struggling to wrest the box away 
 from the freshmen. Both sides fought 
 valiantly, and for a time neither got 
 the advantage. But finally a sopho- 
 more jumped into the bunch of fresh- 
 men, and landing on the box, knocked 
 it out of their hands. The fresh- 
 men tried to pick it up again, but 
 their adversaries were getting the 
 advantage. 
 
 " Break it open," shouted one of the 
 
 sophs. Some one gave it a great kick 
 
 and the top was broken in. In a 
 
 moment the sophomores had torn off 
 
 2 93
 
 In Honor of the Saint. 
 
 the boards. Within they found stones 
 and shavings instead of the canes. 
 
 " Rubber, rubber," shouted the 
 freshmen, and took to their heels. 
 
 One can imagine this did not serve 
 to cool the feeling between the two 
 classes. Neither did the jeering of the 
 freshmen all that evening; nor the 
 sheet with the mystic words " Rubber 
 Neck," and the numerals of the sopho- 
 more class painted upon it, which was 
 seen nailed on the cupola of West the 
 next morning. 
 
 But the sophomores did not allow 
 their chagrin to show itself outwardly. 
 During the day all was quiet with the 
 calm that comes before the storm, for 
 every one was predicting excitement 
 when evening should come. The lead- 
 ing sophomores cut recitations and 
 stood about vaguely in groups, saying 
 294
 
 In Honor of the Saint. 
 
 little, but looking very important and 
 ominous. 
 
 However, there were some who 
 were not to be satisfied by promising 
 themselves the pleasure of smashing 
 transparencies and rolling freshmen in 
 the mud, if they could, that evening. 
 They planned a sweeter and a surer 
 revenge. Fred Hillis was at the bot- 
 tom of it. 
 
 " We'll fix that damn freshman," he 
 exclaimed to the two or three chosen 
 conspirators. " I'll bet his nerve will 
 wilt this time." 
 
 One of them roomed in the west 
 entry of Morgan, on the ground floor, 
 and they all waited there during the 
 whole afternoon, with the door open a 
 crack and somebody on guard. 
 
 At six o'clock Clyde Hamilton, who 
 lived on the floor above, came down 
 295
 
 In Honor of the Saint. 
 
 to go to supper. Just as he got to the 
 bottom of the stairs four or five men 
 rushed out on him. Hamilton was a 
 good-sized fellow, but his struggles 
 were useless, and, in a moment, before 
 he could recognize his assailants, he 
 was blindfolded, dragged a little way 
 and bound down on a bed, gagged 
 with a handkerchief. 
 
 " There, think over your sins, fresh- 
 man," some one said, and then they 
 all went out laughing, and Clyde heard 
 the door locked after them. 
 
 Clyde, being a practical fellow, did 
 not employ himself as the sophomore 
 suggested, but began trying to get 
 free. It was useless. He was bound 
 hand and foot, and, wriggle and squirm 
 as he would, there was no escape. 
 
 Pretty soon his captors returned, 
 bringing some other fellows with them. 
 296
 
 In Honor of the Saint. 
 
 The bedroom door was opened, and 
 he had the pleasant consciousness 
 that he was being shown to the 
 newcomers. 
 
 " I fear Clyde's mellifluous voice 
 will not be heard on the campus to- 
 night," some one remarked jocosely. 
 
 " I fear not ; but how quiet he 
 lies," said another ; " I believe he's 
 asleep." 
 
 " Sleep while you can, little one," 
 cried a third; "good friends watch 
 over thee." 
 
 This was decidedly unpleasant for 
 Clyde, who felt himself redden hotly. 
 He recognized some of the voices, and 
 made one or two very foolish vows 
 which circumstances, fortunately, ab- 
 solved him from keeping. 
 
 Presently the bedroom door was 
 closed, and he heard the crowd out in 
 297
 
 In Honor of the Saint. 
 
 the study discussing plans for the at- 
 tack on the parade. 
 
 "Well I'm going to my room and 
 put on a sweater," some one said after 
 a while, and then he knew that the fun 
 was about to begin. 
 
 The party dropped off one by one, 
 and at last the door was closed and 
 locked again. Clyde heard the fellows 
 all coming down stairs, laughing and 
 talking. Some of them he recognized 
 as his classmates. He struggled again 
 to loosen his bonds but without result. 
 
 It was hard luck to have to lie there 
 and let the show go on without him, 
 and especially hard, as Clyde had been 
 planning all along to make the hit of 
 the evening. How those sophs would 
 jolly him about it, and the Gul. too. 
 He thought of the speech he had pre- 
 pared with such an expenditure of 
 298
 
 In Honor of the Saint. 
 
 time and energy. Wasn't he going 
 to roast those sophs, though? Not 
 openly, of course, but covertly, with 
 delicate irony, and biting innuendo, 
 cleverly concealed under the modest 
 language which it beseems a freshman 
 to use. There were some in the upper 
 classes also whom he would score, 
 still more artfully. Yes, certainly his 
 speech would have been the feature of 
 the celebration. 
 
 By this time Morgan was empty of 
 its occupants and silent as the tomb. 
 Clyde listened an intolerable time 
 without hearing any noise. Then very 
 faintly came the sound of music. The 
 procession was forming and he was 
 not there. 
 
 Of course his absence had been dis- 
 covered by this time, and great had 
 been the lamentation among the fresh- 
 299
 
 In Honor of the Saint. 
 
 men. Every one asked every one else 
 who had seen him last, but nothing 
 definite could be learned. The sophs 
 had abducted him, that was sure ; but 
 it was too late to make any search, 
 and some one else had to be chosen 
 to fill his place. This made a great 
 deal of confusion. No one wanted 
 the office under the circumstances, 
 and everybody had some one else who 
 was particularly fitted for it. 
 
 Caverly Harper, who was on the 
 committee of arrangements from the 
 upper classes, finally settled the mat- 
 ter by pulling Raeburn out of the 
 anxious, white-robed crowd. 
 
 "You'll do," he cried. "You've 
 got crust enough for anything. Pull 
 off your shirt," and he forthwith lifted 
 the unwilling orator-to-be into the 
 wagon. 
 
 300
 
 In Honor of the Saint. 
 
 By this time little freshman Pin- 
 gree was also divested of his white gar- 
 ment and was running up Main street 
 as fast as his legs could carry him. 
 Little Pingree, despite his simplicity 
 of manner, had that very rare faculty, 
 the ability of putting two and two to- 
 gether in a hurry. If the sophs have 
 captured Hamilton, he thought, they 
 have probably locked him up in one of 
 their rooms and left him to go out and 
 see the parade. Pingree was of a 
 poetic and imaginative nature, and he 
 recollected very vividly of reading in a 
 Sunday school book, a long time ago, 
 how Blondel went around through 
 Germany, singing under castle walls, 
 until at last he discovered where 
 his royal pupil was immured. Per- 
 haps Hamilton might yet make his 
 speech and throw the enemy into con- 
 301
 
 In Honor of the Saint. 
 
 fusion. At any rate it was worth 
 while making the attempt. He de- 
 cided to try Morgan first. That was 
 the most likely place. 
 
 To avoid the sophomores, he had to 
 go away back of Griffin and around by 
 the Hash House and Hopkins. He 
 began in Hell's Entry, giving his class 
 cheer distinctly, but softly, on each 
 landing. There was no response. Ap- 
 parently the rooms were empty. He 
 went on to the next staircase, and 
 then to the next, but still no answer 
 came. He had thrown off all fear 
 now and was shouting at the top of 
 his voice. By the time he had reached 
 the west entry he was beginning to be 
 discouraged. On the ground floor he 
 yelled twice and then cried, " Oh, Ham- 
 ilton ! " but without result. Then, 
 when he was half way up the first 
 302
 
 In Honor of the Saint. 
 
 flight, he heard a muffled cry from one 
 of the rooms. 
 
 "Let me out for Heaven's sake," 
 some one said. 
 
 " Is that you, Hamilton ? " Pingree 
 exclaimed, almost tumbling down stairs 
 in his excitement. 
 
 "Yes, it is; smash the door in and 
 untie me." 
 
 Pingree threw himself against the 
 door, but it did not give. 
 
 " I'll go outside, and come in through 
 the window," he said breathlessly, after 
 three or four more futile attempts. 
 
 The streets were crowded now and 
 it was a risky business, but no one ap- 
 parently heard the sound of the break- 
 ing glass, and in a moment Pingree had 
 unfastened the latch, pulled up the 
 sash and climbed in. 
 
 "They had me gagged," Hamilton 
 303
 
 In Honor of the Saint. 
 
 explained, "but when I heard you 
 shout I managed to get the handker- 
 chief out of my mouth." 
 
 " Oh, those Cobleighs," sighed Pin- 
 gree, plaintively, working away at the 
 knots ; " I knew they had got a hold 
 of you." 
 
 In a moment Hamilton was freed. 
 " The procession will be down the street 
 in a moment," Pingree explained ; " you 
 can go out and get into the wagon as it 
 comes along," 
 
 " No," said Clyde, thoughtfully ; " we 
 may as well do the thing up dramati- 
 cally. We'll give the sophs a little 
 surprise just in the nick of time. Be- 
 sides, I've not had any supper, and 
 I'm hungry. This is Ted's room, and 
 I know the ropes here," he added, 
 lighting a match and making for the 
 closet. 
 
 304
 
 In Honor of the Saint. 
 
 He returned in a moment with a box 
 of crackers. After finishing with these 
 he groped about and finally found a 
 pipe and filled it, stretching himself 
 out comfortably on the divan. Clyde 
 liked to do things of this sort, espe- 
 cially when there was somebody like 
 Pingree around to look on in admira- 
 tion. It was almost as good as being 
 one of Mr. Anthony Hope's characters. 
 
 " You go on, old man, if you want 
 to," he said to Pingree, after a few 
 puffs, "and see the sport. I'll be there 
 all in good time." 
 
 But, of course, Pingree would hear 
 of no such thing, and so the two sat 
 there in the dark talking in low voices. 
 
 Meanwhile the parade had formed 
 
 down by the Methodist church, and 
 
 proceeded up Main street to the 
 
 strains of " Come fill your glasses up," 
 
 35
 
 In Honor of the Saint. 
 
 rendered in an uncertain manner by 
 the Williamstown band, which headed 
 the procession. Next to the band 
 came the wagon containing the com- 
 mittee of upper classmen and the 
 three speakers of the evening. Then 
 two by two, in a long column, marched 
 the freshmen, all clad in their white 
 attire and carrying torches and Roman 
 candles. Here and there along the 
 line were large muslin transparencies 
 uplifted on poles, on which were 
 chronicled in terse and telling phrases 
 such events in the history of sopho- 
 more-freshmen interrelations as the 
 freshmen desired to blazon before the 
 world. The largest and most con- 
 spicuous bore a rough representation 
 of a box, and under it the single 
 word "Rubber" in gigantic charac- 
 ters. Around these transparencies the 
 306
 
 In Honor of the Saint. 
 
 strongest men in the class were placed, 
 for they were sure to be points of 
 attack. Up through the mud they 
 splashed, while along beside them on 
 the sidewalks and grass plots walked the 
 upper classmen, to see the fun and act 
 as a guard against sophomore attack. 
 
 The streets were crowded. Small 
 boys, gray-whiskered farmers and 
 factory hands from North Adams 
 and Blackinton jostled each other 
 noisily but good naturedly. The 
 younger element of the faculty was 
 also well represented. 
 
 Just at the top of Consumption 
 Hill, around the Soldiers' Monument, 
 the scene of many a hard-contested 
 rush in the good old days of monu- 
 ment rushing, were congregated the 
 sophomores, eager and determined. 
 When the first transparency appeared 
 37
 
 In Honor of the Saint. 
 
 over the brow of the hill they gave a 
 great shout and rushed at it in a body. 
 The freshmen stood their ground vali- 
 antly, and the juniors and seniors ran 
 to their aid, only too glad to taste 
 again the joys of their underclass- 
 man days. But the sophomores were 
 bunched and not to be resisted. The 
 white line wavered, then broke ; white 
 and black figures rolled in the mud 
 together, torches were extinguished, 
 and Roman candles discharged them- 
 selves in the wildest riot. In a 
 moment, more of the upper classmen 
 arrived at the theatre of war, and the 
 sophomores were forced back and 
 the line of march reformed. But of 
 the transparency only a sad wreck 
 remained. 
 
 Again and again the same sort of 
 attack was made, always with the re- 
 308
 
 In Honor of the Saint. 
 
 suit of smashing transparencies and 
 temporarily throwing into confusion 
 the paraders, who, however, formed 
 themselves into line again and pro- 
 ceeded on their march to the tune of 
 the patient band, muddy and bedrag- 
 gled but persistent. 
 
 Up Main street they went, around 
 the park and then down to the Gym. 
 Here ranks were broken and a dis- 
 ordered rush of all classes for the old 
 campus ensued. In the middle of the 
 field the great heap of boxes and bar- 
 rels was beginning to blaze. The 
 band arrived playing a fast and furious 
 two step, and in a moment the fresh- 
 men were circling around the fire 
 hand in hand. The flames leaped 
 high into the sky, revealing in a ruddy 
 light the mass of faces up on the 
 slopes to the north and east, which, 
 39
 
 In Honor of the Saint. 
 
 with the hundred white-clad, dancing 
 figures below made the place look like 
 the pit of Malebolge in the Inferno. 
 
 The freshmen had hardly formed 
 their circle when the rush for the 
 shirts began. Almost instantly every 
 freshman was divested of his garment 
 by some eager sophomore. But that 
 did not end the matter. Every one 
 now tried to get and keep as many 
 torn shreds of the shirts as he could. 
 The struggle lasted for five minutes 
 and was carried on on all parts of the 
 field. Generally it was between a sin- 
 gle sophomore and freshman, but 
 sometimes there would be a half a 
 dozen contestants pulling and strain- 
 ing at one little bit of muddy cloth. 
 Finally time was called, the music was 
 hushed, and every one crowded about 
 the wagon to hear the speeches. 
 310
 
 In Honor of the Saint. 
 
 Shirt Tail Parade oratory does not 
 have to be of a polished, Ciceronian 
 sort. Provided it is fairly witty and 
 personal, nothing further is required. 
 In these respects Thornton's speech 
 was a success. He touched lightly 
 upon the peculiarities of some of the 
 sophomores, gave some fatherly ad- 
 vice to the freshmen, indulged in a 
 few sarcasms at the expense of the 
 faculty, whose weaknesses are fortu- 
 nately always with us for the purpose 
 of ridicule and then, introducing the 
 speaker for the sophomore class, sat 
 down amid the usual applause. 
 
 Ned Allerton then arose from his 
 seat in the wagon. " Ladies and gen- 
 tlemen and freshmen," he began, " I 
 confess that I accepted my election to 
 this office with considerable hesitation. 
 The prospect of riding in the same 
 3"
 
 In Honor of the Saint. 
 
 wagon with such a distinguished per- 
 son as Mr. Clyde Hamilton was, of itself, 
 enough to disconcert a man far more 
 self-possessed than I. But, besides 
 that, I knew that his powers of ora- 
 tory would put mine completely in the 
 shade, and I am sure that those of my 
 class who have heard Mr. Hamilton 
 speak on less public occasions than 
 this, will bear me out in the statement. 
 But I have been informed that, for some 
 unaccountable reason, probably best 
 known to himself, Mr. Hamilton has 
 decided not to address you to-night; 
 and while I grieve that we are not to 
 be favored with an exhibition of such 
 eloquence as he would undoubtedly 
 give us, I cannot but feel relieved, for 
 my own sake, and consequently ap- 
 proach my task with less embarrass- 
 ment." The speaker paused amid the 
 312
 
 In Honor of the Saint. 
 
 cheering of his classmates, and then 
 began the speech he had prepared. 
 
 When he had finished, Thornton 
 got up to introduce the freshman 
 speaker. " Ladies and gentlemen," he 
 said, " it would be useless for me to 
 make any comment upon the state- 
 ment which the last gentleman made, 
 concerning the unexpected absence of 
 Mr. Clyde Hamilton. I wish simply to 
 introduce to you" here Thornton's 
 eye fell by chance on somebody stand- 
 ing just below him with his hand on the 
 wagon "I wish simply to introduce 
 to you," he repeated, after a moment of 
 hesitation, " as the speaker for the fresh- 
 men class, Mr. Clyde Hamilton." 
 
 A burst of wild applause came from 
 the freshmen, and in a moment Clyde 
 was standing on the seat of the wagon 
 ready to begin his oration. 
 3*3
 
 In Honor of the Saint. 
 
 Whether he made the hit of the even- 
 ing is a mooted question. The fresh- 
 men were enthusiastic in affirming that 
 he did, while, on the other hand, the 
 sophomores were vigorous in their de- 
 nial of it. But, at any rate, his speech 
 was greatly applauded by those pres- 
 ent. When he had finished, the big, 
 wooden hatchet was buried in the glow- 
 ing embers of the bonfire, and the hos- 
 tilities between sophomores and fresh- 
 men were at an end.
 
 THE END OF THE 
 BEGINNING 
 
 3'5
 
 The End of the Beginning. 
 
 'And year by year our memory fades 
 From all the circle of the hills " 
 
 TN every class, when it comes to be 
 graduated, there is, in addition to 
 the number in good and regular stand- 
 ing, who go up to get the sheepskin 
 reward of their scholarly attainments, 
 and who afterwards sit in tired import- 
 ance at the long tables in the Gym., 
 eating wilted strawberries and cold 
 soup, and trying to look like real 
 alumni, a " lost legion " of classmates 
 who wear no black gowns, who are not 
 addressed by the President, who hear 
 no class-day speeches, but, falling early 
 or late along the path of knowledge, 
 317
 
 The End of the Beginning. 
 
 are scattered abroad ; forgotten, for 
 the most part, after a little, save when 
 the kindly Gul. remembers them, and 
 in its catalogue of the classes, prints 
 a list of their names as "sometime 
 members." 
 
 Good fellows these are, for the most 
 part, the best of good fellows go 
 first somehow but who had an 
 unfortunate inability to come up to 
 absurdly exacting classical or scien- 
 tific standards, or, it may be, whose 
 sense of the humor of life exceeded 
 the limits of becoming mirth. 
 
 Neither of these, however, was the 
 reason for Teddie Carroll's dropping 
 out of the Best of all Classes at the 
 beginning of his senior year. Typhoid 
 fever, that autumnal terror, had 
 bowled him over, and after his con- 
 valescence, while his friends and for-
 
 The End of the Beginning. 
 
 mer classmates were snow bound up 
 in the wintry New England hills, 
 Carroll was slowly creeping back into 
 life again on the other side of the 
 world instead of being among them. 
 It was only an invalid's fancy, per- 
 haps, but often he would have 
 exchanged the softest and tenderest 
 of Italian hillsides for a glimpse of 
 Prospect looming in glistening majesty 
 against the turquoise of the wintry 
 sky ; or have turned from the Medi- 
 terranean in its most divine mood 
 to the shining wastes of snow stretch- 
 ing away to the west on a clear still 
 afternoon. 
 
 Carroll never supposed that he 
 would miss the place as he did ; and 
 it was only when he was thousands 
 of miles away from it, that he began 
 to realize his love for it. But he 
 3*9
 
 The End of the Beginning. 
 
 came back in the spring, just in time 
 to see his class graduate. " In at the 
 finish," as Worthington Winthrop 
 had said, when he came up to the 
 Greylock to welcome him back the 
 night of his arrival. 
 
 "You'll be at chapel in the morn- 
 ing, of course. It's Hi Juvenes, you 
 know," Winthrop said as he bade 
 Carroll's mother good night. 
 
 " Hi Juvenes " did not carry any 
 definite impression to Mrs. Carroll's 
 mind, but she smiled and said [of 
 course that she meant to go to all 
 the commencement exercises. 
 
 At least once a year chapel ceases 
 to be a compulsion and late naps and 
 breakfasts are made a free-will sacri- 
 fice. And this is on Hi Juvenes 
 the last chapel service that the seniors 
 attend as a class. This particular 
 320
 
 The End of the Beginning. 
 
 June morning seemed made to order 
 for the Best of all Classes, cool, blue 
 and cloudless, with a light wind to stir 
 the trees and weave the leafy shadows 
 with the sun. 
 
 The chapel was nearly full when 
 Teddie came in with his mother : the 
 sophomores, in their seats, trying to 
 show that they had been through it 
 all before ; on the opposite side and 
 down into the transept, with the great 
 Garfield window darkling above them, 
 the freshmen interested, curious and 
 impressed ; next to them the juniors, 
 with the shadow of the end just be- 
 ginning to creep upon them. 
 
 " The empty pews are waiting for 
 the seniors, I suppose ? " Mrs. Carroll 
 said. Her son nodded. The old habit 
 of thought still remained. He felt 
 out of place back there among all the
 
 The End of the Beginning. 
 
 faculty wives and visitors. Then he 
 remembered that in a moment more 
 his class was to sit there in those 
 waiting, vacant seats for the last time. 
 The place seemed full of flowers, 
 bowls and jars of them iris and 
 heavy branches of lilac and early roses, 
 the sort of flowers that the faculty 
 gardens are sweet with. Against the 
 deep colored curtains behind the 
 pulpit the numerals of the class 
 gleamed out in the golden whiteness 
 of syringa flowers; and above them, 
 between the shining pipes of the or- 
 gan, were masses of the shadowy green- 
 ness of wood ferns. Over the sound 
 of the music one could hear the chapel 
 bell ringing the three strokes of the 
 last warning relentlessly. A freshman 
 hurried in and took his seat. The bell, 
 with one final, careless clang, ceased. 
 322
 
 The End of the Beginning. 
 
 The organ music had almost died 
 away and then, as in response to some 
 signal, swelled out into broad, sweep- 
 ing harmonies. 
 
 " They are coming," Carroll whis- 
 pered. The sophomores nearest the 
 door had risen, and the others fol- 
 lowed their example. Up the aisle, 
 through the lane the standing men 
 made, swept the President, the wide 
 sleeves of his stiff, black silk gown 
 brushing against them as he passed. 
 Then the marshals came, the biting 
 purple of their cap tassels and of 
 their baton ribbons striking a glad 
 note of color against the blackness of 
 their gowns. The rest of the class 
 followed, two by two, swinging slowly 
 behind them, with the organ pealing 
 as if in welcome. 
 
 Carroll swallowed hard and his eyes 
 323
 
 The End of the Beginning. 
 
 grew bright, he had been ill, you 
 see, and little things affected him. 
 
 " Aren't they a splendid crowd ? " 
 he whispered to his mother, under 
 the confusion that came as the men 
 looked for their seats. " See, that big 
 chap over there is Fields, the foot-ball 
 captain, the man who got the pennant 
 for Williams last year. And the little 
 fellow next to him is Reese, who draws 
 so well. Young? Yes, he does look 
 it, but he can take care of himself all 
 right. That's Billy Withers just be- 
 hind him, you've heard me speak of 
 Billy. They say he has gotten en- 
 gaged, I must ask him about it. 
 The tall fellow with the light hair is 
 Alexander, one of the finest men I 
 ever knew. That's Holbrook, just sit- 
 ting down, who won every prize in 
 sight. And do you see the stocky lit- 
 3 2 4
 
 The End of the Beginning. 
 
 tie chap with curly hair and glasses ? 
 That's Hardy, the ball player. But 
 I've told you all about him lots of 
 times. Which ? The one behind 
 Hardy? Oh, Bob Akerly, the most 
 all round man in college." 
 
 Carroll was suddenly forced to stop 
 his cataloging, for the service had 
 begun, the simple, straightforward, 
 little service, that, somehow, this 
 morning had acquired a new solem- 
 nity and beauty. They sang " Ein 
 Feste Burg " at the end, every man of 
 them joining in. Very likely it was 
 the inspiration of the time and the 
 music that gave to the splendid battle 
 song of youth and courage an unaccus- 
 tomed power and volume. And then 
 a hush and a benediction, and after- 
 wards, with the undergraduates stand- 
 ing to honor them, the Best of all 
 325
 
 The End of the Beginning. 
 
 Classes filed down the aisle and out 
 of the chapel into the early sunshine, 
 alumni. 
 
 They cheered, then, first for Wil- 
 liams, of course, and then for their 
 class, and after that for the other 
 classes as they crowded out and 
 formed into groups, cheering in 
 answer. 
 
 The reaction followed, an anti- 
 climax of good-natured horse play, 
 that came as gratefully, after all the 
 emotional tension of the morning, as 
 the comic relief in a highly wrought 
 play. The others had come out from 
 the building by this time, and stood 
 watching the merry confusion of fly- 
 ing gowns and scurrying men. 
 
 Carroll and his mother were stand- 
 ing a little apart from the others. 
 " Dear boy," Mrs. Carroll said, after a 
 326
 
 The End of the Beginning. 
 
 little silence, " is it much harder than 
 you thought not to be with them ? " 
 He was looking across the wavering 
 summer greenness to where, far be- 
 yond, the hills stood like sentinels on 
 guard. 
 
 " I'm sorry, of course, not to have 
 stayed with them to the end," he said 
 slowly, " but, after all, I shall always 
 be a Williams man." 
 
 327