DUKE 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 in 2015 
 
 https://archive.org/details/studentlifeathar01trip 
 
8TUDE]^T-LIFE 
 
 AT 
 
 HARVARD 
 
 Ouonim pars minima fuL 
 
 BOSTON: 
 
 LOCKWOOD, BROOKS, & COMPANY. 
 
 381 WASHrxGTox Street, 
 
 1876. 
 
copyright; 
 By LooKwooD, Brooks, & Company. 
 1876. 
 
 STEREOTYPED AND PRINTED 
 
 By Rand, Avery, & Company, 
 
 BOSTON, MASS. 
 
r- • - ' ■ f 
 
 PEEFAOE. 
 
 The object of the book now in the reader's hands is 
 to give a faithful picture of student life at Harvard 
 University, as it appeared to undergraduates there 
 rather more than half a score of years ago ; the story 
 following for this purpose the fortunes of the hero, 
 from his examination for admission to the Freshman 
 class, through the succeeding four years. Having had 
 this object in view, the author trusts that no apology 
 will be necessary for the expressions of opinion which 
 the characters make, nor for the freedom of speech 
 which they are allowed in these pages. 
 
 Though the task of portraying all the varieties of 
 student life at Harvard is one which might well 
 demand the offices of a more able pen, the author 
 feels that writing, as he has done, with an intimate 
 knowledge of the events recorded and the charac- 
 ters portrayed, he will be found to have given a full, 
 if not a brilliant, exposition of the subject. Memor- 
 anda made immediately after the occurrence of the 
 
 3 
 
4 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 events described form the basis of the book, v/hile 
 a large portion of the chapters on boating were 
 borrowed from the diary of a well-known Harvard 
 oarsman. 
 
 Boston, Oct. 10, 1876. 
 
OOITTEXTS. 
 
 PAGB 
 
 I. E>-TEHEN-G 7 
 
 n. THE WE^'TWOKTHS 23 
 
 ni. HOW SAM SIGNED THE EEGULATIOXS . . . .37 
 
 IT. BLOODY MONDAY NIGHT " ...... 51 
 
 V. A CHANGE IN THE COUNTRY BOY . . . .66 
 
 TI. AN ESCAPADE 80 
 
 YII. AT HOME 95 
 
 VTII. AETER THE BALL 116 
 
 IX. STOUGHTON TWENTY-EIGHT 129 
 
 X. THE RIVER 147 
 
 XI. IN A SIX-OAR " 161 
 
 XII. AT QUINSIGAMOND 179 
 
 XIII. THE REGATTA BALL 198 
 
 XIV. SUMMERTIDE 223 
 
 XV. BY MOONLIGHT 211 
 
 XVI. THE NEW SOPHOMORES 257 
 
 XVII. HAZING A ERESHMAN 275 
 
 XVIII. CAMBRIDGE SOCIETY 291 
 
 XIX. DOWN IN DIVINITY 313 
 
 XX. A PRIVATE ADMONITION 828 
 
 XXI. THE CONFERENCE 342 
 
 XXII. HASKILL'S SPREAD 356 
 
 XXIII. THE JUNIOR YEAR 371 
 
 XXIV. THE RUSSIAN 389 
 
 XXV. e:night-errantry 402 
 
 XX-VI. BEFORE THE FACULTY 415 
 
 5 
 
6 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 XXVII. SUSPENSION 434 
 
 XXVIII. SUNDAY EVENING TALK 449 
 
 XXIX. SENIOR YEAR 464 
 
 XXX. THE TRIAL TRIP . • . . . , . 481 
 
 XXXI. CLASS DAT . • • 492 
 
STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 I. 
 
 ENTERING. 
 
 " Is that University Hall ? " 
 
 "Yes; and I presume we are both going there on 
 the same errand. Do you try for Sophomore ? " The 
 reply was made by a fine-looking young man, with 
 dark side-whiskers, fashionable clothes, and the bear- 
 ing of one who had seen much of the world. 
 
 " Oh, no ! for Freshman." 
 
 The last speaker was a fresh, frank, noble-looking 
 young fellow, full six feet- tall, with an honest face, 
 bright eyes, and thick, curling, chestnut hair. He 
 might have been twenty years old, and looked as 
 though he had lived a free and happy life in the 
 country. A certain simplicity of manner, and lack 
 of fashion in his apparel, made his whole appearance 
 a marked contrast with that of his companion. 
 
 "I am Freshman too," continued he of the side- 
 whiskers, with a smile which was strangely winning ; 
 " and," he continued in a half-patronizing tone, as the 
 twain walked on, " we go in at University Sixteen at 
 
 7 
 
8 
 
 STTJDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 eight o'clock, as you may perhaps know, to register 
 names and present credentials. At nine, we go into 
 Harvard Hall, — the brick building with the belfry, — 
 and do our papers. But excuse me," he continued, 
 with his characteristic smile : " my name is Hunting- 
 don, — Walter Huntingdon from New York." 
 
 " And mine is Samuel Wentworth." 
 
 "From Boston?" said Mr. Huntingdon, ^glancing 
 half-curiously at his companion. 
 
 " Oh, no ! from Little Harbor, down in New Hamp- 
 shire." 
 
 " Yes, I know the place ; at least know where it is. 
 Are they going to rub us much to-day?" he added 
 carelessly, after a pause. 
 
 " I can't help dreading it, though I have had care- 
 ful instruction, and ought to pass with clean papers," 
 was the earnest reply. 
 
 " It will be ' rub and go ' with me ; a most merciful 
 dispensation if I pass at all," half soliloquized Hunt- 
 ingdon. "I would give something if the confounded 
 bore was well over. Suppose we sit together when we 
 go in to do the papers. I will wait for you at Har- 
 vard Hall, and we may be able to help each other over 
 the rough places." 
 
 u Very well," and the two young men joined the 
 large group collected on the hard shady driveway in 
 front of University Hall, toward which they had been 
 walking across the college yard. 
 
 Already there were more than a hundred assembled, 
 and others were fast arriving. They were mostly 
 young fellows sixteen or seventeen years old, with 
 occasionally a face that might be five or even eight 
 
ENTEHmG. 
 
 9 
 
 years older than the average. These candidates for 
 admission, or "sub-freshmen," were very readily dis- 
 tinguished, even by an unpractised eye, from the 
 undergraduates. They looked too nervous and un- 
 happy to be any thing but what they were. Some boys 
 had their fathers with them, stimulating them to keep 
 theL" courage up, and do their best. Here and there 
 might be seen a college tutor, or perhaps an assistant 
 professor, talking with the parent of some youth who 
 had been reading with him for the examination. At a 
 distance a knot of Sophomores had posted themselves 
 on the green turf, and in right merry mood were criti- 
 cising the new-comers, and making up their minds what 
 sort of stuff the next Freshman class was to be made 
 of. Freshmen themselves till within a week or even 
 less, they need to behold a real, live new Freshman, to 
 be fully assured that they can be called by that oppro- ' 
 brious epithet no longer. A word might be said about 
 the beauty of the breezy elms, the cool, shady walks, 
 the grass-plats so tempting with their fresh verdure, 
 and the unique buildings : all these things shall be 
 seen many and many a time by and by, when there will 
 be leisure to admire all. Just now the anxiety and 
 excitement of examination is too absorbing. 
 
 As the clock in the square struck eight, the bell 
 rung on Harvard Hall. The group on the drive before 
 University, now doubled in size, broke up in a 
 hurry . The young fellows crowded up the stone steps, 
 through the northern doorway of the hall, and thronged 
 into Number Sixteen. Not a very imposing room or a 
 very pleasant one, Samuel Wentworth thought as he 
 sci'ambled to a seat, and looked around. The building 
 
10 
 
 STUDBNT-LIFE AT HAKVARD. 
 
 had evidently been constructed for use and durability, 
 rather than for beauty or comfort. Wentworth saw in 
 front of him, at the east end of the room, a platform 
 surmounted by a heavy wooden table ; behind the 
 table, and covering the end wall of the room, was a 
 large cloth curtain, rudely colored in representation of 
 some plain or scene of ancient Greece. The walls were 
 painted a dingy yellow ; the floor was sanded and well 
 v/orn ; and from the front of the platform common 
 yellow settees were arranged one above another, like 
 the seats in a theatre. This was the young student's 
 first glimpse of college life. Quite different the reality 
 thus far from his romantic anticipation ! But the work 
 of registering names claims his attention. 
 
 Evidently there were others besides Mr. Huntingdon, 
 who were impressed with the advantage of securing a 
 choice of seats in Harvard Hall on this particular occa- 
 sion ; for long before nine the steps leading up to the 
 door were packed with the same tlirong that had stood 
 in front of University an hour before. As the hand on 
 the church-dial crept round to the hour, the janitor 
 came in his well-worn suit of gray, his large bunch of 
 keys in hand, and a smile on his pleasant face, which 
 seemed to say, " Oh, you need not be in so much of a 
 hurry: you won't be so eager to go in here some of 
 these days." Many a year has he unlocked the door 
 for just such an impetuous company; has seen them 
 come back at the beginning of each term, their faces 
 grovm more and more familiar, till, at Commencement, 
 the college sent them forth with her blessing, and new- 
 comers filled their places. 
 
 ''This way, Wentworth, — there in the north-west 
 
ENTERLNG. 
 
 11 
 
 corner : those are the safest seats," said Sam's new 
 friend in an excited half-wliisper, as, the doors being 
 opened, they were carried forward by the irresistible 
 impulse from behind. With a rush and a scramble, 
 they secured the coveted position, — the two end seats 
 at a blue deal table facing the wall, and quite in the 
 corner of the hall. 
 
 Harvard Hall ! \Yhat a magnificent, impressive 
 structure those words had called up to Sam's fancy a 
 short space before ! Harvard, the oldest, stateliest, and 
 richest of American- colleges, must needs centre all its 
 glories in Harvard Hall. The exterior had not prom- 
 ised much; but even that promise was not fulfilled. 
 Here w^as the same sanded floor under his feet. The 
 blue deal tables and benches looked cheap enough ; and 
 the whitewashed walls and bare iron posts which sup- 
 ported the story above were utterly devoid of orna- 
 ment. Many portraits there were : in fact, the walls 
 were quite lined with them ; but little time was afforded 
 for their inspection, as a paper with printed questions 
 and a blank-book were soon placed before each candi- 
 date ; and while lynx-eyed tutors and proctors patrolled 
 the aisles, to see that there was no communication be- 
 tween the candidates, every man went diligently to 
 work, and wrote out the answers as best he might, one 
 hour being allowed for each paper. 
 
 Huntingdon seemed often to find " rough places ; " 
 and to the discomfort of Sam, who had worked very 
 faithfully for this examination, and came to it w^ell pre- 
 pared, asked a great many questions in the course of 
 the morning, writing them on bits of paper, and push- 
 ing or tossing them to Sam, v/ho sometimes whispered 
 
12 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 the answer, sometimes held up his book fo:r inspection, 
 and sometimes tossed back a bit of paper in return. 
 - Thus, in translating English into Greek, the young 
 gentleman from New York copied the exercise entirely, 
 Sam waiting patiently for him ; and, as this was the 
 last exercise of the morning, the two young men passed 
 out of the hall, leaving quite a number of their fellow- 
 candidates still hard at work. 
 
 At the foot of the steps were a half-dozen or more 
 grouped around a young man, evidently the oracle of 
 the occasion, who was answering questions, and making 
 explanations, with unerring accuracy. He was tall, 
 pale, light-haired, with a grave manner, a bold fore- 
 head, and a clear gray eye. Sam, whose mind was 
 still perplexed with several doubtful accents and forms, 
 approached, and soon found himself engaged in a warm 
 discussion with his new fellow-students. Huntingdon, 
 standing apart, waited with manifest impatience and 
 disgust for a few minutes : then stepping up, and pass- 
 ing his arm through Sam's, he quietly drew him away. 
 
 Come : ' let the dead past bury its dead.' It can 
 make no difference now whether your accents were 
 right or wrong, though I would wager any amount you 
 have ninety per cent correct. Let's improve these 
 three hours by going into Parker's, and refreshing the 
 inner man." As Sam seemed to hesitate, he added, 
 " If you stay here, some truculent Soph, will capture 
 you, and have a dinner at your expense." 
 
 But in spite of the fascinating manner in which the 
 invitation was extended, and the uninviting aspect of 
 the hot and dusty square, Sam held back. I guess I 
 won't go, thank you ; " and as Huntmgdon, waving his 
 
ENTERING. 
 
 13 
 
 hand, ran off after a passing horse-car, he said half to 
 himself, half to the retreating figure, " I dare say I can 
 get something to eat here somewhere." 
 
 " Ahem ! Eat ? To he sure. Hotel accommodations 
 unsurpassed, only a few steps farther on. Just my 
 dinner-hour too ; and if I know myself, and I believe I 
 do intimately, I never refuse an invitation to feed." 
 Th? speaker, a trim, dapper-looking little fellow, with a 
 brown face and close cropped hair, to Sam's infinite 
 surprise, took his arm, and sauntered on with indescrib- 
 able nonchalance. 
 
 If Sam's first and natural impulse was to knock the 
 impudent fellow down, his abundant good-nature soon 
 got the better of it, though he half stopped in sheer 
 astonishment. 
 
 " Oh, come on, young man ! " said this new acquaint- 
 ance coolly ; " don't be bashful : there's nothing that 
 pays less than that here. You've come to college, I 
 suppose." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Well, mighty good thing that is : makes a man a 
 man quicker than any thing. Fresh., I suppose ? " 
 " Yes." 
 
 " H'm ! I thought so," casting a quick glance at him. 
 " Ah ! I don't envy you much. Freshmen ! " in a con- 
 temptuous tone. " Freshmen are poor devils at best ; 
 they always excite my deepest commiseration; they 
 ain't much better than dogs. Sophomores ! " with a 
 knowing squint at a weed, and a snap at it with his 
 slender cane. Sophy isn't much better off. You see, 
 they have to grind so over those blessed mathematics. 
 But when a man gets to be a Junior and the little fel 
 
14 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 low straightened himself up, " there is some sense in 
 that, you may just bet ! I say, Smith," — 
 " Wentworth," interrupted. Sam. 
 
 " Oh, yes ! of course, Wentworth, — beg pardon, — I 
 say, Wentworth, you ought to be anxious to fidd-up 
 handsomely for the honor of dining with a Junior. 
 Let me tell you one thing, Wentworth " (confidentially) ; 
 "never treat a Soph., — it is money thrown away, worse 
 than throvm away, wasted ; but when you get a chance 
 to do the handsome thing by a Junior^ ah, do it, Went- 
 worth, — do it without fail ! " 
 
 By this time the twain were seated as comfortably 
 as may be at Kent's, the best refectory that the Cam- 
 bridge of those days afforded, and, from the tempting 
 variety which the bill of fare presented, concluded to 
 take some beefsteak and fried potatoes, with a bottle of 
 ale for the Junior. 
 
 '•'From these parts ? " asked the latter inquiringly. 
 
 '' Not exactly. I live at Little Harbor." 
 
 " Where in the world can that be ? I never heard of 
 such a place." 
 
 " In New Hampshire ; not more than fifty miles from 
 here." 
 
 " Well. They don't teach us much geography here." 
 After a pause, " Plow have you been getting on with 
 your papers ? Llard, are they, this year ? " 
 
 Not very, I should say," and Sam offered them for 
 his inspection. 
 
 "No, thank you," said the Junior with a grin. "You 
 know more about them than I do. I couldn't do them 
 now if my soul's salvation depended upon it. It does 
 beat all how quickly anybody can forget Latin and 
 Greek. Gcing to room in the buildings, or outside ? " 
 
ENTERICS G. 
 
 15 
 
 " That I don't know. I thought it time to engage a 
 room after I was admitted." 
 
 " Ho, no ! Some fellows apply six months or a year 
 beforehand; and if you can manage to be tutor's or 
 proctor's Freshman, you have a first-rate room, a better 
 show for next year, and are sure of Holworthy." 
 
 "What is a proctor?" inquired Sam, looking up 
 innocently from his beefsteak. 
 
 " A proctor ? Why, a proctor's an animal who has a 
 room in a bad entry, to keep the Sophs, there from 
 murdering the Freshmen," said the Junior slowly, keep- 
 ing his eye all the time fixed on Sam. " His Freshman 
 has a room right under his nose, and is under his 
 especial care and protection, and so gets off with less 
 hazing sometimes," the Junior added with a wink and 
 a knowinsf wag: of his head. 
 
 "What do you mean by being sure of Holworthy? " 
 asked Sam, not altogether disconcerted at the informa- 
 tion thus Youchsafed. 
 
 " Oh ! Holworthy is the Seniors' heaven. There is 
 nobody there but Seniors, — that is, none of the lower 
 classes ; and the rooms are tip-top, a large study-room 
 with deep window-seats looking out on the yard, and a 
 bedroom besides for each chum. A fellow will g-ener- 
 ally do any tiling, or room anywhere at first, for the 
 sake of getting into Holworthy senior year. Get a 
 chum and a room in the buildings somewhere : you'll 
 have no sort of show for Holworthy if you don't; 
 besides, if you live outside, you miss half the fun of 
 college life." 
 
 " But how am I to get a room in the buildings ? J 
 don't know any one to chum with." 
 
16 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 " Oh ! Fanny'll be on hand when you go to get your 
 admission papers, and give out the rooms ; and you 
 won't have any trouble in picking up a chum. I never 
 saw mine in my life, till five minutes before we agreed 
 to go in together ; and there isn't a better fellow in the 
 world." 
 
 " Whom do you mean by ' Fanny ' ? " 
 
 " Oh ! " said the junior with a laugh, " you'll find out 
 who Fanny is in due time ; " adding, as they arose from 
 the repast, " Come around to my room, and make your- 
 self comfortable till three o'clock. My name is HaskilL 
 You can rest off, and see what a college room is like ; " 
 and they made off to the cool room in Stoughton, Sam 
 thinking that the money paid for his new friend's enter- 
 tainment was not so badly invested, after all. 
 
 The first exercise of the afternoon was the paper on 
 ancient history and geography ; simple enough as a 
 whole, but there was one question the answer to which 
 Sam was utterly unable to recollect. Recall the facts 
 to mind, or any incident in any way connected with 
 them, he could not. He had done enough of the paper 
 to pass, but felt ambitious to answer all the questions 
 correctly. He had noticed a good deal of communica- 
 tion, besides what had passed between himself and 
 Huntingdon, and it had been done with impunity ; the 
 instructors who were on duty to prevent it apparently 
 not caring to make an example of any one : so after a 
 good deal of very nervous hesitation, and feeling very 
 mean and uncomfortable all the while, he leaned over in 
 Huntingdon's direction as far as he could, and, with a 
 furtive glance around to see that no one was looking, 
 whispered, What about the second battle of Manti- 
 neia ? when was it, and who fought there ? " 
 
EXTEETXG. 
 
 17 
 
 " Sit np, or they'll spot us," said Hmitingdon as if 
 talking to tlie table; " four eighteen — Agis and " — 
 
 " Xo, no I the second battle ? " Sam asked, this time 
 in a louder whisper. 
 
 Oh ! the second," Huntingdon replied, consulting his 
 paper, and watching a favorable opportunity. "Epami- 
 nondas," — and the single vrord brought back the entire 
 story fresh to Sam's mind. Unlucky Sam ! He had 
 gained the object of his desire, but at what a cost I 
 Elis movements had been fully observed by one of those 
 sharp-sighted tutors, who had at last concluded that 
 forbearance had ceased to be a virtue. Indeed, this 
 violation of the rules had been too open to be passed 
 unnoticed. Sam had just finished writing the answer, 
 when he felt himself touched on the shoulder. 
 
 " Were you communicating just now, sir ? " 
 - All the blood in Sam's healthy system rushed to Ms 
 face and neck, as he answered, was, sir." 
 
 " What name, if you please ? " the tutor asked in a 
 sharp, precise voice, and with a manner which was 
 afterwards very familiar to the young man. 
 Wentworth." 
 
 Sam saw the tutor's pencil write, "Went worth, his- 
 tory," and, as the officer moved away, felt as though, so 
 far as entering college was concerned, it was all over 
 with hiiT Some few of the vouuq; fellows Icoked iii 
 hiiL. compassionately ; but, for the most part, those 
 who had witnessed the scene exchanged knowing looks 
 of mingled congratidation and exultation. Presently 
 Huntingdon touched his arm, and asked if he were 
 not going out to take a breath of fi^esh air before 
 mathematics. 
 
18 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 " You take it altogether too hard," quoth the latter, 
 as they passed out of the hall. "I am sorry they 
 spotted you ; it is too bad : but at worst it will only be 
 one condition. Of course they won't pass you on this 
 paper ; but you know it well enough, and can make it 
 up without difficulty. Pluck up courage, and do some- 
 thing splendid on the mathematics and the ' orals,' and 
 I will wager any thing you will pass clear. The chances 
 are, the tutor won't report you : he won't if he is a 
 decent fellow." 
 
 But all Huntingdon's well-meaning words of consola- 
 tion and encouragement had very little effect on Sam. 
 There was that within him which the former gentleman 
 knew not of. Of course he would tell the story when 
 he reached home, and explain his conditions ; if, indeed, 
 he should be so fortunate as to be only conditioned, and 
 not refused admission on any terms. His mother should 
 know the reason just as it was ; and he felt even now 
 the rebuke of her silent sorrow, — sorrow not because 
 he had failed to pass an examination, for that might 
 happen to any one, but because he had shown such a 
 deplorable lack of manliness and common honesty. He 
 thought too of his proud, high-spirited sister, and 
 wondered how he was going to look her in the face, — 
 she who had been his second self; and setting these 
 friends aside, and considering what he had done by 
 itseK, he felt that he had been little better than a thief. 
 
 The bell rang at four, and he went into the hall to do 
 the geometry paper with a heavy heart ; and, when the 
 day closed, he felt that the afternoon's work had been a 
 total failure. That night he spent alone ; and he prom- 
 ised himself, that, should he be admitted to college, he 
 
ENTEEING. 
 
 19 
 
 would be honest in all recitations and examinations, and 
 take a just credit for what he knew, and for nothing 
 more. This determination he kept. At the oral ex- 
 amination the next day, being Tuesday, as he was well 
 prepared, and had recovered in a measure from his de- 
 spondency, he did do something splendid, and had hopes 
 that, after all, some lucky chance might carry him 
 through. 
 
 Five o'clock of this Tuesday afternoon saw a hundred 
 and fifty or sixty anxious young fellows assembled in a 
 large room in University, known as the Old Chapel, 
 waiting to learn their fate, while to and fro hurried the 
 overtasked college officials, not yet ready to report in 
 full. This room was decidedly more comfortable than 
 any of the college apartments the young man had seen 
 as yet. The settees were comfortably cushioned ; and 
 the hall was at least passable in point of architectural 
 beauty. While all were bearing the delay attendant 
 on making out the papers, with the best grace possible, 
 a gentleman, tall, thin, with grayish hair and beard, 
 spectacles on nose, and speaking with a curious nasal 
 drawl, ejaculating every third or fourth word with a 
 funny little snort and a twist of the head, announced 
 from a desk that, if any two wished to take a room 
 together, there were still several rooms to be had. 
 
 Sam concluded, and correctly, that this must be the 
 " Fanny " whom the Junior had referred to yesterday, 
 and that, if he wished to secure a room in the college 
 buildings, he must needs do so now. He was making 
 his way to the desk, when Huntingdon accosted him. 
 
 " Have you a room and a chum ? " 
 
 " No, neither," said Sam expectantly. 
 
20 
 
 STUDENT-LTFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 " No more have I," rejoined Huntingdon, with his 
 most fascinating smile. " Suppose we take a room 
 together." 
 
 Nothing could please me better," replied Sam, with 
 a flush of pleasure, for he thought his new friend the 
 finest fellow he had ever seen. They went up to the 
 desk together. 
 
 " Fanny " could give them a room in Stoughton or 
 a room in College House : every thing else had been 
 assigned. 
 
 " What kind of a room is the one in Stoughton?" 
 asked Huntingdon. 
 
 " Very good room indeed," replied the curator with 
 his characteristic snort and an odd look at the ques- 
 tioner over his spectacles, at the same time perching his 
 head on one side, putting his hands into his pockets, 
 and thrusting his pencil into his mouth with a decided 
 upward tendency, as a fast young man sometimes holds 
 a cigar. 
 
 " What sort of apartments in College House ? " 
 " I'd put my own son there," he replied, removing the 
 pencil for a moment. 
 " Front, or rear? " 
 " Oh, rear ! " 
 
 " Well, he needn't bite one," half whispered Hunting- 
 don to Sam. 
 
 " I guess we will take the room in College House, 
 though it is out of the yard." 
 "What names?" 
 
 The record was made, and that really very important 
 matter was settled. The papers were then ready ; the 
 doors connecting the Old Chapel with the President's 
 
ENTERING. 
 
 21 
 
 room, and that with the regent's, were thrown open ; and 
 the tutor whom Sam had such good reason to remem- 
 ber called, one by one, though not in alphabetical order, 
 the names of the candidates, in his sharp, precise 
 manner. They were to receive their papers, pass down 
 the stairs, and go away quietly. Go away quietly ! and 
 that after a man had passed a successful examination on 
 four or five years' work ! Many a glad huzza in the 
 entry below, and even on the stairs, attested the joy 
 which the happy fellow felt, at being well over with it 
 all. 
 
 At last came the name " Wentworth ; " and with beat- 
 ing heart Sam passed into the President's room, received 
 with a bow a kindly smile, a " Mr. Wentworth," and a 
 glance from eyes that evidently intended to know him 
 v/hen they saw him again, some folded papers ; thence on 
 through the regent's room and down the stairs, hardly 
 daring to learn his fate. 
 
 " All right ! isn't it ? " said Huntingdon, who was 
 waiting for him. " I am." 
 
 "I haven't looked yet." 
 
 " Well, let us examine. No, you are not either. 
 History, — oh, well, that won't trouble you much," he 
 exclaimed, clapping him on the shoulder. 
 
 " No. It isn't half as bad as I expected. I am sure 
 ] congratulate you on your success," said Sam with an 
 attempt at a smile. " Come and see me in the morning 
 afc the Revere," and he started off for Boston disconso- 
 lately enough. Unlucky Sam ! 
 
 But the scene around the southern doorway of Uni- 
 versity Hall was lively indeed. It was in vain that the 
 crowd was told to disperse, or that the janitor, himself 
 
22 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HAEVARD. 
 
 as well pleased as any one, exhorted them to leave the 
 premises. The steps and plat of ground in front were 
 thronged with glad faces. Every one seemed to have 
 been successful, and glad friends were warm in their 
 congratulations. " Hurrah ! " shouted one small fellow, 
 half tumbling down the steps, hat and umbrella in one 
 hand, and his papers in the other. " Good for me ! only 
 four conditions ! I'd have sold out m}^ chance prett}^ 
 cheap an hour ago ; " and he was welcomed with out- 
 stretched hands into a noisy group with cries of " Good 
 for you, Charley ! " Indeed, it cannot but be a glad 
 company; for when is one happier than after he has 
 passed his freshman examination with clean papers, and 
 looks forward to the weeks which are to follow, weeks 
 of unalloyed enjojrment, with perfect freedom from all 
 care ? At last he has reached the goal toward which he 
 has been so long striving; at last he is one of those 
 mysterious beings, a college student. 
 
II. 
 
 THE WENTWOHTHS. - 
 
 In the pleasant sitting-room of the quaint, old-fash- 
 ioned Wentworth mansion-house, a girl is practising at a 
 piano. She has found a difficult passage in the music, 
 and is mastering it with quiet but unflinching persever- 
 ance. The rhythm of the harmonious movement pours 
 itself out on the still summer air, falters, breaks, and 
 stops ; begins again, falters, breaks, and stops. At a 
 half-shaded window a lady sits sewing. Something in 
 the unfinished phrase of music, or it may be her own 
 anxious thoughts, unconsciously stops the play of her 
 delicate fingers ; and the work drops forgotten from her 
 hands, as she looks out upon the sea, stretching away 
 off till it meets the sky, soft and gleaming and dreamy 
 before her in the midsummer time. It is a slight, almost 
 girlish figure, and a face of womanly beauty, purity; and 
 strength, which the passing years have touched but 
 lightly, albeit it is a little sad in its expression. 
 
 The sea ! What a picture comes up before her as she 
 looks out upon it from her shaded window, bringing 
 back, fresh and warm and tender, the one romance of 
 her life ! She sees a boat coming across a mad wilder- 
 ness of waters, to the rescue of a fated ship's company ; 
 the glad joy of deliverance from deadly peril thrills her 
 
 23 
 
24 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HABVAED. 
 
 very soul again, as she remembers how, during the weeks 
 of a homeward voyage, she had come to love the noble 
 young officer in command, now her rescuer, as she had 
 dreamed she might love a man. Then came the time 
 when she had left her father's home under displeasure, 
 though she was an only daughter, and fondly cherished. 
 " She has disobeyed me, disgraced me, and I never will 
 see her, " said the stern old man. Nor did he relent 
 till on his death-bed ; though, in truth, the young 
 captain could boast a bluer blood and a far more illus- 
 trious ancestry than the irascible merchant-prince, his 
 employer. He had brought his bride to this home 
 of his fathers, — the home of colonial magistrates and 
 patriot soldiers Avhose lives had been prominent in the 
 early histories of the land; and here had she remained, 
 wife, mother, v/idow, content with the sweet recollec- 
 tions of the past, and the constantly recurring but ever 
 varying duties of her daily life. 
 
 And that other sea, on which her first-born, her 
 splendid, noble bo}^ is just launched for his first voyage, 
 so perilous to the stanchest craft, with its ever-shifting 
 tideways and treacherous rocks, its storms and Avreck- 
 strewed coasts ! She knows full well, though into her 
 pur6 and peaceful life scarce a whisper of the great 
 world's wickedness has come, the terrible dangers which 
 beset her son's pathway, now that, for the first time, he 
 is leaving his home, and going forth into the world. 
 ' Iliere are many parents who dread the perils of a col- 
 lege-course to their sons so deeply, that, highly as they 
 prize the benefits of education, they are unwilling to 
 expose them to this too great risk; and no one ever had 
 juster cause for fear than Mrs. Wentworth ; but as her 
 
THE WEXTWORTHS. 
 
 25 
 
 own fond, anxious heart coulcl not forecast the end, I 
 will not. 
 
 " There, mamma ! I believe I shall have no more dif- 
 ficulty ^vith that. Just see how smoothly it goes I " and 
 the young girl swept through the difficult passage with- 
 out breaking or faltering. " ISTow let us make ready the 
 feast, for Sam will be at home before we know it. Isn't 
 it an age since he went away ! " 
 
 Sam told his story with a very creditable degree of 
 confusion and honest shame. He did not omit to relate 
 how the tutor had seen him communicating, and that he 
 had been conditioned on one paper, though passing free 
 on every thing else. Kate's face had flushed, and her blue 
 eyes had been very scornful, in spite of herself; but she 
 had not uttered a single reproachful word. She was one 
 who had no charity for any thing that savored of mean- 
 ness. It was almost worth while being guilty of a fault, 
 to see how whole-souled she was in her displeasure ; but 
 she soon satisfied herself that her brother's chum was 
 the cause of his going astray. 
 
 " How did this Mr. Huntingdon pass ? " she asked, 
 after listening attentively to her brother's story. 
 
 " Oh ! he got in all right," said Sam enthusiastically. 
 
 " "Well, he must be a fine fellow I " 
 
 " That he is, and you will say so when you see him." 
 
 " I don't want to see him : I know I shall always 
 hate him for being mean. And you are going to room 
 together ! I am as vexed as I can be." 
 
 To this Sam was silent, well knowing that argument 
 would avail nothing. 
 
 " Did you see your room so as to know what it is 
 like ? or didn't you have curiosity enough for that ? " 
 
26 
 
 STTJDENT-LIFE AT HAKVARD. 
 
 " Yes, we saw it. We went out to Cambridge 
 Wednesday morning, and Huntingdon hunted up an 
 old fellow with a big bunch of keys, just to see what 
 we were coming to, he said ; but we didn't find much. 
 The room is about fifteen or sixteen feet square, only 
 one flight from the sidewalk in the square, in a building 
 that they call College House. It is just over a grocery- 
 store, a rear-room ; and the two windows look out into 
 a dirty back-yard full of boxes and bundles. There 
 is a grate, a closet for clothes, one for wood and coal, 
 and a bedroom about the size of your piano ; it may 
 be a little wider, but certainly no longer. How we 
 are going to squeeze two beds into it, I can't see. 
 Huntingdon said the rooms in College House were 
 designed for a single occupant, but that every thing is 
 so crowded now, that they have been obliged to double 
 up." 
 
 Then as the brother and sister sat in the broad door- 
 way of the old house, looking out on the now peaceful 
 ocean tinted with the gorgeous hues of a midsummer 
 sunset, the one listened eagerly while the other told all 
 his hairbreadth escapes in the " orals," — how he was 
 very near being called up on a passage in Greek, of 
 which he couldn't have read a word, but, as luck would 
 have it, did make a regular " squirt " on another pass- 
 age (to which last expression Kate objected, till Sam 
 said it was college vernacular ; after which she accepted 
 it readily) ; confessed that his expectations of some- 
 thing very grand in the college buildings had been 
 disappointed ; told all about his adventure with Mr. 
 Haskill, and what a strange though good-hearted young 
 man he was ; and at last came back to his chum, whom 
 
THE WEXTWOETHS. 
 
 27 
 
 he declared to be the finest and most gentlemanly 
 fellow in the world. 
 
 " Didn't you get acquainted with any more of your 
 classmates ? " 
 
 " Xo. YeS; I did, — with a Mr. Villiers. We had a 
 discussion about a Greek accent. He was right, and I 
 was wrong,'' said Sam, bursting into an immoderate fit 
 of laughter. 
 
 " I don't see any thing so absurdly funny about 
 that." 
 
 " I was laughing to think what a comical-looking 
 youth he is ; " and Sam described his appearance as he 
 had stood before the steps of Harvard Hall, grave and 
 dignified, answering first one question and then another. 
 He did full justice to him too, so far as was possible 
 after so slight an acquaintance ; and the pictiu-e was 
 not unpleasing to Kate. 
 
 " I believe I should like him better than the other," 
 she said after a time. 
 
 " What I better than Huntingdon, better than my 
 chum ? " 
 
 " Yes," Kate replied, musingly. 
 
 " Ah, wait till you see I " said Sam, confidently. 
 
 Little Harbor had in colonial days been a port of 
 considerable importance, though for generations before 
 this time hardly a vessel had entered its waters. An 
 insignificant river, broadening as it entered the sea into 
 a basin triangular in shape and of considerable magni- 
 tude, afforded a safe retreat when the waters of the outer 
 harbor of the neighboring city were rough and tempes- 
 tuous. A high rocky point well covered with ct^durs 
 
28 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HAHVAED. 
 
 and firs, jutting far out into the Atlantic, protected it 
 from the rough east wind ; and an island alternating 
 with strips of white sandy beach and wood-covered 
 rocks, it might be a mile in length, formed the north- 
 ern shore, separating it from the outer harbor. The 
 third side, irregular in outline and varied with bold 
 bluff and fertile plain, formed a part of the many acres 
 of the Wentworth estate. On the point, distant three 
 or four miles from the mansion-house, across the ever 
 smooth waters of the basin, and on one of the finest 
 locations on the New England coast, some Boston 
 capitalists had built a mammoth hotel for summer 
 guests ; and the numerous attractions of the spot were 
 beginning to command the attention of the public. 
 
 One afternoon, Kate, glancing out of the window, 
 saw her brother coming up the path from the landing, 
 accompanied by two young men whom she had never 
 seen before. She recognized them at once from the 
 description she had heard, and was not in the least sur- 
 prised when Sam ushered them into the room, and intro- 
 duced one as Mr. Huntingdon, and the other as Mr. 
 Villiers. The first glance satisfied her that Sam had 
 been within bounds in his praise of his chum, and that 
 he was a finer gentleman than any she had ever seen. 
 There was something irresistibly fascinating in his win- 
 ning smile, his smooth manner, and his conversation 
 which adapted itself perfectly to the company and the 
 subject ; but, beneath the admiration which she could 
 not but feel, there still lurked a distrust which she 
 had entertained from the very first, and which her 
 inmost self told her must not be too hastily renounced. 
 She liked the clear, honest gray eyes, and the grave 
 
THE WENTWORTHS. 
 
 29 
 
 manner of Mr. Villiers, thoiigli lie was absnrdly dig- 
 nified. 
 
 " What a picturesque situation for a dwelling, ]\Iiss 
 Wentworth ! It must be a hundred feet sheer down 
 to the water," and Huntingdon glanced with evident 
 admiration at an irregular part of the house built on a 
 rock hanging high over a coA^e below, as they strolled 
 about the grounds. I hardly ever saw any thing 
 more romantic in Rhineland, to say nothing of matter- 
 of-fact New Enoiand." 
 
 I imagine my grandfathers had an eye to safety 
 from Indian attacks, rather than to a romantic situa- 
 tion when they built there," returned Kate pleasantly. 
 "That is the very oldest part of our very old house, 
 built nearly two hundred years ago. It has stood 
 unused for more than a century." 
 
 " It isn't haunted, I hope ? " said Huntingdon with a 
 smile. 
 
 " Indeed, it has always had that reputation," replied 
 Kate, half seriously. " Please don't go too near the 
 edg'e. It is a hundred feet down to the water, and a 
 hundred feet more to the bottom, at the ver\^ least." 
 As Huntingdon rejoined her, she added, " This deep 
 place under the bluff has always been known as Con- 
 stance's Pool." 
 
 " On account of some family tradition ? " 
 
 " Yes : a very beautiful girl, a great-great aunt of 
 mine, threw herself down from her overhanoina win- 
 dow, on the very eve of her marriage." 
 
 " What could possibly have been the cause of sach a 
 proceeding?" 
 
 " No one ever knew." , 
 
30 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 " She was bewitched," interposed Sam, who with 
 his mother and Villiers joined Kate and Huntingdon, 
 when they all seated themselves under the shade of a 
 massive oak. " We have had all sorts of folks in our 
 family, and a thorough-going old witch, who was finally 
 drawn on a plank, and shot with a silver bullet, among 
 them; at least, so Caleb says." 
 
 " Caleb is our man-of-all-work, who was born on the 
 place, as his father was before him; and he is very 
 fond of telling stories of bygone days," explained Mrs. 
 Went worth. 
 
 " You must prize these oaks very highly," said Vil- 
 liers to Kate. ''I never saw any thing more suggestive 
 of strength and endurance." 
 
 " You would think mother prized them, if you had 
 seen her when a man came and wanted to buy them," 
 said Sam. " He was a constructor at the navy-yard, 
 and wanted them for ship-timber. There are thirty of 
 them, and he offered a hundred dollars apiece. I never 
 saw mother really angry before ; and, as for Kate, she 
 was furious : weren't you, sis ? " 
 
 At this, Kate looked just a little furious at her 
 brother's garrulity ; and then, with a softening expres- 
 sion, " We love every one of them," she said. 
 
 The scene which was spread out before the party 
 was one to send a thrill of pleasure through the heart 
 of the most sluggish. The deepening shadows of the 
 now sombre oaks had already inwrapped the irregular 
 pile of the mansion-house, which seemed in the half- 
 uncertain light to be suspended over the dark waters 
 below. Beyond, in the quiet half-shade, the waters of 
 the basin were undisturbed by a ripple. A hundred 
 
THE WENTY\"ORTHS. 
 
 31 
 
 windows of the hotel on the point, three miles away, 
 flashed back the golden light of the setting sun till the 
 pile seemed all ablaze, while sky and ocean yied each 
 with the other in gorgeous coloring, till they melted 
 together in the purple distance. 
 
 Mr. Walter Huntingdon had seen too much scenery 
 in his experienced life to waste his admiration on a 
 sunset, when almost at his side was breathing loveli- 
 ness, a loveliness very much more to his taste. He 
 vowed that never, in the Old World or the Xew, had 
 he seen a more charmmg girl than his chum's sister; 
 and he was sure, too, that she possessed beauty of char- 
 acter. The afternoon had been a continuous astonish- 
 ment to him ; and he felt inclined to bless the good 
 fortune which, incomprehensibly it seemed to him, had 
 led him to cast his fortunes for the commg four years 
 with the unsophisticated country boy. 
 
 I have no words to describe Kate Wentworth's 
 beauty. She had an abundance of wavy black hair, 
 deep blue eyes, alive with ever-varying expression; a 
 complexion fair as a lily, and fresh as a June rose ; 
 and a figure which, though girlish as yet, betokened the 
 hearty elasticity and vigor of perfect health. As the 
 two strangers took their leave of the ladies (Sam hav- 
 ing declared that in another hour the low tide would 
 make the return by water that night an impossibility), 
 Huntingdon sincerely regretted that his engagement 
 with a party of friends on a yachting voyage, and the 
 arrangement for an early start in the morning, made it 
 impossible for him to accept Mrs. Vv^entworth's invita- 
 tion to tarry there for a time. 
 
 " But Mr. Yilliers is not going away in such haste, T 
 trust," said Kate. 
 
32 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 No : Mr. Villiers had intended to remain at the hotel 
 some weeks, and he was not likely to shorten the time 
 because of the afternoon's experience. 
 
 Mr. Huntingdon sailed away next morning, and left 
 Villiers at the hotel, where it was fated he should not 
 remain long; for Sam, full of enthusiasm at the thought 
 of having a classmate for a companion, called for him 
 early in the morning, took him to sail, and then home to 
 dinner. As they tarried, a furious thunder-storm burst, 
 the wind hauled to the east, a cold rain set in; and 
 Villiers was detained a willing prisoner at Mrs. Went- 
 worth's house. 
 
 The young stranger passed an evening full of quiet 
 enjoyment, the like of which he had never known ; and 
 ever looked back upon it as one of the happiest events 
 of his life. It was impossible for any one not to feel 
 at home in the house of Mrs. Wentworth and her 
 daughter. The harmony of the home-circle was so 
 perfect that a more fastidious guest than Villiers must 
 needs have been charmed, while to him the beauty of 
 this quiet domestic life was like a revelation. Never 
 before had he met two ladies who seemed to embody 
 his ideal as did this mother and daughter : the one so 
 lovely, vfith all the graces of womanhood ; with a quiet 
 care and thoughtfulness for others which made her 
 peculiarly attractive by contrast with the selfishness he 
 had so generally encountered : the other so bright and 
 beautiful that it seemed to his perhaps romantic fancy 
 as though she must be a creature designed for a better 
 existence than this, whom no man might even dare to 
 more than worship from afar. He could hardly under- 
 stand how the words of careless, familiar praise of her 
 
THE WENTWORTHS. 
 
 33 
 
 beauty, which his classmate had uttered so flippantly 
 the evening before, could have been spoken. He lis- 
 tened to the music, and took his part in the conversa- 
 tion as occasion required ; but, in spite of himself, it 
 was with the air of one abstracted. 
 
 Much of the time during the next three weeks the 
 young men spent together ; and their friendship ripened 
 fast. Sam, with his impetuous enthusiasm, soon con- 
 cluded that, next to his chum, he could not like any 
 one better. With all his admiration for Huntingdon, 
 he did not yet feel quite at ease with him. Some- 
 times he was conscious of being patronized a little, and 
 he had even thought that Huntingdon made sport of 
 him on certain occasions. He was entirely willing to 
 acknowledge the latter's superiority in every way; but 
 he entertained no such exalted oj)inions of Villiers. 
 They went boating together ; and nothing could have 
 been more awkward than that gentleman's first per- 
 formances with the oar or tiller, though Sam was 
 obliged to confess that he was a very apt pupil. 
 
 " I never saw anybody greener in a boat than he was 
 ten days ago," he said to Kate; ''and now he sails 
 ft boat extremely well, and has all the names of every 
 thing pat, too." 
 
 " I have noticed that he learns very quicldy," was 
 the quiet reply. 
 
 " I don't think it is that so much as that he sticks 
 to a thing so. We were becalmed outside yesterday, 
 and had our choice of staying there, or pulling in. He 
 took an oar, and I took one. You know he looks like 
 any thing but a strong fellow, and the old boat has 
 over a ton of ballast in her ; but he wouldn't give up 
 
84 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVAKD. 
 
 till we were alongside the landing. Why, he fitted 
 for college in two years, and is a year younger than 
 I am." 
 
 " Has he ever told you any thing about his family or 
 friends ? " said Kate after a little time. 
 
 " Not much. He says he has neither father nor 
 mother, but has lived with an uncle near the city, — he 
 didn't say Avhere, — and always did about as he pleased ; 
 but I will ask him particularly, if you say so," said 
 Sam, with a laugh. 
 
 " If you dare ! " exclaimed Kate, with a stamp of the 
 foot by way of emphasis. " I was only thinking about 
 it on your account ; as, indeed, mamma and I do almost 
 every thing on your account in these days." With 
 a half-consciousness that this was true, Sam ventured 
 no reply. 
 
 George Villiers had, as he said, been allowed to do 
 very much as he pleased ; but it had been, and was 
 still, his pleasure to pursue a very different course from 
 that which most young fellows would have followed. 
 Thorough integrity seemed to be the keynote of his 
 character ; and one might as well try to move a moun- 
 tain as to endeavor to persuade him to do any thing 
 which he did not believe to be strictly right. As dili- 
 gence was, with him, only another name for common 
 honesty, whatever he did undertake he strove with all 
 his might to accomplish ; and at this time he was a 
 curious compound of wisdom and ignorance, profound- 
 ness and simplicity. He had never seen the inside of 
 a theatre, or a billiard-saloon, or a bar-room. Sam 
 said he believed he was the only man in the class who 
 never took advantage of translations, or " ponies " as 
 
THE AVEXTTTOETHS. 
 
 tliev call tliem, at some time or other. T^ritli his 
 singular appearance and graye manner and his other 
 equally peculiar traits, he could not have many friends 
 or admirers among a class of thoughtless yotmg fello"^;vs ; 
 and he was voted a most unmitigated ^- dig " by those 
 of his classmates who noticed him at ail, at least during 
 Freshman year. 
 
 Tlie tAYO ladies, however, judged him more kindly 
 and more justly. His regard fur i\lrs. "Went worth was 
 reciprocated by her from the first. AVith her delicate 
 perceptions she saw the strength of character and 
 nobility of purpose that possessed liim : and she rejoiced 
 that it was possible for her son. on whom, as Kate had 
 truly said, all her tlioughts were centred in those days, 
 to have so rare a friend. Kate vras a latio-hter-lovins^ 
 girl : and she could not restrain herself at times, when 
 witli her motlier or brother, at the recollection of some 
 of Villiers's cimous ways ; but a little acquaintance 
 with the object of her mirth served to imbtie her witli a 
 thorough respect for him: and tliis increased, while she 
 noticed his peculiarities less, as tlieir accjuaintance pro- 
 gressed. There was scarcely any point about which she 
 knew a little. — and she Avas an extremely well read 
 and cultivated vouno; ladv. — that he did not know a 
 good deal, more thoroughly: and they had many a 
 pleasant talk together during this summer-time. 
 
 " It is a pity, isn't it, mamma, that Sam couldn't 
 chum witli i\Ir. Villiers ? Tliey would get on nicely 
 toci^ether. Fm sure : and he has a room all alone.*' 
 I do wish it had happened so."' 
 
 It can't be helped now. I know ; but," she con- 
 tinued, with a flush of entliusiasm, I know what I 
 
36 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVABD. 
 
 am going to do, though I wouldn't dare if it were any 
 one else." One day, towards the last of his stay, she 
 said to him suddenly, " Mr. Villiers, I shall expect you 
 to take famous care of Sam next year. He is as good 
 a boy at heart as any, but very impulsive and thought- 
 less. Mamma is very anxious about him, and fears he 
 may get into trouble ; and I am sure she would feel that 
 there was much less danger if you would look after him 
 a little, and let us know if any thing goes wrong." 
 
 Though Kate's face became crimson, Villiers was too 
 much confused himself to notice it ; for never was a 
 young man more taken aback. " Your brother. Miss 
 Wentworth, — he is really older than I am, and — and 
 — cannot well be more inexperienced. I hope I may 
 always be his friend; and," looking straight into her 
 eyes, " I assure you, you shall hear from me if need be, 
 though I trust and am sure such an occasion will never 
 come." 
 
 " I am sure I thank you very much, and so does 
 mamma," said the young lady now cool enough, extend- 
 ing her hand, which Villiers thus touched for the first 
 time. 
 
III. 
 
 HOW SAM SIGNED THE EEGUI ATIONS. 
 
 At the beginning of each college year, indications 
 of an active eruption were wont to manifest themselves 
 for several days about the yard and buildings, it being 
 the custom for every one to move into what was con- 
 sidered a better room ; and for the time confusion 
 reigned. Handcarts stood before the doors of the 
 dormitories ; and, piled on the walks or steps, would be 
 seen heaps of books, furniture, bedding, pictures, the 
 household goods and gods of the students, in lamenta- 
 ble disorder, while the owners rushed wildly about 
 superintending the process of transportation. The 
 moving used to be conducted by divers members of 
 the Fenian brotherhood, whose charges were something 
 enormous. These destroyers of student property, as 
 they had an opportunity to exercise their skill but 
 once a year, seemed possessed of a determination to 
 break and injure to the utmost. 
 
 It was on a beautiful September morning that our 
 young student made his way across the already busy 
 square, and through heaps of luggage mounted the 
 steps of College House, to room No. 18, the door of 
 which was securely fastened. Some one told him that 
 " John Read " could give him the key ; and he started off 
 
 37 
 
38 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 in quest of that functionary, remembering him well too 
 from his previous interview. He encountered the good- 
 natured old Irishman, bent nearly double by rheuma- 
 tism, or by the constant exercise of humility ; for he 
 was the lowest in rank, though by no means the least 
 useful, of all the college officials, in front of HoUis. 
 The reflection that he came lowest in the college 
 hierarchy, and that there were so many towering one 
 above another, and all resting on his shoulders, might 
 well bow him down. In true college style of irrespons- 
 ibility, straightening himself up to get a fair look at 
 the new-comer, he referred Sam to the steward, and was 
 almost instantly whisked away by an impatient Sopho- 
 more, to unlock a door, or hunt up a missing carpet. 
 
 At length the young student entered his dormitory, 
 his home for the coming year. The room had been 
 cleaned and garnished after the usual fashion. A coat of 
 very thin bluish-white paint served to render the many 
 dark stains on the woodwork especially prominent. A 
 similarly effective coating of whitewash showed that at 
 some time the gas had been left burning too high, and 
 had blackened the ceiling. A lock of enormous size 
 had been put on above the place where the old one 
 used to be ; and a piece of new wood which had been 
 fitted into the door, and sundry large cracks in the 
 panels, bore witness to the terrible strains it had at 
 some time endured. That door looked ominous : it had 
 precisely the appearance of having been violently burst 
 open when securely fastened. As Sam threw open the 
 windows, a strong odor greeted him from some salt-fish 
 spread out to dry in the yard of the grocery-store be- 
 low. There were also sundry empty sugar-boxes and 
 
HOW SAM SIGNED THE REGULATIONS. 
 
 39 
 
 molasses-casks swarming with flies, and a pile of rub- 
 bish of all kinds, — not a very pleasant prospect below; 
 and the range of vision was limited, by the rear of 
 neighboring buildings, to a hundred yards at the far- 
 thest. To a lad delicate perchance, and delicatelj^ 
 and luxuriously reared, unused to absence from home, 
 and dreading the contact with strangers, the reception 
 which the college used to extend with its barren, un- 
 comfortable, and even unheal thful Freshman quarters, 
 and utter lack of protection from Sophomore terrorism, 
 was often any thing but re-assuring. 
 
 Two men were carrying a heavy bookcase through 
 the entry ; and the owner was shouting to them to be 
 careful. The voice sounded familiar, and Sam went to 
 the door to look. Yes, it was the Junior who dined with 
 him on examination-day, as brown as a mulatto, from a 
 tramp through tlie mountains with half a dozen jolly 
 fellows. Suddenly he caught sight of Sam, who stood 
 modestly waiting to be noticed. Why ! how are you, 
 Smith, — no, Wentivorth?'^ he exclaimed, grasping his 
 hand. Room here ? " looking in. " I'm opposite just 
 down there, and you must be neighborly. Got a 
 chum ? " 
 
 " Ah, yes, a splendid fellow by the name of Hunting- 
 don.'' 
 
 H'm," with a doubtful inflection. " That swell fel- 
 low from New — Look out there! "and he darted 
 down the entry to save his property if possible, return- 
 ing, however, almost immediately. 
 
 Oh ! Wentvv^orth, if you haven't bought a carpet, I 
 have one that I can let you have at your own price. 
 It's good enough for anybody, — the one I had last 
 
40 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 year, you know, — only, when a fellow gets to be a 
 Junior, he must swell a little if he's ever going to in 
 this life : so I've bought a new one, particularly as the 
 old gent came down handsomely this year. Now, if 
 you want to see it, and like it, you may have it for 
 eight dollars. Kernel would give me twice that ; but 
 
 I be if I wouldn't give any thing away before I'd 
 
 sell it to Kernel. Want to see it ? " 
 
 " Certainly," said Sam ; and the two disappeared 
 down the stairs. 
 
 The carpet, albeit a little worn, would do very well, 
 Sam thought ; and, as economy was one of the very 
 numerous virtues he had within the last few days 
 resolved to practise, he bought it at once, and with 
 Haskill's assistance carried it from the basement of 
 HoUis, where it had been stored, to his room. Then 
 investing in a paper of tacks, a hatchet, a pair of scis- 
 sors, and needles and thread, he worked for two hours 
 like a beaver, fitting and putting it down. This task 
 being satisfactorily accomplished, he had borrowed a 
 chair of Haskill, and was resting from his labors, wip- 
 ing the perspiration from his face, and sitting tipped 
 back in the chair, with his feet on the rounds, when 
 three or four Sophomores came trooping down the 
 entry, and looked in through the wide-open door. 
 
 " Wonder what there is in here," said one. 
 
 " Freshy, I guess, by the looks," said a second. 
 
 "Hallo! are 3^ou a Freshman?" called out the first 
 speaker ; and in they came, four of them, nice pleasant 
 young fellows too, Sam thought, though, from what he 
 knew of college etiquette, he took it for gran^ted tha 
 they were going to haze him. 
 
HOW SAM SIGNED THE EEGULATIOXS. 41 
 
 "I say, did I understand you to say you were a 
 Freshman ? " 
 
 Fresliman ? " said Sam, in a voice which was 
 intended to express surprise, though without distin- 
 guished success. " I don't know wiiat you mean : Fm , 
 the new professor of Hindostanee ; " and he fell to 
 duping his face, which grew warmer CA'ery minute. By 
 this time the visitors had come close to him ; and one 
 gave the chair a downward push, which brought it on 
 to its four legs with a jerk that nearly sent its occupant 
 to the floor. Sam promptly resumed liis former posi- 
 tion, thouofh much more ill at ease. 
 
 " So you are the new professor, are you? " asked the 
 same interrogator with a grin. 
 
 '^Yes.'' 
 
 "Yes what?" 
 Sam was silent. 
 
 " You mean ' Yes, sir,' don't you ? It's polite, you 
 know, for a Freshman to say ' Yes, sir ' to a Sopho- 
 more : didn't you know it ? " 
 
 " Ko, I didn't." 
 
 " You mean ' Xo, sir : ' say so," in a firm voice. 
 Sam hesitated : after all, it was nothing, and he said, 
 " Xo, sir." 
 
 " Xow say, ' Yes, sir.' " 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " There, that's right, and just as well as being obsti- 
 nate. You never will have any trouble at college if 
 you are not obstinate ; '' and again he gave the chair a 
 downward, push, which brought it into its normal posi- 
 tion. Yy^hy in thunder don't you sit still ? yott were 
 near coming down on my foot that time," and the laugh 
 went round at Sam's expense. 
 
4.2 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HAKVARD. 
 
 " Look here, Freshy," said a dark, straight, plucky- 
 looking fellow with a piercing black eye, " haven't you 
 any more manners than to sit, and allow your company 
 to remain standing, especially when they are your supe- 
 riors?" 
 
 " You see I have only one chair, and what is that 
 among so many ? It would only be a bone of conten- 
 tion." 
 
 " Good ! Freshy's found his tongue at last, haven't you, 
 Freshy ? And now let's have him read some Greek. 
 Producing a small morocco bound volume from his 
 pocket, the Sophomore opened it, and held it before 
 Sam's face with the injunction to go ahead, while a 
 second gave his head a bob forward, as he vainly tried 
 to fix his eyes upon the page. 
 
 " That's right, only a little louder : we are rather 
 hard of hearing," said the holder of the book, as Sam 
 found it impossible to fix his eyes on a single word. 
 " Come, louder, I say ! " 
 
 Our young friend was waxing wroth : his good- 
 nature was almost his most prominent characteristic, 
 and never gave way before any reasonable amount of 
 nonsense ; but to have hands laid on him was too much. 
 
 " You forget," he said ; " I don't profess Greek : 
 Hindostanee is my language, and I can't read Greek at 
 all." 
 
 " By ! you shall read it whether you understand 
 
 it or not," said the holder of the book savagely: 
 " what's that first word ? " 
 
 Sam sprang to his feet, and swung his chair aloft with 
 both hands. 
 
 " Come," said the one who had thus far been quiet, 
 
HOW SAM SIGNED THE REGULATIONS. 43 
 
 " he'll get mad yet, and bite somebody : leave him 
 alone till some other time. Let's wait till he gets rid of 
 some of his furniture," glancing round at the empty 
 room, "so that when we come again we can at least 
 have standing-room." 
 
 " Good-by," said he of the black eyes, shaking Sam's 
 hand. " You're a good fellow, and plucky ; and I'm 
 glad to have met you. My name is Wilkinson." 
 
 " Don't forget to call on the President this afternoon, 
 and pay him your compliments ; " and away went the 
 jolly Sophomores down the stairs in great glee. 
 
 Such was Sam's first experience with the truculent 
 Sophomores, of whose outrages he had heard so much. 
 He could not help feeling that he had at least met 
 the enemy without being badly worsted. Hardly had the 
 last one left the room, before Haskill appeared in the 
 doorway divested of coat, waistcoat, and shoes, — his 
 regular lounging-costume in warm weather, — pipe in 
 mouth, hands in pockets, and his short light hair stand- 
 ing out in all directions. 
 
 " So they've been roughing you a little," he said 
 with a very satisfied laugh, Sam thought. " How do 
 you like being hazed ? " 
 
 " Oh, pretty well ; only it seems a cool proceeding to 
 come into a man's room uninvited, and then insult him, 
 and not particularly fair when you are three or four to 
 one. I was near pitching into them at last." 
 
 " Glad you didn't : best keep your temper, and not 
 show ugly; it only cooks up a bad class feeling, and 
 there's always enough of that any way. Generally 
 they only want to see what the new-comers are made 
 of, though when they get started they do carry the 
 
44 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 joke pretty far sometimes, particularly if one shows 
 the white feather. But I was surprised tliat those fellows 
 molested you : they think an awful lot of themselves ; 
 and it isn't often that a man who considers himself a 
 gentleman will take any part in hazing, unless the class 
 honor is involved, or something like that, you know. If 
 they come to see you again, it will be as friends ; and 
 you'll be in luck to know them. I thought I'd better 
 keep shady, and let you figure it out yourself, though 
 I don't mean to have you hazed, if I know myself. 
 Didn't one of them shake hands with you ? " 
 
 " Yes : Wilkinson he said his name was." 
 
 " He's to be captain of the ' Harvard ' this year, and 
 is the best oar in college, and is the second or third man 
 in his class, a mighty strong class too ; and that Parker 
 is just about the nobbiest boy I ever saw. Come along : 
 its grub-time, and my turn to treat." 
 
 Returning from Kent's, they found Huntingdon just 
 arrived. He greeted Sam warmly, smiled approval at 
 the carpet, and then briskly suggested that they had 
 better go and see Kernel. We must sleep here to- 
 night ; it's three o'clock now, and the sooner we stock 
 up the better, eh, chum ? '* 
 
 " Well, if you do go to Kernel's, just look out you 
 don't pay him more for his old traps than you can get 
 new ones for," said the Junior, who had replenished and 
 lighted his meerschaum, — a beautifully colored bowl, — 
 for his afternoon smoke. " He has a way of asking more 
 for old things, that have been used for twenty years, 
 than you need pay for new. I never got swindled by 
 the old Jew myself; but I've seen other fellows sold so 
 bad, that I've sworn a solemn oath never to have any 
 
HOW SAM SIGNED THE EEGULATIOXS. 45 
 
 tiling to do with him. I'd sooner give any thing away 
 to somebody wlio could get some good out of it, than 
 sell it to such an old Jew as he is, no matter how much 
 he would give ; and, as for buying any thing there, 
 why, if I belieyed in patronizing dishonesty, perhaps I 
 would; but then I don't, you know." And the Junior 
 by way of emphasis took a long pull at his pipe, and 
 sent two or three fine rino-s of smoke oTacefully sailiuQ; 
 across the room, to the great admiration of Sam, who 
 had neyer seen that cleA'er trick done before. 
 
 Durins: this haranc^ue Huntino-don had criven one 
 
 O c3 o o 
 
 short contemptuous look at the speaker, and thereafter 
 ignored his existence, as he knew so well how to do. 
 Sam observing his inattention, and recollecting that the 
 two had never met before, promptly introduced his 
 chum. 
 
 "Ah, glad to see you," exclaimed Haskill, drawing 
 one hand from one pocket, and for a moment removing 
 his pipe from between his teeth, and the other hand 
 from the other pocket, and extending it towards Hunt- 
 ingdon, who without a word just touched it for an 
 instant as if he were afraid it was clirtv ; then, draAving 
 his arm through Sam's, Come, chum : we haven't any 
 time to lose. — Happy to have you call again, sir," with a 
 bow to the Junior ; and the two voung men, our hero 
 not quite understanding it all, took their departure for 
 Kernel's. 
 
 " By said Haskill between Ms teeth, as he made 
 
 his way back to his room, " that is a little the cheekiest 
 and most impudent fellow I ever saw yet ; and that's 
 saying a good deal, for there are some mighty swelly 
 and conceited chaps in this old mill, especially among 
 
46 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 the Seniors. What won't that man be before he grada 
 ates, if he is only permitted to keep on ? Ah, but won't 
 he get taken down?" and the little fellow rubbed his 
 hands gleefully at the thought. " Wouldn't I be one 
 of a crowd to put him under the pump, if I aon a Junior ! 
 I'm sorry for that Wentworth : he's a good fellow, but 
 dead sure to be an ass in such company." 
 
 Kernel's was as much an appendage of the college 
 as the steward's office, the college book-store, or even 
 the regent's. The proprietor of the establishment 
 gained an honest livelihood by buying furniture, carpets, 
 pictures, and the like, of the students at the end of the 
 year, or, indeed, at any time when one of them was 
 " hard up," at the least possible price, and selling them, 
 as opportunity offered, at the greatest possible price. As 
 those who sold were for the most part in immediate 
 need of money, aiid eager to realize on their property, 
 for which Kernel paid cash, while those who bought 
 were careless and a little " flush," he was often able to 
 sell at many hundred per cent advance on cost, and 
 realize a very pretty profit. Were it not that his sphere 
 of activity was necessarily limited, he might have 
 aspired to rival the most princely merchant in his gains ; 
 but, as it was, the business supported only a spavined 
 horse and a boy. The man himself was a curiosity ; 
 short, red-faced, sober and honest-looking withal, with 
 eyes suffused with tears as occasion required, and a voice 
 to move the heart with its husky tearfulness. He never 
 permitted his saddened countenance to relax into a cheer- 
 ful smile, nor his mournful voice to assume a natural 
 tone, even at the conclusion of a most profitable bargain. 
 
HOTV SAM SIGNED THE EEGULATIONS. 
 
 47 
 
 How well students remember him ! Notiiing that 
 they had to sell was ever of any value. A carpet, — it 
 was either too large or too small, or too much worn ; at 
 all events, it would not be salable. A piece of furni- 
 ture, — it was rickety or old-fashioned; of no use to 
 anybody, particularly to him. It was wonderful how 
 the market value of the same article changed, when 
 once transferred to his shop. It was curious, too, how 
 well he knew whom to trust. No student with a slen- 
 der or precarious income ever found credit with him. 
 
 Our friends had the advantage of calling on him 
 before the rush had come ; and they found his shop in 
 its most inviting aspect, with all its old rubbish re- 
 vamped and varnished, patched and furbished, and the 
 stubby little man himself standing ready at the door to 
 greet them. 
 
 " Good-day, gentlemen," said Kernel, rubbing his 
 hands, and allowing a tear to steal down either cheek. 
 " What can I do for you to-day, gentlemen ? carpets, 
 tables, chairs, lounges, bookcases, bureaus, bedsteads, 
 mattresses, pictures," he rapidly continued in a husky 
 voice, and with a long drawn-out rising inflection. 
 " I've got a splendid assortment to-day, gentlemen : 
 guess I can suit you to-day." After some little delay 
 our friends made a list of such articles as they required, 
 with the prices. 
 
 "Where shall I send them, gentlemen ? " asked the 
 fiirniture-vender, pencil and note-book in hand, and 
 with the deepest emotion. 
 
 " We will look a little farther before purchasing," 
 replied Huntingdon. 
 
 " You won't get them any cheaper for the quality of 
 
48 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HAEVAKD. 
 
 the goods, you may be sure," sounded after them as 
 they left the shop. 
 
 But they did find a cheaper place, and new furniture 
 too, a few doors farther on. 
 
 In the evening Sam went to hunt up his friend Vil- 
 liers in the entry above, where he had a room to him- 
 self, and was made acquainted with Fred Lewis, " A 
 classmate and a very near neighbor of yours too," said 
 Villiers. 
 
 " Yes : I'm proctor's Freshman ; and besides a front 
 room all to myself, I am supposed to be under the 
 especial protection of that dignitary," said Lewis, with 
 a pleasant laugh. 
 
 " He looks as though he needed to be protected by 
 somebody, doesn't he ? " said Villiers. 
 
 " I should think as much," replied Sam, viewing 
 Lewis's broad proportions (he was the most muscular 
 man in the class). " What do you have to do in return 
 for all these good things ? " 
 
 " I'm blessed if I know, but I suppose I shall in good 
 time ; " and the big Freshman lounged awkwardly 
 enough out of the room, with a hearty invitation for 
 them to be neighborly. Then the two friends had a 
 quiet, restful talk about the summer, and the coming 
 term with its new and trying experiences; and Sam 
 certainly slept the happier that night for his call on 
 Villiers. 
 
 The next two days were devoted to getting the 
 condition disposed of ; hunting up a boarding-house, — 
 though Sam soon after joined a club-table ; purchasing 
 the necessary books, and making acquaintances. Fri- 
 day afternoon somebody dropped a note, directed to Mr. 
 
HOW SAM SIGNED THE REGULATIOXS. 
 
 49 
 
 Samuel Went^orth, into his room. It was done sc 
 quickly that Sam did not catch sight of the messenger. 
 The note stated that the President mshed to see Mr. 
 Wentworth at his office at four o'clock that afternoon, 
 and was duly signed. Yv'hat business the President 
 could have with him was more than Sam could compre- 
 hend. He thought he must have done the paper on the 
 condition correctly. Y>^as it possible that he might be 
 sent home, after all ? It was with a good deal of sohci- 
 tude that at the appointed hour he knocked at the 
 door of the President's room. 
 
 " Come I " sounded sharply from within ; and enter- 
 ing, Sam recognized the pleasant face of the gentleman 
 who had handed him his admission-papers on that hot 
 and unhappy July eyening. 
 
 " Mr. AVent worth," said Sam, bowing modestly, and 
 drawing near, note in hand. 
 
 " Ah, how do 3-0U do, Mr. Wentworth ? " said the 
 President, looking up from his writing, with an inquir- 
 ing smile. 
 
 " You wished to see me," said Sam, after waiting a 
 moment for the reyerend President to come to busi- 
 ness ; but of this fact the reyerend President seemed 
 not to be aware. 
 
 " I receiyed a note from you," said the young man, 
 extending the summons. The President took it, read 
 it, and again the pleasant smile spread oyer his face. 
 
 " Xo. I didn't want you for any thing, Mr. Went- 
 worth. It was a Sophomore hoax, I suppose; " and he 
 handed the note back. 
 
 " A what ? " said Sam, a little dumbfounded. 
 
 "A — a Sophomore hoax, that is all; and not a 
 
60. STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 very good imitation either. See, here is- my signature 
 and the college form," showing a printed form with his 
 signature in the corner; "but you couldn't know that, 
 of course. You may rest easy, Mr. Wentworth," he 
 continued good-naturedly : ''I shall never mention it, 
 and I am sure you won't." Then, seeing that the 
 young man was a little dazed, " You can sign the regu- 
 lations, now that you are here, if you like ; and then 
 you won't have had your errand for nothing ; " and he 
 called, " Mr. Harris ! " and turned to his writing. 
 
 So Sam signed the regulations, and went back to his 
 room, feeling well pleased that he had kept the secret 
 of the note to himself, as his errand to the President's 
 office might have been a difficult one to explain. 
 
IV. 
 
 "BLOODY MONDAY NIGHT." 
 
 Saturday and Sunday passed quietly ; and on Monday 
 morning the round of college-life fairly began. There 
 were daily prayers in the chapel at a quarter of seven 
 in the morning, followed by an hour for breakfast, and 
 then the three recitations of an hour each ; one at eight 
 o'clock, one at noon, and one at four. All the classes, 
 and particularly the Freshman, v/ent to work with* a 
 will. Once in motion, the great machine runs more 
 smoothly every day; and the tasks follow each other 
 with a regularity that keeps every one busy. But 
 there is nothing monotonous about a Freshman's first 
 term ; for in addition to the novelty of the life itself, 
 so different from what he has had at home, there is 
 certain to be some interesting experience for every one, 
 which together with the hazing, that is expected, even 
 if it never comes, makes the first six months not the 
 least exciting period of the entire four years. Some 
 extracts from the letters which Sam wrote home at this 
 time will give a good idea of how it fared with him. 
 
 The first Monday night of -the year," he wrote, " is 
 called ' bloody Monday night,' and is the traditional 
 time for hazing Freshmen ; because there is ahvays a 
 Facalty mxeeting, and the Freshmen are consequently 
 
 61 
 
52 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVAED. 
 
 unprotected ; and because tliey have not had time to be- 
 come much acquainted : at least, so chum says. It has 
 been the custom for I don't know how long, to have a 
 game of foot-ball on the ' Delta,' about sunset, between 
 the Sophomores and Freshmen. The game has always 
 been rough ; once or twice limbs have been broken, and 
 it almost always ended in a fight between the two 
 classes : so that it had gradually grown into disfavor 
 with the Faculty. Last year they determined to stop 
 it, decreed that there should be no more foot-ball, and 
 gave the present Sophomore class instructions not to 
 participate in the game. Of course the decree of the 
 Faculty was felt to be an injustice ; and not a little 
 curiosity was manifested as to whether the Sophs, 
 would heed the order, or be plucky enough to carry 
 through the annual contest in spite of it. 
 
 " Monday morning, as a Sophomore who has a room 
 down the entry was passing the door, chum called out, 
 Is there going to be a foot-ball on the Delta this even- 
 ing ? ' It was an impudent question under the circum- 
 stances ; but chum is no respecter of persons. Tlie 
 Soph, put on a scowl, and growled out, ' There will be 
 
 a foot-ball there fast enough, if you Freshmen 
 
 dare to kick it.' 
 
 ••'Of course ive had received no warning from the 
 Faculty, and were not supposed to know any thing 
 about Faculty decrees. All day long chum was around 
 at the different rooms, drumming up recruits, and, to 
 make sure, notes were circulated at recitations ; and the 
 result was a great turn-out on the part of our men, — 
 more than eighty, Huntingdon said, under his leader- 
 ship. There were not more than half as many Sophs. ; 
 
"BLOODY MONDAY NIGHT." 
 
 53 
 
 but tliey were desperate-looking fellows, with old hats, 
 and coats turned inside out, or disguised in some way, 
 so that in case any of the Faculty should come around 
 to ' spot ' them, as they probably would, they might 
 confound them in their evil intentions. 
 
 " We were all assembled on the Delta, a fine triangle 
 of ground surrounded by large elms, — the play-ground 
 of the college, by seven o'clock, we facing east, and 
 the Sophs, west ; when one of them came forward, 
 and threw down the ball into the open space between 
 us ; then with a yell they rushed forward, and it went 
 flying over our heads, before I had time to think about 
 it. In less than two minutes there was just the grand- 
 est scuffle and confusion I ever saw ; it was hard to tell 
 friend from foe, and more than one pair rolled over in 
 the dust ; but it was not long, or it did not seem long, 
 before the ball was well down to the east end of the 
 Delta : then there was a tremendous tussle for ten 
 minutes ; and, as luck would have it, the ball fell close 
 to the fence and near where I was. Fred Lewis and 
 mj^self both ran to send it home. A Sophomore was 
 making desperate exertions to reach it too, and we 
 three were much nearer than any one else : so I called 
 out to Lewis, who was a little beliind me, to look out 
 for the ball, and I would take care of the Sophomore. 
 He saw what I meant to do, and aimed a blow at my 
 face, which I dodged ; and we both went down. I 
 couldn't see the ball or any thing else for a time ; but I 
 heard our men yell, and the crowd around the Delta 
 clap their hands, and knew that the game was 
 won ; and then we two were on our feet, picking up 
 our hats. 'No offence,' I said to the Sophomore; 
 
54 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 ' I couldn't help it very v/ell.' — ' Oh, no ! that's all 
 right,' said he. He looked as though it was all wrong 
 though ; and I recognized him as the one who had 
 called us Freshmen, in answer to chum's ques- 
 tion in the morning. The fellows were wild with 
 excitement and delight at having beaten the Sophs., 
 though it was really no great achievement, we were 
 so much more numerous than they ; and it was some 
 time before we could get into position for a second 
 game. This was shorter than the first, because after 
 beating them we no longer felt afraid, as I suppose 
 every one did (I know I did) at first. It was dark by 
 this time. Some of the crowd who had lined the fence 
 jumped over, and joined in the fun ; and the kicking 
 and jostling and shouting continued long after the ball 
 was sent home. There then was a great cheering by 
 the Sophs, and by our men, and by the crowd outside, 
 which now comprised pretty much the whole college ; 
 and after a time we broke up." . . 
 
 Though Sam's letters home were very replete with 
 information, he did not tell all the adventures he par- 
 ticipated in. He did not think it necessary to relate 
 that, after the football, Will Adams had invited them 
 all over to Kent's for the purpose of " standing treat." 
 To Kent's they had repaired, however, at his invitation, 
 with a mighty thirst for " cobblers " after their dusty 
 work. But unfortunately the Sophomores were there 
 before them in greater force ; a fight had ensued for 
 the possession of the premises, and our friends had 'been 
 totally routed, and driven from the field. 
 
 "We are going around to Adams's rooms, chum," 
 
" BLOODY MONDAY NIGHT." 
 
 55 
 
 Huntingdon whispered to Sam, — "just a few of us;" 
 and so, after the attempt at Kent's, Sam went with his 
 chum, Lewis, Longstreet, or " Charley," Lyman, Smith, 
 and Tom Hawes, to the spacious and elegantly furnished 
 apartments which Adams occupied, and where, being in 
 a private house, they were tolerably safe from molesta- 
 tion. 
 
 " I always mean to do my part so far as I can," said 
 Adams, turning on the gas ; " and perhaps I can furnish 
 some of the ' delights of peace,' even if I'm not much 
 of a fighter. — Wentworth, I'm glad to meet you," he 
 continued, as he shook hands cordially with Sam, the 
 two meeting there for the first time. Adams was the 
 wealthiest man in the class, a slight, delicate fellow, 
 with light hair, a kindly blue eye, and an indolent 
 manner. As a matter of course, he never lacked for 
 friends, though there were few of them that hesitated 
 to crack a joke at his expense. He was always dressed 
 with exquisite taste, and had prudently stood outside 
 the Delta during the foot-ball game, notwithstanding 
 the half-insolent calls of his classmates. 
 
 " We have reason to be thanlvful that our late defeat 
 was not a victory," said Huntingdon, as he witnessed 
 the preparations that Adams was making for their 
 entertainment ; and indeed they had. The choicest 
 champagnes and sherries, as well as stronger liquor for 
 such as desired, were furnished in abundance, together 
 with cigars, pipes, and tobacco ; and the company soon 
 became hilarious. 
 
 "You don't drink yourself, Mar}^," said L^nnan, with 
 a wink at Huntingdon. By " Mary " he meant Adams. 
 
 " Let's send out and get some milk," shouted Long- 
 
56 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HABVAED. 
 
 street. "Milk is Ms tipple." At this there was a 
 roar. 
 
 " Do have a cigar," said Huntingdon, passing the box 
 to him ; for their host's inability to smoke was a stand- 
 ing joke among his friends. 
 
 Then, some allusion being made to the foct-ball vic- 
 tory, Lewis declared that Wentworth was the man who 
 had done it, which statement was received with uproar- 
 ious applause, and shouts of, " Wentworth, speech ! 
 speech ! " 
 
 Now, Sam was wholly out of his element. He had 
 never been present at any thing like this before. He 
 had never tasted champagne in his life, though on this 
 occasion he had imbibed freely, and the tobacco-smoke 
 was most disagreeable ; but he got on to his feet, and 
 with the aid of the table managed to stay there. Of 
 course he made a fool of himself, though he furnished 
 cause for the most unbounded and noisy merriment on 
 the part of the others, till finally Huntingdon got him 
 into his chair, and soon after to his room. As I have 
 said, there was no mention of all this in his letters home. 
 
 " They have a way here," he wrote, " of squirting 
 water, not always the cleanest, at Freshmen, out of big 
 syringes. Perhaps two or three of us are walking 
 unsuspectingly along, when whist comes a stream of 
 water, thrown from a window or some other vantage- 
 ground ; and, if we look up, we see half a dozen Sopho- 
 mores laughing at us from behind a shutter. This is 
 one of the many petty annoyances a Freshman has to 
 submit to, though it led to a really funny incident last 
 evening. A Junior, Haskill (of course you remember 
 
"BLOODY MOXDAY XIGHT." 
 
 57 
 
 him), rooms nearly opposite : and we see a good deal of 
 him. He says the Junior year is a loafing year ; and I 
 should think it was for him, for he is in our room smok- 
 ing a good part of the time, and was there last evening ; 
 and, for a wonder, chmn was there too. "We were sitting 
 opposite one another at the table wliich is in the centre 
 of the room, workins; out the mornino-'s Greek, when 
 somebody knocked at the door. * Come in ! ' called 
 chum, without getting up. The door was flung wide 
 open ; and instead of seeing a visitor, as I glanced up 
 from my book, a stream of water went whizzing over the 
 table, thrown from one of those big syringes, and struck 
 full on the opposite wall, though with such force that 
 not a drop fell short. I sprang, and shut to the door. 
 'A compliment for one of us,' said chum. 'I believe it 
 was the fellow you grappled at the foot-ball match. If 
 I don't have him under the pump before I die, I sha'n"t 
 rest in peace.' As the entry was quiet, there seemed 
 nothing to do just then : so we went on with our work. 
 Haskill sat a few minutes giggling to himself, and then 
 rose to go. ' Don't hurry,' said I. ' Oh, yes. I must 
 be off: time to turn in,' he replied. He opened the 
 door, and was half way out, when a second stream of 
 water struck him full in the face and chest, and drenched 
 him thoroughly. I never saw a more ridiculous-look- 
 ing fellow than Haskill, or a madder one. The joke 
 was too good. Lewis rallied, and roared with laughter. 
 Winthrop with his pipe from the next room, and even 
 Villiers, came to see what was going on. The two 
 Sophs, were pretty well ctit up about it, and were 
 profuse in their apologies ; for of coui^se they had not 
 dreamed of hazing a Junior. • 
 
68 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 "The Sophs, are off on hazing expeditions most of 
 the time now, though, except having our windows 
 broken, we have not been seriously troubled yet. The 
 proctor for our entry has a sweetheart some miles away; 
 and, as he goes to see her every evening, the conse- 
 quence is that we are left without our natural protector. 
 Every Freshman door in the entry and in the hall above 
 has been broken down more than once. They knock 
 at a door : if admitted, well ; if not, they form a wedge, 
 and down it goes. How badly poor Villiers has been 
 hazed, only he and his tormentors know ; but it is certain 
 his furniture has been entirely demolished twice ; and 
 they say they have made him crawl through a row of 
 chairs, though I don't believe that. One day Wilkin- 
 son, a prominent Sophomore who looks in to see me now 
 and then, advised chum to shave off his side-whiskers. 
 Chum wouldn't do that for the world : he thinks too 
 much of them. ' To be sure, it doesn't matter to me,' 
 said Wilkinson ; ' but it would be plc^santer to shave 
 them off yourself, than to have a parcel of fellows do 
 it for you. They shaved me last year ; and there was 
 nothing agreeable about it. Oh, it's a common thing to 
 shave a Freshman, or cut his hair. Our tutor in mathe- 
 matics last year — you've got a new one, haven't you ? 
 — had a cushion, a small one, stuffed with Freshman 
 whiskers he got in that way when he was in college ; 
 and I should much rather be my own barber, if I were 
 in your place.' I asked chum afterwards if he were 
 going to shave. He said, ' No, Wilkinson was only 
 stuffing us ; ' but he sleeps with a revolver under his 
 pillow. I don't tiink he will be troubled, for he is the 
 most popular man»in the class." 
 
"BLOODY MONDAY NIGHT." 
 
 59 
 
 Those were pleasant times for the young student, in 
 spite of the hard diggnig he had to do ; and work Iiard 
 at his studies he did, as did the class, almost to a man, 
 during those first six or eight weeks : so that at reci- 
 tation he made a very good appearance indeed. Hunt- 
 ingdon had acquired the reputa^tion of being the best in 
 scholarship, as lie was foremost in popularity and fine 
 personal appearance. He was the class leader in all 
 movements that were set afoot, was personally ac- 
 quainted with every man in the class worth knowing, 
 and was on intimate terms with many of the most promi- 
 nent Juniors and Seniors, before two months had passed 
 by. Our hero could but feel that to be the friend and 
 chum of such a man was glory indeed. In truth, he 
 was the envy of many, and received not a few atten- 
 tions and favors for his chum's sake. Huntingdon him- 
 self treated him v\^ith a good-natured sort of considera- 
 tion which quite won Sam's gratitude. Whether this was 
 the result of a principle which would always have made 
 him polite towards one Avith whom he must of needs be 
 intimate, and who could besides repay his attentions by 
 sounding his praises far -and near, or of Huntingdon's 
 recollection of that splendid, bright-eyed girl wdiom he 
 had seen and admired for one short afternoon ; or 
 whether he was really a little touched by the affection 
 Avhich he plainly saw the boy entertained for him, and 
 really had some feeling for the simple-hearted youth for 
 the first time away from home and friends, — the result 
 was the same to Sam, who regarded his chum as the 
 very beau-ideal of a gentleman, one to be admired, 
 praised, and imitated so far as possible. That tliis was 
 Sam's opinion of Huntingdon, was plain for ail to see. 
 
60 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 There are always some men in the class who become 
 prominent and well known before the first six weeks 
 have passed by. Among onr friend's classmates, Charley 
 Longstreet, the most diminutive, had already acquired 
 this prominence by his pluck and daring. One morning 
 early in the term, he appeared at prayers with the fir.-.t 
 Freshman silk hat. It is an unwritten law, thougl 
 none the less firmly and rigorously administered by the 
 Sophomores, that Freshmen shall not wear silk hats 
 until the second term. " They would be blase ^ you 
 know, if Vv^e permitted them to exhaust all the pleasures 
 of life at the outset," said a Sophomore to Huntingdon, 
 with a knowing wag of the head. On this particular ' 
 morning these gentlemen were in too much of a hurry 
 for their breakfast to interfere, or, more likely, they did 
 not fully take in the significance of this daring deed : 
 at any rate, Longstreet walked away from the chapel in 
 triumph, wearing his tile with the fullest glory. He 
 was closely surrounded by a body-guard of protectors, 
 comprising Huntingdon of course, and Sam, and brawny 
 Fred Lewis, Lyman, — who had already the reputation 
 of being the coolest and most impudent Freshman, 
 (the " cheekiest " man in the class, to use the college 
 idiom,) Tom Hawes and Smith his chum, boating men 
 both, and Will Adams. Together they quite obscured 
 the new hat; and probably the Sophomores did not see 
 it at all that morning. Longstreet even ran the gauntlet; 
 at morning and noon recitations; but fickle fortune 
 forsook him in the afternoon. Wilkinson, that tall, 
 dark, plucky boating man, backed by two or three of 
 his friends, intercepted Longstreet in the five minuter 
 when half the college was rushing into recitation, and 
 
"BLOODY MONDAY NIGHT." 
 
 61 
 
 half rushing out : the bocly-guarcl availed not ; the beaver 
 flew spinning from the little man's head, was hustled by 
 the crowd which instantly gath(fred, for a few seconds, 
 and no man saw it more ; while for several days after- 
 wards the Sophomores wore bits of black silk at their 
 watch-chains. I believe the first. Freshman beaver inva- 
 riably meets with a similar fate. 
 
 Hazing was naturally a topic of especial interest to 
 the new-comers in these days. After the first burst of 
 Sophomoric wrath, there was a lull ; but the Freshmen 
 are never quite free from annoyance during this first 
 term. " I had a visit from two of them last night," 
 said Lewis one day, as he settled himself in Sam's easy- 
 chair, for a pleasant half-hour's chat. 
 
 " How was that ? " asked Haskill throuo^h the cloud 
 of smoke that, as usual, enveloped him. 
 
 " Well, it was a httle peculiar, their ^dsit," said Lewis; 
 and his loud laugh rang out at the recollection. " They 
 came in just as I was going to bed, and mum was the 
 word. I hailed them three or four times, but couldn't 
 get a word : so I took the cue myself. If they wanted 
 any thing they made signs for it, and kept their gravity 
 too, which was more than I could do, for some of their 
 j)antomime was funny. But it got played out for me 
 after two or three hours : so, seeing that they seemed 
 to have no notion of quitting, I turned in about one 
 o'<^.lock." 
 
 " How long did they stay ? " asked Sam. 
 
 " I'm blessed if I know. They sat there smoking, as 
 mum as ever, the last I saw of them : when I woke up 
 this morning, their places were unhappily vacant." 
 
 But Lewis's adventures were not always so tame. It 
 
62 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HAEVAHD. 
 
 was only the very next morning that he appeared at 
 prayers with a very dark ring under his left eye, and 
 the orb itself in a considerably damaged condition. 
 
 " Why, how's this ? " said Tom Hawes, grasping his 
 friend's arm, during the rush from the chapel. " Had 
 a row, eh ? " 
 
 " I'll bet it took more than one to do it," said Long- 
 street, pressing up. Almost immediately Lewis was the 
 centre of a little crowd ; for among his friends his 
 prowess was thought to be invincible. 
 
 " Well," said Lewis leisurely, " three of the dogs 
 came in last evening pretty late. I was writing out the 
 > English into Greek,' and had pretty nearly finished it. 
 I wasn't very glad to see them, for it was late, and I 
 was tired : so I just kept at work without looking up. 
 One. of them sat down on the table ; it's a little one, 
 you know, and he pretty much covered it : so I pushed 
 him off." 
 
 "And I'll bet he went off, too," said Longstreet, 
 gleefully. 
 
 " Yes, he went off," continued Lewis quietly; "and 
 I went on with my work. Then that big light- 
 whiskered fellow " — 
 
 " Jackson, a perfect scrub," interposed Hunting- 
 don. 
 
 " W ell, I didn't know his name. He took hold of 
 the table to pull it away. I jumped up, and hold it; 
 and it didn't move very far." 
 
 " I guess not ! " said Tom Hawes, with a grim laugh. 
 
 " Then we both pulled, and the table came my way ; 
 and I don't see exactly how it was, but one of them hit 
 me in the eye before I knew what he was up to." 
 
"BLOODY MONDAY NIGHT." 
 
 63 
 
 " But yon laid 'em all out, I know you did," said 
 Longstreet, fairly jumping up and down. 
 
 " Yes, I floored two, and they left in a hurry ; and it 
 was lucky too, for my mad was up ; but they will be 
 after me some of these cold nights, and I shall have to 
 pa}'- for it." 
 
 If they do, we'll make a class matter of it," said 
 Huntingdon, with a grave authority which he could 
 assume so becomingly. " It is about time this sort of 
 nonsense was stopped. The honor of the class demands 
 it." 
 
 To this grave proposition there was a very general 
 assent. 
 
 " And I say, fellows," said Longstreet, whose sud- 
 denly assumed air of dignity and importance made 
 everybody laugh, " we mustn't wait any longer. The 
 only way is to have a secret society to put down hazmg. 
 Just come around to my room after breakfast, will you ? 
 Lyman and I have clraw^n up some articles, and well 
 organize regularly ; and the very first time that anybody 
 is hazed, we'll just take some thundering Soph, or other, 
 and do the same to him." 
 
 The idea met with general favor. The society was 
 duly formed, and joined by all the big-fisted and plucky 
 Freshmen, and by some that answered neither descrip- 
 tion. Happily its efforts were never called for however. 
 
 As soon as the novelty of the situation begins to 
 wear off, and familiarity with the duties and customs 
 of the college removes to a degree the feeling of con- 
 straint which pervades the class at the outset, the 
 Freslimen, or certain choice spirits among them, begin 
 
64 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 to indulge in a little sport on their own account ; though 
 their jokes are, for the most part, simple and innocent 
 enough. 
 
 " We get a good many ' cuts,' " wrote Sam in one of 
 his letters, " in this way. There is a man in our divis- 
 ion who dislikes study in the extreme, and who cares 
 even less about reciting than he does about studying. 
 We go in to history three times a week at eight m the 
 morning, and recite in a room in the basement of Uni- 
 versity. The tutor seldom comes till the last minute, 
 and almost always finds the keyhole plugged. We all 
 stand expectant, knowing the situation of affairs. The 
 tutor comes sedately around the corner, pulls out his 
 key, applies it to the keyhole ; .but it will not go in. 
 ' Some one has stopped up the keyhole,' he says, in a 
 manner which shows how very childish it appears to 
 him, while we all look as sober and sympathetic as 
 
 possible, ' so we can't recite this morning : take to 
 
 section next time.' So we have an hour to loaf in. The 
 young man tried this little game one morning on the 
 Greek tutor, who isn't quite popular. The keyhole was 
 securely plugged, and we all knew it, and expected a cut 
 of course ; but the little man's eyes snapped when he 
 took in the situation of affairs, and he marched us all 
 into an adjoining room which chanced to be vacant, and 
 ' deaded ' three-fourths of the entire division ; for we 
 were not prepared for such a flank movement." 
 
 Sam himself did not escape the unruly spirit which 
 at this time pervaded the class, but took a full part in 
 the petty mischief that was committed. 
 
 " What in the world have you there, chum ? " asked 
 Huntingdon, as Sam came into the room one afternoon 
 
"BLOODY MONDAY XIGHT." 
 
 65 
 
 from four o'clock recitation, with radiant manner, and 
 threw a white, chalk-covered object on the table. 
 
 "What does it look like?" said the Freshman tri- 
 umphantly. 
 
 Like a blackboard eraser. I should think." 
 
 " Well, so it is : we have become pltniderers of col- 
 lege property, we fourth division men. We wanted to 
 rough old Bullard somehow [•• old Bullard " was the 
 new ttitor in mathematics] : and so every man in the 
 third division carried off the eraser from his board, with- 
 out rubbing otit his work. BtiU is as blind as Bartimeus 
 of old, and didn't perceive the abstraction till our 
 division was sent to the board, where there were no 
 erasers. The old chap was wonderftilly surprised, and 
 the fellows were expecting a cut ; but he rallied his 
 ' wits, borroAved an eraser fi^om the next room, cleaned 
 the board himself, and went on with the recitation, and 
 then had each man rub out his work as he finished his 
 explanation. When the hour was up he said, ' Some 
 of the members of the class have made it necessary 
 for me to treat yoti all with primary-school discipline ; ' 
 and he filed us out one at a time." 
 
 " Pretty good," rejoined Huntingdon from his book ; 
 "but I think he rather had the best of you that time." 
 
 " Perliaps he did ; but that is the eraser he borrowed, 
 and he'll have to get a new supply for to-morrow." 
 
V. 
 
 A CHANGE IN THE COUNTEY BOY. 
 
 As the first term drew on, a cliange came over the 
 spmt of the letters which Sam wrote home ; and well 
 might this be so, for it was but .a faint shadow of the 
 change which was fast transforming the young man 
 himself from the simple rustic country boy, into the 
 conventional college student. It was in this case only 
 a chapter, however, out of the story so familiar to 
 every Harvard graduate. A good hearted, impression- 
 able, impulsive young fellow leaves his home, and the 
 restraining vigilance of friends and parents, with char- 
 acter all unformed, and is at once dazzled by the bril- 
 liancy and variety of his surroundings. Paths hitherto 
 closed now lie open to his feet : why should he not 
 tread them ? There is no one to question him as to 
 his habits or his associates, to mark his going out or 
 his coming in ; and it is in this first flush of liberty 
 that the greatest danger lies, — a- danger which is fatal 
 to so many. 
 
 It must not be inferred that our hero had as yet mani- 
 fested any very alarming symptoms. In point of fact, 
 he was still very far behind his chum's set, in almost 
 all the characteristics which made them prominent ; but 
 the progress which he had made towards proficiency 
 
 66 
 
A CHANGE IN THE COUNTRY BOY. 
 
 67 
 
 in their line of accomplisliments was very marked; 
 and the tendency of his thoughts and actions was a 
 cause for alarm. He had fully made up his mind to 
 learn to smoke in good time, much as he knew it would 
 grieve his mother. That home-world, dear as it was, 
 which was all he had known for so many years, looked 
 very small to him now, compared with the larger sphere 
 which surrounded him. The precepts and principles, 
 which he had been wont to regard as infallible there, 
 seemed now, in the light of his new surroundings, to 
 admit of a far different interpretation. "A fellow 
 can't always be tied to his mother's apron-string : a 
 man must have his o^m mind about these things, and 
 use his own discretion. Women are no judges of what 
 is right and proper for a man ; are they, chum ? " he 
 had said to Huntingdon more than once ; and to those 
 sentiments that gentleman had acquiesced very much 
 as to a mathematical axiom. Before that memorable 
 " bloody Monday night " when he had entertained 
 Adams's choice company at his own expense, a glass 
 of wine had never passed his lips. He had secretly- 
 resolved that his experience on that occasion should 
 never be repeated ; but he had come to consider cob- 
 blers as " very nice indeed," and could not see how a 
 glass or two of punch could do any harm. 
 
 "I don't mean that it is good to keep* yourself full 
 of whiskey all the time, as Stetson does ; of course not 
 that," he used to say to Villiers ; for the two young men 
 had many a discussion about these things. " There is 
 such a thing as going beyond all reason in any thing ; 
 but, if you go around with the fellows, you must do 
 your share." 
 
68 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 " Then don't go with them," was Villiers's earnest 
 reply, " if you cannot avoid their vices." 
 
 " They are about the nicest fellows in the class, vices 
 or not." 
 
 " There are others just as nice, whose example is not 
 dangerous." 
 
 " It is all very well for you to talk, Villiers : you are 
 a monument of self-control, and it's different with you ; 
 but I like to go with the fellows, and do my share 
 when my turn comes around." 
 
 His turn used to " come around " pretty often, for he 
 was a most generous-hearted fellow ; and before the 
 term was half through he had thus trifled away almost 
 the entire year's allowance. 
 
 In the matter of dress he was a transformed being. 
 He had come with what was supposed to be a very 
 proper outfit ; but his sensitive eye soon taught him 
 that there was a defect somewhere, and, acting under 
 his chum's suggestions, he had patronized a fasliionable 
 tailor without delay. The taste was as new as its 
 indulgence was delightful ; and with the aid of the 
 skilful salesman, who saw the young man's weak point, 
 he selected one suit after another, till, as he afterwards 
 said, " I never knew what possessed me ; but I bought 
 clothing enough that first term to have lasted the entire 
 four years." • When he came to include in his expendi- 
 tures what he had paid for gloves, flashy scarfs, and 
 French boots, the sum-total was alarming, if not in 
 itself, at least when he remembered his resolutions to 
 practise economy. 
 
 It is difficult to describe the exact change that had 
 come over his manner. Impressionable as he was, he 
 
A CHANGE IX THE COUNTRY BOY. 
 
 69 
 
 had caught something, of the polite indifference of his 
 chum, of the cool impudence of Lyman, of the brag- 
 gadocio of Longstreet ; and there was at this time an 
 airy conceit in his manner, as though the college and 
 all its appurtenances had been made for his especial 
 benefit, that was a little ridicidous ; for, after all, 
 nobody was imposed upon by his pretentious ways, 
 and nobody at this time considered him a swell. It 
 took longer than this to make a man of the world of 
 him; and few of his new associates forgot his' original 
 rusticity, least of all the young men whom he was 
 imitating. Their ways and modes of dress and deport- 
 ment, their debonair good-fellowship, their easy spend- 
 ing of money, and theh^ peculiar grace so captivating 
 to Sam's refined and nice appreciation, were with them 
 the accident of nature, or the growth of habit. A 
 novice could not acquire them in a day. Sam was 
 Huntingdon's chum, and Huntingdon was at this time 
 the most prominent and popular man in his class : so 
 he was everywhere received out of compliment to the 
 hero of the hour, when on his own account this could 
 not have been so. 
 
 "What sort of a fellow is that Wentworth? he seems 
 to be with your set a good deal," asked a friendly 
 Junior of Lyman one day. 
 
 " Oh," retiu'ued the latter with his cool laugh, 
 " Wentworth is a very good sort of fellow at bottom, 
 I guess ; only he hasn't quite got the clover-seed raked 
 out of his hair yet. Huntingdon has taken him up : 
 that's the reason you see him around with us so 
 much." 
 
 There were several reasons why our young friend did 
 
70 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 not carry his follies (for vices he had none) to an 
 extreme. His experience at examination had taught 
 him a bitter lesson ; and he was fully resolved to avoid 
 any thing that should send him home in disgrace. Mis- 
 takes he would certainly make ; but they would be 
 errors of judgment, not of the heart. Then the Fresh- 
 men tutors kept him very busy indeed ; the three reci 
 tations a day came around with the utmost regularity ; 
 and it sometimes seemed as though the task-masters 
 vied with each other to see which one should work the 
 class the hardest. " They display a zeal worthy of a 
 better cause," Huntingdon used to say with a half 
 curse, as he came in late at night from some gay com- 
 pany, and, turning on the gas, sat down to a two or 
 three hours' dig. Complaints of this grew more and 
 more frequent as the term advanced ; but unquestiona- 
 bly a great deal of mischief was thus prevented. Best 
 of all, however, Sam was coming more and more under 
 the influence of Villiers. 
 
 There was nothing, indeed, that the young man 
 really enjoyed more at this time than the society and 
 friendship of Villiers. He always felt a little con- 
 strained in his chum's company, and was frequently ill 
 at ease among his friends. He could not talk as they 
 did, and he knew it, and he knew that sometimes 
 they made game of him ; but there was nothing of all 
 this to mar his friendship with Villiers, who always 
 received him with honest cordiality, and for whom he 
 entertained every day a deeper regard. So these two 
 young men, so different in many characteristics and 
 yet each possessing a singleness of heart, were much 
 together. They went off on long tramps in the deli- 
 
A CHANGE IN THE COUNTRY BOY. 71 
 
 cious autumn afternoons, and explored tlie country for 
 miles around. They read out their Latin and Greek 
 together, for Huntington almost never studied until 
 after midnight; and Sam owed much of the excel- 
 lent show he made at recitations and examinations to 
 the thorough preparation he had made by going over 
 the work with Villiers; for the latter prepared his 
 lessons in the most thorough manner. Everybody said 
 Villiers was a most unmitigated "dig," and so he was; 
 but he seemed to think that hard study was the object 
 for which young men went to college, and never minded 
 being called a dig. Those much-esteemed Freshman 
 performances, so generally admired by the class at large, 
 such as stealing signs, plugging up keyholes, carrying 
 off college property, and promoting class fights, received 
 no approbation from him. A member of the Faculty 
 itself could not have been more grave than Villiers was 
 at each fresh recital of these reprehensible perform- 
 ances. Such a man could not possibly be popular ; and 
 Sam used sometimes to feel a little ashamed when, in 
 company with his studious friend, he encountered his 
 high-blooded acquaintances. But in his own soul he 
 knew that his friend was right, and did battle for him 
 with manly warmth, whenever occasion offered, declaring 
 that he was a splendid fellow, and every inch a gentle- 
 man, if there was one in the class. 
 
 " I believe he would lead the class, too," he said to 
 Lewis, as the two were enjoying a half-hour lounging 
 in the glow of the latter's open fire, talking over class 
 matters, "if he were not so tremendously conscientious 
 as to never look into a pony." 
 
 " Not use any ponies I Why the man must be 
 
72 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVAED. 
 
 insane ; it don't seem possible to grind all the grist we 
 have without," was Lewis's exclamation. 
 
 " Well, Villiers reads without a translation almost as 
 fast as I can with one, although he isn't always sure of 
 the sense of a passage, and occasionally finds one that 
 is altogether too much for him." 
 
 " I wouldn't believe a man could be so foolish." 
 
 " Oh, he's more decided about that than any one 
 thing ! I had to laugh at him the other day : he carried 
 the joke to the extreme," and Sam laughed heartily 
 at the recollection. 
 
 "How was that?" 
 
 " I was in his room reading out the Thucydides with 
 him. You know how tough it has been lately. We 
 have read it all out together, and for that reason I have 
 ponied very little. There was one passage we couldn't 
 make au}^ thing of ; so we skipped it, read out the rest 
 of the lesson, and came back to it for another twenty 
 minutes ; but it was no use. Yilliers was fairly stuck, 
 and I half enjoyed the situation. There was but a 
 short time to spare ; and as it was m}^ day to be called 
 up, and I didn't relish the idea of deading, I hurried to 
 my room, took a little ride on the pony, comprehended 
 without trouble, and brought the pony back to read the 
 passage to Villiers. ' Oh, please don't read that to me, 
 Sam : I never use those translations ! ' he exclaimed, in 
 a half-horrified way that made me laugh in spite of all 
 I could do. ' All right,' said I ; and I threw the book 
 down. ' Suppose we go over it once more,' and I 
 commenced reading. When I came to the passage in 
 question, 'Skip that, Sam,' he said: 'you didn't get it 
 fairly.' And we went in; and he was nearer a dead 
 
A CHANGE IN THE COUNTEY BOY. 
 
 73 
 
 than I ever knew him to be before. That is what I call 
 carrjing the joke pretty far ; don't you? " 
 
 "I should think it was, and mighty foolish too. The 
 tutors take it for granted that every man uses a pony, 
 and give out the lessons accordingly ; and what is the 
 use of making a martjT? of 3'ourself ? " 
 
 Not unfrequently Sam used to shock his friend's 
 sense of projDriety by proposing, in a spirit of mischief- 
 loving fun, some project that he knew would meet 
 with his disapproval ; for no other purpose than to call 
 forth the look of grave disapproval, or the earnest 
 expostulations sure to follow. 
 
 " Come in, and have a cobbler or a glass of ale," he 
 would say, as they were passing Kent's. " I am as dry 
 as a fish." 
 
 " Xo, I never drink cobblers or ale," Villiers would 
 invariably reply in a grave tone. 
 
 " Well, no matter if you don't ; come in with a fel- 
 low." 
 
 " No. If you please, I vdll wait for you outside." 
 He was never induced to enter an ale-shop, or drink a 
 glass, even when in after-days he consorted much with 
 the boating-men of the college. 
 
 " Oh, Villiers ! " said Sam gayly to him on one oc- 
 casion, as they were sauntering across the square, " I 
 know you are a lover of the assthetic and the beautiful, 
 and I want to show you the prettiest girl you ever saw 
 in your life ; that is, if she's at her usual post of obser- 
 vation ; " and, taking his friend's arm, he walked him 
 slowly past a certain window where millinery goods 
 were wont to be displayed, and within which a very 
 pretty girl indeed was to be seen sitting at her sewing. 
 
74 
 
 STUDEKT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 " There, old fellow ! did you ever see any thing prettiei 
 than that?" 
 
 Villiers said nothing, but turned upon him one of his 
 grave and reproachful looks, that caused Sam to 
 explode with laughter. 
 
 " Come," he said, struck with a sudden idea, and 
 pleased with the thought of being able to shock Vil- 
 liers, " I need some cravats badly ; and how I should 
 enjoy wearing them if made by such pretty and deli- 
 cate fingers ! " And the two young men entered the 
 shop, Villiers with considerable hesitation, for he knew 
 well that Sam was in no need of cravats. To the open 
 disappointment of one, and the secret amusement of the 
 other, they were waited on, not by the blushing little 
 fairy (she seemed an innocent, blue-eyed little thing, 
 hardly out of childhood, and was even more interesting, 
 Sam thought, in her black dress, seen from across the 
 counter), but by an ill-favored spinster of forty-five, 
 who emerged rather unexpectedly from behind a cur- 
 tain, and aske-d, in a sharp voice, what they wanted. 
 There was no help for it now, however ; and after some 
 deliberation Sam ordered his neckties, and the pair 
 departed. 
 
 Sam laughed long and heartily at his own discomfit- 
 ore. " Did you ever see any thing so exceeding lean 
 and ill-favored ? If Pharaoh's kine were half as bad, I 
 don't wonder that seven were enough to breed a 
 famine." 
 
 It was several days after this, that they happened to 
 be passing, when Sam said, " Come, Villiers, those neck- 
 ties must be finished : we'll go and get them. I wonder 
 if the she-dragon is on duty this time. 
 
A CHANGE IN THE COUXTBY BOY. 
 
 She proved not to be. Yes, the ties are finished," 
 said the girl Trith a conscious blnsh, and proceeded to 
 wrap them in a paper ; but when Sam drew forth his 
 pocket-book with an inquiring glance, '-I — I — really 
 don't know how much aunty is going to ask for them," 
 she stammered, with the prettiest confusion. 
 
 " If Tou will ask her, I will look in again,"' said Sam 
 with a half-roguish look. Xo,'' he exclaimed, as she 
 extended the parcel to him. I won't take them till 
 I pay for them ; " and he was evidently well pleased at 
 the prospect of another call. Indeed, notwithstanding 
 Mr. Villiers's grave looks, there seemed to be no alter- 
 native. Sam was such a frank, good-looking fellow, in 
 spite of the airs he had assumed, with his fine figure, 
 curling chestnut hair, cheery face, and honest warm- 
 hearted manner, that the little milliner was not the first 
 who had smiled upon him at Cambridge : but for some 
 reason Villiers seemed to be impressed with the duty 
 of seeing to it that he did not order too many cravats. 
 
 Indeed, since the promise which he had made to the 
 bright-eyed girl on the river's bank, on a certain golden 
 summer afternoon, he considered it quite as much one 
 of the duties of his college life to deepen and strength- 
 en his influence over Sam, perceiving as he did the 
 peculiar dangers that surrounded the generous-hearted, 
 impressionable, impulsive boy, as to dig out his Greek 
 or mathematics ; and such was his thorough-going man- 
 ner, determination of purpose, and strength of will, 
 that he was likely to succeed in any undertaking. 
 Other young men might drink and smoke, and play 
 cards and billiards, and idle away their time ; might 
 steal signs, plug up keyholes, destroy college propertj^^ 
 
76 
 
 STUDENT-LITE AT HARVARD. 
 
 cut prayers, recitations, and church services, instigate 
 class fights, and flirt witli pretty milliners. That these 
 purposes did not constitute the object for which he had 
 come to college, he knew, and he honestly believed that 
 that ought not to be the case with any honest young 
 fellow : at any rate, he was determined that his friend 
 should not fall into these ways if he could prevent it. 
 Thus it was that he was always glad to see him at his 
 room ; was always ready to lay aside his book, and chat, 
 no matter how time pressed ; never refused to go over a 
 lesson with him, though he might be perfectly well pre- 
 pared ; and was ever ready to start off on a tramp. 
 
 He exercised a tact and discretion too, worthy of an 
 older head, in not thrusting in his friend's face his dis- 
 approval of the dangerous ideas and habits Sam was com- 
 ing to adopt. His disapprobation, however deep, seldom 
 found utterance, unless Sam broached the subject, as he 
 often did, simply to hear Yilliers talk. A serious, a re- 
 proachful, or a grieved look, was his only retort ; and 
 Sam was often honestly ashamed of himself when he 
 saw how patient and enduring the noble fellow was. It 
 was as natural for our hero to look to some one for 
 confidence, sympathy, and advice, as it was for him to 
 breathe ; in this particular, he was a very child ; self- 
 reliance was something he had yet to learn: he was 
 homesick enough, too, at times, with a mighty yearning 
 for home and friends. Huntingdon, we may be sure, 
 was not the man to bestow much comfort on a home- 
 sick boy ; and after a mute and unaccepted proffer of 
 his tenderest friendship to his chum, he felt himself 
 drawn very near indeed to Villiers. 
 
 Thus the term drew on, and " Thanksgiving recess " 
 
A CHANGE IN THE COUNTRY BOY. 
 
 77 
 
 was at hand. Sam looked forward to a happy week at 
 home, where he hoped to persuade his chum and Villiers 
 to accompany him, when an act of thoughtless folly 
 came near cutting short his college course at the outset; 
 and, almost at the same time, the part which he took in 
 a practical joke well-nigh broke his friendship with 
 Villiers. 
 
 Longstreet and Sam were going to town together, to 
 the theatre. In high, spirits, they crossed the square 
 and found a car, half full of passengers, the patient 
 horses waiting for the well-known luhang of the bell. 
 It was already quite dark, and neither conductor nor 
 driver was anywhere to be seen. The two Freshmen 
 stood on the curbstone contemplating the car. There 
 was nothing unusual in one's being left thus ; but it 
 was not every day that so quick-witted and daring a 
 Freshman as our friend Longstreet was at hand. This 
 latter individual looked around warily for a moment, 
 and then whispered, — 
 
 " Went worth, do you knov/ how to drive ? " 
 
 " I hope I do ! " Sam replied indignantly. 
 
 " Well, suppose you try now. Don't make such a 
 thundering noise. Jump on, and drive that car to Bos- 
 ton, and I'll collect the fares : when we get to the other 
 end, we'll leave the old ark to get back if it can. Eh? 
 quick about it, now." 
 
 Sam had not yet learned to say no. He hesitated. 
 " Come, Wentworth, it will be too late in a minute ; and 
 it will be just the jolliest lark." A little reluctantly, 
 Sam took his place on the platform, and loosened the 
 brake ; the horses pricked up their ears, the bell rang, 
 the car started, and they were off on their novel ride. 
 
78 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HAEYAED. 
 
 Longstreet acted his part cliaracteristically. He tied his 
 handkerchief around his neck, pulled up his coat-collar, 
 gave his hat a twist downward over his eyes, and, keep- 
 ing a sharp lookout, filled the car by the time they 
 reached the 'Port. Then rattling along at a good pace 
 to the bridge, he went through, and took up the fares 
 with the utmost nonchalance. Sam, on the front plat- 
 form, had rather the hardest of it. The horses were so 
 well trained, that he had only to loosen and tighten the 
 brake ; but the night was dark and chilly ; there was 
 little fun, and ample time for reflection. The way had 
 never seemed so long before. They were making good 
 time over the bridge, when the door behind him opened, 
 and Longstreet, having taken up the fares, came out on 
 the platform, exclaiming in a confidential tone, — 
 
 " One dollar and eighty cents, and some tickets, 
 Wentworth ; a big haul, isn't it ? But I, for one, am 
 done for, — spotted, by thunder ! and I guess we both 
 are, for that matter. Old Bullard is aboard ; got on at 
 Quincy Street, and looked surprised enough at seeing 
 me. 
 
 " Do you think he knew you? " 
 
 " Knew me! I guess he did. He said, ' Good even- 
 ing, Mr. Longstreet,' " the pseudo conductor replied, 
 imitating the smooth-spoken manner of the tutor. 
 " There's just a squeak for you, though a mighty small 
 one. Do you make for Parker's as soon as we get to 
 the Revere, and maybe he won't see you. But Fm 
 done for; he caught me making off with one of his 
 blackboard-rubbers, you know, and suspects I plugged 
 his keyhole, though I didn't." 
 
 So the two students squandered the dollar and eighty 
 
A CHANGE m TELE GOUKTKY BOY. 
 
 79 
 
 cents, and tried bard to tliink they were having a good 
 time, though Sam was far from feeling comfortable, as 
 ke thought of the consequences of his exploit. The 
 officers of the railroad company were heartily disposed 
 to bring the offenders to justice, made application to 
 the Faculty, which honorable body held a special ses- 
 sion, and placed the matter in the hands of the police ; 
 but Mr. BuUard kept his own counsel, and the affair 
 finally blew over. Of course, all the class, and the 
 college too, knew about it before long ; and the two 
 young men were heroes for a time. "It is the best 
 thing that has been done yet, chum," said Huntingdon, 
 approvingly. " I wouldn't have believed you had it in 
 you ; " and he really began to have some respect for 
 Sam. Everybody else said, it was a great thing, too, 
 except Yilliers, who looked unusually grave ; though 
 the freshness of this sensation had hardly passed away, 
 before Villiers had occasion to look graver than ever. 
 
VI. 
 
 AN ESCAPADE. 
 
 There remained but a week more of college routine, 
 before the Thanksgiving recess; and this particular 
 evening found Sam hard at work reviewing the geome- 
 try for the examination which was the first exercise the 
 next morning. When thus engaged, he heard a knock 
 at the door, and called out, " Come in ! " without look 
 ing up from his work. Almost immediately he wa'S 
 conscious that something extraordinary was on the car- 
 pet ; and a glance showed him three grotesque-looking 
 objects filing into his room. 
 
 " I'm in for a hazing now," flashed through his mind. 
 " Huntingdon is away for the evening, and there are 
 three of them." 
 
 The Sophomores appeared to be most effectually dis- 
 guised. Old hats were pulled down over their eyes ; 
 their faces were as black as burnt cork could make 
 them ; each one wore a handkerchief tied around the 
 throat, while their coats were apparently turned inside 
 out. Sam had heard of Sophomore masquerades at the 
 expense of different men of the class ; and the stories 
 now promised to be most unpleasantly realized. 
 
 The visitors walked in quietly enough, and seated 
 themselves in a row, leaving the door wide open. The 
 
 80 
 
AN ESCAPADE. 
 
 81 
 
 gas flared, and the cold damp air bleAV in, for the Sophs, 
 had, as usual, chosen a rainy night for their escapade. 
 Sam rose quietly, and shut the door. He half deter- 
 mined on a sortie to get re-enforcements, but concluded 
 to face his enemy alone, and, resuming his seat, asked 
 yery politely what he could do for their entertainment. 
 This and yarious other remarks which he made only 
 elicited a grunt or two from the strange-looking yisitors ; 
 and by degrees it dawned upon him that they were no 
 more Sophomores than he was : they were far too lamb- 
 like and modest, and he felt certain that the smallest 
 could be no other than Longstreet ; so for a moment he 
 enjo3*ed the silence and the awkward constraint of liis 
 guests. 
 
 " Well, fellows," he exclaimed when he could no 
 longer keep his grayity, " the make-up is good, but the 
 action is altogether too tame. You ought to stir around 
 more, lock the door, grab the poker, upset the table, 
 put out the gas, break down a bedstead or two, and 
 intimidate a fellow. And, Longstreet, anybody that had 
 eyer seen those trousers once would neyer forget that 
 you and no one else must be inside them." 
 
 At this the four laughed heartily, and Longstreet, 
 jumping up, and pulling off his big hat, said, I told 
 you, fellows, it wouldn't go down with Wentwortli. I 
 knew he'd know me fast enough. But hayen't we had 
 good fun though I " and the little fellow's eyes rolled 
 most comically. 
 
 There is another knock at the door, and in comes 
 Lewis, with a graye face, and book in hand. Of course 
 he had come to see how Sam stood being hazed; and his 
 well-feigned grayity gaye place to an immense laugh, 
 as he perceiyed that the trick had been discoyered. 
 
82 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HAHVAED. 
 
 " Who in the world are you two ? " 
 
 "Don't you know me, Wentworth?" a smooth, 
 almost girlish voice inquired. 
 
 " Oh, yes, — Adams, of course ; but I never should 
 have guessed if you hadn't spoken. — And you," g( ing 
 up quite close to the third, " must be Tom Hawes." 
 
 " Nobody else," said Tom, who forthwith produced a 
 pipe, and began his customary occupation. Again theie 
 was a laugh at the odd appearance of the three Freshmen. 
 
 Now Smith came in, most accidentally and innocently, 
 of course ; and then Winthrop from the adjoining room, 
 with his inevitable pipe and his peculiar giggle. Has- 
 kill, hearing a noise, dropped in from across the way ; 
 and all were very jolly, and smoked so fast that pres- 
 ently one could hardly see across the room, so that Sam 
 was glad to open the door again, and Adams took refuge 
 at the window. 
 
 " Too much for you, Mary ? " said Tom, with a 
 chuckle. 
 
 " Well, it is a little strong," said Adams, gasping ; and 
 there was a fresh laugh at his expense. 
 
 " I guess Sam was the only one who suspected you 
 right off ; wasn't he ? " asked Lewis. 
 
 " Yes," called a voice from the window. " We hazed 
 the rest of them fast enough." 
 
 " We killed the bear ; didn't we, Mary ? " said Long- 
 street ; and there was more mirth. 
 
 " Then you've been somewhere else?" inquired Sam 
 innocently, at which the room rang again. 
 
 " Guess they have," chuckled Winthroj) from his 
 pipe, which consisted principally of an immense pickle- 
 jar, that it took both hands to lift, filled with some kind 
 
AN ESCAPADE. 
 
 83 
 
 of prepared water, tlirongli wliich tlie smoke was drawn. 
 " They've been the rounds, and sold pretty much 
 everybody." 
 
 " Yes," put in Longstreet, gleefully : " you just ought 
 to have seen Winthrop turn pale, and tremble. He 
 thought his time had come : he actually let his pipe go 
 out ; " and the laugh was turned on AVinthrop, for his 
 cowardice was well understood by all. 
 
 " But Lewis was sold the best," continued Long- 
 street. " He stood our nonsense for just about five 
 minutes, then made a charge at us, and would have 
 ruined us in two minutes, if I hadn't called out who we 
 were, just as he was throttling poor ]\Iary there ; that 
 made us a little more careful about our actions here." 
 
 " I was mad some, that's a fact," said Lewis, by way 
 of apology, turning very red at the thought of the hoax. 
 " I thought hazing was about played out for this year ; 
 and I believe you did come near getting hiu^t." 
 
 " Well, now, is there anywhere else we can go ? " 
 said Hawes, knocking the ashes out of his pipe, and 
 putting it carefully into its case; '-because if there's 
 no more fun to-night, I'm going home to clean up." 
 
 " Have you been up to see Yilliers ? " suggested 
 Haskill, after a pause. 
 
 " Yilliers ! " " Yilliers ! " " Just the idea I " " Just 
 the thing ! " "Go and try it on Yilliers ! " came from 
 all sides ; and Lewis in his delight gave Haskill a pat 
 between the .shoulders, which came near felling hun, 
 adding the affirmation that he was a brick, wliile there 
 was L general expression of wonder that Yilliers should 
 have been forgotten. 
 
 " WeU, he's been hazed, so that I thought you 
 
84 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 wouldn't have much trouble there," said Haskill, 
 coolly, at the same time awakening the envy of half 
 the smokers present by the perfect ring of smoke which 
 he sent gracefully sailing across the table. 
 
 " Well, now," said Longstreet, excitedly, " let's man- 
 age this better. Oh, he'll be as mad as the deuce ; but 
 we can't help that : we'll " — and he suddenly lost him- 
 self in meditation. Very funny the little fellow looked, 
 with his eager eyes, black face, and short light hair stand- 
 ing out in every direction from his head, as he gazed 
 abstractedly at the ceiling. 
 
 "Now, see here," said Lewis in a hoarse whisper. 
 There was general silence and attention. " It won't do 
 for you three fellows to go up, and then all the rest of 
 us to come trooping after. Any fool would know that 
 it wasn't all straight for a dozen fellows to come grin- 
 ning into his room at this time of night ; and of course 
 we want to be there, and see the fun." 
 
 " Of course we do ! " they all exclaimed. 
 
 "Well, I know just how to manage it. It's mighty 
 rough on him, I know ; but " — 
 
 " IS'ot a bit rougher than it was on me," said Win- 
 throp. 
 
 " Somebody must go up to his room first. You, Sam, 
 go up and ask about some demonstration you pretend 
 you don't understand. If he is there, and the coast is 
 all clear, stay where you are; and in three or four 
 minutes we'll send these boys up, and they can begin to 
 haze him." 
 
 " Then the rest of us can follow. Lewis, you are a 
 strategist ! " said Smith. 
 
 " No, the rest of us won't follow yet : wait till I gel 
 
AN ESCAPADE. 
 
 85 
 
 through. I've got it all chalked out just right. I'll 
 go up myself, and be mightily surprised at what I see. 
 I'll tell him that the Sophs, are having a punch in the 
 room next to me, and are getting ready for the grand 
 hazing scrape of the year. I'll propose that I go and 
 rally all the fellows I can find, and that v/e make a 
 stand, and put a stop to such work ; and then I'll come 
 for you. There, how's that ? " 
 
 " Capital, Lewis ! " " Stunning ! " " Couldn't be 
 better ! " one after another exclaimed. 
 
 " Don't make such a thundering noise," said Lewis, 
 relapsing into his hoarse whisper. " He'll be down 
 here to see what's going on." Immediately all began 
 to move about on tiptoe. " If you fellows don't spoil 
 every thing by being green, we'll have some fun. Here, 
 Tom, pull that handkerchief up so as to cover your 
 ears ; get a pair of trowsers for Charley to put on over 
 these striped things. There, that is better. Now, Sam, 
 you be off, for it is getting late, and, if every thing is 
 right, stay till the boys come, and then act exactly as 
 though you were being hazed. — And you fellows," as 
 Sam withdrew, " act as though you were regular Sophs., 
 and weren't afraid of any thing. Freeze to the shovel 
 and poker, and the Indian club, if there is one ; upset 
 some of the chairs and a table, and mount guard at 
 the door : you ought to know how the thing is done," 
 at which ingenuous remark there was a laugh from 
 Haskill. 
 
 Book in hand, Sam left the jubilant Freshmen behind 
 him and mounted the stairs to his friend's room. Yil- 
 liers had just finished his final preparations for the 
 examination in the morning, and welcomed Sam with his 
 
86 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HAKVABD. 
 
 warm, honest cordiality, and was only too happy to sit 
 down with him, and go over the troublesome proposi- 
 tion. Our hero did not in the least realize how mortify- 
 ing a joke he was taking a part in at his friend's ex- 
 pense. He had not looked on that side of the matter. 
 He was a most thoughtless young fellow in those days ; 
 and that is the only excuse there is for him. 
 
 The well-matured plan of Lewis was successfully 
 carried out. In a few minutes the three pseudo-Sopho- 
 mores made their appearance, and they had improved 
 very much by practice and instruction. Longstreet 
 immediately made a rush for the poker ; but Villiers, 
 who had been hazed past all endurance on one or two 
 occasions, and had firmly made up his mind not to 
 submit to such treatment again, considered the poker 
 his best friend. He made a rush for it too, and secured 
 it. Foiled in this attempt, Longstreet danced wildly 
 about the room, overturning a table covered with books, 
 and several chairs. Adams very quietly sat down in 
 the easy-chair from which Villiers had risen at their 
 first entrance ; while Hawes slammed the door, and put 
 his back to it, as if to prevent any egress. 
 
 These movements had barely taken place when there 
 was a knock ; and, the door being opened a little by 
 Hawes, Lewis pushed his way through. At first, he 
 was to^) much surprised to speak. Then he took Villiers 
 and Sam into a corner apart, and whispered excitedly 
 that the Sophs, were having a rousing punch in the 
 room next to his. 
 
 . " They made so much noise that I heard them through 
 the partition : they are planning a grand raid, and mean 
 to give it to some unlucky devils ; and I guess these 
 
AK ESCAPADE. 
 
 87 
 
 fellows are tlie advance-guard. The rest will be along 
 soon enough. Kow 111 stay with you ; and well pitch 
 these three out of the window, and serve the others the 
 same way when they come along; or perhaps I had 
 better go and rally all the fellows I can find. Let 
 them bring pokers and clubs ; and well make a stand, 
 and beat them off, if it's a possible thing: for it is about 
 time that this cursed hazing was stopped." 
 
 " That's my idea too," said Sam. " We'll keep any 
 more from coming in, if you are not gone too long." 
 Well, what do you say, Yilliers ? " 
 
 " Go," said he, after a moment's hesitation, with a 
 solemn determination that was almost too much for 
 Sam and Lewis. 
 
 The latter rushed out ; and the two Freshmen waited 
 in suspense. The marauder, in the person of Long- 
 street, was making havoc in the bedroom ; but, with the 
 probability of the present appearance of the main body 
 of Sophomores, Yilliers thought it best to wait till 
 Lewis returned. He stood near the door, clutching his 
 poker, his face pale with determination, while Hawes 
 still braced his back against the door, and Longstreet 
 made general disorder. 
 
 Almost instantly Lewis returned. The door was 
 pushed open ; and a dozen Freshmen burst into the 
 apartment, armed with such weapons of defence as 
 were at hand, and ready for that very serious emer- 
 gency, a collision with the Sophomores. 
 
 " Where are they ? " said Smith, sternly, brandishing 
 a base-ball bat. 
 
 " There tliey are," said Winthrop, setting his pipe 
 down on the mantel-piece for safety, and pointing tc 
 
88 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVAKD. 
 
 the three hazers, who had withdrawn into a corner of 
 the room. 
 
 " I thought you said half the Sophomore class was 
 here 1 " exclaimed Smith, lowering his bat with a look 
 of disappointment. 
 
 " Don't you be alarmed. They'll be along fast 
 enough," said Lewis, vehemently. "You wait about 
 three minutes." 
 
 " Keep a good guard on the door, Sam ; and don't let 
 any body in," said Smith, warningly. 
 
 " I should think you'd better keep a good guard, and 
 not let anybody out," put in Haskill coolly, pointing 
 to the trio, who from their corner were edging their 
 way toward the door, evidently bent on beating a 
 retreat. 
 
 " That's so ! Don't let any of them off," cried 
 Lewis, at the same time edging away from them. " It 
 isn't often we corner any of the dogs like this. — Here, 
 Villiers, why don't you pitch into them, and pay off 
 some of the debts you owe ? " 
 
 Villiers stood grasping his poker hard, and looking 
 dangerous. He was strong enough, and, when aroused, 
 desperate enough, to be a most formidable antagonist. 
 Urged on by Lewis and the others, and seeing his tor- 
 mentors nearing the door, while the rest stood aside as 
 if to give them passage, he rushed forward, and clutch- 
 ing the foremost, no other than Adams, by the throat, 
 was strangling him as fast as possible, when Hawes, — 
 for every one else was convulsed with laughter, — 
 called out, " There ! let up ! stop ! it's Adams ! We're 
 not Sophs, at all ! " 
 
 Villiers, as soon as he recovered from the surprise 
 
AN ESCAPADE. 
 
 89 
 
 incident to this most unexpected revelation, joined, 
 with all his heart, in the uproarious merriment that 
 ensued." 
 
 "I supposed you were regular Sophomores,'' he said 
 simply, when the uproar had subsided : " it never once 
 entered my head that you could be any thing else." 
 
 " Xo, I should rather guess not," returned the de- 
 lighted Longstreet. " I flatter myself that this little 
 game was pretty well played," and he set about restor- 
 ing order in the confused room. 
 
 The poor fellow enjoyed the joke so heartily, and 
 took it all in such good part, never once thinking but 
 that Sam and Lewis and all his classmates had been 
 duped as well as himself, and was so very polite and 
 gentlemanly and simple in his manner, that it was a 
 pity to disabuse him. Hasldll beat a retreat. " It's no 
 business of mine," quoth he as he descended to his 
 room, " to let him know he was the only one sold. 
 I'm sorry I said any thing about hazing him ; for 
 he's a good fellow, if he is a dig. Gad ! I wonder 
 how Wentworth will crawl out of it." 
 
 Sam was at that moment wondering very much the 
 same thing, and stood apart with a very serious face, 
 looking into the fire. I think all were sorry that the 
 success had been so perfect; and mayhap they had 
 departed, and oiu' friend never known the extent to 
 which he had been victimized, had not Winthrop found 
 it impossible to keep so good a secret. This youth, who 
 had just charged his pipe afresh, walked up to Yilliers, 
 while there was an awkward silence on the part of the 
 company, and grinning stupidly through the smoke said, 
 "Well, Villiers, I suppose you think none of us 
 
90 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 knew who those fellows were ; but we did, all of us. 
 They had been all around before they came here,— to 
 Lewis's and my room, and Wentworth's ; and everybody 
 found them out before long, so we thought we'd see if 
 we couldn't do au}^ better here ; and I'll be hanged if 
 Lewis didn't fix it just right, and it's the best thing 
 that's been done this year," and he indulged in a fresh 
 laugh, though this time he had but little company. 
 
 "Well, gentlemen," said Villiers, breaking the silence, 
 after a moment, with the saddest face in the world, and 
 with the least perceptible tremor in his voice, " I never 
 suspected any thing wrong, because I didn't look for 
 hazing from my own classmates." 
 
 They had begun to drop out now, feeling a little 
 ashamed for the most part, save perhaps Winthrop, 
 whom nothing could shame. 
 
 "Don't take it so hard, old fellow," said Lewis, giving 
 him a friendly clap on the shoulder. " It was all my 
 fault, and I'm mightily sorry. I planned the whole 
 thing, and am the only one to blame ; and pretty well 
 done it was too, or I'm mistaken. But I didn't mean 
 to hurt your feelings ; and I wouldn't have done it for 
 the world if I had thought about it two minutes." 
 
 " I ask your pardon from the bottom of my heart," 
 said Adams, in his graceful, indolent manner. " We had 
 no right here on such an errand." 
 
 "Well, I don't," said Longstreet, rolling up the 
 whites of his eyes. 
 
 Sam was now left alone with his friend ; and they 
 both sat in silence, looking into the fire. Only once, 
 when Winthrop had declared they were all in the plot 
 against him, had he turned towards his friend, as if 
 
AN ESCAPADE. 
 
 9a 
 
 expecting that he at least- would disclaim all part in the 
 affair ; ani the look of mute reproach which overspread 
 his face, stronger than words or even an angry blow, cut 
 Sam to the heart. Whatever were his faults, and of 
 faults he had his full share, he abhorred anv thingf- like 
 treachery: and treacherous he felt that he had been. 
 He alone of them all knew his friend's tender and sensi- 
 tive nature. He knew better than any his isolated posi- 
 tion, treading alone the path of duty, despised by many 
 for his constant application, secretly envied by not a few 
 who grudged him his high standing, and an object of 
 indifference to the rest. That he who knew all this so 
 well, and who almost alone of the whole class called 
 himself Yilliers's friend, should conspire against him, 
 was hard indeed. He sat thinking over these things, 
 and watching the ffickerins^ blaze. 
 
 Xor was Yilliers inclined to be talkative. He was 
 conscious of having been thoroughly duped. The 
 black fellows had been real Sophomores to him ; a 
 dozen classmates had been witnesses of his credulity : 
 and before breakfast the next morning he would be the 
 laughing-stock of the whole college. He had realized 
 before this that it was too much to expect sympathy 
 from the class at large ; but that this yoimg fellow in 
 whom he felt so deep an interest, whom he had taken 
 to his heart, and who seemed to return his friendship, 
 should be no different from the rest of them, was hard 
 indeed. At this moment he felt quite forlorn and dis- 
 couraged. 
 
 At length Sam broke the silence, and meekly said, 
 " Yilliers, I know that nothing I can say can rmdo 
 the mischief I have done. I didn't for a moment think 
 
92 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 what I was doing ; but I feel and know just how mean 
 and contemptible I have been. I can't think of any 
 thing bad enough to say about myself. If you will 
 forget it " — 
 
 " It's all right, Sam," interrupted Villiers ; " I 
 thought I must have been mistaken in you ; but I 
 know that I was not. You know I don't care about 
 the others." The two parted better friends than 
 ever, though it is plain that, through Sam's thought- 
 lessness, the friendship of these two had nearly come 
 to an end. 
 
 Next morning the letter from home came with the 
 invitations for Huntingdon and Villiers to spend the 
 recess at Mrs. Went worth's, which was immediately 
 communicated to his chum. Huntingdon accepted 
 with pleasure. It was hardly worth while to go to 
 New York for just five or six days ; and though he had 
 many invitations elsewhere, (for the distinguished-look- 
 ing Freshman had come to be quite prominent socially), 
 he had his own reasons for preferring to accept this 
 one ; while Villiers assented cheerfully to Sam's earnest 
 request, if for no other reason, to show that the follies 
 of the night before had been heartily forgotten. 
 
 But before the time of departure arrived, Sam renewed 
 an acquaintance with an old playmate, or, rather, with 
 a playmate of his youthful days; which resulted in 
 bringing about a friendship with Adams, and establish- 
 ing him on a very pleasant social footing at Cambridge. 
 
 To Sam's surprise, Adams one day took his arm, and 
 asked him if he remembered a Miss Eldredge. 
 
 " No," replied Sam, not recognizing one of his little 
 playmates under that name. 
 
AN ESCAPADE. 
 
 93 
 
 " One who used to live near you at Little Harbor," 
 suggested Adams. 
 
 " Ah ! Mary Eldredge ! yes, indeed ; she isn't your — 
 your " — 
 
 " She is a very particular friend of mine," returned 
 Adams, quietly. Everybody knew that Will Adams was 
 " very sweet " on a Miss Eldredge who was, so every- 
 body said, the nicest girl in Cambridge ; and Sam now 
 perceived why it was that Will's classmates, or rather 
 his companions, called him " Mary." 
 
 " Yes, I remember her well ; but it must be seven or 
 eight years since she has been to Little Harbor." 
 
 " Very likely : she saw you in the street, and asked 
 who you were, and insisted on my bringing jou to tea 
 this evening." 
 
 Sam demurred to this, not being much of a lady's 
 man. 
 
 " I shall be especially obliged to you," continued 
 Adams, " if you will go. There is to be a ball at the 
 new hotel somewhere near your place on Thanksgiving 
 night ; isn't there ? " 
 
 " To be sure, there is," returned Sam, who had been 
 looking forward to the occasion with glowing anticipa- 
 tions. 
 
 " Well, Mary — Miss Eldredge is going down to 
 spend Thanksgiving with her cousins at Gov. Eldredge's. 
 He lives somewhere near you, doesn't he ? " 
 
 " A matter of seven or eight miles." 
 
 " That's pretty near for the country, I take it. At 
 any rate, she is going, and going to the ball of course. 
 It must be a bore, but can't be helped as I see. I can't 
 get off any way, or I should go too." 
 
94 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HAEVAED. 
 
 " You had better manage it someliow : you would 
 liav<3 no end of a good time." 
 
 " No, I can't go, but you will ; and I want you to 
 take particular care of Miss Eldredge, and you must 
 go to tea this evening." 
 
 " Then I must," returned Sam, laughing : " only, to 
 tell the truth, I'm awfully afraid of these Cambridge 
 girls." 
 
 " I don't blame you. I should be afraid of them my- 
 self if it was worth while ; only this one isn't a Cam- 
 bridge girl (except that she is here attending school), 
 but an old friend of yours, and of your mother and 
 sister, and a very good friend too." 
 
 The two young men went to tea that evening as 
 arranged ; but the introduction of Miss Mary Eldredge 
 must be deferred till the Thanksgiving ball. 
 
vn. 
 
 AT ho:me. 
 
 The Tvell-remembered sitting-room in Mrs. Went- 
 worth's house had put on its winter garb, and looked 
 especially cosey and comfortable to the three students, 
 after their long ride in the chill eyening air of autumn. 
 A warm blaze from the ample fireplace tinted the quaint 
 oak mouldings and panels, and the curious antique fur- 
 niture, and shed its amber light oyer the rich carpet ; a 
 large stand of tlirifty house-plants filled the generous bay- 
 window, and a splendid ivy, branching out from it, quite 
 made the circuit of the room ; a large, massive, curi- 
 ously caryed oak table, a relic of Colonial days, seryed 
 at once for book-case, secretary, and work-table for the 
 ladies ; the piano was in its accustomed corner ; and a 
 most grateful air of domestic harmony and quiet com- 
 fort pervaded the apartment. This had ever been the 
 family room of the mansion during the winter season. 
 
 " We were very selfish, I must confess,'' said Kate as 
 they sat by the firelight, to invite you gentlemen here 
 at this season of the year for so long a time ; for really 
 we have very little to offer in the way of excitement. 
 The two pigs are to be killed to-morrow; and if you 
 are of a bloodthirsty disposition, you may like to wit- 
 ness the deed ; " and she laughed merrily. Thanks- 
 
 95 
 
96 
 
 STUDENT-LITE AT HARVARD. 
 
 giving eve we are going to entertain a little company," 
 continued Kate. " Sam has so many friends living far 
 and near, that mamma thought it would be pleasant 
 for him, and perhaps for you, to meet some of them." 
 
 To this Huntingdon replied that it would certainly 
 be very pleasant. 
 
 " Thanksgiving evening there is to be a grand ball 
 at the hotel on the point ; that is, grand for us. We are 
 to have a band from Boston ; and I have no doubt that 
 the company will feel honored that three Harvard stu- 
 dents grace the occasion with their presence." 
 
 " Yes, particularly when they discover that they are 
 Freshmen," said Huntingdon. 
 
 " Then you will certainly require some rest after so 
 much dissipation, and at least one day to compose your 
 minds after your twelve weeks of hard study ; for you 
 really have a most worn-out appearance." (They did 
 not, indeed, look as though they had consumed much 
 midnight oil, or wasted themselves with too constant 
 application.) " Sunday I presume you can go to 
 church, like exemplary young men." 
 
 " I, for one," returned Huntingdon, " am quite un- 
 prepared for such a round of pleasure : we shall go 
 back quite biases.''^ 
 
 " But, really," continued Kate, " you don't know how 
 disappointed I am, that you should all be in such a 
 hearty condition. I believe there can in reality be very 
 little hardship or hard work about college life, after all. 
 Mamma and I have worried about Sam by the hour 
 together, imagining all sorts of horrible things; that 
 he was being destroyed by those wicked Sophomores, 
 or that he was ruining his health by hard study, — 
 
AT HOME. 
 
 97 
 
 thou2"li we ouglit to have known better than that, — • 
 and I'm sure I expected to see you all pale and lan- 
 guid ; and, I declare, I think it is too bad ! " At this 
 ingenuous statement there was a good deal of mirth. 
 
 Some little time after this, as Kate and Yilliers were 
 by themselATs for a moment, she said to him, " I have 
 been very glad to hear so good an account of you ; and 
 you don't know how glad I am," she added, with deep- 
 ening voice and color, " that Sam has done so well. 
 You can't know how anxious we have been about him, 
 mamma and I. He is so thoughtless and impulsive, and 
 so easily influenced ; his letters gave accounts of such 
 strange doings, too. But the President speaks very 
 flatteringly of him ; and I am sure his good standing is 
 owing a great deal to his being so much with you. I 
 want to thank you ever so much for being so good a 
 friend to him." 
 
 I cannot even guess what reply Villiers would have 
 made to this most unexpected speech, had not the others 
 joined them just then, and covered his confusion ; but 
 I am sure that the pleasure of those three minutes 
 more than repaid any sacrifices he had made. 
 
 Then Huntingdon wondered whether Miss Went- 
 worth's fingers still retained their wonted magic power 
 over the piano-keys ; and that young lady, ever ready 
 to please, seated herself at the instrument. 
 
 " That is right, Kate ! " exclaimed Sam. " I knew 
 that there was something wanting to make me feel quite 
 at home once more, — as though I had never been away. 
 You know the pieces I like best : play them all." For 
 the next hour the boy was a picture of happiness and 
 contentment. Seated on a low stool at his mother's 
 
98 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HAEVARD. 
 
 feet, — his mother wliom he loved so dearly, and whom 
 he had not seen for so long, — listening to the familiar 
 music, college-life with its duties and pleasures, haz- 
 ing, and Freshman pranks, and the future with all its 
 bright anticipations, passed from his consciousness ; and 
 he lived over again the days of his boyhood with their 
 many happy hours. 
 
 Nor had Mrs. Went worth known a happier day than 
 this for years. In spite of her anxious forebodings, her 
 darling boy was at home once more, safe and well; 
 unchanged, except that her fond eyes saw a manlier 
 beauty in his cornel}^ proportions, and smiled approval 
 on his newly awakened tastes and graceful and open- 
 hearted extravagance. What was money if it made 
 him happier ? He should have it without stint. If he 
 could but grow into the measure and fulness of a noble 
 and honest man, like the one whose image was ever in 
 her heart, she Avould ask for nothing more. Now, at 
 least she would not think of the dangers that beset 
 him ; she would cherish hopes, and hopes alone. For 
 once in her life, she forgot her duty as hostess. May 
 we not pardon her ? 
 
 What castles in Spain, filled with beautiful possibili- 
 ties, Villiers was building all this time, it would be hard 
 to tell. All conversation had long since ceased ; and the 
 melody of the music, and the golden light of the fire, 
 filled the room. Huntingdon was conscious of time 
 and space, if no one else was, and was even then won- 
 dering how long this sort of entertainment was destined 
 to last. 
 
 What a party of dreamers ! " Kate's merry voice 
 rang out, as she rose from the piano. " I do believe I 
 played you all to sleep with that last slumber song." 
 
AT HOME. 
 
 99 
 
 " For one, I am tired," said Sam, as lie rose, and shook 
 himself ; " and I know you fellows must be too." 
 * The circle broke up for the night, and the room was 
 tenanted only by the shadows that danced grotesquely 
 on the walls ; and even these disappeared as the flicker- 
 ing light faded, and left a heap of glowing embers. 
 
 How desperately Huntingdon would have been bored 
 by the simple pleasures of this coimtry life, if he had 
 not had his chum's sister to flirt with during these five 
 days ! He had counted, on this diversion, to be sure, or 
 the Wentworth mansion vv^ould never have been honored 
 with his company. There was from the house a mag- 
 nificent view of the ever-changing ocean; and nearer, the 
 placid waters of Little Harbor shut in by the two 
 encircling arms of the land, with the river flowing hard 
 by, and the brown turf sloping gently to its brink, 
 formed a very pretty picture in the mellow autumn air. 
 There was a most charming walk extending for miles 
 along the river's bank, over brown fields and through 
 still, leafless woods, with here and there a rocky point 
 thick set with evergreens ; but if Huntingdon found 
 any charm in these attractions of nature, it was because 
 he viewed them with a very fresh and charming blue- 
 ejed girl for a companion and guide. In that short 
 summer afternoon which he had spent in her company, 
 he had put forth all his powers to please, and felt 
 certain that he had made good progress in her favor. 
 He had resolved then to complete his conquest at the 
 earliest opportunity, and had come to her ho\Tse at this 
 time with a recollection of his determination which an 
 hour in her company had only served to deepen and 
 make firmer. With his peculiar tact at bringing about 
 
100 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 his own ends, he took her off the next morning for one 
 of her favorite strolls, and made more progress towards 
 a frank and friendly intimacy than Villiers had done 
 during all those summer weeks that he had remained 
 at the hotel. He was more charmed with her, too, 
 than he could have thought possible. 
 
 " By Jove ! " said he half musingly as he repaired to 
 his room to make his toilet for dinner, " that girl is the 
 most entertaining compound of sprightliness, charming 
 simplicity, and innocent enthusiasm, I ever saw. She is 
 as fresh as a daisy and as sweet as a rose ; and there is 
 real grit in her too. I shouldn't be at all surprised if a 
 man might make an awful ass of himself, and think he 
 was getting on to his heart's content, when really she 
 hadn't thought of him twice. Well, I propose to try 
 the experiment, and I can't see who there is to head me 
 off : there will be the pleasure of the pursuit if nothing 
 more." 
 
 Fires were blazing in every room of the house on 
 Thanksgiving eve ; and their warm ruddy light welcomed 
 the fast-assembling guests. It was to be a company 
 of young people from the neighboring farms, for the 
 most part ; though, as Adams had suggested, a matter 
 of six or seven miles was not considered, in counting 
 up the neighbors. The company was soon complete, — 
 a score of pretty girls, fresh, rosy, and tastily attired, 
 with perhaps half as many young men for escorts. 
 
 The large room on the north side of the house, hardly 
 used once in a decade, with its oak floor and wainscot- 
 ing, hung v/ith a long row of family portraits, had been 
 stripped of its cumbersome furniture, a roaring fire had 
 been built in the fireplace, and the games were to be 
 
AT HOME. 
 
 101 
 
 played there by its liglit; for tlii- was to be a boisterous 
 merry-maldng, something to give yoii all a good ajipe- 
 tite for to-morroAT."" Sam remarked, gleefully. Villiers 
 and Huntingdon were soon presented to tlie guests, and 
 all was in readiness for the games. 
 
 Xow." said Sam to lii.> si>ter. "let us all go into the 
 nortli room before any one settles down in here. If we 
 can once get fairly .-tarted. there is no danger but that 
 thev will have a first-rate evenmo;."* 
 '•^Vhat sliall we begin with. Sam? " 
 
 Oh. there is nothing better than blindman's 
 buff." 
 
 So to the north room the company repaired. Sam 
 placed a bandage across Kate's eyes, and then over hia 
 own. The single simple rule of the game, that the lady 
 must catch a gentleman, and the gentleman a lady, was 
 announced : and with a shout Sam rushed forward 
 toward the point Avhere he had last caught a glimp-e 
 of a parcel of roguish-looking girls. There was a sound 
 of suppressed screams and rustling drapru\v. and the 
 group scattered in breathless excitement before his 
 advance : but not quite soon enough, for hi-^ arms were 
 closed around a victim, and the handkercjiief was forth- 
 with transferred to her eyes. 
 
 Kate, though not less active or skilful, was not so 
 forttmate : many a big fellow broke away from her 
 grasp, or with a hearty "haw, haw," dodged under her 
 arms. 
 
 ••It isn't half fair." she said, pausing a moment to 
 recover breath after her brave tliough fruitless exer- 
 tions : •■ yoti gentlemen are so hard to hold. I have 
 caught ever so many, and they all get awajr." 
 
102 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 There was a laugli at this ingenuous statement, from 
 masculine throats ; and Kate darted forward in the 
 direction whence it proceeded. 
 
 " There goes another," she cried, as a youth slipped 
 under her arms, which had otherwise enfolded him. 
 " Ah, Mr. Villiers," said she as she fairly cornered that 
 gentleman, who had been vainly and awkwardly en- 
 deavoring to escape her, " I have caught you, have I ? 
 you will have to kneel, you are so tall. Is that too 
 tight?" she added, as she covered his eyes with the 
 handkerchief. " I must be quite sure that you do not 
 see at all. Plow many fingers do I hold up ? " and there 
 was a half-suppressed giggle from the girls : " three ? 
 No. I tMnk you are blind enough ; " and indeed he 
 was, as blind as Bartimeus of old. The game was to be 
 played, as far as he was concerned, without any advan- 
 tage on his part : whether he succeeded in capturing a 
 successor was a matter of secondary consideration. 
 
 For the succeeding twenty minutes, the sport was 
 infinitely amusing. It would be difficult to imagine a 
 more awkward or ridiculous figure than was cut by 
 our good friend Villiers, as he moved about with bent 
 back, head thrust forward, and outstretched arms, most 
 soberly in earnest Avithal. Did he corner a bevy of 
 breathless girls, — for he moved around with an energy 
 that kept every one stirring, — just as he was about 
 to enfold them, they rushed shrieking under his arms, 
 and he grasped the thin air. Occasionally he would 
 bring up against the wall of the room, with a bump ; 
 and he must have ached from more than one bruise. 
 
 " Pull up the handkerchief a little," whispered Sam 
 to him. " You must see something, or you never will 
 
AT HOME. 
 
 103 
 
 catch anybody." But this Villiers would not do. At 
 length his arms closed around a female form ; and at 
 the same time he felt himself securely grasped. Amid 
 shouts of laughter, he pulled the handkerchief from his 
 eyes, only to see that he had caught the young lady 
 who was for the moment his partner in the game. 
 
 Now Kate declared that they had had enough of 
 blindman's-buff ; and several games which entailed a 
 redemption of forfeits on the company were heartily 
 enjoyed, until they adjourned to the dining-room to par- 
 take of a substantial supper. 
 
 A group of young men standing apart by themselves 
 were earnestly discussing some apparently very interest- 
 ing question in half v/hispers. Sam's quick ear caught 
 the word " Copenhagen ; " and, Avith a roguish smile, he 
 darted out of the room, and presently re-appeared with 
 the maternal clothes-line. 
 
 " What in the world are you going to do with that 
 rope, Sam Wentworth?" exclaimed a merry-looking girl 
 in a more than half-pleased manner. (They had by this 
 time returned to the north room.) " I hope you are 
 not going to hang yourself." 
 
 " No, I have a better use for it than that : we are 
 going to play Copenhagen, and kiss some of you girls." 
 
 There was a general exclamation, on the part of the 
 young people, at this announcement. The young men 
 manifested their hearty approval of the idea ; and the 
 young ladies were in a flutter of modest embarrassment. 
 One or two, more decided that the rest, declared that 
 tJiei/ would not play that game, at any rate. But the line 
 was speedily reduced to the proper length ; and, more or 
 less reluctantly, all joined the circle. 
 
104 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 " Come, mother," called Sam: "we want you too; 
 and, in truth, she was far from being the least attractive 
 in point of personal beauty. 
 
 "You will have to excuse me this once," said Mrs. 
 Wentworth, kindly : " I am a little too fatigued." 
 
 " I will keep Mrs. Wentworth company, if you 
 please," said Villiers. " I believe I never saw this game 
 played ; and I am sure I should only be in the way." 
 
 At this most imiocent confession, there was a general 
 titter on the part of the girls, while the young fellows, 
 with less self-control, laughed outright. 
 
 " Oh, nonsense I " returned Sam, merrily. " You will 
 learn it in two seconds ; ' for it is nothing but kiss- 
 ing ; ' " and he brought his reluctant friend into the 
 ring. " Keep fast hold of this rope with your hands, 
 and look sharp that none of the girls strike them : if 
 one does, you must kiss her before she can get outside." 
 In a whisper to the young lady who was next him, he 
 added, " I would wager any thing that he never kissed 
 a girl in his life." 
 
 There was no delay; and the frolic was almost im- 
 mediately at high carnival. The game was played with 
 a zest which our country neighbors alone know how to 
 give to such sports. But amid all that light-hearted 
 company, there was no one who entered into the spirit 
 of the fun with a keener enjoyment than the fastidious 
 Mr. Huntingdon. This fine-looking young fellow, with 
 distinguished manner and fascinating face, was the hero 
 of the evening. The young ladies declared that he was 
 splendid, and struck his hands, and allowed him to kiss 
 them with the best possible grace ; all save Kate, who 
 eluded his pursuit to the end. Thev were less kind to 
 
AT HOME. 
 
 105 
 
 their rural beaux, however ; and raany a one had a rough 
 struggle with some brawny young farmer, preferring to 
 be almost pulled to pieces, rather than submit to condi- 
 tions which had been agreed upon from the outset. 
 
 Yilliers's modesty at least was the genuine article. 
 He stood there all this while, keeping a sharp lookout 
 for his hands, and feeling very uncomfortable, and un- 
 questionably much disgusted too, at seeing these rough 
 farmers, one after another, kiss the fair young hostess. 
 She was far too sacred an object, in his estimation, for 
 such rude treatment. In an evil moment, however, 
 while his wits were a-wool-gatheriug, this same young 
 lady gave his fingers a smart rap, and slipped under the 
 rope, looking as rosy and as roguish as possible. 
 
 He had no alternative but to enter the circle, though 
 he had never before experienced any thing more un- 
 pleasant. What does not a shy, modest young man 
 suffer at such a time as this ! It was e^ddent that the 
 girls had no idea of having him kiss them : they 
 dropped the rope whenever he came near : and he must 
 needs have remained a long time in the ring, had not 
 Kate taken pity on him, and permitted him to touch 
 her fingers, after which, being fairly seized by Yilliers, 
 she put up her rosy cheek for his salute. Thus it hap- 
 pened that Yilliers was more fortunate than his more 
 accomplished classmate, though he barely touched her 
 face with his lips, turning as red as a rose at the time, 
 while Sam, who had been waiting and watching for it, 
 was convulsed with laughter. 
 
 This was the last game, as many had a long diive 
 home before them, and it had been prolonged to a late 
 hour. Before the party broke up, they gathered around 
 
106 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HAEVARD. 
 
 Kate's piano, and sang for half an hour the simple 
 popular son^3 of the time ; and I am not sure hut this 
 was the very pleasantest part of the very pleasant 
 evening. Then with much muffling up in furs and 
 warm wraps, and much shaking of hands, and many 
 invitations to Huntingdon to call, and injunctions to 
 Sam to be sure and come and bring his friend, the guests 
 departed; and quiet reigned once more in the Went- 
 worth mansion. 
 
 The next evening was the occasion of the grand 
 ball. The toilets of our party were completed at an 
 early hour ; the family carriage, a somewhat cumber- 
 some and old-fashioned but most comfortable vehicle, 
 was brought into requisition ; and, after an informal tea, 
 our friends started on their eight miles' drive to the 
 hotel on the point, a dangerous journey over the rough 
 roads, with a less experienced driver than Caleb. 
 
 The hotel, an immense structiu-e, had been secured 
 and made ready for the occasion, lighted at every 
 window, and warmed as thoroughly as possible. The 
 large dining-hall had been transformed into a ball-room, 
 and elegantly decorated ; and, when the Wentworth 
 party arrived, the ball had already begun. The lights 
 shone brightly over " fair women and brave men ; " the 
 air was filled with the inspiriting music of the band, 
 and the dancers were treading the measures. 
 
 This, be it remembered, was no common countr}^ ball, 
 for the notables of the neighborhood from far and near 
 v/ere gathered together, and from out this assembly you 
 might have culled a great deal of wealth, culture, 
 
AT HOME. 
 
 107 
 
 and distinction. An ex-governor, whose name liasl , ,:: 
 heard, there certainly was with his faniilr. a jul:; : 
 high repute, and several families from the bine-' i . 
 aristocracy of the comity. There was also a sprinhhnj 
 of uniforms amid tlie brilliant toilets, several officer..- 
 from the o-overnment vard attached to the neiomborinc^ 
 city being present : and even a metropolitan ball-room 
 might have fared badly by comparison. 
 
 Villier^ who did not dance, and who was thus very 
 glad to act as escort for Mrs. ^Ventworth, soon found 
 himself introduced to some A^ery agreeable people, who 
 were also content with watching the enjoyment of the 
 young peopile. and foimd the evening passing most 
 pleasantly. 
 
 •* Every thing C|uite an fait^'' was Himtingdon's inward 
 comment, as. after a promenade aroujid the hall with 
 Kate, he led her out for a Cj_uadrille. The ghd had never 
 shone to better advantage : the spmt of the music 
 seemed to possess her feet, and the very poetry of 
 motion was exemplified in her graceful dancing. She 
 was the very picture of innocent enthusiasm and beautv. 
 
 Sam. mindful of the charge which Adams had given 
 him. took advantage of the time between the dances to 
 seek out Miss Eldredge. He made the circuit of the 
 hall in cpiiest of her. receiving many a hearty greeting 
 from his youthful friends and accjuaintances. with many 
 an encoui^aguig pressure of the hand from his older 
 friends, and presently ei: - red the Eldredge party. 
 Mary Elcbeclge. "the ni_L---: ^nl in Cambridge,'' was at' 
 least not a great beautv. She was a perfect brimette, 
 fetitrz in figure, graceful though decided in manner, 
 and brimful of life without beino- too enero-etie. She 
 
108 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVAED. 
 
 had that rarest of gifts, perfect tact, and a kindness of 
 heart which almost never made an enemy. There was 
 withal a subtile magnetism about her character and 
 influence which made one forget that she was not hand- 
 some ; and she attracted those about her with a stronger 
 power tlian any mere charms of face or figure could 
 have given her. 
 
 " You come late to the feast," she said, giving Sam 
 her hand and her best smile. 
 
 Sam. — Yes : we had a long drive over a dangerous 
 road. 
 
 Miss Eldredge (accepting his proffered arm, and 
 joining the promenaders). — I should have never recog- 
 nized my little playmate in the beautiful young lady 
 your sister has grown to be. Does she know I am 
 here ? 
 
 Sam. — No. I kept that back for a surprise. I 
 wanted to bring you up, and see if she would remem- 
 ber you. 
 
 Miss E. — The two gentlemen of your party are 
 classmates ? 
 
 Sam. — Yes : Huntingdon is my chum, and Villiers a 
 particular friend. 
 
 Miss E. — I have heard about them both. I want 
 you to take me to your mother and sister at once. 
 ( They passed on.) 
 
 Kate was so entirely monopolized by the gentlemen 
 that it was not easy to secure her attention at once ; 
 but Sam made his way to his mother's little circle, and 
 his companion was almost immediately transferred to 
 Villiers. After introductions and greetings, these two 
 joined the promenaders. 
 
AT HOME. 
 
 109 
 
 " I never danced in my life, Miss Eldredge,'' lie said, 
 looking straight into her eyes (the band had smi-k np 
 a beAvitchinc;' y^altz. and the romici^ ladv's eves had 
 for one instant glanced almost nnconscionsly at the 
 conples that vrere ciix-ling around the hallj, *'or I 
 should certainly ask you to be my partner now: and it 
 is hardly just to keep you from the enjoyment."' 
 
 Jliss Eldredge. — Oh, no, indeed ; a little rest is re- 
 freshing. You say you never dance. You don't think 
 it vrrong, I trust ? I hope it isn't ; for I enjoy it so 
 much. 
 
 Villiers. — Xo ; I can't see why it is, — properly in- 
 dulged in. I am sure I regret my ignorance. 
 
 He looked enviously at Huntingdon, vdio whirled by 
 with Kate in his arms. 
 
 Jliss Eldredge (following his glance). — That lady 
 with Mr. Huntingdon is an elegant dancer, is she not ? 
 (very demurely). — Do you know her name ? 
 
 Villiers. — Miss Wentworth, — Sam "Wentworth's 
 sister. 
 
 Jliss Eldredge. — Is she, indeed? You must know 
 her well. then. She is ahnost a pretty girl ; is she not ? 
 
 ViUirrs (a little startled from his placid dignity). — 
 I should say she was more than almost." 
 
 Jliss Eldredge. — ^Vhy, no. Mr. Villiers: her hair is 
 verv well ( ?^liss Eldredo^e had been secretlv admiringr 
 those beautiful tresses) : but you don't call her nose a 
 perfect feature, do you ? 
 
 Villitrs (^vith warmth). — I am sure I never noticed 
 that her nose was bad. She has the finest eyes in the 
 world ; and her figure is — is — 
 
 Jliss Eldredge (yrith. a merry laugh). — Divine, Mr 
 
110 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT PIARVARD. 
 
 Yilliers ; so it is, — incedit regina ; is that correct ? All, 
 Mr. Villiers, your admiration shall be a secret which 
 you shall see I can keep, if I am a woman. I knew 
 Kate Wentworth for one short summer, some years 
 ago ; and she was the bravest and truest, as she is now 
 the most beautiful, of girls. 
 
 Yilliers's confusion was too complete to admit of any 
 reply. 
 
 ^* Tell me about some of your funny college scrapes," 
 said the } oung lady, with graceful tact. " You students 
 must have splendid times." 
 
 " I have had very little part in any thing except the 
 regular routine of the course," replied Yilliers ; " but I 
 witnessed one prank, a few evenings ago, which might 
 interest you. They are building a new dormitory near 
 University ; and as the roof was covered with a coating 
 of tar, there were a good many empty tar-barrels 
 scattered about. The Faculty have their meetings 
 every Monday evening, in a room in the second story 
 of University ; and there is but one entrance for this 
 end of the hall. Some of the fellows (of course, no one 
 knows who, whether Freshmen or Sophomores) thought 
 the tar-barrels would be best used to make a bonfire, 
 and also conceived the plan of blockading the Faculty 
 in the hall : so a dozen or more barrels were piled on 
 the steps in front of the doorway ; and in a very few 
 minutes there was a splendid blaze. There was no 
 danger to the building ; for it is fire-proof. Immediately 
 there was a cry of ' Fire ! fire ! ' and everybody rallied 
 at once, making as much shouting as possible. The 
 faculty heard the uproar, and saw the blaze, and came 
 rushing down stairs in hot haste ; but not a soul of 
 
AT HOME. 
 
 Ill 
 
 them could get out, for there was a wall of fire a clozeu 
 feet thick between them and the outer air. You could 
 just distinguish their figures flitting about in the entry ; 
 and the situation was ridiculous enough for them. 
 There was now more shouting and cat-calling than 
 before. This lasted six or seyen minutes, when the 
 janitor, who is on the lookout for such things, came 
 with his lantern and a long pole, and pushed the pile 
 of burning barrels off the steps, and set the prisoners 
 free." 
 
 " That was certainly very funny." Miss Eldredge 
 did not say that she had heard the story before, though 
 of course Adams had told her all about it. Then Kate, 
 who had learned, through Sam's tardy information, that 
 her friend was present at the ball, came up with Hunt- 
 ingdon, and the two young ladies greeted each other 
 with all the ardor of girlish enthusiasm ; and, for a 
 time, that part of the hall was the scene of some very 
 honest and hearty enjoyment. 
 
 All this time, Sam had been drinking in pleasure as 
 only a cheery young fellow who was acquainted with 
 everybody, and a general favorite, could. It delighted 
 his mother's heart to witness his enjoj-ment, and see 
 how very welcome he was among young and old ; and 
 to hear the hearty good wishes for his success that 
 came from all quarters, as she was greeted by one after 
 another of those exclusive families who belonged strictly 
 to her social circle, but with whom she seldom met. 
 There was nothing btit admiration and good-Avill for 
 her two children ; and though she took no part in the 
 festivities, she was the happiest person in the hall. 
 
 But while the evening sped away so pleasantly to 
 
112 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 our party of friends, the accomplislied Mr. Huntingdon 
 most unaccountably made a very grievous blunder. 
 He had enjoyed a half-hour with Miss Eldredge, to 
 whom Kate had introduced him, and had presumed 
 upon a familiarity that the circumstances hardly justi- 
 fied, and which he would have been the last person in 
 the world to assume, had he known his fair companion's 
 connections. As he paced with her on his arm, slowly, 
 for the company had deserted the supper-ioom, and 
 were again thronging the floor of the hall, fragments 
 of a conversation might have been heard, which quite 
 capped the climax of his unwarrantable conduct. 
 
 Huntingdon (in his freest and most familiar manner). 
 — Do I know Adams ? ha, ha ! I certainly do know 
 the youth. Sancta simplieitas ! He is a perfect baby ; 
 in his set all the fellows call him Mary. 
 
 Miss Eldredge was silent in astonishment for a time, 
 for she had heard much of Huntingdon from her 
 "Will," and supposed of course that he was Adams's 
 friend. " Pray, what has he done to be distinguished 
 by that particular name ? Has he a little lamb ? " she 
 asked at last, with the least possible sarcasm. 
 
 Huntingdon. — No ; but he is a little lamb, — Mary's 
 little lamb (and the gentleman laughed very heartily 
 at his conceit). He is sweet on a girl in Cambridge, 
 by that name, and so we rough him about it. But then 
 he is more of a girl than a man. He never smokes, for 
 he can't, though he has been trying to learn ; and he 
 never drinks for the same reason. Wh(-n we go in to 
 Kent's, we always call for milk for Adams. 
 
 Miss Eldredge (coolly). — I should think he might 
 be a very nice young man. 
 
AT HOME. 
 
 113 
 
 Huntingdon. — Oh, he is a nice young man. He 
 went out rowing in our club boat one evening last 
 month. You have to slide down a rope to the boat ; 
 and when the tide is out, it is perhaps eight or ten feet. 
 It was about low water when they came in. The men 
 went up hand over hand, except Adams ; he was so 
 breathless that he couldn't help himself at all; and 
 they had to hoist him up boat and all, as they did, after 
 chaffing him awhile. We have no end of fun with 
 him. 
 
 Miss Eldredge. — Yes ? I should think a student 
 who did not drink or smoke, and who was not a big- 
 fisted sort of athlete, might be a phenomenon, indeed. 
 
 They passed on, although even then Huntingdon had 
 not perceived his error. 
 
 " What in the world have you been saying to Miss 
 Eldredge about Adams ? " asked Sam, in alarm, of his 
 chum, some minutes after this. 
 
 " Xothing in particular," replied that gentleman, a 
 little blankly. 
 
 " I should think it was something very ' particular ' 
 from what I heard. Didn't you know that she is from 
 Cambridge, on a visit to her uncle, and that everybody 
 calls her the nicest girl in Cambridge, and that Adams 
 is awfully sweet on her, and she on him? " 
 
 " The devil ! " was Himtingdon's rejoinder. 
 
 Sam laughed in spite of himself at his blank look. 
 
 " Why didn't you tell me, chum ? " Huntingdon ex- 
 claimed, half fiercely. 
 
 " Well, you needn't devour me. I supposed every- 
 body had heard about Mary Eldredge and Adams : in 
 fact, you told me yourself. And I did try to catch your 
 
114 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 eye. I made faces at you, till tlie lady I was with 
 wanted to know if I had the toothache." At this the 
 young man laughed again. 
 
 " I tell you it is no laughing matter, chimi ! " 
 
 Nor was it. Adams was, as has been here recorded, 
 the wealthiest man in the class, and by no means the 
 simpleton that he appeared in the eyes of Huntingdon 
 and some others. Accustomed to the free use of money 
 and all that money could bring, from his earliest youth, 
 there was to him no temptation to indulge in the license 
 which for the time bewildered so many of his com- 
 panions. Wine and tobacco he had always on hand for 
 the use of his friends ; but to indulge too freely himself 
 was another matter. His perfect breeding turned aside 
 the wit and ridicule which his thous^htless fellow-students 
 vied with each other at this time in showering upon him, 
 with a calmness that deceived many as to his character. 
 By degrees he was sure to take his true position among 
 the most respected of his class. Since he was entirely 
 under the control of Miss Eldredge, who was herself 
 universally liked, enmity from this quarter would in- 
 deed be no laughing matter for the ambitious Fresh- 
 man ; and Miss Eldredge's feelings towards Mr. Hunt- 
 ingdon were emphatic. 
 
 " I am sorry to say it," she said to Kate, in answer to 
 the question how she liked the gentleman, " but I think 
 that Mr. Huntingdon is a most thoroughly disagreeable 
 and conceited person." 
 
 Kate's blue e3^es opened to their very widest. 
 
 " I sincerely hope that he is not a friend of ^^ours, 
 and I am sincerely sorry that he is your brother's chum ; 
 for I do not believe that there is any thing really honest 
 
AT HOME. 
 
 115 
 
 auci true about liim. I don't often speak tliis way 
 about any one ; but be bas wounded, I migbt almost 
 say insulted me, in a manner and to a degree I believe 
 I can never forget." 
 
 Tbe festivities of tbe evening were drawing to a 
 close ; but tbe great event of tbe occasion was yet in 
 store for Yilliers. He bad lamented to Kate bis ignor- 
 ance of dancing early in tbe evening. 
 
 " You must dance a contra-dance witb me, Mr. Yil- 
 liers, before we go bome," sbe bad said. " I sball not 
 let you off." 
 
 So. Yilliers bad studied witb all bis migbt tbe figures 
 of tbe contra-dances ; and now be claimed bis fair 
 mistress for tbe Yirginia Reel, tbe last dance of tbe 
 evening. 
 
 I would like to take a stand pretty well down in 
 tbe set,"' be said to ber ; and as tbey took tbeir places 
 in tbe long line, and be felt a consciousness of bis own 
 awkwardness, altbougb in trutb be made a very good 
 appearance indeed, be made a resolution to master tbis 
 accomplisbment during tbe coming winter, wbetber be 
 learned any Greek and matbematics or not. 
 
VIIL 
 
 AFTER THE BALL. 
 
 Huntingdon entered the room at a late hour the fol- 
 lowing morning. Kate alone had made her appearance, 
 and was giving her plants their usual attention. The 
 young lady looked very pretty in her simple toilet, and 
 fresh beauty, which the excitement of the previous 
 evening had but served to heighten ; at least, so thought 
 the gentleman as he took her proffered hand, and bade 
 her good-morning. He then devoted himself to admir- 
 ing her plants, as in duty bound. 
 
 " Yes, they are very nice ; but they must require a 
 great deal of time and attention," he said. 
 
 " But see how beautifully they repay me. I should 
 hardly know what to do without them. Just look at 
 this heliotrope : is it not splendid ? " Kate asked, point- 
 ing to a magnificent plant thick-set with blossoms. 
 
 "It is, certainly, and I wish I might have a sprig." 
 At this the young lady broke off a fine spray, and gave 
 him. 
 
 " Thank you, very much : I shall treasure this." 
 And, with a significant look, " You know its meaning, 
 of course ? " 
 
 " No ! " exclaimed Kate, with the least perceptible 
 deepening of color, " I did not know that it meant any 
 
 116 
 
AFTEH THE BALL. 
 
 117 
 
 thing in particular. What does it mean ? " she added, 
 loolviiig lip from an ivy-leaf she was dusting. 
 
 -I — I — believe I vrill let you make that discoA-ery 
 for yourself/" Huntingdon replied, with a bow and a 
 smile, which was just a little confused. " Have you 
 quite recovered from last night's fatigue ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes : have not you? " 
 
 " Yes, from the fatigue ; but I am afraid not from the 
 ball. In truth, I feel it may be a long time before its 
 effects pass away." 
 
 '•Indeed! " exclaimed Kate, in alarm. " You are ill ? 
 I thought you seemed a little pale." With an anxious 
 glance at his face, she added, Let me speak to 
 mamma." 
 
 Please do not : I am perfectly well. I meant that 
 I shall never forget the ball ; I never enjoyed an even- 
 ing so much." 
 
 I am sure we ought to feel very much compli- 
 mented," said Kate, modestly. I was very much 
 afraid you might not find any partners who could dance 
 to your satisfaction." 
 
 " Yes," retimied Huntingdon, with his characteristic 
 smile and a winning enthusiasm, though his manner 
 was Cjuite too familiar. " Then let me tell you some- 
 thing. I had for a partner the very best dancer I have 
 ever seen in my life, and she was without exception the 
 most beautiful and one of the most elegantly dressed 
 ladies I have e^er had the good fortune to meet." 
 
 " Who could it have been I " said Kate in honest sur- 
 prise. "What did she wear? I wish you had pointed 
 her out to' me. Miss Elclredge is very nice, but not 
 wonderfully handsome, I think. Ah, I forgot i\Iiss 
 
118 
 
 STtJDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 Haliburton ; she is the great beauty of these parts : she 
 is really a lovely girl." 
 
 " It was not Miss Haliburton. I think you could 
 produce the dress she wore ; and I am quite sure the 
 flowers with which she was adorned grew in this very 
 window," was Huntingdon's gallant reply. 
 
 Oh, sir," said Kate with a mortified and indignant 
 flush, for there had been that in the gentleman's 
 manner, more than in his words, which had given cause 
 for displeasure, " I thought you were in earnest, though 
 I might have known you were not. Please do not 
 speak to me again in such a way. I can but feel that 
 you are making sport of us here, and that your enjoy- 
 ment is simply pretended." 
 
 I am sure that Huntingdon would have persevered in 
 his compliments in spite of the rebuke he had received, 
 and the consciousness that of all times the hour before 
 breakfast is the most inopportune for making love, had 
 not Yilliers and Sam entered the room at that moment. 
 He was well pleased with the exhibition of spirit which 
 he had witnessed. The angry flush and gleaming eyes 
 were quite to his mind. As he had himself said, the 
 pleasure of pursuit was to him more than the joy of posses- 
 sion. 
 
 The afternoon and this same room witnessed a tete-a- 
 tete of quite a different nature, between the young lady 
 and the grave Mr. Villiers. Sam, agreeable to his 
 iindertaldng, with divers of his young lady friends, had 
 carried his chum off to make some calls ; Mrs. Went- 
 worth was doubtless engaged with domestic matters ; 
 and Villiers, occupying awkwardly enough an easy- 
 chair near the ample fireplace, sat silently watching 
 
AFTER THE BALL. 
 
 119 
 
 Kate's exquisitely shaped and nimble fingers as she 
 wrought at crochet or something of the kind. 
 
 Yilliers sat quite ill at ease, while moments that 
 ought to have been blissful slipped awaj one after 
 another. 'Not a thought could he summon worthy of 
 the occasion, or even of utterance. He was conscious 
 of acting the part of a blockhead. He would have run 
 away had he only dared ; but he did not dare. Though 
 he had never ceased to tliink about Kate Wentworth 
 since the summer afternoon when he had looked down 
 into her eyes ; though thoughts of her were sometimes 
 woefully mixed with his Greek roots and mathematical 
 problems, and her bright face often looked out at him 
 from the leaves of his lexicon in a wonderfully perplex- 
 ing way ; though her songs rang in his ears all that 
 autumn so full of varied and curious experiences; 
 though she was to him the impersonation of all that 
 was bright, beautiful, and good, combining in her sweet 
 self the graces and perfections of all the heroines whose 
 acquaintance he had made in the realm of story ; and 
 though he knew that he loved her with all the power 
 of his deep, determined nature, — he was afraid of her, 
 terribly so, and fairly dreaded being left alone with her. 
 These and other thoughts floated across his mind as 
 he sat fascinated, and watched her fingers weave their 
 spells. 
 
 The young lady, however, ran on pleasantly from ojie 
 matter to another, without noticing her companion's 
 embarrassment perhaps, certainly without divining its 
 cause, till, as the early twilight deepened, the shadow of 
 her brother's departure, and the many weeks of almost 
 unbroken quiet that were to follow, seemed to spread 
 itself over her, and her fancies grew less bright. 
 
120 STUDENT-LIFE AT HAEVAED. 
 
 " Ah, Mr. Yilliers," she said, after one of the pauses, 
 " you can see that it is not always so pleasant to live 
 here as it was last summer. Take away our boating, 
 walks on the beach, and scrambles over the rocks, the 
 drives through the woods, the city company, — and we 
 lose all these during the winter, — and there is little 
 that is attractive remaining. Sometimes I wish we 
 could go away altogether." 
 
 " It was very charming here last summer," said Yil- 
 liers, rousing himself ; " and I am sure it is delightfully 
 pleasant now. I have not missed boating or city com- 
 pany ; and, for one, I have been extremely gay." 
 
 " I wonder if this one is making sport of me too," 
 thought Kate, as she recollected her experience of the 
 morning. But a glance at his honest face assured her 
 that nothing of that nature was to be feared. 
 
 "Yes," she replied, with the least curl of her lip: 
 " Mr. Huntingdon was gracious enough to express a 
 similar approval, this morning, of the entertainment we 
 have afforded. For the moment, I almost thought that 
 it was he speaking." 
 
 " I am sure I ought to consider that very much of a 
 compliment," said Yilliers, plucking up his courage. 
 " Huntingdon is the finest looking, most accomplished, 
 and most popular man in the class ; and even a faint 
 and momentary approximation to his excellence is more 
 than most of us can aspire to." 
 
 " You two do not seem to be very dear friends," said 
 Kate, laughing pleasantly, not ill pleased perchance at 
 the answer, and the tone in which it was spoken. " I 
 always thought that all young men in the same class at 
 college were the firmest of friends, willing to (^o any 
 
AFTEE, THE BALL. 
 
 121 
 
 tiling in tlie world for one another, and bound together 
 by the strongest ties imaginable. I am sure, if I were 
 there," she continued, merrily, " I should love all my 
 classmates dearly." 
 
 " Then it is almost a pity you are not." 
 
 "And not quite?" 
 
 " No," returned Villiers, blushing, " ' almost ' I said. 
 I suppose there are many strong attachments formed 
 before the four years are ended : we have been there 
 less than four months, and you must not expect too 
 much of us. Huntingdon and I may be the firmest 
 friends in the world before class day ; so that I should 
 not be chargeable with the slightest fault in respect to 
 my regard for him." 
 
 " Oh," returned the young lady, " I did not mean to 
 charge a fault now." 
 
 " I wish I knew the name of a song you used to sing 
 last summer," said Villiers, after a little time. " If I 
 did, I would ask you to sing it again." 
 
 " I wish you did," returned Kate, at once surprised 
 and pleased ; " for I should be glad to sing it for you : 
 but I have so many songs. Can't you hum a little of 
 it, or whistle it ? " 
 
 Villiers's lips formed themselves to utter the sounds 
 he loved so well ; but, after a moment's hesitation, he 
 stepped to the piano, and played the first three or four 
 notes of the air with one finger.. 
 
 " Oh, yes ! " exclaimed Kate, brightly. " You like 
 that? it is my favorite song." And, after a short prel- 
 ude, she poured forth the melody of her rich, sweet 
 voice. Poor Villiers was enchanted. The clear, full 
 notes of the song rose one above another with exquisite 
 
122 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HAKYAED. 
 
 tenderness and inspiring power. It was a song at once 
 of devotion and triumph, of adoration and passion ; and 
 so identified with the young man's new-born love as to 
 ever be, to him, the one song above all others. 
 
 " It is a hymn to the Virgin," said Kate, breaking the 
 stillness that followed, " sung in the Roman Catholic 
 Church. I found it last summer, among some of 
 mamma's old music, written out on a sheet of paper, 
 and have no way of even guessing how old it is, or who 
 wrote it. That Church has a great deal of very beauti- 
 ful music ; but this happened to please me more than 
 any I had ever known, and I sang it continually for a 
 time, till Sam said it had become tiresome. Since then I 
 have put it by for special occasions. I give only a very 
 faint rendering ; for there is a choral passage, which I 
 must needs omit. Given fully in a church, I think it 
 would be very impressive." 
 
 Sitting thus, in the dusky glow of the fire, stirred 
 with the inspiration of her presence and the contagion 
 of her cheerful, sunny disposition, Villiers felt his awk- 
 ward dread fast wearing away ; and with its flight many 
 graces of thought and character came coyly forth to 
 show the man in his true nature. Surely he was one 
 adapted to inspire any thoughtful girl with respect 
 and regard, even if he failed to awaken a more tender 
 srntiment. He was so profound and yet had such 
 simplicity of heart, so noble in his thoughts and senti- 
 ments, so enthusiastic and true in his friendships, so 
 tenderly thoughtful for others and forgetful of self, and 
 withal so invincibly energetic, that he could hardly fail 
 to win the friendship and admiration of even liis 
 thoughtless and high-blooded classmates, and, as he 
 
AFTER THE BALL. 
 
 123 
 
 himself had said half in jest, " be bound to many of 
 them by a thousand strong and tender ties," before the 
 college days were over. 
 
 Before this hour, long remembered by him, had passed, 
 and while Kate was fain to sit gazing into the glowing 
 coals, and leave her work until she had a stronger light, 
 he told, in answer to her suggestions, what little there 
 was to tell of his simple history. Without father or 
 mother since his early infancy, he had lived with an 
 uncle, a bachelor, enjoying the most perfect liberty in 
 every sense of the word. As far back as his recollec- 
 tion extended, the library had always possessed for him 
 a peculiar charm. In his secluded home he had grown 
 up almost without a playmate ; and books had stood him 
 in the stead both of parents and friends. A short hour 
 daily with his uncle had afforded the only instruction 
 he had received while preparing . for college, his own 
 determined purpose accomplishing the rest. This con- 
 fidence in regard to his youth, brief as it was, had 
 
 I never been extended to any classmate, however inti- 
 mate, or to any other friend. It was a peculiarity of 
 his, though not to be mentioned as an especial virtue, 
 never to talk about himself ; and the grave dignity of 
 his character was of a nature which rendered curious 
 inquiry almost impossible. This young man was cer- 
 tainly a phenomenal student ; but his life at Cambridge 
 is one of the brightest and most inspiring recollec- 
 tions of college-days which those of his classmates 
 
 I whose fortune it was to be his friends possess. 
 
 May the Fates deal gently and kindly with Villiers 
 in his love affair, and prosper his wooing ! It has come 
 too soon in his life, and too early in our story, but things 
 
124 STUDENT-LIFE AT HABVAED. 
 
 must be told as they are ; and lie is no ideal character, 
 but only the very noblest and manliest of students. 
 Somehow and somewhere he had acquired a faith that 
 there was something in life more worthy of pursuit 
 than enjoyment, than success, than happiness ; and 
 that something he called duty. Faithful, independent, 
 thorough-going allegiance to duty, was the key-note 
 of his life and character. When a man has adopted 
 this belief, recognized its truth, and determined to 
 live in accordance with it, he is every inch a man, 
 whatever his years, or his ignorance of the world ; and 
 so, both for his own sake, and for the sake of the fair, 
 true-hearted girl whom he loves, may he be successful 
 in his passion ! 
 
 All this time the conversation between these two, 
 sitting in the twilight before the cheerful hearth, had 
 been uninterrupted, and it certainly strayed on to 
 curious ground; for Villiers was propounding some 
 theories in regard to magnetism, and the mysterious 
 power which one human mind may sometimes acquire 
 over another. As he discoursed on this weird subject, 
 citing one curious fact after another, with his large gray 
 eyes piercing through the firelight at her, Kate became 
 conscious, or thought she did, of a sensation as new as 
 the stories which she was listening to for the first time, 
 and almost felt relief when Sam, returning with his 
 chum, came with merry talk and bustle into the room. 
 
 Sam had made up his mind to approach a very disa- 
 greeable matter without further delay ; and this was to 
 ask his mother for more money. She had asked him 
 how much he would need for the year's expenses, and 
 had at once doubled the amount which he named, so 
 
AFTER THE BALL. 
 
 125 
 
 tliat he had commenced his college-life with what 
 seemed to be a small fortune at his disposal ; but this, 
 as has been seen, had already been dissipated. In addi- 
 tion to this, he owed a considerable amount, while, with 
 the exception of the small purchases made in furnish- 
 ing his room, not a single legitimate college-bill had 
 been paid. 
 
 Sam had not associated with the young people who 
 lived around his home, and who were without excep- 
 tion industrious and frugal, without falling into their 
 ways of thinking. The idea of a college-life had been 
 distasteful to him at first, solely because he should 
 be obliged to use his mother's money so largely, and 
 for so long a time ; and he had argued the matter with 
 a good deal of feeling, and protested that at least he 
 would be strictly economical. Recollecting all these 
 things, it was very humiliating to ask for more funds ; 
 but there seemed to be no alternative. 
 
 "Mother," he said, and his voice trembled a little, 
 "there is one thing I have done that I hardly dare 
 think about, myself. I don't understand really how it 
 came about. I must have been bewitched, I think ; but 
 I have spent all the money you gave me, and more, 
 without paying for any thing. I don't mean to have it 
 happen again. (In truth it did not.) 
 
 Mrs. Wentworth had turned pale at his first words, 
 and Kate had looked up in alarm ; but she forthwith 
 indulged in a hearty laugh at Sam's rueful appearance 
 as he made his confession, and his mother was too much 
 relieved to feel any thing but happiness. 
 
 " How much do you owe ?" she asked, kindly. 
 
 Sam named the amount, at which his sister's eyes 
 
126 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 opened to tlieir widest extent. " I should say that you 
 must have been bewitched most decidedly," she said, a 
 little tartly. 
 
 But his mother's heart was filled with thankfulness 
 and kindness only. " If a little money is all, your 
 troubles shall be soon ended," she said, drawing Sam to 
 her. 
 
 " It is all, and bad enough too." 
 
 " All that there is, is for you two," she continued ; 
 " and I want you to spend as much as you please : 
 only," and her voice and color deepened, " spend it 
 honestly ; don't ever part with money for any thing 
 you would be ashamed to have us know about." 
 
 Sam felt a little guilty, but he answered, " I think I 
 can promise you that, mother." 
 
 " And you won't read me any more lectures on econo- 
 my, will you?" said Kate with a merry laugh. 
 
 Sam was silent and grave. At length he said, "I 
 don't quite understand it all, myself. I know now, that 
 it was very foolish and wrong to waste so much ; but 
 somehow at the time every thing seemed to be neces- 
 sary, and not only that, but almost unavoidable ; and, 
 until the money was quite gone, it seemed as though 
 there was a plenty left. I know," he added, resolutely, 
 " that nothing of this kind will happen again." 
 
 " It Avould be hardly possible," said his mother, " that 
 you should get on without mistakes ; and I know that 
 jouT own judgment must be your guide, and that it 
 will in the end be a sure one ; but, oh, Sam, do be care- 
 ful. I cannot warn you as I would like to, because I 
 know the world very little ; but if you can go on 
 through the four years without mishap, I shall be the 
 proudest and happiest woman in the land." 
 
AFTER THE BALL. 
 
 127 
 
 " And ^vitli reason too. mamma," said Kate, ^vitli an 
 admirino' look at her brother. 
 
 I am going to open an account with the banh in 
 Cambridge." continued jlrs. Vrentworth _: and Tvhen- 
 OA'er TOii Trish any money liereafter. von have only to 
 supply yoiu^self. I wish yon to do every thing that is 
 manly and generous without stint, and to enjoy these 
 precious days of your youth while they last.*' 
 
 So ended the much-dreaded interview. 
 
 As the Sunday evening twilight deepened, and the 
 shadow of the next morning's separation drew on. there 
 was no one. save Huntingdon, who was not sorry that 
 the recess was over. That o-entleman had enioved the 
 simple pleasures of rural life to rather more than his 
 heart's content. He felt that he had made two blun- 
 ders, and this irritated him. He missed his cigars 
 sadly, which he had foregone for the time, and his gay 
 companions, and the excitements attendant upon a 
 city life. Though Kate had apparently been not less 
 friendlv, he could see that she was on her o-uard. and 
 that no farther progress could be made in that direction 
 for the present. For one, he was more than ready to go 
 back to Cambridge. 
 
 It could not be otherwise than that the two ladies 
 shoidd feel sorrv to have the vouno- men p-o. The 
 house would be very didl without them for many a 
 day: and the daily round of simple duties, piu^suits, and 
 pleasures woidd needs for a thne be le-s entertaining 
 than of yore. Yilliers. I fear, v-ould fain have dallied 
 tiway his existence under the charm of ]^di.-s Y^ent- 
 worth's smiles, and of this domestic harmony so new 
 and so enchanting. Even Sam would have been well 
 
128 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 pleased with a longer breathing-spell ; but the dawn of 
 the following morning came all too quickly, and after 
 a hurried breakfast by candle-light, and a brisk drive 
 through the chill morning air for the early train, the 
 tliree students were whirling on toward Cambridge. 
 
IX. 
 
 STOUGHTON TWENTY-EIGHT. 
 
 The students had all returned, and the college ma- 
 chinery was at once in the most excellent running order. 
 The Seniors were all industrious, the Juniors enjoying 
 their privileges to the fullest extent, the Sophomores 
 were orderly, the Freshmen undisturbed; and the en- 
 suing two months constituted perhaps the very best 
 working season of the year. 
 
 " There is going to be a meeting of the boating 
 men at Stoughton 28 this evening, to see about raising 
 money to buy a class shell," said Huntingdon to Sam, 
 as the two sauntered leisurely to their room from the 
 post-office. " Why don't you go around, chum ? I 
 should think you might pull in the crew, or even in the 
 Harvard by and by; you are big enough," he continued 
 with an admiring glance at Sam's fine proportions, 
 "and you know all about boating, and enjoy it so much. 
 It would be a grand thing for you too," he continued, in 
 his half-patronizing, half-confidential way. " You can't 
 think how it helps a man to be good at some one thing, 
 either a splendid oar, or in the Nine, or the Glee Club, 
 or the Pierian, or a good gymnast. It is a hundred 
 times better than the rank-list. Anybody who has a 
 mind to dig can stand well there." The accomplished 
 
 129 
 
130 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 Freshman, for he was proficient in almost all these 
 matters, had given his chum similar advice before ; 
 but this time he had touched a responsive chord. 
 
 Sam's eyes sparkled. " I should like to pull in a 
 crew, above all things," he exclaimed. "I wonder T 
 never thought about it before. I am ever so much 
 obliged to you, chum, for putting me in mind. I will 
 go by all means." 
 
 " Be sure to put my name down on the subscription 
 paper for fifteen dollars," said Huntingdon. " If I were 
 in your place, I should come down with something 
 handsome, say twenty-five, or more if you like." As 
 they reached the entrance of College House, he paused 
 an instant, and said, " Coming up ? The meeting is at 
 half-past seven, and it's about that now." 
 
 " No," replied Sam. " It is time for me to be off now • " 
 and he disappeared in the gloom in the direction of 
 Stoughton. 
 
 Boating at Harvard had been for many years a 
 feature of great interest among the undergraduates 
 and their friends ; but it was at this time by no means 
 the perfect science it has since become. No such thing 
 as organization had been thought of either by each 
 separate class or by the college as a whole. A few 
 choice spirits, ambitious for boating honors, would form 
 themselves into a boat-club early in the Freshman year, 
 buy an old lap." from one of the upper classes, and 
 do as much work as they could in the fall. When the 
 class began to wake up to some interest in boating, in 
 the spring, and wonder if there was going to be a crew, 
 this organization served in good stead. 
 
 In the university boat, or the " Harvard," as it was 
 
STOUGHTON TWENTY-EIGHT. 
 
 131 
 
 called, matters were even more loosely managed. Some 
 one man was usually left over of the last year to be 
 captain and pick liis crew ; and because this was often 
 so inefficiently done, or the selections made through 
 favoritism, on several occasions the anomaly was pre- 
 sented of a university crew that was inferior to a class 
 crew. There has been a great improvement in all these 
 things during the past decade. 
 
 Sam knew, of course, that there was a boat-club ; but 
 so closely had the new and strange experiences of the 
 past three months crowded one upon another, that he 
 had never until this moment realized the full signifi 
 cance of the fact ; and thus it was with eager steps he 
 crossed the grounds, and mounted the stairs, one flight 
 after another, to Stoughton 28. The room is quite at 
 the top of the building ; but it is not often that Fresh 
 men are so fortunate as to obtain one of these attics. 
 They are quiet, cosey, and comfortable, and usually fall 
 to the lot of Sophomores. 
 
 " Come in," rang out a voice in answer to Sam's 
 knock; and, "Here's Wentworth." "How are you, 
 Sam ? " " Here, take a pipe I " came from half a dozen 
 sides at once. He declined the pipe ; and surely there 
 was no need of additional fumigation, since, of the 
 twenty-five or thirty jolly fellows who were crowded into 
 the apartment, nearly every one was smoking. Half a 
 dozen were stretched full length on the two little iron 
 bedsteads that stand in one corner, and were having a 
 merry time. As many as could were half sitting on the 
 big study-table, each easy-chair held a couple, and the 
 deep window-seats were filled; others stood in groups of 
 twos or threes, smoking and chatting. The room itself 
 
132 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HAEVAED. 
 
 was perhaps twenty-five feet square, and very low 
 studded. In the corner behind the door was a pile of 
 base-ball bats ; near by were some heavy dumb-bells and 
 Indian clubs; foils and boxing-gloves adorned the little 
 space above the mantel ; there was the oddest assort- 
 ment possible of pictures hung around the wall; and 
 books were everywhere scattered about in the direst 
 confusion. Ordinarily there was a fine assortment of 
 pipes on a little stand between the windows ; but at 
 present they were all in use. Add to all this volumes 
 of tobacco-smoke almost obscuring the gas and the 
 blazing fire, and you have Stoughton 28, as it was on 
 this occasion. 
 
 The room was occupied by Hawes and Smith. The 
 hour appointed for the meeting had passed ; and as 
 arrivals had ceased, and it was plain that there would 
 be no more in attendance, Lyman rapped briskly on 
 the table. Immediately the boisterous merriment sub- 
 sided, the groups broke up, the Freshmen assumed more 
 orderly positions, and in a moment silence reigned. 
 
 L3^man, standing at the table, began, " Classmates, 
 this meeting has been called at the request of a good 
 many members of the class ; and," looking around, " I 
 presume some one, better acquainted with the subject 
 matter to come before it than I am will explain its pur- 
 pose." 
 
 There was a dubious silence for a few minutes, fol- 
 lowed by whispered expostulations from a group loun- 
 ging on one of the beds ; and presently a fellow whom 
 we have seen before came forward, pipe in mouth. 
 
 " Mr. Chairman ! " 
 
 Lyman, — Mr. Smith, gentlemen. 
 
STOUGHTON TWENTY-EIGHT. 
 
 133 
 
 Smith, — What I want to say is (puff), that we 
 have called this meeting to take some action about 
 raising money to buy a class shell. (Applause, and a 
 succession of puffs from Smith.) 
 
 Lyman. — Excuse me, Smith, but I would like to 
 remind the fellows that it is against the regulations, to 
 hold a class meeting without permission from the Presi- 
 dent. I tried to get permission for this occasion, but 
 Prex. wouldn't give it ; said he "hadn't any authority," 
 you know. (Laughter and applause.) If we make a 
 noise so that that everlasting Bogey (the proctor in 
 charge of the entry) hears it, and discovers what we are 
 about, we shall get publics, if nothing worse. That is 
 all, Smith. 
 
 Smith. — Of course it is customary to have a class 
 boat, and we must have one ; and there is none too 
 much time to order it in. I believe they generally 
 (puff) vote (puff) that each man in the class shall pay 
 a certain amount (puff, puff), say three dollars (a 
 succession of puffs). McKay will build us a shell for 
 three hundred dollars (puff, puff), and have it ready by 
 the time the river is open ; and I make a motion that 
 we vote to assess the class three dollars on each man. 
 
 So saying he retired to the bed amid subdued ap- 
 plause. 
 
 Smith, unless you touched him on boating, was not 
 much of an orator. He pulled the bow oar in the club 
 boat, and promised to hold the same position in the 
 crew next spring; yes, and in the " Harvard " too, by and 
 by. He was rather short, light-haired, and muscular, 
 and a great favorite. His popularity was destined to 
 increase ; for he was to show himself one of the best 
 
134 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 bow oars that the college ever turned out. He handled 
 an oar much better than a lexicon, and did the " dips " 
 and " half-arms " more skilfully than the English-into- 
 Greek exercise. In truth, it is uncommon for a boating 
 man to be much of a dig. 
 
 After a silence, Lyman looked inquiringly around. 
 
 " Get up and say, something, Tom," said Smith, 
 nudging his neighbor on the bed ; and reluctantl}^ for 
 speech-making was the very least of his accomplish- 
 ments, Tom Hawes got on to his feet, and faced the 
 company. 
 
 " I've got a letter in my pocket from a Yale Fresh- 
 man, a friend of mine. He says they expect a chal- 
 lenge from us for a race next summer; and he says 
 (reading), ' We are confident of being able to turn out 
 a strong crew, and hope you will not fail to invite us 
 to meet you on Quinsigamond in July.' (Applause.) 
 You know, fellows, how hard it is to get those Yale 
 men to come to the scratch ; but this fellow is a friend 
 of mine, and I know what he says can be depended on. 
 Of course we can't do any thing without a shell ; and 
 the only way that I see is to raise the money, and buy 
 one ; and so I second Mr. Smith's motion." With this, 
 Tom retired, very red in the face, and very warm, to the 
 couch, where he was received with subdued enthu- 
 siasm. 
 
 Lyman waited a few minutes for a further expression 
 of the sense of the meeting ; then, as no one came for- 
 ward, began, " If there is nothing more to be said, I 
 will put the motion to vote." This brought a shaggy- 
 headed fellow on to his feet in a trice. 
 
 " Mr. Chairman." 
 
STOUGHTON TWENTY-EIGHT. 
 
 135 
 
 Lyman. — Mr. Howard, gentlemen. 
 
 Hoiuard. — I liave nothing to say, Mr. Chairman 
 (Howard was one of the readiest speakers in the class, 
 with the knack of making the most trifling matters 
 appear to be of consequence,), — I have nothing to 
 urge agamst the proposition of procuring a class boat. 
 Personally my feelings are wholly in favor of what has 
 been said. I am quite ready to pay three, or five, or 
 even ten dollars, if needs be " — 
 
 Longstreet (getting briskly on to his feet). — Well, 
 we'll call it ten dollars, Mr. Chairman. Just pat Mr. 
 Howard down for ten dollars, and, Howard, never mind 
 the speech. 
 
 At this interruption there was very general mirth. 
 
 " But I do object," continued Howard with unruffled 
 gravity, " object most emphatically to the underhanded 
 method by which we propose to secure the money. 
 There are present here about thirty in all, and the 
 class numbers one hundred and twenty. Now, I say, 
 Mr. Chairman, we have no right'' — 
 
 Lyman, — Excuse me, Howard : not quite so loud, 
 if you please. I'm terribly afraid of publics. 
 
 " I say we have no right," Howard continued, in a 
 hoarse whisper, " to vote away class money, or to bind 
 the class by a vote, without a full class meeting 
 (applause from one corner of the room), or at least 
 witliout a general invitation to the entire class to attend 
 one. I am emphatically opposed to any such proceed- 
 ing as that proposed. Let us have a boat by all means, 
 but first let us at least do our best to have a meeting 
 attended by the class at large. A vote by so small a 
 number would not bind anybody, especially a vote cast 
 by interested parties." 
 
136 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 It was very evident, now that there was opposition 
 who were the boating-men and their friends. Half a 
 dozen rose to the floor at once ; and the cry of Mr. 
 Chairman ! " was heard on all sides. 
 
 Lyman. — Mr. Adams ! Gentlemen, Adams has the 
 floor. 
 
 Adams (standing still and looking quietly around). — 
 I would like to say, in answer to the last gentleman's 
 remarks (cries of " Hear ! hear ! " and " Go in, Mary, 
 don't be bashful!"), that I've come up here to this sky- 
 parlor to attend this meeting, and I don't want to have 
 to come again for such a purpose when all the necessary 
 business can just as well be transacted now. (Ap- 
 plause.) I don't believe you could get any more 
 together than there are here now, — certainly not if the 
 object of the meeting was known. Of course the vote 
 would not bind anybody ; and if there is any man in 
 the class who won't give three dollars toward a class 
 boat, or who can't afford to, let him say so, when asked, 
 and there will be plenty to make up the deficiency. 
 
 " Good for you, Mary!" said Longstreet. 
 
 " For my part," continued Adams, ''I can't pull " — 
 
 " Can't shin a rope, can you?" said Lewis, with his 
 mighty laugh, in which all joined. 
 
 " But I sincerely wish I could ; if some one will draw 
 up- a paper, I will put my name down for thirty dollars, 
 and I am good for as much more, if necessary." 
 
 There was uproarious applause at this, on the part of 
 the boating-men and their friends. 
 
 " Mr. Chairman," said Sam, rising. 
 
 " Mr. Wentworth, gentlemen." 
 
 Immediately there was silence. 
 
STOUGHTON TWEXTY-EIGHT. 
 
 137 
 
 "I only wished to say," continued Sam modestly 
 " that, as I take the deepest interest in eyeiy thing that 
 relates to boating, I hope the motion will be yoted on 
 and carried; and I shall be pleased to subscribe twenty- 
 fiye dollars toward the new boat, and my chum wanted 
 me to put his name down for fifteen." 
 
 At this there was great glee manifested by the boating 
 fraternity; and the motion was put and carried without 
 delay. After some further discussion, it was yoted to 
 appoint a committee of three to collect the funds, and 
 order the new shell ; and Sam was at once surprised and 
 pleased to find himself associated with Smith and Lewis 
 in the discharge of its duties. A subscription paper 
 was drawn up on the spot, and more than half the 
 necessary amount secured at once. The meeting then 
 broke up. 
 
 " I think I would like to pull in the crew," Sam said 
 to Smith, some days later, as he handed that gentleman 
 the money which he had collected from that part of the 
 class which it had been his duty to canyass. I did 
 not know any thing about the boat-club, or I should 
 haye joined last fall. Boating is a sport that I particu- 
 larly delicrht in." 
 
 Smith was not in the least disturbed by the request, 
 or the confident tone in which it was made : probably a 
 score of his classmates had suggested to him that they 
 intended to pull in his crew, as though an oar in a class 
 boat was to be had for the asking. 
 
 "Eyer pulled any, Wentworth?" he asked, inno- 
 cently. 
 
 " I belieye I can handle a boat of any kind if I can 
 do any thing," returned Sam, warmly. 
 
138 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 " You had better go to the gymnasium and work 
 regularly there ; and in the spring, if you are the best 
 man, you shall have a place. There are a good many 
 who want to pull, and who are working hard, but the 
 more the merrier; and," he continued, seeing Sam's 
 rather blank look, "there will be a second crew, you 
 know, and you can get a chance in that if not in the 
 first." 
 
 " I will go to the gymnasium, of course, if you say 
 so," returned Sam, a little crestfallen; "but I believe I 
 am strong enough in a boat without that." 
 
 " Not so strong but that you can work up a good 
 deal," Smith replied as they parted. 
 
 Smith had made the same reply to all the volunteers ; 
 and, in many cases, it had served to dampen their ardor 
 most effectually. This plan of regular winter work in 
 the gymnasium, for the crew, was an idea of Tom 
 Hawes's, and was considered to be quite superfluous by 
 boating-men generally; even the " Harvard," in spite of 
 Wilkinson's persistent endeavors, contenting themselves 
 with the thought that a few weeks' training in the 
 spring would suffice. But Sam was too thoroughly in 
 earnest to be turned aside. The more he thought 
 about it, the more determined he was to pull an oar in 
 his class boat ; for that he could do this with credit to 
 himself and the class, he felt certain. So he went regu- 
 larly to the gymnasium, where at a certain hour of the 
 day Hawes and Smith and Lewis were hard at work, 
 coaching and criticising half a score of aspirants for a 
 place in the boat. Hither Villiers, who entered at once 
 into the spirit of Sam's enthusiasm, was wont to accom- 
 pan}^ him, declaring that he needed some honest work 
 
STOUGHTON TWENTY-EIGHT. 
 
 139 
 
 of some kind himself; and, for an hour or two each 
 day, these young fellows worked with a determination 
 worthy of the cause. They pulled weights, swung 
 Indian clubs, put up the dumb-bells, learned the parallel 
 bars, the half-arms, and the dips; and Sam found that 
 there was a relish to all this, and an enjoyment in the 
 very exertions, beyond what would have seemed possi- 
 ble. As he was nearl}^ twenty-one at this time, was 
 possessed of a splendid constitution and a manly frame, 
 and had always lived much. out of doors, his muscular 
 strength developed with astonishing rapidity; and, 
 before the season's work in the gymnasium was fairly 
 ended, he equalled even Lewis in strength, and Smith 
 in activity. 
 
 It was most interesting, during all this time, to watch 
 the conduct of Smith and Hawes. They seemed always 
 to be at the gymnasium looking after the men, so long 
 as one of them remained. Besides doing more than 
 their own share of work at the weights and on the 
 bars, they coached and discussed every one of the 
 candidates with unfailing diligence. You could see 
 them putting their heads together, and winking and 
 exchanging significant glances, when one of their men 
 made a good show ; and Tom Hawes's glum face would 
 light up in a wonderful way, as he perceived the prog- 
 ress his plans were making. No infatuated turfman 
 ever watched the trainins^ of a favorite trotter with a 
 closer vigilance or a keener satisfaction. 
 
 What I would like to know," said Smith, as the 
 pair stood apart, watching Sam's graceful and vigorous 
 exercise with the clubs, "is whether Wentworth is 
 going to be the man he promises." Smith had pro- 
 
140 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVAKD. 
 
 pounded this question to his friend a score of times 
 already. " He is strong enough, Tom, and has wind, 
 and all that ; but the great question is, can we teach 
 him to pull ? " 
 
 " Ssijs he's been used to boats all his life," was Tom's 
 rejoinder. 
 
 " Yes. I know just what that amounts to, — pulling 
 cross-handed in a dory. For my part, I would rather 
 have a man who never saw a boat in his life, than one 
 of these fellows who thinks he knows all about it, and 
 is ignorant of the first principles." 
 
 " He's quick as a cat, and willing to be told ; and I 
 believe he's a prize." 
 
 " Well, I hope so ; if he only turns out half as well 
 as he promises, I won't ask for a better crew than ours 
 will be. The Sophs, would be strong, only their two 
 best men are in the Harvard ; and, as for the Juniors, 
 they are going to travel altogether too much on their 
 dignity. But I say, Tom," as a man of splendid devel- 
 opment came out of one of the dressing-rooms, and 
 picked up a heavy dumb-bell, " know who that fellow 
 is?" 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Well, I don't know his name ; but they say he has 
 pulled at Oxford, and was a crack oar, and that he is 
 going to pull stroke in the scientific crew." 
 
 " Well," said Tom, " the more there are of them, the 
 less chance of our coming in at the tail end." Just 
 then the bell rung ; and he started off on the run, to 
 save a tardy-mark at recitation. 
 
 The rest of the season was not all study or gymna- 
 sium work. For the first time in his life, Sam went to 
 
STOUGHTON TWENTY-EIGHT. 
 
 141 
 
 the opera, and was fairly captivated by this new pleas- 
 ure. Yilliers was soon his constant companion; and 
 the love of music was one more tie binding them 
 together. 
 
 Through Adams and Miss Eldredge, Sam had received 
 a card to the Lyceum Hall assemblies, those gatherings 
 of the elite of Cambridge. So, arrayed in faultless 
 apparel, he went to the first one ; though not without 
 some fear and trembling. To his infinite disgust, his 
 worst apprehensions were realized ; and he found him- 
 self as entirely ignorant as he could possibly be of the 
 art of dancing as practised there. Miss Eldredge was 
 more than polite to him, and introduced him to a score 
 of pretty girls ; but he felt his discomfiture so keenly 
 that he retired from the hall before the evening was 
 half over. " Why don't you go to a dancing-school ? " 
 Huntingdon said to him, on his return. " They will 
 have the assemblies just the same, another year ; and 
 you won't be a Freshman then, either. What kind of 
 a figure can a man cut in society, who doesn't know the 
 germ an ? If I were in your place, I would lose no 
 time." 
 
 Chancing to mention the plan to Villiers, to his sur- 
 prise, that gentleman, with more confusion than he had 
 ever exhibited before, said that he knew of a very nice 
 place, select and all right ; in fact, he had been attend- 
 ing twice a week, for some time. Before the winter 
 ended, these two young fellows were as proficient in 
 the german as Mr. Huntingdon himself. 
 
 As the weeks sped away, our young man was becom 
 ing much better acquainted with his classmates gen 
 erally, and was learning that there was a large proportion 
 
142 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 of quiet, earnest, industrious men, who did not consider 
 it necessary to waste their substance in riotous living, 
 simply because they had the unlimited control of a 
 certain amount of money. He began to doubt, some- 
 times, if his chum's associates, who had at first seemed 
 so worthy of imitation in every way, were really the 
 most influential men in the college, or were really very 
 desirable acquaintances, even though they seemed to be 
 the most prominent. 
 
 Perhaps, next to his intimacy with Villiers, Sam's 
 friendship with Will Adams came to be the strongest, 
 as well as the pleasantest. It might have been that his 
 natural quickness at discernment gave him an insight 
 into this young man's character, beyond that of the fel- 
 lows who were his associates and friends. It is impos- 
 sible to analyze the subtle forces that draw two young 
 men together and make them friends ; but friends these 
 two were : and Sam, not quite understanding Adams's 
 cool indifference at the constant attacks of their com- 
 panions, often took arms in his defence. There was one 
 incident, however, that seemed too good to be kept to 
 himself; and he told it with a great deal of glee to 
 Hawes and Lewis : — 
 
 " I called in to see Adams this morning, after recita- 
 tion, and found the youth stretched full length on 
 his lounge, as white as a sheet, and in a cold sweat. 
 ' Good gracious ! ' said I ; ' what's the matter ? Are 
 you sick ? ' 
 
 "'Oh, no,' he replied, feebly ; 'it's nothing in particu- 
 lar. I've been smoking : that is all.' 
 
 " ' Aren't you used to it ? ' I asked. He looked so 
 miserable that I hadn't the heart to laugh at him. 
 
STOUGHTOX T^E^'TY-EIGHT. 
 
 143 
 
 " ' Oh, yes. I've smoked eyeiy dtiy, ever since I've 
 been liere ; and I usually get on with, a Manilla very 
 well : but about ten days ago I bought a pipe ; ' and he 
 produced the most elegant meerschaum you ever saw. 
 ' I am coloring it : and I have to smoke such deuced 
 strong tobacco that it uses me up for a couple of hours 
 afterwards.' 
 
 " I suggested that, under these circumstances, I 
 should be inclined to let the pipe slide ; but I found 
 that I had touched a tender point. • Sam." said he, 
 rousing himself, • I came to college with the determina- 
 tion of learning to smoke ; and I mean to color that 
 pipe, if I am sick all the rest of the day.* It was the 
 clearest case of infatuation I ever saw : and I said noth- 
 ing more." 
 
 Both Hawes and Lewis thought that was a pretty 
 good story : but the laugh grew louder, as Hawes, with 
 a very knowing look, drew from his pocket an elegant 
 pipe, and exhibited it. He had to gi^-e it up, after 
 all ; for he handed it to me tliis morning, and asked me 
 if I didn't want to smoke it awhile."' Without delay, 
 the story went the rounds. Soon after this, Adams had 
 his revenge ; and it happened in this wise : — 
 
 " There," said Huntingdon, coming into the room one 
 snowy afternoon, and placing a small package on the 
 table, I"m tired of cigars ; there's nothing like a good 
 Bweet pipe, after all." And cutting the strings, and un- 
 folding the paper, he drew forth a pipe, fitted in a stem, 
 and, opening the box of Green Seal," crowded the 
 bowl with the fragrant weed, and sat down to a smoke 
 which he apparently enjoyed with the keenest relish. 
 
 By degrees, smoking had come to possess a strange 
 
144 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HAHVARD. 
 
 fascination for Sam; and he often thought he would 
 like to try it for himself, and see if it were as nice as it 
 seemed. 
 
 " I suppose any one is always sick, chum, when he 
 first begins to smoke," he said at length, his eyes follow- 
 ing the curling wreaths. 
 
 " Not necessarily: I never was, so far as I remember," 
 Huntingdon replied; and with a half-quizzing glance 
 added, " Why don't you try it, chum ? " 
 
 " I believe I will, if you will lend me." 
 
 " With the greatest pleasure : you lose half the en- 
 joyment of life not smoking." And Huntingdon knocked 
 out the ashes, crammed the bowl with " Green Seal," 
 passed it to Sam, and then lighted a bit of paper at the 
 grate, and gave him a fair start. " Bravo, chum ! we'll 
 have you a man yet. Don't smoke too fast : you'll burn 
 it if you do ; " and he went back to his book. 
 
 It was by this time quite dark. The snow fell brisldy 
 against the panes, and the wind whistled chill with- 
 out. Sam lay back in his easy-chair, his feet on the 
 fender, gazing into the glowing grate. The sensation 
 was new, and it was delicious : it seemed to soothe his 
 senses, and make him wish to close his eyes and dream ; 
 the fire took on a new charm as he gazed at it through 
 the curling smoke ; and how gracefully the wreaths rose 
 one above another to the ceiling ! 
 
 " WJiat a fool I have been to lose all this comfort so 
 long ! he thought. " I will go over to Wiley's, and 
 buy a pipe this very night." 
 
 Huntingdon pu tting on his great-coat and hat aroused 
 him from his revery ; and the smoke refusing to come, 
 showed that the tobacco was burned out. 
 
STOUGHTOX TWENTY-EIGHT. 
 
 145 
 
 " Good for you, cliiim ! Put the pipe in tlie case, 
 please. I want to stop at the office and the bookstore, 
 and I won't wait for you ; it's tea-time now ; " and he 
 hurried out. 
 
 Sam felt no disposition to follow ; something admon- 
 ished him that he would do well to remain where he 
 was ; his head did not feel quite right, and the objects 
 in the room seemed to join in a confused and confusing 
 dance. 
 
 " This is worse than the champagne," he said, talking 
 perhaps to keep up courage as he rose from his chair, 
 but he was too glad to sit down there again at once. 
 
 After a moment, the sensation of suffocation being 
 unendurable, he made another effort, and, with due 
 allowance for the " unstable equilibrium," succeeded in 
 reaching and throwing open the window. How refresh- 
 ing was the chill air, and the snow that fell on his face 
 and forehead I but in a few seconds he was only too glad 
 to recline on the lounge. " I don't think I shall try 
 this experiment again ; my ciuriosity is perfectly satis- 
 fied ; and I know just how much fun there is in smok- 
 ing. I can't truly say that I am hungry ; but I may as 
 well try to go to tea, for I wouldn't have chum know 
 of this for the world ; " and he succeeded in reacliing 
 the street and the table. 
 
 " Hallo, Went ! " shouted Lewis, as he entered the 
 room. " You come late to the feast. Why, Avhat is the 
 matter with the man? you are as white as a sheet. 
 Seen a ghost on the way ? " 
 
 " No," said Sam, with a faint smile, as he seated him- 
 self at the table, " there's nothing in particular the 
 matter. I don't feel just right. — No, thank you," he 
 
146 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 said to the maid as she passed him some biscuit and 
 butter : " give me a cup of tea, please." 
 
 "Why, Sam," said Hawes, with an anxious face, 
 " you are really sick ! I'm 'ever so sorry." 
 
 "No, confound it! I smoked chum's pipe full of 
 strong tobacco, and it has made me just a little dizzy: 
 it will be all right presently ; " and he tried hard to 
 swallow some tea. 
 
 " Ho, ho ! " said Lewis. " Here's Wentworth been 
 smoking. Just look at the wretched man, and see how 
 sick it has made him," and the table roared at him. 
 There was no more sympathy from any one now. The 
 smokers laughed at him ; and those who did not smoke 
 laughed still more. 
 
 " I say, Sam," called out Adams from the other end 
 of the table, " hadn't you better take my pipe, and finish 
 coloring it? I'm afraid Tom's tobacco isn't strong 
 enough." Even the maid joined in the laugh at his 
 expense. 
 
 " Never smoked any before ? " said Tom, presently, 
 with a grin. 
 
 " No," replied Sam, in a disgusted tone. 
 
 " Well, don't give it up discouraged. You ought to 
 have tried it just after supper instead of just before. It 
 makes all the difference in the world. Why, if I take a 
 strong pipe full just before a meal, it sometimes makes 
 me dizzy. Try it again to-morrow after dinner, and 
 you'll come to it all right." And he did. 
 
X. 
 
 THE EIYEE. 
 
 What a dreary, tedious time is the first spring in 
 Cambridge, to the enthusiastic Freshmen who are count- 
 ing the hours that must elapse before they can hiunch 
 their boat, bid adieu to the gymnasium, and begin tlieir 
 season's T^-ork on the river I AVIiat a vision recollection 
 calls up of falling rain, melting snovr, and drizzling mist, 
 with naked trees and building^s standiuGT out like half- 
 drowned spectres through the fog, while underfoot the 
 snow is slosh, which is speedily transformed to mud, as 
 the ground opens, till the streets are well-nigh impassa- 
 ble. Xo water ever runs off the colleo-e aTounds : the 
 i place is too level for that. It is not minded in later 
 years, for one grows used to it ; but it is a noteworthy 
 Freshman experience. 
 
 At length the ice on the river broke up. and floated 
 off to sea ; the Avinds blew softer, the mud was no 
 longer impassable ; and Smith got his candidates together, 
 and after several trials picked his crew. Sam had 
 secured the long-dreamed-of honor. — a place in the 
 class boat ; and now all bade farewell to study and 
 careful preparation for recitations and examinations ; 
 for the boat was the absorbmg passion of the next fouj 
 months. 
 
 147 
 
148 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVAED. 
 
 Tlie land slopes to the south from the colleges to. the 
 river ; and a brisk walk of five minutes brings one to 
 the boat-houses. Seen from a distance, rising on piles 
 out of the river-mud, they looked like so many huge 
 and uncouth marsh-fowl ; and a nearer approach dis- 
 covered them to be mere sheds built of rough boards, 
 with many a chink and cranny in floor, roof, and wall ; 
 but they served to cover the boats, and protect them 
 from thieves or from wanton destruction. Many a 
 student has felt an interest in these same rickety sheds 
 unsurpassed in intensity by any pleasure of his youth 
 or pursuit of his later years. 
 
 The river, and course which a six-oar might take, 
 are worthy of a word of description. Three miles and 
 a half down stream there is "Braman's" in Boston; 
 four miles to the westward is the dam in Watertown ; 
 and usually these two extremes are the limit of a 
 six-oar's course. The Charles River, just above the 
 colleges, is a most insignificant stream. It is narrow, 
 muddy,. crooked, and dirty. Countless drains, sewers, 
 gas-works, and factories discharge into its bed ; and the 
 fish have long since deserted its poisonous waters. 
 Leaving the boat-houses, the boats glide up stream 
 under the bridge leading to Brighton, make a great 
 sweep to the north, with brown meadows on either 
 hand, then go straight ahead for a mile with Mount 
 Auburn and its tower on the right, and pass under the 
 second bridge. Thence high banks begin to shut the 
 river in, and the current runs swiftly aslant the narrow 
 draws of the next two bridges. It requires a skilful 
 boatman to pass these successfully. Next the arsenal 
 is seen on the right ; and then comes a beautiful stretch 
 
THE EIYEE. 
 
 149 
 
 of a mile, shut in by liigli-woocled banks and fnie resi 
 dences on either hand, where the water is dark and 
 smooth. The dam at Watertown, the limit of naviga- 
 tion in this direction, is just above. This is altogether 
 the prettiest pull, though the most tortuous ; and, when 
 the wind is high, it is the only course that is quite safe 
 for a six-oar. 
 
 Down stream from the boat-houses the marshes 
 stretch out on either hand, and there is a straight 
 course for a mile to the south. Sundry factories stand 
 on either bank; and two bridges span the stream, in 
 which an occasional schooner is seen working up or 
 down. Then there is a sharp turn to the east, the 
 river broadens at the last bridge, with its double draw 
 (one set at an angle with the other, a terror to timid 
 bow-oars), and there is a pull over the Charles River 
 course in the "basin." If there is a strong south wind, 
 the cautious captain hugs the flats on that side of 
 the basin, and the old Milldam road : if the wind is 
 north or north-west, he keeps close under the lee of 
 the Cambridge shore. On this eight miles of winding 
 river or broad basin, the boating-men at Harvard do 
 their spring, summer, and fall work. 
 
 Tom Hawes's plan of having his men work together 
 during the winter at the gymnasium, though scoffed at 
 by most of the older boating-men, had been wonder- 
 fully efficacious in its results ; for it was not long before 
 the crew which the Freshmen put on the river was very 
 generally conceded by the knowing ones to be second 
 to -none, always excepting the "Harvard : so, at least, 
 thought Wilkinson, the stroke and captain of that boat, 
 and so he did not hesitate to say. 
 
150 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 "I tell you wliat, Tom," he said confidentially a 
 dozen times to tlio Freshman stroke, for the two were 
 great friends, " youVe got a splendid crew, and it's my 
 belief that j^ou'U do something surpassing even youi 
 own expectations before the season is over." 
 
 Think so ? " said Tom, his dark face flushing with 
 pride. 
 
 " Think so ? I know so. That work you did last 
 winter has been the making of you ; and, by Jove I 
 you've got one man, that if I had my way I'd have in 
 the ' Harvard ' before to-morrow." 
 
 " Wentworth?" asked Tom, looking a little glum at 
 the prospect of losing his best oar. 
 
 " Yes : Wentworth ; he is as strong built and as well 
 made a man as I ever saw, and he pulls the prettiest 
 oar on the river. If I could take him and you, and 
 turn out some of those lazy dogs who take it out in 
 loafing now, and think they can make up for it by 
 ' spurting ' for a couple of weeks by and by, it would 
 be an av'ful good day's work." 
 
 " Well, why don't you, Ed ? " 
 
 " No," said Wilkinson, with a shake of the head, 
 " turn out a Senior, and take in a Freshman ? That 
 would never do, Tom ; I must make the most of what 
 I have ; it will be a good lesson if we are beaten, and 
 will teach the fellows that a name don't go far towards 
 helping v/in a boat-race;" and he departed a little cast 
 down in his thoughts. 
 
 Sam, who had given his heart and soul to the boat, 
 had not acquired the enviable reputation of being a 
 crack oar v/ithout doing the requisite amount of hard 
 work ; and he will ever remember the first pull he took 
 on this river. 
 
THE KITEB. 
 
 151 
 
 " Be down at the boat-house at ten," Smith had said 
 to his men : " we are going to try a little pull this morn- 
 ing." They had been dreaming for months of the hour 
 when they should begin the season's work in the boat ; 
 and who could be a laggard at such a time ? Tom came 
 last, and unlocked the door; and Sam set his foot within 
 the enchanted enclosure for the first time. The boat- 
 house stood high above the water, the floor being cut 
 away in the centre, leaving a space forty feet by eight 
 or ten, where the boat was hoisted and lowered. A 
 boat, the club " lap.," was slung into the " gaskets," 
 ready to be dropped to the water. An old shell was 
 securely strapped to the rafters overhead ; and two or 
 three sets of strong spruce oars with "spoon" blades 
 rested on pegs against the walls. Farther on, in the 
 front of the building, with its single window destitute 
 of sash and glass, commanding a view of the river, was 
 a rude dressing-room eight feet square; every thing 
 was of the roughest and most primitive style. The 
 accommodations are much better now, for both boats 
 and men. 
 
 " Come, boys," said Smith, taking his place at the bow 
 gasket, " we have no time to lose." , Tom sprang aft at 
 the word, and called out, " All ready to lower here ! " 
 
 " Lower her, then ! " said Smith, and in a moment 
 the boat rested lightly on the water. " Down with 
 you, Tom ! " At the word Tom descended, and 
 crawled to the after-seat. " Down, Lewis ! Went- 
 worth, you may go next, and pull three. Dovv^n, four. 
 Now, five." Thus the first five men were seated 
 in the boat. Then Smith passed down the oars in 
 order, first to the stroke, and last his own, which is 
 
152 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 placed by number, five, resting on the bow outrigger. 
 
 Now pass lier ahead a little, boys, while I clear the 
 stern gasket," cried Smith ; and the boat was propelled 
 gently ahead, the stern gasket hauled up and stowed 
 away. " Now back her a little," and the bow gasket 
 was cleared ; and allowance being made for the ebb 
 tide, was left so that it might be in the right place when 
 they came back. Last of all, every thing having been 
 secured, Smith slid down the rope, and took his seat on 
 the bow thwart. They were still under the boat-house, 
 half entangled amid the piles which supported it ; but 
 then the orders came thick and fast. 
 
 " Back her out, boys, — easy ; now hold hard port 
 and back her, starboard ! " The boat swung gracefully, 
 and pointed down stream. " Hold all ! Ready ! give 
 way ! " and taking an easy stroke they slid down past 
 the brown meadows, the smoky factories, under the 
 bridges, and were soon out on the basin. 
 
 It was one of those very charming mornings, which 
 sometimes adorn the early spring ; the air was mild, 
 and the surface of the river without a ripple. With 
 bared heads and arms, the young fellows pulled with 
 the utmost enthusiasm. Though Sam was perhaps the 
 strongest and soundest man of the six, and had pulled 
 a boat more miles than any two of them, this was his 
 first experience in a six-oar; and he was very glad 
 indeed when the command, " Let her go," was given 
 way down on the basin, and they enjoyed a little rest. 
 
 Even before they had reached the first bridge, Sam 
 had discovered that this work in a six-oar was qu'te 
 different from any thing he had ever done in his life. 
 He was used to pidling short, quick strokes, with two 
 
THE KIYEE. 
 
 153 
 
 oars, in a boat tliat sat up high out of the water ; but 
 now the boat was only a few inches above the surface 
 of the stream, was narrow, and hung with out-riggers : 
 tlie oars were long and heavy, and the stroke vv^as a 
 mystery which he was conscious he could not solve. 
 He caught two or three " crabs," and felt that he was 
 expending twice as much strength as was necessary. 
 By the time they reached the boat-houses, there were 
 several large blisters on his hands, and he was very 
 much disgusted with himself. 
 
 After the boat was stowed away, and the toilets com- 
 pleted, Smith took Sam's arm, and the pair walked on 
 apart. Our friend was entirely humble in spirit, and 
 willing: to receive advice. He had felt the utmost 
 confidence, and had expressed his sentiments to that 
 effect with a great deal of freedom, that, if he could 
 once get into a boat with these fellows who seemed to 
 think that his ignorance in the art of pulling a boat 
 was extreme, he would show them how wonderfully 
 mistaken they were ; but now he began to think that 
 there might, after all, be something for him to learn 
 about boating. 
 
 "You meet badly, Wentw^orth," was Smith's first 
 comment as soon as they were out of ear-shot of the 
 rest ; " that seems to be your greatest fault." 
 
 " I don't think I quite understand what you mean by 
 ' meeting.' " 
 
 " No : I suppose not. It is simply cutting short the 
 end of the stroke, instead of pulling it through honestlj^,^ 
 and is the commonest fault in the world. You pull all 
 right enough till your body gets back past the perpen- 
 dicular : then, instead of pulling on till you bring the 
 
154 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 handle of tlie oar to touch the body, you jump forward 
 and meet the oar, and so cut off as much as a third of 
 the stroke. Am I intelligible ? " 
 " I think so." 
 
 " I am going to have you out in a wherry, and show 
 you just what I mean. I suppose Tom's stroke Avas 
 different from what you pull ? " 
 
 " I couldn't get the knack of it at all," said Sam, 
 very humbly. 
 
 " I think you owe me one on this," said Smith, with a 
 good-natured laugh. " However, you keep stroke pretty 
 well, and pull a deuced strong oar ; and I want you to 
 pull number three in the boat. The whole philosophy 
 of rowing well consists in economizing every ounce 
 of force, and putting it into the oar ; and practice is the 
 only means that I know of by which the art can be 
 learned. You want to go out in a crew whenever you 
 can get a chance : the way to learn to pull a boat is to 
 pull a boat ; that is my theory about it all." 
 
 Although the first effort was so very near a failure, 
 there was little, except the peculiar style in which 
 Hawes handled his oar, that our young man had to 
 acquire ; and it was not long before he had learned his 
 stroke to perfection. He pulled perhaps the strongest 
 and most graceful oar on the river, and was at once the 
 pride of the boating-men of his class, and the particu- 
 lar pet of half a score of fellows who, though they 
 could not or did not care to pull themselves, took 
 a very deep interest in every thing that pertained to 
 boating, and backed up their crew with an enthusiasm 
 that was quite Freshmanic. There was now and then a 
 croaker who would shake his head, and doubt Sam's 
 
THE EIVEE. 
 
 155 
 
 power for endurance, tliough admitting that his style 
 was well enough ; and as the time for the Harvard 
 regatta drew on, not a few in the rival boats as well as 
 their backers calculated the chances of Wentworth and 
 Lewis breaking down before the end of the race, and 
 the event came by degrees to be counted on as almost 
 sure to happen. 
 
 " If your men were not Freshmen," Haskill used to 
 say to Yilliers, more for the purpose of rousing that 
 gentleman to an expression of his enthusiasm than as 
 a statement of his own views, " there might be some 
 show for them in the race here in June ; but who ever 
 heard of such a thing as a Freshman boat beating? " 
 
 " It has never been done, I know." 
 
 " But there always has to be a first time, eh ? Well, 
 you'll see them spurt off in great style, and tliey may 
 hold on till they reach the stake, but they can't stand it 
 all the way down. You'll see either Lewis or Went- 
 worth flop up somewhere on the home stretch ; j^ou'll 
 see ! " The pompous little Junior only gave expression 
 to sentiments which prevailed more and more as the 
 time for the June regatta drew on. 
 
 All this time the men were steadily at work, taking 
 a long puU after recitations in the evening, and going 
 out for a " paddle," "as Tom was pleased to call a pull 
 of tliree or four miles, in the morning whenever oppor- 
 tunity favored. And all this time, too. Smith did his 
 duty by all the men in the boat ; took them apart, each 
 one at a time, and criticised their faults, and praised 
 their good points ; explained his theories, and illustrated 
 them by example. How he contrived to keep up with 
 his college work, and pass the examinations which 
 
156 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HAKVARD. 
 
 began to come along frequently, was as macli of a 
 mystery to himself as to any one ; for tlie best of liis 
 time and energies during these months were put into 
 the boat. 
 
 Ah, it was a work that called for all his enthusiasm, 
 skill, and patience ; and often was the young fellow 
 fairly discouraged during that first six weeks' struggle 
 with his unpractised crew. Lewis, who pulled number 
 two, and set the stroke for the starboard oars, who was 
 so strong and willing, would lag a little behind the 
 stroke. Moreover, he had no less than seven boils in 
 the course of the spring ; and it interferes sadly with 
 regular v/ork to be obliged to go out with a substitute 
 so often. 
 
 ISTumber Four, when a little excited, was sure to pull 
 ou.t of the boat, and finish with a jerk, causing the 
 narrow shell to roll badly ; and Number Five was a 
 long time learning to keep stroke at all. After the 
 faults of the individual men were mostly corrected, 
 there yet remained that most difhcult problem of 
 bringing the crew to pull together: by this is meant 
 not merely keeping stroke, which almost any half-dozen 
 indifferent oarsmen can do with a little practice ; but 
 the simultaneous, and, as it were, spontaneous move- 
 ment of all six men on the stroke and the recover, so 
 that the bodies sway as if animated by a single impulse, 
 and when the boat comes bow on sharp as a razor, on a 
 course as true as an air-line, two oars are seen instead 
 of six, and one cannot tell unless by the pace, or till she 
 sv/erves to come in, whether it is a six-oar or a wherry. 
 Some very good crews never learn this; but Tom 
 Hawes was a man to pull on for miles, like a perfectly 
 
THE EIVEK. 
 
 157 
 
 conducted macliine, never relaxing or quickening his 
 pace except at order, and never maldng a false stroke, 
 — a perfect model for liis men to imitate; and after 
 many tedious hours, beginning at first slowly, and grad- 
 ually increasing the pace, Smith with sparkling eyes at 
 length declared that the secret had been discovered, 
 and that the crew pulled together perfectly. 
 
 The general interest in boating increases as the 
 weather grows warmer, and culminates in June ; and 
 the river presents a lively appearance of an evening 
 at this season of the year. The evening pull is the one 
 that a captain can be sure of getting his crew together 
 for. At six there is a rush from the recitations for the 
 boat-houses, a hasty stripping of the men ; half a dozen 
 boats drop lightly into the water, shoot out from under 
 the boat-houses, and are off. Later come the lazier 
 men, who, not anxious to win distinction behind some 
 crack stroke, enjoy their supper, and come sauntering 
 down for a little paddle in a lap." There is no strip- 
 ping for this pastime, unless a coat is left to the care of 
 a friend; and sometimes a youth starts out without 
 removing his silk hat or his half-smoked cigar. Every- 
 body who owns a wherry or a "double-scull " is on the 
 river, while scores of friendly students throng the 
 boat-houses and the wherrj'-raft, waiting to see their 
 favorites come in; and it is the pleasantest occasion of 
 the day. 
 
 A time like this is not the most propitious for a 
 beginner to take his first pull in a crank wherry. 
 
 There goes Adams I Hi ! just look at him, will 
 you ! " shouted Longstreet, one day, in high glee. " If 
 that fellow hasn't been preparing a watery grave foj 
 
158 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 himself, then I'm mistaken." Lyman and even Villiers 
 joined him in a hearty laugh at Adams, who, a few 
 yards out from the float, was exerting all his skill to 
 keep a very narrow shell right side up. 
 
 " She looks mighty crank," was Villiers's comment. 
 
 " She's fifteen inches wide, that's just what she is," 
 said Longstreet ; " and the foolish youth never pulled in 
 a wherry before. He had better advice though. Sam 
 told him to buy some kind of a second-hand craft, 
 twenty-eight or thirty inches wide, and get the hang of 
 the thing a little, and then he could get a shell as 
 narrow as he liked. But no, he must have a boat 
 fifteen inches wide, and no wider ; was going in for one 
 only thirteen inches, but the boat-builder thought he 
 had better not." 
 
 " You may bet he would rather be ashore than where 
 he is," quoth Lyman, as the narrow craft rolled first to 
 one side and then to the other, and seemed in imminent 
 danger of capsizing. "Hallo, Mary ! " he shouted, good- 
 naturedly ; put your oar in deep, and take it out with 
 a jerk." 
 
 There is no compassion manifested by any one for an 
 unpractised boatman, especially if he be a Freshman ; 
 and a score of students were by this time looking at 
 Adams's awkward efforts to pull back to the float, 
 shouting at him, and making merry at his expense. 
 
 " You'd better get out of that before the six-oars 
 come in ! " shouted Haskill. " I would just like to see 
 the ' Harvard ' coming at him forty-five a minute, and 
 going to cut him right in two, and see how he would 
 get out of the way." 
 
 " The best service we can do is to go out and tow 
 
THE EIYER. 
 
 15S 
 
 him in," said Yilliers ; but a friendly double-scull came 
 along just then, and performed the ser^^ce. 
 
 " There comes a ' six ' I " exclaimed Huntingdon, who 
 had joined the company ; and as the flash of oars was 
 seen under the bridge half a mile down stream, a 
 dozen watches were quickly brought into requisition 
 to time the stroke. " Thirty-four," continued that gen- 
 tleman : " it's the Sophs., I guess," with a contemptu- 
 ous look at the Sophomore of football fame, who was 
 standing near, quietly smoking a cigar. 
 
 " I guess that's all you know about it," retorted the 
 
 latter with a scowl. " More likely it's your own 
 
 boat." 
 
 " It's the scientific crew," said Yilliers. See their 
 starboard oars, in what beautiful succession they take 
 the water ; " and there was a very general laugh. 
 
 "There! there comes the 'Harvard'!" quoth a tall 
 and dignified Senior; and again the watches were 
 brought into play. " Forty-two ; that's the stroke that 
 is going to do the work at Worcester." Conscious 
 looks and knowing nods, fi-eely exchanged, showed with 
 what complacency the statement was accepted. 
 
 " You are out there," said Haskill, after a careful 
 look, and with all the dignity which he could com- 
 mand. "It is the Junior crew: I haA'en't watched 
 their stroke not to know it when I see it," which 
 contradictory statement was received by the Senior 
 with a look more eloquent than words. 
 
 " Sold ! all of you," cried Lyman, as the boat on 
 which every one was looking with an admiring gaze 
 drew nearer : " it's the Freshmen. I thought I couldn't 
 be mistaken in Tom's stroke, though it is quicker than 
 common." 
 
160 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 " Yes," said Villiers, pointing up stream to the bridge 
 from under which a couple of boats were emerging 
 " There come the ' Harvard ' and the Juniors from up 
 river." 
 
 " Don't they pull all together, though ! " said Long- 
 street, delightedly, with his eyes riveted on the ap- 
 proaching boat. " By Jove ! how I wish I was a third 
 bigger and heavier ! " and the little fellow sighed 
 mournfully. 
 
 " Their pulling isn't beaten on this river," said Vil- 
 liers, emphatically. " Come, let us go around and help 
 them stow things away; " and the pair rushed around to 
 the boat-house where the class shell was kept, to wait 
 on their heroes, minister to their wants as far as might 
 be, talk over their hopes for the hundredth time, and 
 escort them to supper. 
 
XI. 
 
 IN A " SIX-OAB." 
 
 As these spring and summer weeks of Sam's college 
 life were entirely devoted to boating, a few passages 
 from his note-book selected here and there will give the 
 story of what was done in the crew better than it could 
 otherwise be told. 
 
 " Saturday^ April 21. — Six, or rather seven, of us go 
 off on a very long pull this morning. We borrow an old 
 ' lap.' from the scientific crew, and in place of the bag 
 of sand usually carried in the stern to trim ship, we 
 take Longstreet, who is scarcely heavier. It is a beau- 
 tiful morning, and the tide is about half ebb. The sun 
 is bright and warm ; and we strip to it, bare back, and 
 slip down under the first bridges, across the basin, and 
 even down through the West End and Charlestown 
 bridges. It is a scratch crew : I am pulling stroke, and 
 Smith bow. It is fortunate he is along, for there is 
 a very network of bridges, with draws coming close 
 together and at right angles, and the tide running 
 swift ; and with a less skilful captain we must needs 
 have come to grief. But the last one is passed, and 
 hurrah ! here we are out on Boston Harbor. The 
 waves from a ferry-boat caught us, and set us dancing 
 merrily, as we crossed the stream ; the first time that I 
 
 161 
 
162 
 
 STUDENT-LITE AT HARVARD. 
 
 have felt tlie swell of the ' gray old sea ' for nearly a 
 year. We leave the nav3--yard on the right, pass the 
 English steamer in her dock, and hug the East Boston 
 shore. 
 
 " ' Going down to Taft's, Smith ? ' says the man 
 behind me ; ' look out for the flats if you are. It's 
 almost low water now ; the channel is on the south side 
 of Apple Island.' 
 
 " ' Give way, there, and put your wind into your oar, 
 if you have any to spare,' said Smith; and the boat 
 made a sudden sheer, and darted into the narrow chan- 
 nel between Fort Winthrop and Apple Island. 
 
 " We landed on the beach at Taft's at ]ialf-past 
 eleven, ten miles in an hour and fifty minutes ; not so 
 bad for a scratch-crew of Freshmen, though to be sure 
 we had the tide with us. We hauled the boat high 
 and dry out of the water, put on our shirts (coats and 
 hats we had none), and marched up to the hotel for 
 some lunch. This is a famous place for game dmners ; 
 and the host said he could get us up one in a very short 
 time, twenty minutes or half an hour; but we thought a 
 lunch would do very well, and we devoured a quantity 
 of cold fowl and bread with ale ad libitum, Longstreet 
 insisted that it was his affair, and settled the score. It 
 was fortunate that he was with us ; for I doubt if any 
 one else had any money, being all in boating attire. 
 While the others were lounging and resting off, I 
 climbed a high bluff near by, and had a magnificent 
 view of the harbor and its islands, and the bay, with the 
 coast stretching away in the blue distance to the north. 
 HoAV enticing the water looked ! A fresh breeze had 
 sprung up from the south-west, with the flood-tide ; and 
 I fairly longed for a sailboat for a few hours. 
 
IN A " SIX-OAK." 
 
 163 
 
 " The pull home was rather a drag. We had the 
 tide with us, but the head wind increased in intensity 
 every minute till it blew half a gale, and kicked up a 
 chop that tested the sea-going qualities of the boat to 
 the utmost. I had no idea that it could be so rough 
 on the basin. We were half full of water before we 
 could gain a lee shore and smooth water ; and Longstreet 
 was wet and chilled through, though he endured without 
 flinching. We reached the boat-house about two, P.M. ; 
 and I confess to being thorougiily tired out. I don't 
 think I should care to pull stroke for a regular thing. 
 Towards night my back and arms became uncomforta- 
 ble in the extreme, and any clothing unendurable ; but 
 chum acted the part of Good Samaritan, and poured oil, 
 in the form of glycerine, on my wounds ; and the sore- 
 ness was speedily dispelled. I shall have a magnificent 
 brown on. 
 
 " Monday^ April 23. — A ten-mile pull. Just as we 
 turn for home, up comes, or rather down, comes, a 
 sudden shower. It rushes on over the calm surface 
 of the water, sounding for all the world like dry leaves 
 driven by a gust of wind. I turn wonderingly to see 
 what it is that sounds so queerly, and see the dark line 
 of the shower distinctly marked across the smooth sur- 
 face of the river, and advancing swiftly nearer. A 
 drop strikes my face ; and we are almost instantly cut 
 off from sight of any thing fifty feet distant. T Avas 
 bare back again ; and the drops fairly took my breath 
 away at first, they were so cold and cutting. It is 
 curious how we can expose ourselves as we do witiiout 
 getting cold. I have been drenched almost every day 
 with salt or fresh water, and pulled with the water 
 
164 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 ankle-deep in the boat, without experiencing any un- 
 pleasant effects ; and the same is true of every one else. 
 
 " Tuesday^ April 24. — A very windy pull to-day. 
 We hug the lee shore wherever we can find one, and 
 ship considerable water at best, though we get down 
 to Braman's and back. As we came up through the 
 lower bridge, we got a glimpse of a crew coming down, 
 hugging the shore. They turn wide to go back, not 
 caring to try the basin, and so get across our course, 
 and are near being run down. Smith calls out, ' Hold 
 her, hold hard ! back water ! ' and apologizes to the 
 captain of the other crew, which proves to be the 
 Junior first, in their new shell. ' All right,' says the 
 latter : ' it was my fault ; ' and they dart off ; but one 
 man says, loud enough for everybody in both boats to 
 hear, ' Ho, they are only d — d Freshmen, and didn't 
 know any better.' We had only our clumsy old ' lap.,' 
 and of course couldn't keep up with them ; and Smith 
 wouldn't let Tom quicken in the least, for he says we 
 do not know our ABC about rowing yet, and that we 
 do not pull together at all ; but I imagine we all pulled 
 the best we knew. About half way between the lower 
 and the second or middle bridge, the river turns, and 
 runs north and south, and a south wind has full sweep 
 for more than half a mile ; and to-day it proved to be a 
 little too choppy for the Juniors and their new shell ; for 
 we were hardly around the bend when Smith called out, 
 ' Thunder, boys ! there go the J uniors, swamped. Give 
 way lively ! hit her up, Tom ! pull all you know ! ' In a 
 very few minutes it was, ' Hold hard, all ! ' and we 
 had the satisfaction of picking up the Juniors who a 
 few minutes before had called us d — d Freshmen, and 
 
IN A "SIX-OAE." 
 
 165 
 
 of towing the boat ashore for them. Verily life is 
 checkered. The Juniors are fine-looking fellows, the 
 favorites on the river for the June regatta, and thej^- 
 pull a rousing good stroke ; but I think we are going to 
 rub them closer than they imagine. 
 
 'Tuesday^ May 1. — No chance for any boating for 
 the past week. It has blomi a gale of wind all the 
 time, and every boat that ventured out was swamped : 
 so we have worked in the gymnasium, and taken long 
 tramps ; but I enjoy the boat much better. It has been 
 a long time since I prepared a lesson thoroughly. I 
 pony out all the Greek and Latin, and run my luck at 
 mathematics. There is time enough, but I can't bring 
 my mind to it. 
 
 " Saturday^ May 26. — Our new shell has come at 
 last, and a perfect beauty too, forty-five feet long, 
 and twenty-two inches wide. The new Harvard shell 
 is twenty-six inches wide, and looks almost like a tub 
 compared with our boat. There has never been one so 
 narrow used here before ; and half the college has been 
 down to see ' Freshy's new boat.' The general impres- 
 sion seems to prevail, that she will be too crank to pull 
 in ; but Tom saj^s a boat needs only to be wide enough 
 to sit in, and we had no trouble pulling her up from 
 Braman's. She came on in last night's steamer from 
 New York ; and four of us went to Boston this morning 
 early, and brought her across the city on our shoulders 
 (a pretty good load), and were as proud as peacocks, 
 too. There was a New York sporting gentleman who 
 came on in charge, as perfect, a specimen of a ' plug- 
 ugly ' as I ever conceived of, with a red face, and a mous- 
 tache black with nitrate of silver, and big enough to 
 
166 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 stuff a pincushion. Tom said he belonged to a pro- 
 fessional crew, and he said he wanted to see the 
 boat-houses, and what sort of stuff the Harvard was 
 made of: so we gave him a chance to work his passage 
 up. 
 
 " It is decided that the regatta shall come off on- Sat- 
 urday, June 16 ; and there will probably be four boats. 
 The Juniors are the favorites ; as much because they 
 are Juniors as any thing, I suspect. I think we come 
 next in order in general estimation. Sometimes I think 
 our chances for coming in ahead are lirst-rate ; and then 
 it seems as tliough there was little hope of doing any 
 thing. The members of the winning crew are to have 
 their names inscribed on the big silver cup in the libra- 
 ry, a sort of transmittendum prize ; and, in addition to 
 this, there are to be twelve silver medals for the two 
 winning boats. Smith says that of course we are to 
 tr}^ for this championship, but he don't intend to have 
 us overdo, as the race, the one we want to be sure of 
 winning, will come off at Worcester in July. We sent 
 the Yale men a challenge, and it was regularly ac- 
 cepted ; and there is no going home for May recess for 
 us this year. Smith having ordered us to stay here 
 and work. 
 
 " Saturday^ June 2. — We have been here all the 
 week, taking a double allowance of hard work instead 
 of play. The other crews, Harvard and all, broke up 
 Monday for a week ; and we have had undisputed pos- 
 session of the river. Wilkinson tried his best to keep 
 his men together, but to no purpose. It is right jolly 
 being at college with no prayers, and no bell-riuging 
 every houi* to call to recitations or lecture. We give 
 
EST A "SIX-OAR." 
 
 167 
 
 ourselves up entirely to boating, and it suits me per- 
 fectly. 
 
 " We went into training Monday ; that is, as much 
 training as we are to have until the annuals are over, 
 and we go to Worcester. What we have had of it isn't 
 so bad either. We have to knock oE smoking ; but 
 that comes harder on Smith and Tom, than any one 
 else. We are not permitted to drink any coffee or 
 liquor of any kind, and only a limited supply of cold 
 water, which seems foolish enough ; but as much ale as 
 we please. We turn out about six in the morning, and 
 breakfast together at seven. The bill of fare is simple : 
 we have cold bread, white or Graham, the older the 
 better, tea or milk, very rare steak or chops, or soft- 
 boiled eggs, with plenty of cracked wheat as a standard 
 dish. Xine o'clock sees us assembled at the boat-house, 
 stripped for a pull. We start out at a slow pace, and, 
 as the weather is pretty well settled now, generally 
 go down into the ' basin,' and pull over the course at 
 a good jog, now and then indulging in a ' spurt ; ' and 
 I notice that these spurts come oftener, and last longer, 
 every day; and next week we are to pull on time. 
 Then we jog along up to the boat-houses, and loaf 
 about till dinner. 
 
 " Sunburns are in high estimation ; and there is a 
 great deal of rivalry among our boys, to see who shall 
 have the brownest back. We are generally returned 
 from our pull by eleven o'clock ; and for the next two 
 hours, if the sun is hot, Lewis and one or two others 
 stretch themselves out at full length on the platform 
 in front of the boat-house, or on the wherry-raft, and, 
 naked to the waist, turn up first their chests and then 
 
168 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 their backs to brown. I prefer to take a paddle with 
 Villiers in a double-scull, or, if it is too warm, lay off 
 in the shade. 
 
 " At one o'clock we dine together, on rare beef or 
 mutton, with potatoes and spinach by way of vegeta- 
 bles, bread, a pitcher of foaming ale, and a grand appe- 
 tite for sauce for the whole ; and, for dessert, we have 
 oatmeal pudding, or boiled cracked wheat. Then we lay 
 off until four, when we meet for our ' constitutional,' — 
 say a matter of ten miles, at a steady pace. Perhaps, 
 for variety, we go up river : it is, ' Easy,' till we pass 
 the first bridge ; then it is, ' Give way, hard, boys,' and 
 we dash along till the river bends sharply, and then a 
 spurt to the second bridge ; after that, ' Easy ' again, for 
 half a mile ; and then, passing the last bridge, we do 
 all we know, till the word comes, ' Let her go,' and we 
 are at Watertown. Coming home, we take a steady 
 pace ; and Smith entertains us with a disquisition on 
 the good points of a first-rate oar, by way of comparison 
 with our individual pet faults. We all come in for a 
 share of the criticism ; and sometimes I thmk Smith is 
 a regular old Betty, he is so needlessly particular. But 
 Villiers says that that and our long pulls will be what 
 will put us ahead, if we do get our boat in first. 
 
 " Our supper, or tea, consists of oatmeal mush, or 
 cracked wheat, with sirup or milk, bread and butter, 
 and tea ; and at nine we go out for a little run around 
 the Delta : then home, and rub ourselves down, and go 
 to bed. It won't be so nice when college work begins 
 again ; but the past week has been charming. 
 
 " Thursday afternoon a sharp shower prevented our 
 taking our constitutional : so we made up for it in the 
 
IN A " SIX-OAR." 
 
 169 
 
 evening, pulling quite down to Braman's, whence we 
 sallied forth in quest of crackers and cheese and ale. 
 As we pulled slowly up, for the evening was delicious, 
 the moon rose nearly full, over the roofs of the city ; 
 and the surface of the water, before stretching away 
 still and black and shadowy, was lighted up with a deli- 
 cate silver tint. For a time, nothing broke the silence 
 but the regular dip of the oars, and the chatter of our 
 voices ; for discipline was relaxed for the time, and the 
 stroke too; and we struck up 'Maid of Athens,' and 
 then ' Fair Harvard,' and made night melodious. I am 
 sorry that this is our last day of inglorious ease. 
 
 '-'•Wednesday^ June 6. — The buildings are lively once 
 more, and the river as well ; and all the crews are at it 
 in good earnest, out twice a day, to make up for lost 
 time. We pulled ' on time ' this evening. The water 
 was lumpy, and we could not do our best ; but our 
 time was twenty minutes, twenty-one seconds. The 
 time of the winning boat last year, the present Juniors', 
 though not the same crew, was twenty minutes, twenty- 
 five seconds ; and they had smooth water. Yilliers says 
 it is good enough. I had forgotten all about the pretty 
 little girl in the millinery store — as, indeed, I have of 
 late forgotten every thing except boating ; but I heard 
 Tom saying that we must have six pink silk handker- 
 chiefs with white borders, our class colors, and took 
 upon myself the charge of having them ready ; and 
 then I thought that very likely she would make them, 
 and called to see. It is surprising how delicate and 
 pretty she is. Ruth Leigh it seems her name is. I 
 have made several calls, and had the good luck not to 
 see the she-dragon — the lean, ill-favored one — at all. 
 
170 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVAKD. 
 
 I took Tom in once, to make sure if the pattern was 
 quite as it should be ; and, when we came out, I asked 
 him if that wasn't a pretty girl. He said that really he 
 hadn't noticed. There is nothing pretty to that man, 
 or attractive-, but an oar or an out-rigger. I don't un 
 derstand myself how that girl comes to be there ; and I 
 am sure she is out of her element. 
 
 " Saturday^ June 9. — Only one week more ! and our 
 hopes are high. We had a brush with the Harvard 
 last night, and surprised nobody so much as ourselves. 
 It was a windy evening, and we had pulled up to 
 Watertown. On the way, we had shipped a good deal 
 of water ; and beaching the boat on a bit of smooth 
 shore near the village, we jumped overboard, lifted her, 
 and turned her bottom side up; then we got in again, — 
 a delicate operation, for the boat is really crank, — and 
 started home at a brisk pace, to the great admiration 
 and delight of a crowd of the natives, who had gathered 
 at the shortest notice on the river's bank. 
 
 " As we swept around into the calm, shady stretch of 
 water just below there, the prettiest mile of the whole 
 river, I caught a glimpse of a 'six-oar' lying quietly 
 in under the bank, waiting for us to come abreast. I 
 only glanced for an instant, out of the corner of my 
 eyes, without distinguishing who it was. ' It's the 
 Harvard,' said Smith, in a whisper. ' They are going 
 to give us a rub. Every man mind his oar, and eyes 
 in the boat. Don't quicken, Tom,' as the stroke was 
 instantly increased : ' we've four miles and a half good 
 before us, and we can't keep this up ; ' and then we 
 pulled on in silence, with no sound save the. regular 
 swash of the oars, and the labored breathing of the men. 
 
IN A "SIX-OAE." 
 
 171 
 
 I looked steadily at Lewis's neck, and watched the play 
 of the muscles on his broad back ; presently the narrow- 
 ing banks brought the boats nearer, and I could see 
 them without turning my head, pegging away under 
 the left bank of the river ; and, as a sudden turn in the 
 course brought us still closer, I could hear that they 
 were breathing hard, as well. We were alongside for 
 a moment, at the bridge ; and then came the quick 
 order, ' Hold her ! Hold hard all ! ' and we held up 
 a second for them to go through, dashing after them in 
 a most reckless style, and then both crews hard at it ; 
 they under the left bank, and we under the right, to 
 avoid their wash ; cutting corners, and making as 
 straight a course as possible. The arsenal sank away 
 in the distance, the hills disappeared, the meadows 
 began to broaden on either hand ; and again it was, 
 ' Hold her hard, boys ! ' and we waited for them again 
 at the second bridge. How good that half-minute's 
 breathing-spell was I it put new life into me. The next 
 mile and a half was the hardest to bear : the dash and 
 enthusiasm were all gone, and we pulled with dogged 
 resolution, not quite holding our own. My arms ached, 
 and my left wrist was entirely numb ; all the boys were 
 suffering, and the stroke was much slower. But both 
 boats put on a tremendous spurt after passing the 
 third bridge ; and any exertion seemed easy at the 
 thought that a hundred men were on the raft waiting 
 to see the Harvard come in : and we made that little 
 distance with a rush, both boats being pretty near 
 together, and never letting up in the least, till we were 
 almost under the boat-house. You never saw six hap- 
 pier Freshmen than we were, when we came to realise 
 
172 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 what we liad accomplished. There was no one in 
 either boat but expected that we should be shaken off 
 after the first mile or so ; and Villiers says hanging on 
 to them as we did, four miles and a half, is a great 
 victory. Smith would have it that they had been play- 
 ing off, but they seemed well blown ; and Wilkinson 
 told Tom that, for one, he did all he knew, and that 
 the Harvards were not half up to their work. 
 
 '•''Saturday^ June 16. — We have pulled our first 
 race ! The morning was beautiful as only a June 
 morning can be. We took the shell down to Bra- 
 man's last evening ; and so the time hung heavily on 
 our hands during the forenoon. A bulletin which 
 attracted general attention was posted at the college 
 bookstore in the square, as follows : — 
 
 "*HAEYARD REGATTA! 
 
 ** * The Annual Harvard Regatta will take place 
 on the Charles River course this afternoon at three 
 o'clock, wind and weather permitting. Four crews 
 will pull, — the Junior, Sophomore, Freshman, and 
 Scientific' 
 
 " We dined together at noon, on the usual leg of 
 roast mutton, rare, juicy, and tender, potatoes, spinach, 
 ale ; and, for dessert, oatmeal mush. I think we were 
 none of us hungry ; and it was a silent meal, even 
 Longstreet for once appearing thoughtful and quiet. I 
 ate what I did, purely from principle ; for there was a 
 queer sensation at the bottom of my stomach, which 
 took away all desire for food. 
 
 "At half-past two the scene at Braman's was a 
 stirring one. The crews were all there, wearing their 
 
IN A "SIX-OAR.'' 
 
 173 
 
 colors, and had the boats out of water, cleaning and 
 oiling them. As our boat had been put in perfect o] der, 
 we were the first to launch and put out for a little pull , 
 and it was a comfort to grasp the oar-handle. The 
 rafts were crowded with students, — backers of their 
 class boats ; and the cheers of our friends rang out as 
 we darted awa}'. Then came the drawing for positions. 
 We had hoped to get the inside ; but the Sophomores 
 drew the first choice, the Juniors the second, the Scien 
 tific crew the third, and we had to take the outside. 
 
 " Meantime the course had been cleared, the judges 
 were at their post near the upper stake, the starter, 
 judges, and referee were on board the barge ; the rafts, 
 platforms, and roofs of the boat-houses at Braman's 
 were black with the crowd ; the windows bright with 
 ladies' dresses ; the river wall, and sheds of the Beacon- 
 street houses, were densely packed half a mile up 
 stream. It was an exciting scene. 
 
 " Bang went a gun from the barge, the signal for us 
 to come into line ; and as we pulled up to take our 
 position we got nine cheers, though the boats were all 
 greeted in the same way. We came into line as well 
 as we could, and lay on our oars. This waiting was 
 the hardest part of all. If we could only have pulled 
 away at once ! I suppose it was only a few moments, 
 but it seemed an age. I felt something pressing against 
 my chest, and I could hardly breathe. ' Remember, 
 boys,' whispered Smith, ' don't look around ! See the 
 boats behind you, if you see them at all, and be jaire 
 and don't miss on the start ; two short strokes all to- 
 gether, and then the long.' 
 
 " ' Up a little, Freshmen ! ' ' Back, Juniors ! ' called 
 
174 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 out Wilkinson ; and now the line seemed to suit himi 
 ' Are you ready ? ' rang out in clear tones across the 
 water. There is a hush in the crowd, which every one 
 can feel ; we stretch forward : ' Go ! ' and twenty-four 
 oars dash the water. At the sound there is a great 
 cheering and clapping of hands from the shore. I look 
 at Lewis's back, and pull ; and almost immediately 
 Smith says, ' D — n ! hold her, boys ! ' We were half a 
 length ahead. The bow oar in the Scientific boat lost 
 his head, steered wild, and fouled the Juniors ; and we 
 had to go back, and try a fresh start. 
 
 " This time I did not feel the least nervous, but 
 enjoyed the situation and the excitement. Soon we 
 saw the Scientific boat behind us ; and then came 
 a glimpse of the Sophomores, hugging the wall for 
 smooth water; and as we draw up to the stake it 
 appears that we have the right to turn before the 
 Juniors. ' We've got 'em ! ' says Smith ; ' don't hurry, 
 boys ; they can't do any thing till we get around ! But 
 what with the sun in his eyes, and the glare of the sun 
 on the water. Smith couldn't see the stake; and we 
 shot past, leaving room for the Juniors to come up and 
 turn inside of us, which they did as neatly as could be, 
 and then dashed off down the home stretch, the stroke 
 kissing his hand by way of good-by. Nobody said a 
 word ; but there was a determination to make up the 
 loss if it were a possible thing. I saw the other boats 
 draw up to the stake, and turn ; and, as the distance 
 between us grew wider, the sunlight seemed to wrap 
 them in a gold and purple halo, most dazzling. After 
 a time I could hear the swash of oars on the right. 
 The temptation to look was irresistible. ' Eyes in the 
 
IN A "SIX-OAR." 
 
 175 
 
 boat,' said Smith, coolly. ' Steady ! don't spurt till I 
 give the word ; we are doing well enough.' So we 
 pulled on, and again I watched the muscles on Lewis's 
 back ; and soon the swash of the Juniors' oars grew 
 more distinct, and presently I could see a little bit of 
 the rudder by turning my eyes, and then the stroke- 
 oar, and it was plain that inch by inch we had come up 
 with them. 
 
 " But we were getting home : the crowd had caught 
 sight of us, and the roar of the clapping of many 
 hands, and excited shouting, comes over the water to 
 us. ' iSTow, boys, shake them off ; hit her up, Tom ! ' 
 shouted Smith, though Tom had quickened almost be- 
 fore the word, and for me, as soon as I heard that noise 
 from the shore, I felt as fresh as if I had just stepped 
 into the boat ; but we had barely pulled half a dozen 
 strokes at this tremendous pace, when there was a 
 crack, and Lewis's oar snapped at the rowlock. So we 
 lost the race, though twice it v/as ours ; for we were 
 ahead of them at the stake, and had passed them at 
 the time of the accident. 
 
 " We had a rousing reception ; for we were only just 
 behind the winning boat ; and the boys on the raft 
 didn't know what had happened till Lewis held up the 
 broken oar, when there was the wildest time I ever saw. 
 They wanted us to challenge the Juniors to pull the 
 race over again. But Smith said No, it was all right as 
 it was ; he wasn't going to have us pull another race 
 till we got to Worcester. And though it is a disap- 
 pointment not to beat them if we can, I suppose the 
 decision is a wise one." 
 
176 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVAED. 
 
 Less than three weeks remained before the Fresh- 
 men annuals began, those justly dreaded examinations, 
 to most students the hardest trials of a hard year's 
 work ; and it was with no very pleasant anticipations 
 that Sam realized, now that the excitement of the 
 regatta was over, how much he must do if he expected 
 to make a fair showing of the year's work. 
 
 He proposed to his chum that they should go over 
 the work together ; but Huntingdon laughed at him. 
 
 " Thanks," he said, sarcastically ; " but I am not 
 going to wade through all that stuff, annuals or no 
 annuals. It is altogether too hot to study ; and I be- 
 lieve I know it well enough. Let it go, chum. What 
 difference can it make to you? " 
 
 At this Sam felt blue, in spite of himself. " Let it 
 go ? " To be sure, he could do that ; but he felt that 
 he had not come to college entirely to pull a boat : it 
 would hardly be honest not to make an effort. While 
 he was thinking over these matters, a kindly hand 
 was laid on his shoulder; and looking up he saw 
 Villiers. 
 
 " You haven't read up any thing yet for the annuals?" 
 said he, with his earnest manner. 
 
 " Not a line," Sam replied, gloomily. 
 
 " Neither have I. I thought perhaps you would like 
 to go over it with me, and so put it off. Come, let us 
 begin this very evening." 
 
 Sam's face flushed ; and for an instant his eye grew 
 moist. " No, Villiers, that is too much. I have only 
 ponied out a little days when I expected to be called 
 up ; and I couldn't think of riding in on your honest 
 
IN A " SIX-OAE." 
 
 177 
 
 old shoulders in any such way as that. Ko : you are 
 just the best fellow that ever lived, to propose such a 
 thing ; but I will dig through it myself the best I can." 
 And, true to his resolution, the young fellow went to 
 work with a will. In this warm weather, he would 
 strip to it as for a pull, and was up early and late, 
 devoting to study CA-ery minute he could command, and 
 taxing his strength very severely ; for the boat still took 
 a large share of his time. His round face grew thin 
 and worn, and he looked haggard enough. 
 
 On the evening of the Fourth of July, as he was 
 crossing the square, he encountered Mr. BuUard, the 
 tutor in mathematics ; and they walked on together. 
 Mr. Bullard, one of the most diffident, but also one of 
 the most gentlemanly, men in the world, remarked that 
 it had been a very pleasant day ; to which Sam replied, 
 " Yes, it has been." 
 
 " I hope," said the kindly instructor (since a membei 
 of Congress, and honored by a large constituency), 
 noticing the worn appearance of the young man, "that 
 you have improved it otherwise than by passing it in 
 your room." 
 
 Sam smiled. " You know it is the mathematical 
 annual to-morrow. I went at it this morning, and have 
 been over every thing the class has done this year ; and 
 I believe I understand it too." 
 
 Mr. BuUard's looks betokened the surprise and sorrow 
 that his words would fain have expressed, if he had 
 found any words at command. Some intimation of the 
 great effort the generally favorite young Freshman was 
 making must have come to the apprehension of the 
 
178 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HAEVARD. 
 
 college officials, and influenced, if unconsciously, their 
 reports of Ms work at the annuals; for, though but 
 indifferently prepared, he passed them without a condi* 
 tion. 
 
XII. 
 
 AT QUIKSIGAMOND. 
 
 The two crews, the Freshman and the Harvaid, who 
 were to contest the championship with Yale, went to 
 Worcester at once after the annuals, and, taking up 
 their quarters on the lake, went into training for the 
 " grand inter-collegiate regatta." 
 
 In the very midst of Quinsigamond, there was a large 
 island, connected by a causeway with the shore, upon 
 which a new hotel had been built, that offered pleasant 
 and commodious quarters for guests. Sam at once 
 secured apartments for his mother and sister, and wrote 
 home a glowing account of the attractions which the 
 spot presented, and an earnest appeal for them to come 
 and stay till after the regatta. Kate was wild with 
 delight and enthusiasm at the suggestion. Mrs. Went- 
 worth was well pleased ; and, a week before the eventful 
 day, quite a party of our friends had assembled at this 
 sylvan retreat. It comprised Mrs. Wentworth and 
 Kate ; Villiers, who, deeply interested in the result of 
 the contest, was studying the problem with his wonted 
 thorough diligence ; Miss Eldredge ; and, as a matter 
 of course. Will Adams, who was never far away from 
 her. Huntingdon had his headquarters at the " Bay 
 State," in the city hard by, but was constantly going 
 
 179 
 
180 
 
 STUDENT-JLIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 back and forth between the hotels. One day a Miss 
 Eose Thorne came from the city, where she was on a 
 visit to a friend, to call on Miss Eldredge ; and as it 
 proved that Mrs. Thorne and Mrs. Wentworth had been 
 schoolmates and very dear friends, a warm and intimate 
 friendship immediately grew up between their daugh- 
 ters. Thus a most acceptable addition was made to 
 the party; for Miss Thorne, "a most charming girl," 
 as everybody declared, presently came over to the lake 
 to stay. 
 
 As a matter of course, Sam's quarters were with 
 those of the crew, at a farmhouse near the eastern 
 shore of the lake. The Harvard men were domiciled 
 a little farther on. Not far away, on the edge of the 
 water, were the boat-houses, rougher if possible than 
 those at Cambridge. The Yale crews were on the 
 opposite shore. 
 
 Sam's delight at meeting his mother and sister was 
 not greater than their surprise at sight of him. Three 
 months' constant exposure to the weather, without ever 
 losing sight of the determination of getting as many 
 sunburns as possible, had made him many shades darker 
 than his natural complexion. His curling brown hair 
 had been cut close, " filed," to use a technical expres- 
 sion. His hands had grown one or two sizes larger than 
 of old. " I am sure that was altogether unnecessary, 
 sir," said Kate ; " besides, they are as brown and hard 
 as leather. I have almost a mind to cry. You don't 
 look at all as you used to. — Does lie, mamma?" 
 
 There was no denying that his shoulders had grown 
 wonderfully broad, and that his whole form had a 
 bewitching manliness. As Kate took his arm witfi 
 
AT QUmSIGAINIOXD. 
 
 181 
 
 both hands, an old habit of hers, she i.ttered a little cry 
 of surprise. " It is wonderful," said she as Sam drew 
 up his biceps into a knotty lump, and submitted it to 
 her admiring touch ; "so hard that I can't even pinch 
 it." 
 
 The ladies found the hotel delightful in the extreme. 
 They lived in the very midst of rustling woods and 
 limpid waters. There were charming walks and scram- 
 bles through the woods around the lake ; beautiful 
 drives, of a morning, when nature is the freshest, out 
 into the surrounding country; boating and bathing to 
 the heart's content ; while the fact that the little com- 
 pany grew daily larger, as the week wore away, made 
 the delights of the occasion constantly increase. 
 
 If Sam made but an indifferent escort for the ladies 
 at this time, not showing himself for twenty-four hours 
 together, as was sometimes the case, he had provided a 
 most efficient substitute in the person of Villiers. " I 
 know he will be glad to take care of you," he said, by 
 way of silencing Kate's remonstrances at the proposed 
 change ; and Yilliers, for whom the sun seemed to shine 
 brighter since the arrival of his mistress, could not 
 deny the soft impeachment. " I want to introduce you 
 to ]Miss Thorne : you don't know how nice she is," Kate 
 said to her brother more than once. "You can surely 
 spare a half-hour." 
 
 " You shall have my most devoted attention as soon 
 as I am free once more," was his invariable reply, "but 
 at present I am Smith's man, and belong to him." 
 
 Friends of Yale and friends of Harvard thronged the 
 hotel as the day drew near ; and among the young ladies 
 particularly, party spirit ran high. Their favorite colors 
 
182 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVAED. 
 
 were everywhere displayed ; and it was the magenta ol 
 the blue that adorned the tresses or decked their attire. 
 
 A boat-full of our friends were out on the lake of an 
 evening, floating in the moonlight, Kate presiding at the 
 oars. 
 
 " I declare," she said suddenly, " on Friday I mean 
 to make myself look as much like a cherry as possible. 
 I hope you will appreciate the sacrifice, Sam, for it is a 
 horribly unbecoming color." 
 
 Sam (a little glum). — It is likely enough you 
 will need to provide a suit of mourning for your dead 
 hopes, — "the trappings and the suits of woe," as it is 
 written. For one, I don't feel in the least sure that we 
 are not going to be regularly cleaned out this year. 
 Those Yale men are giants in a small way : they have 
 had a professional trainer from New York, and have 
 trained to pull five miles instead of three, and spurt all 
 the way. 
 
 There was a silence at this most unexpected state- 
 ment. 
 
 Villiers. — If you mean your own crew, Sam, you are 
 too modest by half. It is treasonable to say so, I know ; 
 but I have no doubt myself that the Harvard will be 
 beaten. They are not half up to their work, and Wil- 
 kinson says so himself. The Yale University, as Sam 
 says, are the most powerful set of men I ever saw 
 together. 
 
 Miss Eldredge, — O Mr. Villiers, what sentiments ! 
 Ah, you are trying to frighten us. The Harvard beaten ! 
 why, what an idea ! It hasn't happened since I can 
 remember. 
 
 Adams, — At all events, the betting is two to one 
 in their favor. 
 
AT QUINSIGAMOND. 
 
 183 
 
 Huntingdon. — Pshaw ! the thing is almost beyond a 
 possibility ! Those Yale fellows are big enough, there is 
 no denying that ; but they don't know the first thing 
 about rowing. Look at them any time, and see how 
 they bend their backs and arms, and jerk at every 
 stroke. 
 
 Sam (laughing a little sarcastically). —Yes, but they 
 all jerk together most admirably, and the boat gets 
 through the water altogether too fast to suit my fancy. 
 
 Kate. — Sam must have the blues to-night. He has 
 evidently eaten too much oatmeal mush for tea. The 
 Harvard must beat, of course. 
 
 Having decided this vexed question to her satisfac- 
 tion, she turned the boat to a spot densely shaded with 
 overhanging trees. 
 
 " Everybody will be surprised and disappointed if 
 they do not," said Adams, in reply to her last remark. 
 
 Sam (after a pause, splashing the water with his 
 hand as the boat glided gently along). — Well, I 
 shall be sorry, but not surprised. I was thinking of 
 our own chances when I first spoke ; but without a 
 doubt the Yale University are in much the best condi- 
 tion. They don't pull as neat and finished a stroke as 
 Wilkinson's, but a much stronger one. 
 
 Again there is a silence, broken only by the splashing 
 of the water. 
 
 Villiers. — There is no doubt that our men have 
 grown lazy and careless, and imagine that the successes 
 of former years will serve them in the stead of hard 
 work. If they should be beaten, perhaps it would be a 
 blessing in disguise. 
 
 Huntingdon (quickly). — You would be glad to see 
 
184 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HAKVARD. 
 
 Yale win ! that's a pious sentiment, Villiers, and one 
 hardly to be expected from a Harvard man (and there 
 was a cry of " O Mr. Villiers I ") 
 
 Villiers (warmly). — I want to see the best men win 
 whoever they may be, and — 
 
 Kate (who has propelled the boat into the darkness, 
 suddenly) . — There ! nothing can be nicer than this 
 spot on a hot day. The trees keep out every ray of 
 sunlight, and there is a cool gray twilight even at noon. 
 I have always wanted to come in here at night, but 
 never dared to do so alone. 
 
 Sam, — Bah ! it's dark enough. 
 
 Kate, — Thanks, somebody, but I believe I am warm 
 enough without a shawl. 
 
 ''Now I think the gentlemen might favor us with 
 some music," said Miss Eldredge ; and for an hour, 
 while the boat floated gently toward the landing, the 
 songs of the merry party rang out over the still waters, 
 while at intervals the clapping of hands on the shore 
 told of more than one appreciative listener. It was an 
 hour of exquisite happiness, that ended but too quickly ; 
 for of a sudden Sam recollected that he was breaking 
 regulations, and ought to have been abed two hours 
 before. So, taking the paddles, he pulled quickly to the 
 shore. 
 
 Strangely enough. Rose Thorne passed that evening 
 in the city, and did not make one of the party. Though 
 it was the evening but one before Friday, she and Sam 
 had not yet met. 
 
 Time passed with the crews in these days very much 
 as when they were training at Cambridge. The Yale 
 
AT QUINSIGAMOND, 
 
 185 
 
 and Harvard men avoided each other as much as possi- 
 ble, and there was no attempt at testing each other's 
 powers ; and the crews went into the race with a very 
 wholesome respect for their opponents. Oracles enough 
 there were among the partisans of both, to say which 
 were the better men, and who would discourse learnedly 
 and lengthily to any listener on the science and art of 
 pulling a boat. But, besides these, there was a goodly 
 number of the knowing ones w^ho made a careful study 
 of the entire problem ; sharp-witted sporting characters 
 who looked carefully at every man, and felt of any 
 they could, as if he were a favorite horse which they 
 were going to back ; in short, men who got their living, 
 and their fortunes too, by their wits as shown by their 
 judgment in making bets, and who hail the college 
 regattas as contests on which they could stake their 
 money with the most perfect confidence in the good 
 faith of both parties. There was no danger of a sold " 
 race here, and they knew it. There was, as the event- 
 ful day drew near, a goodly number of these gentlemen 
 hanging round the Harvard and Yale boat-houses, watch- 
 ing their chance to have a square look at the men, or 
 skulking through the woods and bushes to waylay a crew 
 and catch them when they were pulling " honest injun," 
 as Tom called it, away up at the other end of the lake ; 
 and thus by a careful and systematic espionage, followed 
 up day after day, and an estimate of the comparative 
 strength or weakness of the opponents, made up of 
 trifles perhaps, but of trifles indicating material points, 
 they would conclude whether it was upon Yale, or 
 Harvard, that their money should be w^agered. The 
 conclusion being once established, they went about 
 
186 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 in quest of victims, who were to be found in abun- 
 dance. 
 
 The eve of the long-expected day arrived, — Thurs- 
 day night. The hotels at the city and lake were 
 already overflowing with guests, and thousands were 
 to come on the morrow. This night the Glee Club and 
 Pierian Sodality gave a concert ; and on the evening 
 after the races there was to be the regatta ball. Sam 
 could not attend the concert, for he must needs go to 
 bed, — to sleep if may be, but to bed at all events, and 
 betimes, - — to get all the rest possible, as Smith has 
 decreed. But the ladies under the escort of Villiers 
 and Huntingdon assisted at the musical feast. 
 
 Crowds of students had been down to the lake in 
 the afternoon, to see the crews. " Hi 1 Wentworth," 
 " How are you. Smith ? " " How are you, Tom ? 
 and Lewis, old bo}^ ! " and Lyman and Longstreet and 
 Haskill, forgetful of the dignity which becomes a full- 
 fledged Senior, dashed down the steep bank to the 
 boat-house, and were received with a shout of welcome, 
 and a hearty shake of the hand. 
 
 " Going to clean 'em out to-morrow, Tom ? " said 
 Longstreet, eagerly. 
 
 Tom shook his head, and said he didn't know ; but 
 looked very happy all the time, as though he considered 
 victory not the most improbable event. 
 
 " You had better," said Haskill to Sam, wagging his 
 head. " Look here young man, I've got three himdred 
 and seventy-five dollars up on your boat, odds three 
 to one, you know " (confidentially) ; " and I rather 
 think that, if I lose that, my marm won't get her last 
 term's board-bill in a hurry, and the steward will have 
 
AT QUINSIGAMOND. 
 
 187 
 
 to come down on my bond for his bill, and I shall 
 have to lay mighty low this summer, for I couldn't 
 think of striking the old gent for any thing more this 
 year," and the inevitable meerschaum came out ; " but 
 if you win — hi ! — I bet you will." 
 
 " How much have you got on the Harvard ? " queried 
 Sam, innocently. 
 
 The only reply which the reverend Senior vouchsafed 
 to this interrogatory was to wink one eye curiously, 
 and thrust his tongue into his cheek in a knowing man- 
 ner. " Oh ! they're lazy devils. I'm afraid ! I'm 
 afraid ! " and he shook his head. 
 
 " Going to pull in the morning. Smith ? " said 
 Lyman. 
 
 " Yes, we are going out for a paddle at nine, just to 
 get limbered up," and he locked the boat-house ; and, 
 escorted by their friends, the crew moved off to the 
 farmhouse for supper, and then went to bed. 
 
 After the concert, a gay and brilliant assembly, the 
 Yale and Harvard partisans crowded into the halls of 
 the Bay State ; and for two hours a dense and noisy 
 throng held possession of that hospitable inn. Green 
 Freshmen just admitted, professional boating and sport- 
 ing men from New York and other cities, undergradu- 
 ates of both colleges, and many who return with inter- 
 est to this scene of their former triumphs or defeats, 
 surged hither and thither in wild and riotous confusion. 
 
 " Three cheers for Josh Ward ! " called a voice; and 
 they were given with a will as the stalwart boatman, 
 the referee in the morrow's races, elbowed his way 
 through the crowd. In the centre of the hall an eager 
 and excited group had gathered around a well-known 
 
188 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 boating-man, and listened intently for any hint that might 
 throw light on the event of the morrow. Everywhere 
 bets were freely given and taken ; generally two to one 
 in favor of Harvard, and against the Harvard Fresh- 
 men. A red-faced man with an immense black mous- 
 tache red at tlio roots, and a swaggering manner, was 
 trying to get odds against the Yale Freshmen ; and was 
 betting upon Yale generally to a large amount. 
 
 Suddenly up Jumped a little fellow onto a chair. 
 " Two to one that the Harvard Freshmen's time beats 
 the Yale University's to-morrow;" and, as a silence 
 ensued upon so startling a proposition, he repeated it in 
 a loud voice, and looked defiantly around. Surely it 
 was no other than our friend Longstreet. There was 
 loud applause from the wearers of the magenta, mingled 
 with groans from those who sported the blue; and a 
 dozen pressed forward, to take the bet. " How much ? " 
 shouted he of the moustache, waving his hat. " What- 
 ever you please," replied Longstreet, coolly. " One 
 thousand?" — "Yes, five if you like;" for Adams, 
 standing by, told Longstreet not to stand for trifles. 
 " Well, a thousand will do," said the red-faced man ; at 
 which there were cheers mingled with jeers from the 
 Harvard backers. As it grew later the tumult and con- 
 fusion increased ; and by midnight license reigned su- 
 preme. Woe to the wretched guests of the hotel who 
 were courting the drowsy god that hot summer night ! 
 At last, however, the uproar died away, and silence 
 reigned throughout the empty corridors. 
 
 Our Freshmen met on the shores of the lake for 
 their customary bath, that bright, clear Friday morning ; 
 and a tough, plucky-looking set of men they were as 
 
AT QUINSIGAMOND. 
 
 189 
 
 tliey came up dripping out of the water. The sun- 
 browned muscles of back, chest, and arm, stood out in 
 beautiful sj-mmetrical development, as the body played 
 into a hundred attitudes of grace and power, while they 
 were rubbing themselves down. There had been no 
 shirking in this boat ; Freshman-like they had done 
 their work honestly and earnestly. The Harvard crew 
 were a bigger set of men, larger of arm and heavier of 
 weight ; but it was easy to perceive that there was a 
 surplus of flesh. One man had the unenviable reputa- 
 tion of not being able to pull his own weight. It was 
 the glory won by their predecessors in years gone by 
 reflected upon them, rather than any exertion of their 
 own, that made them the general favorites. 
 
 All the morning, trains of cars had been pouring 
 thousands of people into the city; and, after such a 
 dinner as could be procured, there was a general exodus 
 for the lake, some three miles away. Lines of car- 
 riages a mile long, or more properly an uninterrupted 
 procession of vehicles of every description, reaching 
 the entire distance, and accommodation-trains with two 
 engines plying back and forth, served to convey twenty 
 or thirt}^ thousand people to the scene of the contest. 
 Seats for the spectators had been erected on Regatta 
 Point, which afforded a fine view of the start, and the 
 lower mile of the course. Westward, a little distance 
 up the lake, a wooded point jutting far out into the 
 water cut off the turning-stake and the upper judge's 
 boat from view. 
 
 The hour drew near. The roof, windows, and piazza 
 of the hotel were crowded with an eager and gayly 
 dressed throng. The causeway leading to the island 
 
190 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 was dense with humanity ; the shores of the lake, way 
 around to the north and west, were lined with people ; 
 while on Regatta Point every available foot of ground 
 was covered with excited spectators. Every boat and 
 craft of any description that could be mustered was 
 brought into requisition; and a little steamer with 
 crowded decks, and decked with gay bunting, plied up 
 and down the lake. It was a beautiful and inspiriting 
 scene set in with the blue heavens, waving woods, and 
 bright glancing waters, which the soft west wind just 
 rippled, and then, rustling the leafy verdure, came most 
 grateful to the dense, gayly dressed, and excited crowd. 
 
 A gun boomed, and half a dozen wherries came into 
 line ; another, and they darted away up the lake ; but 
 they were barely noticed as they passed the point. All 
 these people had not assembled to see a wherry-race ; 
 and, as the time drew speedily near, they were too rest- 
 less and excited to be interested by any such insignifi- 
 cant affair. Now the liveliest impatience was manifested 
 on all sides ; the wherries had returned, and the Fresh- 
 man boats ought to have been on hand by that time. 
 Crowds of excited Yale and Harvard men rushed 
 hither and thither, jumping over benches, elbowing, 
 gesticulating, shouting, giving and taking bets, hot, 
 dusty, weary, but thoroughly aroused ; and the blue or 
 the magenta was everywhere displayed. 
 
 " Rah ! Rah I Rah ! *' the well-known Harvard cheer 
 rang out, and there was great clapping of hands ; and 
 presently a well-known Harvard Senior was seen with 
 half a dozen little red rubber balloons tied to his button- 
 hole, tugging at the string, and eager to break away. 
 He proposed to let them fly when the Harvard should 
 
AT QUINSIGAMOND. 
 
 191 
 
 come in victorious. The red-faced man with his enor 
 mous black moustache, who was so prominent at the 
 Bay State the previous evening, darted around with his 
 hand full of greenbacks, offering odds on the Yale boats ; 
 not in vain, for there were plenty of enthusiastic 
 Harvard men to take his bets. 
 
 Mrs. Wentworth's party occupied some of the best 
 seats on the point, nor did they escape the universal 
 excitement and enthusiasm. 
 
 " Nobody seems to bet on Sam's crew : they're all 
 betting on the Harvard," said Kate, indignantly. 
 
 " Make an exception in my case, Miss Wentworth," 
 replied' Adams ; " I have a thousand dollars at stake on 
 them. Longstreet put it up last night at the Bay State, 
 against that red-faced man there. His bets must 
 amount to many thousand dollars." 
 
 " A thousand dollars ! " said Kate, opening her blue 
 eyes to their widest extent. " It was very wrong, Mr. 
 Adams." 
 
 " To tell the truth, Miss Wentworth," replied Adams, 
 flushing a little, " I believe neither of us knew what we 
 were doing any too well." 
 
 " There come the Freshman boats under the cause- 
 way ! " exclaimed Villiers, who had been looking 
 through his glass in that direction. 
 
 " Oh, dear I " said Kate, in a flutter; " which is our 
 crew, Mr. Villiers? I declare, I feel frightened 
 almost ! " 
 
 " The one this way ; you can see their red handker- 
 chiefs," said Villiers, as he adjusted the glass for her. 
 " Now notice the difference in the strokes tJiey pull : 
 see how short and Jerky that of Yale is. Now see what 
 
192 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 a long, even, regular sweep those red handkerchiefs 
 have. I believe that that stroke will do the work if 
 our men win." 
 
 The report of a gun was heard, and the boats were 
 seen pulling away from the judge's barge. " They are 
 coming up into line," said Villiers. " Ah ! Yale has 
 the inside." 
 
 " Is that an advantage ? " asked Mrs. Wentworth. 
 
 " It may be," is Villiers's reply. " If the race should 
 prove a close one, and the two boats should reach the 
 stake at about the same time, Yale would have the 
 right to turn first ; but it is not often that they are so 
 near together as to make this advantage of much con- 
 sequence when there are only two boats." 
 
 All was still now; and the vast multitude waited 
 with breathless attention. The two boats were in line ; 
 there was a flash, but before the report reached the 
 shore it was drowned in the roar that rose from thou- 
 sands of throats, as the twelve oars caught the water, 
 and dashed the spray. The boats were off together up 
 the lake. 
 
 There was silence again as they drew near the point ; 
 as they came up, Yale was seen to be slightly in ad- 
 vance ; and again the shout went up with redoubled 
 power, " Yale ! Yale ! " But lo 1 as they came abreast 
 the point, and that mighty uproar reached them, right 
 there, in the sight of their thousand friends. Harvard's 
 r.troke quickened, and the boat shot ahead, propelled 
 by a single resistless impulse ; there before the eyes of 
 all, the young fellows pulled away from their competi- 
 tors, and blue water gleamed between them. 
 
 Then what a roar, and clapping of hands I 
 
AT QrTN'SIGAMOND. 
 
 193 
 
 " Thej are beating I said Kate, in a suppressed 
 voice. 
 
 " I should think they were," rejoined Huntingdon, 
 who had just joined the group. " They pull like young 
 giants.'' 
 
 " A thousand to fire hundred the Yale Freshmen 
 win," said a gruff voice at Huntingdon's elbow, and 
 turning^ he found himself face to face with that most 
 indefatisrable backer of Yale. 
 
 " Put up your money, then I " said Huntingdon, con- 
 temptuously, " if you have so much to throw away ; " 
 and the twain were off to find a friend to hold the 
 stakes. 
 
 Meantime Villiers had been following the course of 
 the boats with his glass. Suddenly he uttered an 
 exclamation vdiich soimded wonderfully like an oath, 
 and his lips were compressed with excitement. 
 
 "What is the matter?" exclaimed both Miss Eldred^e 
 and Kate. 
 
 " Something serious, I am afraid," said Villiers, still 
 looking through his glass. " Our men have stopped 
 pulling." 
 
 "The 1" exclaimed Adams, springing to his 
 
 feet. 
 
 " I see them very plainly," continued Tilliers, 
 " and they are sitting quite still ; the other boat is 
 up with them ; it passes — ah I there they go, hard at 
 it again ; Yale won't keep the lead long at that pace, 
 I fancy." 
 
 " V\"hat can have been the matter?" said Miss El- 
 dredo'e. 
 
 " I hope none of the young men have given out," 
 
194 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 said Mrs. Wentworth. " It must be very hot and hard 
 work, I should think." 
 
 For the next twelve minutes or more there was a 
 general falling-off of conversation ; watches were he- 
 quently consulted, and the upper end of the lake carefully 
 scanned with the glasses. Every one passed the time 
 as best he might ; but it was too anxious a time for talk 
 
 Slowly but impressively the scene changed. Heavy 
 masses of black clouds rolled slowly up, and their 
 glittering edge gradually obscured the sun; the light 
 westerly wind died away ; the surface of the lake lost 
 its blue glitter, became a mirror of polished steel, and 
 then turned glossy black. Now and then a bird 
 dashed down, and scattered the spray with its wings ; 
 anxious farmers ran to cock and cap their hay; the 
 thirsty cornfields drooped expectant of the shower. 
 The multitude and nature were still ; it was time for 
 prudent people some miles from home to think of secur- 
 ing shelter. 
 
 " Harvard ! Harvard ! Harvard ! " came resounding 
 down the lake ; boats and wherries glided out from 
 behind the point, and in an instant a six-oar darted 
 into view. Then the cries of " Yale ! Yale ! " " Plar- 
 vard ! Harvard ! " became deafening. 
 
 " I don't see the Yale boat," said Villiers, after a 
 careful look. " They must be a long way behind." 
 
 " Are you sure there is no mistake about our men 
 being ahead ? " said Kate, pale with excitement. 
 
 " You can see them for yourself. Miss Kate," said 
 Huntingdon, eagerly. "There is no mistaking Tom's 
 stroke. If I don't give them a royal supper to-night ! " 
 Soon it was sure, for every one could see them very 
 
AT QUIXSIGAMOND. 
 
 195 
 
 well ; and the clear, sharp " Rah ! Rah ! Rah ! " of the 
 joj'ous Harvard Freshmen, rang out above the clapping 
 of hands and the roar of the crowd. There they went, 
 spurting on the home stretch with that reserve power 
 which the winter's work and the careful training had 
 given them, coming in on a course as true as if fur- 
 rowed by a plough. Away over on the other side of 
 the lake, a long distance behind, were the blue handker- 
 chiefs, jerking away, and looking tired and dispirited, 
 even at this distance. 
 
 Now confusion reigned. The Yale men were sure 
 there must be some good reason for the defeat, that 
 there must have been some accident, and that all would 
 yet be explained. They could only keep quiet, and 
 bide the issue of the next contest. But the Harvard 
 Freshmen, to a man, and all their friends, and tliose 
 who had won their bets, were wild witlr excitement 
 and delight, and rushed about shouting, shaking hands, 
 and embracing. Huntingdon was off after the stake- 
 holder and his thousand dollars ; and Mrs. Went worth 
 suggested that they had better go back to the hotel, as 
 it was certainly going to rain. No, there had been no 
 accident or mistake : it was a perfectly fair race, fairly 
 won ; and the young fellows pulled up to the judge's 
 boat, and received the silk flags and the silver cup. 
 
 As the University crews drew up into position, the 
 excitement reached its climax for the crowd at large, 
 if not for our particular party. A Freshman race is, 
 after all, of but little consequence: it does not matter 
 whether you lose it or win it, provided you can be vic- 
 torious in that contest of the twelve men selected from 
 the best and pluckiest oarsmen of both colleges. Again 
 
196 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 the flash of a gun was seen, again the report T\ as 
 lost in the uproar, and again tAvo boats were off. 
 They passed the point, Yale leading slightly, but 
 enough to inspire hope among their friends ; they drew 
 ahead too, though almost imperceptibly ; and thus lap- 
 ping each other, and with mighty efforts, one to main- 
 tain and the other to retrieve the vantage, they passed 
 on, and the point cut them, off from view. 
 
 " Come, mother ; come, Kate ! " exclaimed Sam, as 
 bare-armed, and handkerchief torn off, he broke away 
 from his escort of jubilant classmates, — who cheered 
 him, and shook his hands, and had even taken him on 
 their shoulders, — and made his way to his mother's 
 party. " Come, Villiers, old fellow, let's get the ladies 
 home : it's going to rain in less than no time." 
 
 There had been a glitter in the girl's eye, and a flush 
 on her cheek, though she had said very I'ttle. " O 
 Sam ! " she exclaimed, catching her brother's arm with 
 both hands ; " it is worth being a man for. Go ? no. 
 I am going to stay here, and see the end of it. It v»^on't 
 hurt me, I think, if there is a little rain." Her mother 
 retired, however, with Yilliers. 
 
 The minutes which the boats are up the lake hidden 
 from view passed quicldy ; for Sam was the centre of 
 an admiring throng of classmates and friends, who 
 pressed forward, and offered one after another their en- 
 thusiastic congratulations. The threatening shower 
 held off beyond expectations ; but, though it must soon 
 come, no one in the multitude seemed to flinch from 
 the ordeal : perhaps it would now be impossible to 
 escape a drenching. " There come the boats," some 
 one exclaimed ; and at the same instant the drops began 
 
AT QUI^^SIGAMOXD. 
 
 197 
 
 to fall, and the descending shovrer cut off every thing 
 from view. Dovtl it came, drenching all alike : deli- 
 cate ladies with their gossamer dresses, and exqnisitelj 
 dressed gentlemen, were alike wet to the skin; then, ceas- 
 ing as suddenly as it began, a fair view of the two boats 
 was given, showing Yale well in advance. For once, 
 and almost literally for once, they iiad won, and great 
 was the joy among the wearers of the blue ; but our 
 friends did not care to witness their noisy demonstra- 
 tions, and sought shelter with all possible speed. 
 
XIII. 
 
 THE KEGATTA BALL. 
 
 " We had a soft thing on those Yale Freshmen, and 
 no mistake," said Sam, as his party, well drenched, pro- 
 ceeded on their way to the hotel. We found that out 
 very soon. Why, as soon as the first flurry and excite- 
 ment was over, we just pulled away from them without 
 any trouble. Then Tom's stretcher-support gave way, 
 and we had to hold up until he could shift it into 
 another groove. It wasn't the pleasantest feeling in 
 the world, to lay by on our oars, and see them come up, 
 pass, and pull away from us as they did ; we knew that 
 you on shore would be watching, and wondering what 
 had happened." 
 
 " Yes. I was afraid," said Kate, " that something- 
 might have happened to you." 
 
 " I thought of course some one of you must have 
 given out," said Villiers : " you stopped so long, ten or 
 fifteen seconds, I should think ; and I could see that 
 there were no oars broken. It was a relief when you 
 went at it again." 
 
 " Just fifteen seconds. Smith said," continued Sam. 
 " As soon as Tom's stretcher was in order, it was, ' Give 
 way hard : don't let them get the turn ; ' and we didn't. 
 We turned first, and led them a long way on the home 
 
 198 
 
THE EEGATTA BALL. 
 
 199 
 
 stretch. You saw, of course. But, by Jove, Villiers I 
 it's a bad go for the Haryard. I am so sorry for Wil- 
 kinson. I only hope that there may be some explana- 
 tions." 
 
 The party was plodding on through the rain and 
 mud, jumping over puddles, and dodging the vehicles 
 that were carrvino- home the wet and satisfied or dis- 
 appointed spectators, Kate holding fast to her brother 
 by one arm, and Villiers by the otlier, making the best 
 of their way to the hotel, fortunately but a short dis- 
 tance. The crowd was streaming off toward the city, 
 wet and bedraggled, but excited and enthusiastic still. 
 Here was a confused mass of exultant Yale boys, shout- 
 ing, shaking hands, embracmg ; then came a group of 
 young ladies, good-naturedly making the best of their 
 plight, chattering merrily, and niosily maintaining that 
 their favorites were the best men. " Have a little bit 
 of blue, Julia ? just a bit." — Xot a scrap : it will all 
 come out right, I know it will ; there was some acci- 
 dent." — ^Knots of quiet tovmspeople plodded soberly on 
 towards the cars. They had come out to see the sport, 
 caring very little who won ; but concluding that, aftei 
 al], the boys who come in ahead are the boys for them. 
 
 Ah, there comes chum ! " said Sam, darting forward. 
 " Where in the world have you been all this time ? " he 
 asked, as Huntingdon grasped his hand, and told his 
 chum, in his own gracions way, what a syjlendid victory 
 he had won "for the class, and for tlie coUeo^e too\ 
 You are really tlie champions ; for you beat tlie Yale 
 University time by seven seconds. It is glorious I " 
 
 Sam's face Hushed with honest pride. If the truth 
 were known, lie cared more for his chum's approbation, 
 
200 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVAED. 
 
 his real hearty admiration and praise, than for that of 
 any one else. He had been wont to receive it from 
 others, but not from Huntingdon ; and it was only now 
 that his glory was complete. 
 
 " See here," said Huntingdon, showing a handful of 
 greenbacks, " I won all this out of that red-faced, prize- 
 fighting New York 'plug-ugly,' that backed the Yale 
 boats so much, — a cool thousand dollars. I should 
 have been bankrupt if it had not been for this bet on 
 your boat, Sam : so I am going to give you all a supper 
 to-night after the ball. Tell all the men that you see 
 to be at the Bay State by ten." 
 
 " That man must have made a pile of money," said 
 Adams, " though I shall take five hundred out of him 
 on the Freshmen time : that surely is as a brand saved 
 from the burning, for I never expected to see any part 
 of my stakes again, to say nothing of his. Let me join 
 you, Huntingdon, in the spread for to-night." 
 
 " To be sure," replied the latter, bowing politely. 
 " They say that Stifler — Stifler his name is — won over 
 fourteen thousand dollars on the University race. We 
 thought at first there must be some cause for the 
 defeat, — a foul, or a broken oar, or that one of the men 
 might have been sick ; but they said no, it was all 
 straight, a perfectly fair race, and hadn't a word of 
 excuse to offer. Some of the fellows are awfully down 
 on them, for nearly every man has lost something. But 
 I must leave you, and make arrangements for this 
 evening; " and lifting his hat he was off. 
 
 After tea Sam and Kate, Villiers, Miss Eldredge, and 
 Adams, drove over to the city to attend the ball ; Miss 
 Thorne making one of another party. Yale and Har- 
 
THE REGATTA BALL. 
 
 201 
 
 vard were both out in force ^Yitll their friends and 
 admirers. Perhaps it was fairer, as it certainly was 
 j)leasanter, to have the honors divided as they had 
 been. The men from all the crews were present, and 
 the utmost good feeling prevailed. In years before, 
 when Harvard had been uniformly victorious, this 
 regatta ball had been a very one-sided affair ; but to- 
 night all were merry, and the good humor, the bright 
 dresses, and the inspiriting music, all combined to make 
 a most attractive scene. The shower of the afternoon 
 had cooled the air, so that the dancing, which had com- 
 menced before the arrival of the Yv^entworth party, did 
 not seem at all out of season. Sam forthwith found 
 himself one of the heroes of the occasion, and Vv-ent the 
 .round of introductions and congratulations ; while Yil- 
 liers, realizing the fact that it was for an occasion like 
 this that he had during the last winter given many a 
 patient hour to the practice, straightway led his fair 
 partner out for a " galop " to her immediate surprise 
 and present delight ; for with his indefatigable p)atience, 
 aided by his good ear for music, Villiers had achieved 
 in four months what some men can never learn, — the 
 art of dancing well. 
 
 " Mr. Villiers," said Kate, as soon as she could find 
 breath, " how very nicely you dance ! " then she suddenly 
 added, " How can you expect me ever to believe any 
 thing you may tell me again ? The idea of pretendmg 
 that you did not know how, so that I actually made 
 bold to ask you to dance a ' contra ' with me, and then 
 you making believe that it was necessary for you to 
 study it for an hour first ! Indeed, it was very unkind ; 
 but I knew that you two gentlemen were both making 
 
202 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 sport of us last fall." The young lady looked eonsid 
 etably nettled. 
 
 VilUers (eagerly). — I think I can explain matters, 
 Miss Wentworth. — (They pass on.) 
 
 Miss Eldredge (to Sam). — You are drinking deep of 
 glory to-night, are you not ? As the crowning honor of 
 the day, I am going to present you to Rose Thorne. 
 Considering what a friend of your sister's she is, it is a 
 little strange that you have not met her before. She 
 is a lovely girl, and I expect that you will be very 
 much epris. 
 
 Sam. — Thanks : I believe I don't even know her 
 by sight; but of course I shall be only too happy. 
 
 Miss Eldred.ge. — That is she, with Mr. Huntingdon. 
 
 Sam (after a long look). — Indeed, I — (They pass 
 on.) 
 
 " I say. Brown," said a fine-looking young student 
 who wore the Yale color, to the stroke of their Univer- 
 sity crew, " who is that lady with Tom Hawes, as they 
 call him ? " 
 
 Broivn. — I believe she is a Miss Wentworth, sister 
 to the man who pulled three in the Harvard Freshman 
 boat. She's a nice-looking girl, isn't she ? 
 
 Student. — I should say so ; she is the most beautiful 
 young lady here, to my fancy : I wish I might make 
 her acquaintance. 
 
 Broion. — Easy enough, my boy : I know Wentworth, 
 and I will introduce you. (They pass on.) 
 
 Wilkinson (to Huntingdon, earnestly). — I wish you 
 would give up this idea of yours, of a supper to-night. 
 
 Huntingdon. — My dear felloAV, I couldn't think of 
 such a thing for a moment. Our arrangements are 
 
THE REGATTA BALL. 
 
 203 
 
 made, and our guests invited, and a royal good time we 
 are going to have. We count on you, of course. 
 
 Wilkinson. — I want to explain to you what it is I 
 am trying to bring about, and then I think you will 
 be quite ready to let your entertainment go. Your 
 class crew made seven seconds better time this after- 
 noon than was made by the winning boat in the Univer- 
 sity race. We had a shower to pull in, but that didn't 
 stop us much ; then your men were delayed by the 
 accident from ten to fifteen seconds. Now, assuming 
 that the shower retarded the winning boat even fifteen 
 or twenty seconds (and I feel confident that it did not 
 make so much difference as that), you see there would 
 still be some seconds to spare in favor of your boat. 
 What I want to do is to bring about a race to-morrow 
 morning between the two winning boats ; for I believe 
 that the championship not only can be, but ought to be, 
 won back. But if one even of the men should go to 
 youi supper, and it would be hard to keep them all 
 away, perhaps — (They pass on.) 
 
 Raskin. — I say, Hawes, who is that girl there ? 
 
 Hawes. — Which one ? 
 
 Haskill. — The one with a white dress. 
 
 Hawes. — ^ So many have white dresses ! — 
 
 Saskill. — I mean the girl that was with you just 
 now; she's with a Yale student. Prettiest girl in the 
 room. 
 
 Hawes (coolly). — Think so ? Well, I don't know but 
 you are right. 
 
 Haskill. — Well, but who is she ? what's her name ? 
 
 Hawes. — I believe her name is Went worth, — Miss 
 Wentworth. 
 
204 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 Sashill. — The ! What, not Sam Wentworth's 
 
 sister? By Jove, he shall mtrocluce me at once. I 
 haven't danced since I was a shaver, but I guess I could 
 on a pinch. 
 
 Forgetful of the dignity becoming a Senior, he dashed 
 off to find Sam, and lose his heart to a pair of blue eyes. 
 
 ISTor was Haskill the only one, as we have seen, who 
 sought Kate's acquaintance that evening. The ball 
 was as genuine a triumph for her as the regatta had 
 been for her brother. Aside from the attention which 
 she received from Huntingdon and Villiers, Sam, who 
 was well pleased at her evident popularity, and felt 
 honestly and justly proud of her bright and charming 
 appearance, brought up and introduced to her a score 
 or more of Jiis college friends and others who begged 
 the honor at his hands. Of course she already knew the 
 men in the boat. Smith and Hawes and Lewis and the 
 rest, but they were a little shy of her ; they were not 
 the kind to trouble young ladies much ; their tastes ran 
 in different directions; but her acquaintances of this 
 evening were for the most part "society" men, ex- 
 quisites, ladies' men, young bucks from the most aristo- 
 cratic families, with fine manners and fine clothes ; and 
 a half-dozen or more of them were buzzing around her all 
 the evening. Kate had reason to feel highly gratified at 
 this her first appearance in fashionable society ; for she 
 was more sought after than any other lady in the hall. 
 
 " I have to go now," said Sam, comparatively early 
 in the evening, escorting Miss Thome to a seat by his 
 sister. " Yilliers or Adams will see that you get safely 
 home. It is absurdly early, I know," he continued in 
 reply to a look of surprise ; " and," with a wistful lool< 
 
THE REGATTA BALL. 
 
 205 
 
 at liis partner, "j-ou have no idea, Miss Thome, how 
 sorry I am that I must tear myself away from you.'' 
 Sam meant what he said. " But Smith is my superior 
 officer, my cajotain," he continued ; " and he won't allow 
 me to remain a moment longer. He says vve must all 
 go home, and to bed, for he has need of our best 
 strength to-morrow." 
 
 " What can it all mean ? " said Kate, wonderingiy. 
 
 " Smith dichi't give us an idea.*' 
 
 "I am sure Mr. Smith is too severe. I should not 
 like to make one of his command," said Miss Thorne, 
 pleasantly. You would not think him such a tj'rant, 
 to look at hun ; " and as the young man went reluc- 
 tantly away, ''My dear Kate," she said, almost enthusi- 
 astically, allow me to congratulate you on your 
 brother's great success to-day. What a splendid fellow 
 he is I You must be very proud of him." 
 
 These two girls, as they stood there saying pretty 
 things to each other, formed an interesting though 
 suggestive picture. The one, with flashing eye and 
 flushed cheek, was the very personification of girlish 
 enthusiasm and beanty ; the other was even more siu'- 
 passingly beautiful, but was as entirely unmoved by the 
 brilliantly excitmg ball-room with its inspiriting music 
 and gay company as she had been by the stirrmg events 
 of the afternoon. But this is our first introduction to 
 Rose Thorne; and her influence on the remainder of 
 Sam's college life is of no little consequence. 
 
 She had long been known about her home as the 
 prettiest girl of the vicinity. She was just tall enough 
 to be of commanding figure ; her delicate head was 
 poised on her shoulders with pecifliar grace ; her hair 
 
206 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 which was neither light nor dark, was perfectly suited 
 to a clear complexion, which at times took on a slight 
 rose tinge ; she had fine gray eyes, and regular features ; 
 an expression equally beautiful in animation or repose 
 a finely rounded throat, and well-developed and grace- 
 ful figure, and a most charming simplicity of manner. 
 Such was Rose Thorne. She looked the lady from the 
 crown of her head to the sole of her foot, — -one of 
 nature's most perfect works. What wonder that Sam 
 was captivated at once, as Miss Eldredge had laugh- 
 ingly declared he would be, and as she well knew had 
 been the case with many young fellows before ? Kate, 
 too, who was always very chary in bestowing her confi- 
 dence, and, as a consequence, was never very popular 
 among her young lady acquaintances, had opened hor 
 heart to Rose Thorne from the very first; and it was 
 already determined that Miss Rose should sojourn 
 for a time that summer at the Wentworth mansion, a 
 hospitality which could be most delightfully recipro- 
 cated when Kate should spend a portion of the gay 
 winter season at Mrs. Thome's, not far from Boston or 
 from Cambridge. 
 
 While every one else was dancing and flirting, and 
 having a glorious time after the fashion of their own 
 hearts, there was one man who was unwilling to see the 
 championship pass thus easily from Harvard to Yale, 
 believing as he did, that, even then, it was not too late 
 to regain the lost honors. Wilkinson, the Harvard 
 stroke, almost the only man in that boat who had done 
 his duty honestly and faithfully, had for f long time 
 feared the result of the contest. A Sophomore himself, 
 while the other m.en in the boat were Juniors and Se- 
 
THE EEGATTA BALL. 
 
 207 
 
 niors, he had found it impossible to make liis men work 
 as he knew they must work, if thev would win the 
 colors. He had pulled like a giant in the race, and had 
 done all that a mortal man could do to avert the catas- 
 trophe ; and there was not one, of all those who were 
 bitterest in their denunciations of the heroes of six short 
 hours ago, but gave him full credit for having done his 
 work like a man, or who was not loud in his praise ; nor 
 were his efforts this evening less manly and strenuous. 
 As he said to Huntingdon, and as was the fact beyond 
 a doubt, the Harvard Freshmen in their narrow shell, 
 with their perfect stroke and faultless style, had made, 
 by seven seconds, the best time of all that afternoon. 
 It was evident that the Harvard was not the best crew 
 that the college coidcl put into the regatta, since their 
 own Freshmen had beaten their time by more than 
 twenty seconds. Evidently the college ought to have 
 been represented by the Freshman crew ; and perhaps, 
 even now, it might not be too late to mend matters. 
 Wilkinson had lost no time in impressing Smith and 
 Hawes with the fact that it was their duty to pull the 
 victorious Yale boat the next morning; and it was with 
 tills object in view that Smith had carried off his men 
 at the early hour that Sam retired, Wilkinson assuring 
 them that he would arrange all the preliminaries. "Do 
 you go home, and to bed,*' he said to them, and get a 
 good night's rest, and be ready to do the most glorious 
 day's work to-morrow that you will ever do in your 
 lives. A^illiers and I will look out for every thing, and 
 make every arrangement. The Yale boys won"t let 
 their men crawl out of it.'' Yilliers, standing by, had 
 assured them that there should be no mistake about it, 
 
208 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVABD. 
 
 that the race should certainly come off. There wera 
 doubtless few men, m either college, who would have 
 been thus anxious to double their own disgrace by 
 having their Freshman boat win back the. honors they 
 had themselves lost. 
 
 Huiitingdon's supper was likely to prove a fizzle, 
 much to the disgust of that gentleman. The Freshman 
 crew, the heroes of the day, so far as Harvard men were 
 concerned, had gone to their farmhouse, to go to bed ; 
 none of the defeated Seniors or Juniors felt any dispo- 
 sition to go to the entertainment. We will have it, 
 just the same," quoth he, to his particular friends ; 
 " we'll drink deep the health and success of our own 
 gallant crew, and confusion to their enemies ; and if 
 the guests first bidden prefer to go to bed, rather than 
 come to the feast, we must see what can be done toward 
 supplying their places." Indeed, there was little diffi- 
 culty on this score ; and Mr. Huntingdon's company 
 were soon holding high revel at the Bay State. 
 
 There still remained to Wilkinson and Villiers the 
 difficult and delicate task of arranging the terms of a 
 contest with the Yale boat for the morrow. There was 
 to be a citizens' regatta in the morning ; and one or two 
 crack professional crews were to pull for a purse offered 
 by the city fathers. The Harvard, whose hopes had been 
 high, had intended, in case they should be victorious 
 over Yale, to give the professionals a rub ; but no one 
 seemed to know whether Yale was going to pull, or not. 
 At length the young men succeeded in finding Brown, 
 the stroke and captain of the victorious crew. He, in 
 turn, sought out his bow oar; and the jiroposition Avas 
 made to them by Wilkinson, to pull the Harvard Fresh- 
 
THE REGATTA BALL. 
 
 209 
 
 men. They were unable to give a decided answer to 
 so novel a proposal. They had not intended to enter 
 into a contest with the professionals, and, indeevl, had 
 congratulated themselves that their work in a six-oar 
 was over for the year ; but if the Harvard Freshmen 
 were desirous of pulling a race with them — they could 
 not say ; they would consult their friends, and give a 
 decided answer in the morning. Neither Wilkinson nor 
 Yilliers, however, was one to be turned aside by politely 
 framed speeches; and both showed clearly their deter- 
 mination of following the matter up, and receiving a 
 decided answer. So, at length, the four young men 
 went together to the Bay State, where, in a room apart, 
 they found a score or more of the wearers of the blue, 
 celebrating the victory of the afternoon in a right jolly 
 carouse. Shouts and cheers and songs confusedly com- 
 mingled, empty bottles in profusion, dense clouds of 
 tobacco-smoke, every conceivable posture, and every de- 
 gree of sobriety, showed plainl}^ that the revel, though 
 still at its height, had already been of long duration. 
 
 The captain gathered his men together in a corner, — 
 all of them long since heroically hilarious, — while our 
 two friends remained quietly near the door, civilly 
 refusing all offers of refreshment, though they were 
 cordially and confidentially and emphatically pressed 
 upon them, and stated the object of their visit, — that 
 the two envoys were come in behalf of the Harvard 
 Freshman crew, who were ambitious of winning their 
 laurels on the following morning. There was to be a 
 regatta ; and the question was, should they enter, and 
 .give their would-be competitors an opportunity of beat- 
 ing them, and winning back the championship, if they 
 
210 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 could ? " You know, boys," said Brown, lowering Ins 
 voice to a whisper, " we haven't had the colors before 
 for five years, and it is very safe not to run any risks ; 
 
 and those beggars pull like . You know they beat 
 
 our time this afternoon." The crew, however, was all 
 of a mind. " Pull by all means ! pull anybody and 
 at any time, professionals and Harvard Freshmen both 
 if necessary," were their sentiments most emphatically 
 expressed. 
 
 The rest of the company at once scented what was 
 in the wind, and were decided and unanimous, as well 
 as demonstrative, in their assent to the affirmations of 
 the crew. It was as if a whirlwind had suddenly risen 
 in the little room. 
 
 "I understand, then, gentlemen," said Wilkinson, 
 " that you agree to our proposition, that you enter for 
 the citizens' regatta to-morrow, it being a part of the 
 agreement that the Harvard Freshman crew shall do 
 the same, both boats to pull a three-mile race ? " 
 
 There was a shout of assent from one and all ; and, 
 saluting the company, the twain departed. 
 
 " Well, boys," said Brown, after the Harvard men 
 had left, " I am sorry that it happens so, but we must 
 break up at once. At least we boating-men must not 
 stay here another minute : if we are going to pull a 
 race to-morrow, we must one and all go to bed, and get 
 some sleep. I wish I had known of this two hours ago ; 
 come, Tyler, not another drop ! " With this he once 
 more gathered his men together. 
 
 " The Harvard men are having a regular howl in the 
 next room ; just hear them, will you ? They've been at 
 it too this long time. They will be nicely used up to- 
 morrow," vouchsafed one of the party. 
 
THE REGATTA BALL. 
 
 211 
 
 " Not one of the men who are going to pull is there," 
 answered the captain. " They all went home early in 
 the evening. I couldn't imagine what was up when I 
 saw them laying their heads together along with Wil- 
 kinson and that tall fellow. There is where they have 
 got the points on us. One used-up man in a boat is 
 enough to lose a race ; and we are pretty certain to have 
 two or three," and the clear-headed young man looked 
 thoughtful and concerned. 
 
 "For shame. Brown I " said one. "Oh, jou can't 
 heljj cleaning them out : they're only Freshmen," called 
 out a second. " Take something, old boy, and cheer up 
 a bit. You've got the blues." But at last, amid much 
 shouting and cheering and drinking of health and 
 success for the morrow, the captain fairly rescued his 
 men from the clutches of his friends, though it was a 
 most miwilling parting on both sides. 
 
 And now the scene changes to the farmhouse by the' 
 lake, where the young boatmen, who in a few hours 
 more are to make a manly effort to win back the honors 
 which their seniors and supposed superiors had lost, 
 are soundly sleeping as only youth and health and tired 
 frames can sleep. Smith, Tom Hawes, and Sam occupy 
 the large front room, and the other three men are domi- 
 ciled in the rear. The night was far advanced, and was 
 dark, damp, and still ; the world was wrapped in sleep ; 
 even the revels at the hotel had subsided, and quiet 
 reigned throughout the corridors. From out the depths 
 of the darkness, a carriage drew slowly up to the farm- 
 house ; there was a loud rapping on the fence, and a 
 voice cried, " Ho, there in the house ! " 
 
212 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 li 
 
 Smith, always a light sleeper, was at the window ir_ ar 
 instant, and said, " What is wanted ? " 
 
 The carriage. — We want to see the captain of the 
 Harvard Freshman crew. 
 
 Smith. — Well, I'm your man. 
 
 By this time there were three white forms clustering 
 round the open window. 
 
 Tom (in a whisper). — What's up now? 
 
 Smith. — Can't guess. See what time it is, Sam. 
 
 Sam (lighting a match for an instant, to look at his 
 watch). — It is twenty minutes past two. 
 
 There had been a whispered conference in the car- 
 riage during these seconds; and then the same voice 
 issued forth out of the darkness : — 
 
 The carriage. — You expect to enter the citizens' 
 regatta in the morning, and pull against the victorious 
 Yale boat ; do you not ? 
 
 Smith. — Yes; we understand that they have pledged 
 themselves to enter, and we propose to enter too. 
 
 The carriage. — The Yale men are willing to pull a 
 race with you. I don't mean willing: they want to 
 pull you, of course, if you wish it; but they don't at 
 all like the idea of entering with professionals. They 
 want to pull you in a separate race, and are not disposed 
 to do any thing about it unless they can. 
 
 Smith. — Ah, very well : if that is all, it doesn't 
 matter in the least. We don't care how it is we pull 
 them, provided the race only comes off. Put up the 
 flags you won to-day, and we will pull for them, and 
 have a separate race with the greatest pleasure. 
 
 "Good" said! Tom, in a hoarse whisper, slapping 
 Smith on the back, well put that was ; but I bet you 
 
THE EEGATTA BALL. 
 
 213 
 
 the J don't do it : tliey don't get the colors everT day, 
 and Tvlien tliey do they mean to keep them." 
 
 The carriage (after a consultation). — Thank you 
 for the suggestion, but we will do no sucli thing. AVe 
 won the colors in a perfectly straight race, and we see 
 no good reason why we should win them over again. 
 
 Srnitli. — AVell. perhaps it will be as well for you 
 not to run any risks. Suppose, then, we put up a new 
 set of colors for the championship. Let them be appro- 
 priately inscribed witli the time, place, the names of 
 the crews, and let them state the reasons for the race. 
 How does that idea suit you? 
 
 " Bet you they don't," growled Tom. " They don't 
 mean to pull at all. and have come to back down. Half 
 of 'em were drunk last night, and they knoAv they'd 
 get whipped : " and he began groping for his pipe, which 
 he found and lit for consolation. 
 
 The carriage, — AVe don't C[uite see the reason why 
 we should pull you for the championship when it is 
 ours already. There would be very little honor in beat- 
 ing a Freshman crew. 
 
 Smith (hotly). — Honor or not, we claim that we 
 are able to outrow you, and that we did so yesterday 
 afternoon by seven seconds at the very lowest estimate ; 
 and we think we can better that if you will give us 
 the opportunity, as we supposed you were going to do. 
 ^Vliat in thunder do you want of a separate race unless 
 there is to be something particular to pull for? Unless 
 you will put up the colors you hold, or a new set, we 
 can pull with the other boats well enough, for any thing 
 I see. 
 
 Ah ! I told you that they'd only come to back 
 
214 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 down," said Tom, with a groan. Boating was to hin: 
 the one beautiful thing in life. Here had been an 
 opportunity of doing something glorious, and to feel it 
 thus slipping from his grasp was simply horrible : the 
 poor fellow was the very personification of woe. 
 
 There was a whispered conference outside, and then 
 a second voice issued from the gloom, albeit a little 
 sarcastical in tone this time, and of a very different 
 quality. 
 
 The carriage. — You certainly ought to know, 
 though of course you do not, why it is that the Yale 
 men are unwilling to enter the citizens' regatta, and 
 pull in the same race with the professionals. We had 
 it from first hand, you may be sure, or we shouldn't 
 be here, direct from one of the men who pull in one 
 of the professional boats, though I am not at liberty to 
 say who, that some of your friends had fixed the matter 
 up with the boys. Of course Yale don't expect to be 
 able to outpuU a professional crew. Well, one of the 
 boys told me that some of your friends had made a 
 trade with them, and closed the bargain. They were to 
 let their own race go, to keep alongside Yale, and, if you 
 had the best of it, all right ; but if Yale had the best 
 of it, they were to jockey them as they could easily do, 
 and let your men get the turn, and then give Yale 
 their wash on the home-stretch ; in fact, there was a 
 regular trade to throw the race into your hands. Now 
 you know why it is that Yale don't care to pull with 
 the professionals, though of course you didn't before. 
 
 This was rather an astonishing piece of news. 
 
 Smith (after an instant's pause). — Do you belong 
 to the Yale boat? 
 
THE EEGATTA BALL. 
 
 215 
 
 ±he same voice from the carriage. — Xo, I don't. 
 Smith (fiercely). — Is there anybody out there that 
 does? 
 
 First speaker from carriage. — Yes, I pull stroke. 
 
 Tom (hoarsely). — Sail in now, Smith, and give it 
 
 to 'em ; for, by , if there was ever an outrageous 
 
 piece of insolence, enough to make a man's blood boil, 
 it is this. 
 
 Smith. — I don't know who you are that has just 
 been talking ; but if you will only wait two minutes, till 
 I can get my boots and trousers, I will come down, and 
 knock every tooth in your head down your throat. [A 
 hoarse guffaw from the carriage is the . only reply to 
 this rather plucky threat ; for Smith didn't know that 
 the burly sporting-man could strangle him with one 
 hand.] I should not think, Mr. Brown, that you 
 would permit your companion to insult us in this style. 
 We are at least gentlemen, and ought to be treated with 
 decency. I give you credit for believing that no 
 Harvard man would do the vile thing which your man 
 there has described. I am sure I wouldn't believe it 
 of any of you. It seems to me you are not doing the 
 fair thing by us, Brown. If you don't care to pull us, 
 and no offence (but I can see why you shouldn't care to, 
 for you have every thing to lose and nothing to gain), it 
 would surely be more manly and honorable to say so, 
 than to come here with a story about us, that, if true, 
 would be disgraceful even amongst the most unprin- 
 cipled professionals. 
 
 Brown. — I do ask your pardon, gentlemen ; we are 
 quite ready to pull, of course, and expected to go in 
 with the other boats, and I had made my arrangements 
 
216 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVAHD. 
 
 to that effect. I could hardly credit the story myself ; 
 but Mr. Stifler here had it direct from the stroke him- 
 self with whom the bargain was made ; and it did look 
 rather black and ugly, you must confess. 
 
 Smith. — Then this man who sold out to our friends 
 his own race, and yours too, didn't tell you all this him- 
 self. 
 
 Broivn, — No, I have not seen him. 
 
 Sam (to Smith). — Stifler is the man who won four- 
 teen thousand dollars on the University race. Don't 
 you remember, he came on from New York with our 
 shell ? 
 
 Smith, — Of course, nothing of this kind can pos- 
 sibly be true ; but you don't want to pull, I suppose. 
 
 Stifler (interrupting) . — You are a little too fast in 
 your conclusions, my young friend. You haven't heard 
 yet what it is we propose to do. We haven't come out 
 here at three o'clock in the morning to back down, by a 
 d — d sight. 
 
 Tom, — Amen ! 
 
 Stifler. — But what we do propose is this: You see 
 it is no use pulling for the old flags, because they have 
 been won once in first-class style ; and it is no use put- 
 ting up new ones for the championship, because the 
 Yale boys are the champions already; and after the 
 story they have heard, coming as it does from head- 
 quarters, they don't feel like entering the regular 
 regatta, and you can't blame them either. Of course, 
 we never once imagined that you had fixed this business 
 up ; but that some of your friends have, unbeknown 
 to you, you may be just certain sure. Now, then, here 
 is our proposition; and it is the only one we can see 
 
THE REGATTA BALL. 
 
 217 
 
 our way clear to make. The Yale University boat will 
 pull you a square three-mile race on Lake Quinsigamond 
 in the morning, you two boats to be the only ones 
 which shall enter, at such time as we shall agree upon ; 
 the stakes to be ten thousand dollars a side. I have the 
 money ready to put up the minute you say the word ; 
 and you can raise it without difficulty in the morning. 
 And now, young man, if you are so d — d anxious to 
 pull that race, and get beaten, this is your chance. 
 
 Tom. — Take him up. Smith : the feliows will back 
 us for twice that amount. Any thing for a brush with 
 the beggars. 
 
 Smith. — What do you say, Wentworth ? 
 
 Sam, — It seems to me that we ought to decline to 
 pull for money, though I should be as disappointed as 
 any one. 
 
 Smith (after a minute's thought). — I think so too. 
 (To the carriage.) Do you agree ta these terms, Mr. 
 Brown ? 
 
 Brown. — Yes. We are quite ready to pull on those 
 conditions. 
 
 Well they might be, so far as the money was con- 
 cerned, since it was furnished by a third party. 
 
 Smith. — Well, gentlemen, here is our answer. We 
 will pull for the old flags, or put up new ones appropri- 
 ately inscribed as I suggested, or enter with you in the 
 regatta, or pull you a fair race, our two boats alone to 
 enter. But when it comes to pulling for money, 
 whether the stakes are ten thousand dollars or as many 
 - cents, you may count us out. It isn't for such a pur- 
 pose as thisj;hat we at Harvard carry on the sport. 
 We are not professionals, to make a living at betting 
 
218 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 and boat-racing. We try to go into the contest as gen 
 tlemen ought, solely to see who are the better men, and 
 the more skilful oarsmen. We do our own training 
 and coaching, and have no help from any outsider in 
 any way ; and we mean to try to do all that we do in 
 an honorable and gentlemanly manner. To pull for 
 stakes, is something I hope a Harvard crew will never 
 do. I am surprised, Mr. Brown, that you should allow 
 us to be insulted twice. Of course, I know all about 
 your friend and backer there. He is the man who 
 made fourteen thousand dollars out of the University 
 race ; and naturally enough he wishes to make some- 
 thing more ; but, for one, I don't intend to help him to 
 such a result. You may be sure that his story about 
 the bargain made to " jockey " your crew is all a sheer 
 fabrication, invented solely for the purpose of getting 
 up this ten-thousand-dollar affair of his. I hope you 
 will conclude to pull us a straight race of some kind in 
 the morning. I bid you good-night. He shut down 
 the window with a bang, and presently the carriage 
 rolled away. 
 
 " Bet you they don't pull," said Tom once more. 
 " But you had 'em bad, or I'm mistaken ; and were 
 right too about not pulling for money, as you always 
 are." 
 
 Smith. — Lend me your pipe, you loafer. (A steady 
 succession of puffs.) How I have talked ! 
 
 Sam. — • Yes. We'll have you class orator yet, as 
 well as captain of the Harvard. I think Tom is wrong 
 about their not pulling. I don't see how they can 
 avoid it in common decency ; and I don't believe the 
 fellows would let Brown back out if he wdtnted to ever 
 so much. 
 
THE REGATTA BALL. 
 
 219 
 
 Smith (knocking the ashes out of the pipe). — Yes, 
 that's our best hope. Every man turn in : what shall 
 we be good for if we sit up here all night, talking ? 
 
 Saturday morning was hot and still. Not a ripple 
 ruffled the smooth surface of the lake that lay spread 
 out before the shady piazza of the hotel, stretching 
 away hot and glassy beneath the burning July sun ; and 
 not a breath of air stirred the leafy yerdure skirting its 
 edge. Already the spectators were gathering on Re- 
 gatta Point, though there was to be by no means the 
 dense throng of the preceding day. Thousands who 
 came to witness that stirring spectacle took their depar- 
 ture on crowded railway-trains in the evening, — college 
 boys whose slender means did not permit of a longer 
 sojourn ; young ladies who had begged and obtained 
 leave of absence for the afternoon only ; others whom 
 the jealous claims of business held fast ; even the towns- 
 people, to a large extent, would not care to make the 
 excursion to the lake for two successive days. But still 
 the crowd bid fair to be large. 
 
 The ladies were sitting on the cool piazza, waiting for 
 their escorts, the gentlemen, who one and all had gone 
 down to the boat-house. 
 
 They are late," said Kate, nervously. " The race 
 was to have been pulled at ten o'clock ; and it is now 
 twenty minutes .past the hour, and no signs of the 
 boats." 
 
 I fear that it will be too severe a task," said Mrs. 
 Wentworth, looking anxiously out on the calm, hot sur- 
 face of the lake. " I hope Sam will give up boat-racing 
 after this season." 
 
220 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 " I don't," returned Kate, with a little indignant toss 
 of the head. " I want to see him stroke of the Har- 
 vard, if possible." 
 
 " With better fortune than attended the efforts of 
 that company yesterday," suggested Miss Thorne, pleas- 
 antly. She had come over to see the regatta, not knowing 
 that the college boats were going to pull ; but had 
 been at once informed by her enthusiastic friend, who 
 had herself received full details of the arrangements 
 from Villiers. 
 
 " They must be coming now," said Miss Eldredge, as 
 sudden cheers followed by prolonged shouting came 
 from down the lake ; and indeed it was time. The 
 point was well filled with spectators who had been 
 waiting patiently for an hour, the judges were at their 
 post, and there was notliing wanting but the crews. 
 The ladies had made a final adjustment of hats and 
 gloves, that there might be no delay when their escorts 
 should come to conduct them to the point. Of a 
 sudden, Sam and Villiers, Huntingdon and Adams, 
 presented themselves, Sam smiling good-naturedly, Vil- 
 liers looking vexed enough. 
 
 It's all up," said Sam, laughingly. " Now, Miss 
 Thorne, I am my own master, and I hope I may be per- 
 mitted to devote myself to you." 
 
 "What is it?" exclaimed both Kate and Miss El- 
 dredge. 
 
 " Yale has backed down," said Huntingdon, contemp- 
 tuously. 
 
 " It is not quite fair to say that," interposed Villiers. 
 
 "I thought you said that the race was determined 
 upon beyond a peradventure," said Kate, in a disap- 
 pointed tone. 
 
THE EEGATTA BALL. 
 
 221 
 
 " So it was," replied Villiers ; " but Tyler of tire 
 Yale boat is sick, and cannot possibly pull/' 
 
 " It is fair to say," said Adams, " that Yale was as 
 much disappointed and disgusted as we vrere." 
 
 " That was the occasion of the uproar we heard, 
 then?" inquired Miss Eldredge. 
 
 " Yes," Adams replied : " there were two or three 
 hundred fellows all together about the boat-house ; and, 
 when it became certain that the race could not come off, 
 they gave vent to their feelings." 
 
 ''For one, I am not sorry: I think you have had 
 boating enough for one season at least," said Mrs. 
 Wentworth, fondly. 
 
 "And I can only feel thankful," said Miss Thorne, 
 with a charmmg smile, as she accepted Sam's proffered 
 hand by way of assistance over a very rough part of 
 the vvay (the party were en i^outc for the point), " since 
 I have thereby gained an esquire," and she looked at 
 her companion with no unfavoring glance. 
 
 " I am sure I am quite as well pleased, as to be out 
 there pegging away on the course, and likely enough 
 coming in two or three lengths behind," returned Sam; 
 as he all at once realized that there were joys in life 
 which hitherto he had known not of. 
 
 Now that the young student is seated by the side of 
 his fair companion, drinking in her beauty, and making 
 one of the merry company vrho with bright talli and 
 merry laughter are awaiting the return of the profes- 
 sionals, his hrst summer vacation has fairly begun, and 
 the very happiest season of his life is apparently near at 
 hand. Ah, those college summer vacations ! weeks of 
 sunshine in the soft golden summer-time, — is there 
 
222 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 any thing in after-life to compare with them, as one 
 looks back, and thinks of the perfect rest, the perfect 
 freedom from restraint and care, that they brought with 
 them ? Bright visions of the mountains and the sea 
 come back to the memory, of moonlight drives in the 
 soft evening twilight, with glancing eyes and breathing 
 loveliness at one's side, of merry picnics and delight- 
 Bome excursions by land and by sea. Ah ! happy, hap- 
 py are the days of college summer vacations ! 
 
XIV. 
 
 SUMMEETIDE. 
 
 You may be sure that, before bis departure from 
 Worcester, Sam had many invitations extended, and 
 many arrangements for passing these next six weeks, 
 pressed upon him by his college friends v,'ixh the great- 
 est sincerity. 
 
 Half a dozen of us, Le^Yis and Smith among the 
 rest, are going for a tramp through the mountains, 
 shouldermg our baggage, and pitching our camp Trher- 
 ever we halt. We can't help having a glorious time ; 
 and vre count on you to make one of us.'" This was 
 Lyman's programme for the summer; and he was very 
 loath to part company with his classmate. 
 
 " I've got a splendid project," said Tom, his dark 
 face lightmg up with an eager flush : *• and I know it 
 will just hit you to a T. You and I take the • Arethusa ' 
 (Lj-man's double scull), put her aboard the cars, go up 
 to the headquarters of the Connecticut, and pull her 
 do^TL to the Sound. We can take stuff, and cook our 
 own grub, and sleep under the boat. How's that for a 
 month's boating ? 
 
 " I'm going home to see the old man," said Haskill, 
 taking his friend's arm in his confidential way. I'm 
 flush now, you know;" and all the dignity of a full- 
 
 223 
 
224 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 fledged Senior enshrouded the young student. " The 
 money is more yours than mine, for wasn't it your own 
 right arm that won it? If you like to see the Great 
 West," eagerly, "now is your time, Wentworth ; we'll 
 do it in style." 
 
 All these and other propositions that were advanced, 
 lie reported to his mother and sister. 
 
 " I know you must need rest ; and you can find it 
 nowhere so well as at home," was Mrs. Wentworth's 
 quiet comment. 
 
 " Walk over the mountains, indeed ! " exclaimed Kate, 
 half indignantly. " Do you suppose that we are going 
 to give you up altogether ? we want to get acquainted 
 with 5'ou ourselves. The idea of your thinking of such 
 a thing as going out West when you know who is com- 
 ing to make us a visit ! " 
 
 " I agree with you," said Sam, blushing : " it would be 
 absurd." 
 
 He had spoken of these invitations because he wanted 
 to be quite certain that " the visit " was an established 
 fact. 
 
 The party broke u]3, but not without arrangements 
 for meeting before the end of the vacation. Both Vil 
 liers and Huntingdon were cordially invited by Mrs 
 Wentworth to consider her home as their own for the 
 summer; and Sam seconded her most warmly. 
 
 " I sliall certainly trespass on your hospitality before 
 September," said Huntingdon, " though I am sorry that 
 it must be some weeks before I can accept your kind 
 invitation ; " and he looked thoughtfully at Kate, and 
 then at Yilliers with whom she happened to be talking. 
 
 The last-named gentleman had arranged to pass his 
 
SUMMERTIDE. 
 
 225 
 
 vacation at the hotel at Little Harbor. " I shall be a 
 neighbor, and I dare say, if permitted, a frequent guest 
 at your home," was his reply to Mrs. AVentworth. 
 
 Sam had answered Hasldirs invitation to go West 
 b}' a cheery proposal that they should spend the time 
 together at his own home. 
 
 " I suppose there is no go, but I must see the old 
 man," said Hasldll, shaking his head ruefully, while he 
 looked longingly at Kate. " He has written to me, and 
 sent the stamps, — a cool hundred, God bless his old 
 head ! you know there's only him and me. But," he 
 continued, as a pleasant thought struck him, " I can 
 cut it short, you know, and get off, and have a week or 
 ten clays with you." Both ]Mrs. WentAVorth and Kate 
 had taken a fancy to the queer young Westerner. 
 
 " He's an odd, rough fellow, but there is much good 
 in him," was Villiers's comment to the former lad}', 
 in which sentiment she entirely agreed ; while Kate 
 declared that he was the most entertaining young 
 gentleman she had ever met, and petted him in a fash- 
 ion that was as delicious as it was new to the recipient 
 of her favors. j\Iiss Eldredge was to spend the sum- 
 mer with her cousins ; and, where she was, one might 
 be sure of finding Will Adams ; so that, at one time or 
 another, all of the party were pretty sure of meeting 
 again before long ; and the anticipation was most pleas- 
 ant. 
 
 The event of Miss Thome's visit was not to transpire 
 at once; and for a week Sam found himself at home 
 with his mother and sister, and every thing quite as it 
 used to be before he went to college ; and those were 
 happy days. 
 
226 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 He c(id iiidoed need rest. The training for the two 
 regattas, and the excitement attendant upon them, 
 together with the unconscionably hard work he had 
 done by way of preparation for the annuals, had taxed 
 his strength severely ; how severely he did not know 
 himself, till he had been at home several days, and found 
 out how thoroughly tired he was. It seemed wonder- 
 fully convenient and pleasant to lounge about the house 
 in the idle, sleepy manner which the season provoked ; 
 smoking his pipe perhaps (which was coloring beauti- 
 fully), to the great scandal of his sister, who did not 
 favor his new accomplishment in the least ; listening to 
 the new music she had learned, and the songs which 
 he had sent home to her ; and sometimes lending his 
 own bass in the choral passages, as he had learned to 
 do at Harvard ; or talking over with her the incidents 
 of his boating experience. 
 
 If he ever thoroughly enjoyed any thing in his life, 
 it was meeting his old associates at this time. These, 
 though perhaps tougher and more wiry, could not 
 begin to show as much muscle as the young student ; 
 and as physical strength was always at a premium 
 among the hard-fisted young fellows, he at once became 
 a hero in their estimation. They were never tired of 
 hearing, as in the evening twilight they clustered 
 around the little post-office, how his boat had " cleaned 
 out " the Yale Freshmen contrary to everj^body's 
 expectations, and how they would have beaten the 
 University crew too, if they had only come to time. 
 He was so utterly ingenuous and good-natured, that 
 there was not a single envious listener in his audience, 
 or a single false friend among them all, pr one who did 
 
sum:meetide. 
 
 227 
 
 not admire his good looks, his fashionable clothes, his 
 muscle, and his easy assurance. Xo, they all voted him 
 a capital fellow, and declared that he had not become a 
 bit ^' stuck up by going to college ; while more than 
 one pretty face smiled sweetly at him from the win- 
 dows or doorways. 
 
 At home he was both the honored guest and the 
 beloved idol of the house. His mother was absolutely 
 happy at having him with her ; and, more than that, 
 she was devoutly grateful that the year, at one time 
 regarded with so much apprehension, had been so pros- 
 perous. She forgave him his pipe ; she ^ould have had 
 her house filled with his college friends, and wotild 
 herself have been cook and housemaid and laundress 
 for them all, had this been necessary, to gratify her 
 beloved boy. Xo one had had more than a very faint 
 conception of the anxiety which had at first possessed 
 her heart. 
 
 Kate was the one who of all most thoroughly enjoyed 
 these days. The year's separation had been a cruel one 
 for her, though she had not given expression to her 
 feelings ; and now that her brother was her own once 
 more, her exuberant spirits btibbled over in complete 
 happiness. She was his constant companion; and in 
 the cool morning, or the delicious evening hours, they 
 visited together all the pleasant spots endeared to 
 them by the memories of their childhood. She was 
 herself too active and full of life to permit any one to 
 indulge in laziness in her presence for a very long- 
 time. Moreover, she had a hundred questions to ask 
 with genuine womanly curiosity; and as he had a ready 
 answer for them all, and a large fund of college gossip 
 
228 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HABVARD. 
 
 besides, he was really very entertaining company, and 
 she soon came to be thoroughly informed on all clasfi 
 matters. A single scene v/ill serve as specimen of 
 many in their experience. Kate was sewing in the cool 
 hall one afternoon, while Sam lay extended on some 
 cushions near the doorway. 
 
 " What ever became of the young man who used to 
 stop up the keyholes?" she asked. 
 
 " Alas, poor Tommy ! " and Sam threw back his head, 
 and laughed heartily at the recollection. " Ho has 
 plugged his last keyhole. He had played his little 
 game on all th^ instructors except the professor in elo- 
 cution, to whom we used to go once a week in the ' old 
 chapel,' and who contrived to render the hour a dis- 
 agreeable one; and had made several unsuccessful 
 attempts at this door. At last, armed with a slender 
 file, and a note addressed to Joe, whose box is just 
 opposite, so that in case any one should intercept him 
 he might pretend he was there for the sake of putting a 
 petition in the regent's box " — 
 
 " By ' Joe ' you mean the regent : that isn't his name, 
 of course?" 
 
 "Well, that is what everybody calls him. Armed 
 with these he went carefully up the stairs about fifteen 
 minutes before the hour for recitation. He looked 
 warily around, and, as the coast seemed to be clear, 
 rammed the file securely into the keyhole, for he was 
 determined that there should be no mistake about it 
 this time, broke it off, and was turning to go down, 
 when lo ! there was the President with his head thrust 
 out of his door, which was only a few feet farther 
 above, on the opposite side of the entr^^, coolly survey- 
 
SUMMEKTIDE. 
 
 229 
 
 ing the scene. * Good morning, Mr. said that 
 
 functionary, nodding civilly to him, while his eyes 
 twinkled mischievously. Tommy was too fl astered to 
 say a word for himself; and forgetting all about his note 
 and the regent's box, dashed down the stairs; and a 
 more demoralized youth than he was when he told us 
 about it, I never saw. ' I may as well get out before they 
 kick me out,' he said, mournfully ; and forthwith took 
 up his connection, and left the class to mourn his loss.'^ 
 " That was too bad." 
 
 " Perhaps it was ; but as he never studied he couldn't 
 have held on long any way." 
 
 " Would the President have reported him if he hadn't 
 gone?" 
 
 " I don't really think he would ; for, from what I have 
 seen of him, he doesn't seem to be that kind of a man. 
 I like him very much myself, though he is very unpopu- 
 lar among the students generally." 
 
 " Unpopular ? I always imagined that the President 
 was very much venerated and beloved." 
 
 " And that he was a splendid old man, with elegant 
 white hair," said Sam, laughing long and heartily at an 
 idea so much at variance with the fact. " I doubt if it 
 w*ould make much difference if he was. I don't think 
 Harvard students have much love or veneration for any 
 thing, at least any thing connected with the college." 
 
 " Why is it that he is unpopular ? what does he do ? " 
 
 "I am sure I cannot say; he does nothing so far as 
 1 know. He is a very learned man, kind-hearted, and 
 simple in his ways ; but it is the fashion to abuse him, 
 as, indeed, it seems to be the fashion to grumble at a 
 good many things; and the Freshmen fall in witk the 
 
 i 
 
230 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 rest readily enough. He undertook to give us a course 
 of lectures ; but the fellows coughed, and shuffled their 
 feet, and made such a racket that he was finally obliged 
 to give them up ; and the general feeling was that the 
 class had done a smart thing. We find him unpopular, 
 and we leave him so. I don't know why, as I said 
 before, unless it is true, as some one said, that it is 
 impossible for a president to do his duty, and be popu- 
 lar. There is no doubt that he is very fond of talking 
 of himself, that he does wear the worst hats I ever saw, 
 and that he puts on the shabbiest of his collection to 
 receive distinguished company." 
 
 " Are none of your professors popular? It is very 
 strange that none of them should be liked ; " and 
 Kate's blue eyes looked seriously up from her sewing. 
 
 " I can't truly say that any that we have had to do 
 with yet are. Perhaps the reason is, that we never 
 meet them except as instructors, and then they are 
 our natural enemies. It won't do to attempt to get 
 acquainted with them : if you do you are a ' toady.' 
 For my part, I have liked them all well enough." 
 
 " And which one best ? " 
 
 " Oh, I don't know. I have had the best marks with 
 * Sandy,' and so I think perhaps I like him as well as any." 
 " Which is Sandy ? " 
 
 " Sandy is the Greek tutor, a sharp, quick little man, 
 far from being a general favorite ; but, as the fellows 
 don't dare rough him at recitation, they make it up by 
 telling stories about him. Now, I don't vouch for any 
 thing; but they say he goes off on sprees, and that one 
 night last winter he and two Seniors were coming out 
 in the last car from Boston, and were the only passe n- 
 
SUMMEETIDE. 
 
 ^31 
 
 gers. It appears that Sandy had been off on a spree, 
 and had just wit enough left to get on to the car. 
 It was a yery cold night ; and, when they reached the 
 Port, the driyer and the conductor got off to take 
 something warm. The two Seniors saw their oppor- 
 tunity, and quietly shifted the horses to the other end 
 of the car, and droye back to town, calling out, ' Har- 
 yard Square I ' when they got to the Reyere ; and they 
 had no end of fun watchino; Sandy try to find his way to 
 his room in Holworthy, which of course he couldn't do." 
 
 " That may do for a story ; but it is not a yery likely 
 one." 
 
 " I didn't ask you to belieye it ; but they tell the 
 funniest stories about the good old Doctor. He is such 
 a splendid old fellow, that it is a shame to repeat any 
 of them ; " and Sam laughed at his thoughts. 
 
 You must not suppose that my curiosity is going 
 to be left unsatisfied in tliis fashion, sir." 
 
 " Well, they say, — mind, I don't at all youch for any 
 of their stories: slanders they are, to my thinking, — 
 but they say his wife don't allow him to go into com- 
 pany unless she or some of his family go with him, 
 because he pockets the silyer spoons, besides always 
 folding up the napkin, and stowing it away." 
 
 " You don't mean to say that he steals ! " exclaimed 
 Kate, in a shocked manner. 
 
 " Oh, bless you, no ! only he is so yery absent-minded, 
 that he doesn't realize in the least what he is doing. 
 They say he frequently meets his wife in the street, 
 and touches . his hat politely, and then ponders the 
 question who she is, without being able to think it out. 
 They say that soon after he had come to Cambridge, 
 
232 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 and before everybody knew him and his odd ways, he 
 went to the post-office one morning, and asked, 'Are 
 there any letters for me ? ' in his own meek Avay. ' Who 
 do you mean by me ? ' said the clerk, gruffly ; and, for 
 the life of him, he couldn't think of his own name." 
 " How ridiculous ! " 
 
 " Likely enough. All these things happened before 
 my day ; but he certainly has a way of walking with 
 his hands clasped behind his back, his head bent for- 
 ward a little, and staggering from one edge of the side- 
 walk to the other; and he is a very early riser; and they 
 say that this actually happened, though it was before 
 he was known well, — that a policeman arrested him, 
 and was taking him off to the station-house, mistaking 
 him for a reveller on his way home. I don't believe the 
 policeman part of it, however, for I think the doctor is 
 too early for any Cambridge policeman. They say," 
 continued Sam, after a laugh to himself at the notion, 
 
 that he actually came home one rainy night, and put 
 his umbrella to bed, and stood himself up behind the 
 entry door, and that he never would have discovered 
 the mistake himself, and would have stood there all 
 night in some kind of a brown study, only his wife, who 
 keeps her eye on him continually, and is on the lookout 
 for such accidents, rescued him." 
 
 " That is absurd, of course." 
 I don't say that it is not. I only tell the stories as 
 they have been told to me. He is so polite that he 
 bows and touches his hat to everybody he meets, with 
 a simple dignity and grace that is very pleasant ; lest if 
 he were to trust his recollection, he might fail ..to recog- 
 nize and salute some. So one day he walked against 
 
SUMMERTIDE. 
 
 233 
 
 the pump in the square. ' Ah, excuse me, madam ! ' 
 said he,, taking off his hat, and bowing politely ; and 
 one day, coming in contact with the handle, he gave it 
 a most cordial shake, mistaking it for a friend's hand. 
 
 " Now, this is true," continued Sam, laughing, " so 
 Miss Eldredge says : she had it of the girl who had 
 it of the girl who saw it done ; and I am sure that is 
 good authority enough. At a tea-party one evening, the 
 doctor became deeply engrossed in a discussion. There 
 was a mischievous young lady who knew all about his 
 absent-mindedness, sitting next to him ; and near by 
 was a stand of custards, on which, with other good 
 things, the company were expected to regale them- 
 selves. She gave him one, which in the pauses of the 
 argument he speedily devoured; and seeing that the 
 spoon was unconsciously returned to the empty glass 
 for more, she supplied its place with a full one which 
 was soon disposed of, when she substituted another 
 fresh glass in place of the empty one, and so continued 
 until the doctor had eaten seventeen, and the stock 
 was exhausted. The company could contain them- 
 selves no longer, but roared with laughter." 
 
 Kate laughed too, at this. 
 
 " But I believe this story even less than the others, 
 probable as it might seem." 
 " Why ? " in a laughing voice. 
 
 " Because I know that the doctor is too polite ever 
 to engage in a discussion in company." 
 
 " He is very much liked, is he not ? " 
 
 " That he is ! I excepted him, from what I said be- 
 fore : there wouldn't be such stories about him, however, 
 if he were not liked. He is a splendid man ; as simple- 
 
234 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 hearted as a child, and as tender-hearted as a woman. 
 Everybody respects him ; and I believe the students 
 love him as well as they can love anybody, considering 
 the manner in which affairs are conducted. He never 
 seems to think, when any one goes to him with a state- 
 ment, that it is any thing except the truth. He is 
 indeed the student's friend, ready to assist one and all 
 with advice, or, if one needs it, with money, or to help 
 them get work; and many a poor student owes his 
 education to the kind-hearted doctor. You ought to 
 have heard the Seniors cheer him on class day. It is 
 not usual to single out any one by name ; but they 
 called out his, and gave him nine cheers, and then nine 
 more, and then nine more. I believe," said Sam with 
 deepening voice, " that he is more to be envied than 
 any one that I have ever seen." 
 
 This was only one of many such pleasant times, when 
 the young man had a thousand things to tell. Thus the 
 week passed very quickly ; and on the morrow their quiet 
 was to be broken in upon, and they were all three sorry. 
 " Haven't you had a pleasanter time than if you had 
 gone poking off to the mountains?" was Kate's query, 
 as the two sat in the broad doorwaj^, looldng out upon 
 the sea spread out duskily before them, and listening to 
 the low hum of insect-life which filled the warm sum- 
 mer air, on the last evening which they were to enjoy 
 together, before Kate's friend should come. Sam could 
 only say that he had. 
 
 As the brother and sister sat in the broad doorway, 
 her head resting upon his shoulder, and supported by 
 his strong arm (how many an hour had they as boy 
 and girl sat thus within the leafy porch !), she little 
 
SUMMERTIDE. 
 
 235 
 
 dreamed that never again after tliis night would he 
 be quite the same to her. She could not foresee that 
 the days of her brother's boyhood were fast being 
 numbered, that hereafter another would be first in those 
 affections which had up to this hour been hers alone. 
 She would hardly have been so glad to see her dear 
 Rose, if she had known what was to be the result of 
 the visit. 
 
 Kate was glad to see Rose, however, and drove over 
 to the station herself, seven or eight miles, to meet her, 
 brought her home in triumph, and made her welcome 
 in her own cheerful and cordial fashion. She monopo- 
 lized her entirely, and kept her in the cool and quiet of 
 her room, resting, till tea brought the family together, 
 where Sam met the guest, for the first time under his 
 own roof. 
 
 The young lady looked very sweet as she entered the 
 room, all the more interesting from a slight fatigue. A 
 little drooping of the eyelids, and paleness of the lips, 
 gave her a most captivating expression ; and Sam real- 
 ized the fact to the bottom of his very soul, as with 
 conscious constraint he touched for a moment the 
 hand she held out for him to shake. He was just 
 returned from a pull across the bay to the hotel, to see 
 if Villiers had come, and reported his arrival that very 
 afternoon. 
 
 " You must have come on the same train," he said to 
 Rose. 
 
 " I don't see how I could have passed him by at the 
 station," said Kate ; adding a little indignantly, " Why 
 didn't you bring him back with you to tea ?" 
 
 " I did my best to bring him," returned Sam ; "but 
 
236 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 to no purpose. It is the hardest thing in the world, if 
 he once says No, to make him take it back, and say 
 Yes." 
 
 " I presume he is tired," suggested Mrs. Wentworth. 
 
 " One would scarcely think him so determined a char- 
 acter," said Rose. " He certainly does not give you 
 that impression, to look at him." 
 
 " One would hardly get a single correct impression 
 from looking at him. Miss Thorne," said Sam, warmly. 
 " I think there is not a man in the class less understood, 
 as there certainly is not one worthy of more universal 
 admiration and regard ; but I believe he will be appre- 
 ciated before Class Day." 
 
 The ladies had really very little cause to complain of 
 inattention on the part of Villiers. The same magnet 
 that had drawn him to this almost unknown retreat as 
 a resting-place for the summer was sure to draw him 
 from his quarters across the bay to his classmate's 
 home ; and indeed, if he had accepted Mrs. Wentworth's 
 invitation, and become her guest for the summer, he 
 would hardly have trespassed more on her hospitality ; 
 for, after they once met, these four young people 
 were together most of the time day and evening during 
 the next four weeks. Sometimes Mrs. Wentworth 
 made one of the party when they went out for a moon- 
 light sail or drive ; but for the most part she preferred 
 to remain at home. It was enough for her, that her 
 darlings were happy ; and of a truth no one of the four 
 was afterwards able to look back on a happier season in 
 life than these bright summer weeks. Poor Villiers 
 had many a dark and lonely pull across the bay ; for he 
 always insisted on going home, as he called it, no mat- 
 
SUMlNrERTIDE. 
 
 23T 
 
 ter liow late tlie hour, even if he was to return by day- 
 light the next morning. But what is four miles of a 
 starlit summer evening, when you have a good boat 
 to do it in ? Have we not all of us read of a gallant 
 3-oung fellow who used to swim a stormy sea for twice 
 that distance almost, and for no other purpose than to 
 be with his love ? Mr. Villiers asked no ]}itj, though 
 the ladies pitied him a great deal, and condoled with 
 him over his dreary journeys. There was always some- 
 thing planned, before they parted for the night, to bring 
 them together the next morning, sometimes at a very 
 early hour, and to make the day pass pleasantly, — a 
 boating party, or a picnic in the woods, or a merry 
 excursion to the camp-meeting, a croquet party, or a 
 hop at the hotel. These last festivities occurred twice 
 a week, though the young people did not care to attend 
 them so often ; and then Villiers had the pleasure of 
 playing host. Of course it was nothing, to such boat- 
 ing characters as our friends, to pull home four miles 
 after an evening's dance. In such simple pleasure 
 which was frequently shared by Adams, Miss Eldredge, 
 and her friends, one bright and happy day stole away 
 after another, bringing sweet content for all. 
 
 Every one knew, from the very first, that Sam was 
 going to fall hopelessly in love with Rose Thorne ; and 
 he would have been no true son of Adam if he had not. 
 Meeting her day after day, in the pleasantly familiar 
 manner which had come to be accepted by all four, — a 
 girl so singularly sweet and attractive, — the catastrophe 
 could not have been long avoided, even if his heart had 
 not gone forth from his keeping that first time when 
 he had looked down into her clear gray eyes, at the 
 
238 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 regatta ball. He had lived till then without more 
 than a passing affection for any lady ; he had romped, 
 when a boy, with the pretty girls of the neighborhood, 
 kissed them at Copenhagen, or at husking-parties, but 
 nothing like an attachment had ever existed. His sister 
 had been his very constant companion ; and he had, 
 perhaps unconsciously, compared with her the girls he 
 had met from time to time. His instinct had told him 
 that she was superior to them all. Thus it was that his 
 affection was as fresh as morning dew, as pure as was 
 ever bestowed by high-born maiden, as unsullied as 
 new-fallen snow; and the ardor of his passion grew with 
 each succeeding day. He soon came to feel an unac- 
 countable uneasiness whenever he lost sight of his 
 goddess for half an hour ; she seemed to carry away 
 with her, when she went, all his happy spirits, and 
 even the very sunsliine of day, and to leave all blank 
 and dull till she returned : though, in truth, seldom an 
 hour passed that they were not together. His honest 
 face would light up with a glow of pleasure when he 
 met her in the morning ; and from that time forth till 
 they parted for the night, his thoughts were of her. He 
 was a most devoted esquire ; and Villiers was always at 
 hand, to look after Kate. He contrived to show her a 
 thousand little attentions. He instructed her in the 
 art of boating, in which she seemed more than usually 
 interested. He looked after her fishing-gear with most 
 commendable patience ; for, bewitchingly frightened her- 
 self, she succeeded in getting everything in a snarl, 
 every time that she drew a struggling victim into the 
 boat. He would rush into a swamp to pluck brilliant 
 blossoms for her hair, which caught his eye as they 
 
SUMMERTIDE. 
 
 239 
 
 were strolling together through the picturesque wood- 
 land ; or he would bring her armfuls of fragrant water- 
 lilies (of which she was uncommonly fond), that he had 
 tramped off in the early morning to procure. He was 
 her invariable partner at the dances and at croquet 5 
 and the intimacy ripened apace. 
 
 Once when Sam and Rose were on their way to join 
 a party who were out for a picnic ; and preferred the 
 route . by water, and a mile through the woods and 
 fields, to the long drive around, over rough roads, they 
 wanted to land on a beach, and the boat grounded 
 twenty yards from the line of the dry sand. 
 
 "I don't see but I shall have to carry you ashore,'* 
 Sam said : " or Ave shall have to give up for to-day." 
 
 " That will never do," replied she, blushing just a 
 little : " you would get so very wet." 
 
 But Sam was already in the water. " Come," said 
 he, holding out his arms. " I am sorry ; but there is no 
 other way." 
 
 " Oh, no ! I am too heavy," she protested, laugh- 
 ingly. 
 
 But he carried her to the shore, nevertheless ; though 
 his heart beat so fast that he was well-nigh exhausted 
 before he could deposit his fair burden on the dry 
 ground. 
 
 As for Miss Thorne, she accepted all his attentions 
 with the utmost grace. Always a perfect lady, she 
 was at once ignorant of prudery or boldness. Her 
 manner was an embodiment of simplicity and charming 
 frankness, that was irresistible ; and the most careful 
 observer could detect no trace of coquetry. She was 
 kind-hearted and considerate too, preferring the happi- 
 
240 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARB. 
 
 ness of others to lier own. She appeared always the 
 same, — never vexed, never hurried, never untidily 
 dressed, always equally fresh, beautiful, and charming. 
 She accepted the friendship of her new acquaintances 
 at once, recognized Sam as her especial escort and com- 
 panion, and admitted him to an agreeable intimacy at 
 the very first. " Call me Rose, please," she said to 
 him, with a charming smile, before she had been twenty- 
 four hours his sister's guest. " It is shorter than Miss 
 Thorne ; and I like it better from my friends; " so be- 
 tween these two, it had been " Rose " and Sam," almost 
 from the first. 
 
 What wonder that this overgrown boy, who had 
 never before known intimately a single girl beside 
 his sister, should soon come to worship the very hem 
 of her garment? How could any one expect him to 
 look into the future, and ask himself where all this love 
 and moonshine was to end ? He only knew that she 
 was his goddess, and that she carried the light and life 
 of the world around with her. Why should he even 
 dream that this faultlessly beautiful creature might be, 
 after all, so far as he is concerned, as devoid of heart 
 as the most impassive block of marble ? No ; for him 
 the future was one fairy dream of happiness, if, indeed, 
 the future concerned him aught. Yet he had reason to 
 be Avar e ; for, though no one had ever charged Rose 
 Thorne with coquetry, those who knew her intimately 
 and well could have told that she had made more than 
 one honest heart ache. 
 
XV. 
 
 BY MOONLIGHT. 
 
 All through the bright summer season Villiers wasted 
 none of his opportunities. Not a day passed that he 
 did not pull his boat across the bay and up to the time- 
 worn landing formed of decaying logs interspersed with 
 patches of grass, climb the steep pathway winding uj) 
 to the broad lawn spread out before the house, and pre- 
 sent himself at his classmate's door. He and Kate 
 Wentworth were rapidly becoming fast friends. 
 
 Yilliers was not one to rush impetuously into any 
 undertaking, nor to suffer any indication of his passion, 
 however slight, to manifest itself by word or deed, after 
 he had once made up his mind that his true course of 
 action was to bide his time. For this reason he made 
 proffer of friendship only to the young girl, which her 
 coy confidence was won to accept, by his dignified, 
 respectful courtesy, and the faith in his strict sincerity 
 which his character was adapted to inspire. Perhaps 
 it would have puzzled her to describe the charm Yilliers 
 had for her. He was very far from being handsome ; 
 but Kate soon ceased to think about his looks. He was 
 not especially well schooled in etiquette ; and yet his 
 manner was always that of a gentleman, characterized 
 by a grave dignity that was often amusing. There 
 
 241 
 
242 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 seemed to be something about him that called forth her 
 best thoughts and feelmgs. She could not yet know 
 that the magnetic attractiveness which she often felt 
 surrounded him was the result of a finely organized 
 nature, that had been developed, so far as was possible j 
 in so young a man, into the perfection of Christian 
 character. ! 
 
 It does not seem that this young man, grave, homely, \ 
 dignified, severe even, would be likely to win the love j 
 of such a high-spirited, laughter-loving girl as Kate j 
 Went worth, conscious of her beauty and power . to 
 please, loving gay company, and fond of admiration, her 
 whole nature inspired by romance. He was undoubt- 
 edly winning her esteem and most implicit confidence ; 
 elevating her standard of ideal manhood, which she 
 would unconsciously apply when others came a-wooing 
 by and by, and perchance stealing her affections ; for 
 who can say what it is that wins a maiden's heart? Who 
 discovers that secret more precious to every man, at 
 some hour of his life, than the long-dreamed-of philoso- 
 pher's stone, and often more baf&ing than the ever- 
 retreating object of the alchemist's search? Mayhap a 
 bunch of flowers accidentally given, some trifling atten- 
 tion at the fortunate moment, a pressure of the hand, a 
 glance of the eye, when the heart is softened and the 
 feelings are warm, some little incident wliich accident 
 magnifies, — who has not seen matters like these turn 
 the scale, while years of patient, honest, ge:atlemanly 
 devotion, and undespairing hope, failed of their reward ? 
 We cannot even guess, therefore, what place Villiers held 
 in his mistress's heart, or whether he had ever gained 
 admission there at all ; for such a secret the young girl 
 would guard even from herself. 
 
BY MOONLIGHT. 
 
 243 
 
 In this simple, idyllic fashion the summer stole soft!}' 
 away: the three weeks of Miss Thome's visit had already 
 grown into four, and the fifth was passing only too fast. 
 She was to go home on the morrow : and her departure 
 was the beginning of the end. Huntingdon had 
 been a guest at ]\Irs. Wentwortlrs for more than a 
 week ; and Haskill had stolen away at the earliest 
 opportunity from his Western home, and was domiciled 
 imder the same roof. The old mansion had opened its 
 doors, and welcomed a score of other young people also 
 into its quaint apartments, and had been gayer almost 
 than at any time since Colonial times ; for the dis^^osition 
 to make the most of these last days of vacation had 
 prevailed, and there had been feasting and dancing 
 and music and croquet almost without stint. 
 
 When Haskill first presented himself, he was so 
 changed in appearance that his friends almost doubted 
 his identity. His hair was no longer "filed," as in the 
 summer, but was of a very decent length indeed, and 
 nicely arranged instead of standing out in every direc- 
 tion. He not only wore a coat all the time, which he 
 could not well avoid in the company of ladies, but had 
 a variety of these garments, new and of faultless fashion, 
 which he donned to meet the requirements of the hour. 
 His foot, which was the slimmest, was incased in the 
 most exquisite of French boots ; his scarfs were wonder- 
 ful in variety, pattern, and hue ; he appeared in gloves 
 on every possible occasion, smoked less than half the 
 time, talked slang only by accident, and hi3 hands were 
 never in his pockets except when he forgot himself; 
 while the dignity with which he comported himself 
 was most refreshing. He had begun his journey of 
 
244 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 more than fifteen hundred miles witli tlie full determi- 
 nation of offering his hand and heart to Kate. Most 
 unaccountably, as he thought, his courage had oozed 
 away as the distance which separated him from the 
 object of his affections diminished, till, when he stood 
 in the merry girl's presence, and saw her surrounded by 
 admirers (for he came at a time when the house hap- 
 pened to be full of the guests of an afternoon), the last 
 vestige of his resolution vanished. Kate was kind to 
 him too, welcomed him as heartily as any one could 
 have- wished, and took him under her protection, and 
 petted him, till Huntingdon's face grew as black as a 
 thunder-cloud, and even Villiers looked with severe 
 eyes. She was kind to him too, afterwards, but he felt 
 that it was not in the riglit way : so after an hour's 
 reflection, in which he was nearer being blue than he 
 had ever been in his life before, he gave it up. 
 
 " What's the use of my trying to play the fine gentle- 
 man, and compete with such a swell as that Hunting- 
 don ? " he said, half bitterly. " It's like every thing 
 else, not to be learned in a day ; and he's been at it all 
 his life. He'd give me all the points I might ask for, 
 and beat me every time. Fine feathers don't make fine 
 birds ; not if I know myself, and I believe I do inti- 
 mately." 
 
 Accordingly he went back to his pipe and his odd 
 ways, told his funny stories, and, forgetting his grande 
 passion^ as he loved to call it, devoted himself to Mrs. 
 Wentworth (who had been a little neglected and forgot- 
 ten in all this love-making and gayety,) and was vastly 
 entertaining to the ladies, and much happier than when 
 he had tried to put on airs. Yes, he devoted himself to 
 
BY MOONLIGHT. 
 
 245 
 
 Mrs. Wentworth with almost lover-like assiiiuity ; and 
 it was lionest devotion and admiration too. 
 
 " Your mother comes nearer to being an angel than 
 any woman I ever expected to see on earth/' he said 
 suddenly to Kate, one day, in his rough, blunt fashion, 
 " She is prettier, too, than any of you girls.'' 
 
 " I quite -agree with you," returned Kate, with a gra- 
 cious smile ; for his taste was not much at fault. In 
 her simple white dress, with her dark waw hair and 
 loving face, her slight and almost girlish figure, and 
 with her gentle, winsome manner, jNIrs. Wentworth was 
 a very angel of goodness in the eyes of others besides 
 this young Westerner. She had won his heart simply 
 by being kind to him ; and it is doubtful if any one had 
 ever shown him such womanly kindness before. He 
 would have gone through fire to do her or hers a favor. 
 
 On the morrow, Miss Thorne was going home ; and in 
 a few clays more at best, all these good friends were to 
 part company for a time. But Sam had bespoken Miss 
 Thome's company for a drive on the last evening of her 
 visit ; and Kate had engaged her to take this occasion, 
 and prefer a petition to her brother. 
 
 "It is that odious pipe of his,"' she said, earnestly. 
 " He will persist in smoking it just to see it turn brown, 
 though he doesn't half like it ; and I know it does him 
 no good. Mamma dislikes it as much as I do, though 
 she says nothing to him ; and I am afraid that another 
 year will confirm the habit. Won't you tell him how 
 disagreeable it is, and ask him to leave it off ? I shall 
 be so much obliged to you, and so will mamma;" and 
 sweet Miss Rose declared her entire willin^TLess to do 
 any thing for her dear Kate. She was tying on her hat 
 
246 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HAEVAED. 
 
 and drawing on her gloves during tliis little interview, 
 Kate assisting by way of giving a final touch to ribbon 
 or draper}', Rose looking as charming all the while as a 
 mortal maiden could ; and she went out, with just the 
 faintest tinge in her cheeks, to Sam, who had been im- 
 patiently waiting her coming, striding up and down the 
 driveway, snapping with his whip at the ' shrubs and 
 flowers. A careful observer would have said at once 
 that there was something on his mind ; but the nervous 
 manner passed away at sight of Rose. Crisp with fresh 
 drapery, and radiant with glowing life, what wonder that 
 in her lover's infatuated eyes she " looked a goddess, 
 and walked a queen " ? Don't forget," called Kate, 
 kissing her hand from the doorway as they drove off. 
 She looked after them till they disappeared behind the 
 oaks, and then turned, half-musingiy, toward the house. 
 
 The twain drove on in silence through the country, 
 over which the violet-purple mantle of twilight was 
 fast falling, amid the deep stillness of an exquisite 
 summer evening. Now sombre but fragrant pines 
 arose on either hand, and the white thread of the road 
 was lost in the dim and dusky distance. Presently the 
 pines were left behind, and the prospect presented only 
 acres of tangled undergrov/th, stretching inimitably 
 awa}^, and lost in the dim distance. As they gained 
 the summit of a hill, and looked down into the valley 
 before them. Rose uttered a little cry of alarm, and not 
 without reason ; for right before them, the road appar- 
 ently leading through it, there seemed spread out a 
 broad smooth lake. 
 
 " Isn't that water? " asked Rose, a little frightened at 
 seeing that they were rapidly driving down into it. 
 
BY MOONLIGHT. 
 
 247 
 
 " Ah, no : only mist, though the delusion is perfect. 
 We often see it of an evening late in the summer or 
 fall. See, it is behind us now. As soon as the moon 
 rises it will disappear." 
 
 Again they drove on in silence. The shadow of 
 parting was very near, — only till to-morrow. Though 
 Sam was to go back to Cambridge so soon, and not be 
 far from her, he felt that the separation was to be for a 
 very long time, — as though there would be something 
 more than the mere distance dividing them. It was 
 a feeling, a vague presentiment, and was to prove quite 
 groundless ; but he had been thinking about it a good 
 deal of late ; and he thought too, that perhaps his 
 attentions had not been such as to lead Miss Thorne to 
 think that she was more to him than a very pleasant 
 acquaintance : though how the young fellow could have 
 been more devoted, it would be difficult to say. He 
 was impulsive, and by no means like Yilliers, one who 
 could wait and bide his time ; and he had determined 
 that before the young lady went home he would in some 
 way give her to know hov/ much he cared for her ; 
 and now here was his very last opportunity slipping 
 away from him. Still they drove on in silence, with no 
 sound save the regular " clack ! clack ! " of the horse's 
 hoofs, the rattling of the v/heels over the stony way, 
 and the drowsy creaking of the chaise when the pace 
 slackened to a walk. Presently the moon rose up, and 
 poured hur mellow light over hill and valley, silvered 
 the tops of the groves, and brought out the delicate 
 lights and deep shadows, and rendered dimly visible 
 the tranquil surface of the distant ocean. Still tiiej 
 drove on in silence. 
 
248 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 It was very little Sam cared for the moon then, oi 
 any thing save his Rose, and how he should put his 
 feelings into words. It was no part of his design to 
 ask her to marry him, or even to love him, but only 
 to let her know that he cared truly for her ; but how to 
 bring that out, was the problem. This was his first 
 experience at making love ; and thus far it was any 
 thing but pleasant. Nothing that he had ever attempted 
 in his life could be compared with it for awkwardness 
 and discomfort; his first boat-race was not a circum- 
 stance, and that had tried him a good deal. If it had 
 only been Huntingdon here in his place, how he would 
 have talked ! how smoothly and insinuatingly and elo- 
 quently! But it was only Sam, — poor Sam! — and he 
 was utterly inexperienced ; and as the golden moments 
 slipped by, he found himself farther than ever from the 
 dcbired end. 
 
 " I think we had better turn and drive home now," 
 said Rose, coolly, after a time. (She had been wonder- 
 ing what made Sam so very stupid.) " We have had a 
 long drive, and you know I have ever so much packing 
 to do to-night." 
 
 So, very reluctantly, he turned the horse's head, well 
 knowing that it would not require half the time to 
 go home that had been consumed thus far. Again they 
 rode on in silence. The young fellow would never 
 have dared to open his mouth on the subject which was 
 so near his heart ; but his companion, who had on her 
 part, as we have seen, a promise to fulfil, and who was 
 not in the least embarrassed by the task, presently 
 spoke. 
 
 Rose. — I am going to ask you to give me some- 
 
BY MOONLIGHT. 
 
 249 
 
 thing which I know you prize highly, and at the same 
 time to make me a promise. Will you ? 
 
 She turned her fair face to him so that the yellow 
 moonlight fell full upon it. 
 
 Sam (a little startjed by this unexpected statement). 
 — To be sure : any thing I have I should be glad to 
 give you; and (after a little hesitation) I will make 
 you any reasonable promise. 
 
 Rose. — Well, nothing could be more reasonable than 
 this. Give me your pipe, and promise me never to 
 smoke again ; and she held out a white and dimpled 
 hand, which her companion attempted though unsuc- 
 cessfully, to capture. 
 
 Sam (to the horse, which was going at too fast a 
 pace). — Whoa! Whoa! (To Rose, in a vexed tone). 
 My pipe ! This is some of Kate's doings, I am sure : 
 you would never have thought of it yourself. 
 
 He was not in the least pleased at having his curiosity 
 and hope dashed down by so unromantic a statement, 
 though what he had really expected cannot be guessed. 
 
 Rose (again extending her hand). — I am waiting 
 for it. I always perceive when you have it with you, 
 and it is in your pocket this minute. 
 
 Sam (slowly drawing forth the pipe). — Here it 
 is ; but I can't see what pleasure it is going to 
 afford you, or what profit : you can't want it for a keep- 
 sake, and I shall have to buy another. It was getting to 
 be so sweet, and such a beautiful color too ! 
 
 Rose (quickly). — Ah, I don't care for it unless I 
 have your promise not to smoke too ; and I shall claim 
 that, as you agreed. 
 
 Sam (laughing). — Ah, for once I thought before I 
 
250 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HArVaED. 
 
 spoke. I said " any reasonable promise," and you will 
 liave to convince me first; and I can assure you I shall 
 be hard to persuade. ' 
 
 Rose. — Well, then, in the first place, it is an ex- 
 pensive habit. 
 
 Sam. — Of course ; but you must recollect that it 
 is a luxury, and all our luxuries and pleasures have to 
 be paid for : so why not pay for this, if one chooses ? 
 
 Rose (with expression slightly ruffled). — In the 
 second place, it is an injurious habit. 
 
 She must have matured her plan of attack during 
 the silence of the first part of the drive. 
 
 Sam (pleasantly). — Now, I deny that, Rose. That 
 is a question on which the doctors disagree. It is by 
 no means certain that a moderate amount of smoking is 
 not a positive benefit; and you know I indulge very 
 sparingly. No, I don't think reason number two weighs 
 with me as much as reason number one. 
 
 Sam had been all over the ground with Kate a score 
 of times, and was tolerably familiar with the argu- 
 ments both pro and con. 
 
 Rose (triumphantly). — At all events, it is exceed- 
 ingly disagreeable : any lady will tell you that ; and I 
 am sure that reason ought to be all-sufficient with a 
 gentleman. 
 
 Sam (half laughing). — It would seem so, certainly, 
 if I really believed that. But I have heard you say 
 yourself that you didn't like a man to be too perfect; 
 that you preferred one with some faults, with a little 
 dash of old Adam about him ; and I believe your taste 
 is not peculiar in this. Now, suppose one has this 
 fault. 
 
BY MOONLIGHT. 
 
 251 
 
 Rose. — Well, then, I wish it. I wonder if that is 
 enough. Where are you driving? (as the horse 
 strayed from the beaten track). You seem bewitched 
 this evening. I believe I shall have to take the reins 
 into my own hands. 
 
 Sam (surrendering them, with a longing look at the 
 beautiful face on which the soft moonlight shone, while 
 the rest of her figure was in deep shadow). — I know 
 I am. 
 
 There was silence for a time ; and Rose might almost 
 have heard Sam's heart beat if she had cared to listen, 
 though indeed she drove on quite unconcernedly. 
 
 Sam (after a pause, seriously). — You ask a good 
 deal more of me, Rose, than you have an idea of. It 
 will be a very difficult promise to keep, and one that I 
 don't think I should care to make for all time, forever, 
 as you say. All the fellows smoke ; and, though I don't 
 care so very much for it myself, wdien I am with them, 
 it will be hard not to join them, and I know just how 
 hard, too. Still I could keep my word, and (very 
 slowly) I don't know but I will promise for a year, if 
 you really wish me to. 
 
 Rose, — To be sure I wish it (looking half curiously, 
 half seriously at him). 
 
 Sam, — But I have some curiosity to discover how 
 much you really wish it. If I promise, it will be to 
 oblige you ; and, if I do so much to oblige you, you — 
 you ougnt to be willing to oblige me in something. 
 
 Rose (her curiosity a little piqued). — You know, 
 Sam, I shall always be glad to do any thing to please 
 you (and she half extended her hand, almost the only 
 impuldve action of which she was ever known to be 
 
252 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HAI VAKD. 
 
 guilty, tliougli it was quickly withdrawn) ; that is (she 
 added with a soft laugh) anything that is "reasonable." 
 
 Sam. — And I must convince you now — 
 
 Rose. — To be sure. 
 
 But there was now very little curiosity, and not the 
 slightest perceptible trace of emotion, in her voice and 
 manner. She sat there as serenely composed as was her 
 wont, the moonlight touching her beautiful figure with 
 a peculiar tenderness, as if there was nothing more im- 
 portant before her than to drive safely home, the counter- 
 part of the eager, expectant boy at her side. 
 
 Sam (after a silence of a moment) . — I will promise 
 you not to smoke for a year, if you will give me a kiss. 
 
 Rose. — Oh, Sam, you frighten me ! (drawing away 
 from him). Indeed you do. What an unreasonable 
 request ! 
 
 Sam. — I don't see any cause for being frightened. 
 (The Rubicon was passed ; and he felt no diffidence now 
 in urging his suit, though the words had been so hard to 
 speak.) If the bargain is not a perfectly fair one, it is 
 I who am going to have the hardest part of it. 
 
 And he put up his face with the best smile that he 
 could command. 
 
 The only reply the young lady vouchsafed to this 
 was to retire as far as possible into her corner of the 
 chaise. The horse took his own pace and his own 
 road. " It can't be so very hard nor so very bad," he 
 said, ruefully. " Oh, I know now just how much you 
 care, on your own part, about my promise." Then as 
 he sat looking at her retiring figure, her enchanting 
 beauty, and her soft eyes, the temptation was irresisti- 
 ble ; he half bent over her, half drew her to him, and 
 kissed her moist, sweet lips. 
 
BY MOONLIGHT. 
 
 253 
 
 The remainder of the drive home was in sile ace. 
 
 Thus had Sam bartered away his freedom for a single 
 kiss, — his freedom in more senses than one ; for that 
 brief sweet contact was to him a revelation : henceforth 
 the world was a new world to him ; he felt all at once 
 that he had an object to achieve, and that, till that end 
 was accomplished, he could know no satisfaction or rest. 
 
 That night sleep was an impossibility with the young 
 fellow ; and, stealing down from his room, he loosed a 
 dory from its moorings, and pulled far out on the swell- 
 ing ocean, with no company save the stars, the wild sea, 
 and his own wilder thoughts, till at last his feverish 
 brain grew more composed; and as he climbed the 
 stairs the first rays of the morning sun shone through 
 the leafy window, and touched his haggard face. 
 
 " Remember you are to come the very day that 
 Thanksgiving recess is ended, and that I shall keep you 
 for the rest of the winter," called Rose from the car- 
 riage to Kate, when she nodded good-by to all the com- 
 pany that stood in the porch to see her off, as Sam 
 whirled her away for the train. "I hope to see you, 
 Mr. Yilliers, and you too, Mr. Huntingdon," she had 
 said ; " and I should feel very sorry indeed if I thought 
 my acquaintance with Mr. Haskill was to end here ; " 
 and she had extended her hand to that gentleman most 
 cordially, who, a little taken aback at this unexpected 
 kindness, said that if he knew himself he thought he 
 should be sorry too, but he was sure the acquaintance 
 would not soon end. Sam's own invitation was not given 
 till just as the cars were coming. "I release you from 
 your promise of last evening," she said : " it was too much 
 
254 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVAED. 
 
 to give for so little. Come over to tea Thursday after- 
 noon, or as soon as ever you can," and half in the confu- 
 sion of the moment, or perhaps because she meant it, 
 having a vague impression of the depth of Sam's feel- 
 ings, and choosing to express her sorrow, she put up her 
 lips with just the faintest tinge in her cheeks. In an 
 instant the cars were bearing her away. Perhaps she 
 was as fond of Sam as she had ever been of any one, 
 perhaps as fond of him as she could be of any one. 
 The young fellow drove home in a very seventh heaven 
 of happiness. 
 
 Huntingdon and Villiers each appeared unwilling to 
 go, and leave the other in possession of the field. 
 Huntingdon's quick eye discerned at a glance what 
 a firm friendship had grown up between Villiers and 
 Kate, and he had determined to make up the lost 
 ground at once ; and Villiers, usually the most retiring 
 and diffident of young gentlemen, had bated not a whit 
 his attentions to that young lady, but had been, if possi- 
 ble, more assiduous since Huntingdon's arrival : so that 
 there was really no love lost between the two. They 
 finally took their departure on the same train. Nothing 
 called Haskill away till the regular exercises of the 
 year should begin ; and he still tarried, loath to leave 
 his new home, for such it seemed to him. 
 
 All four were sitting in the dusk, while Kate was 
 playing at the piano, silent save for the music, — a soft 
 melody as soothing as the hour, — and occupied with 
 their own thoughts. Curiously enough, as it would 
 seem, Sam was the only one who looked eagerly for- 
 ward to a return to college life. Huntingdon had 
 
BY MOONLIGHT. 
 
 255 
 
 voted the coming year, Tvith its mathematics, a most 
 unmitigated nuisance : Villiers had more than once 
 wished the vacation vrere longer ; Hashill was loud in 
 expressing his disgust ; but Sam was eager to leave his 
 home, and these two women who would have died for 
 him. 
 
 " To-morrow." he said briskly, as the music ceased, 
 " to-morrow we go back once more."' 
 
 Vrell,"" said Haskill, " I suppose there is no help for 
 it but that we must. The everlasting grind, prayers at 
 daylight, boarding-house hash, metaphysics and logic 
 and all that nonsense — bah I I'm sick of it before I 
 begin." 
 
 Kate laughed merrily at the lugubrious tone of the 
 Senior. "You don't seem to be in love with the 
 anticipation." 
 
 " I should think not. "What is there to enjoy about 
 it? And, what is more, it is a sheer waste of time ; that's 
 what it is : that's what it has been to me, at any rate. 
 I've been there three years ; and, if I never were to go 
 back, I'd like to know what better I should be for it, or 
 what I could do to earn a dollar ; and it will be the 
 same at the end of this year." 
 
 You might do just as well as anybody in your class 
 if you would work,'' interposed Sam. " Why don't you 
 try for a part ? " 
 
 They wotddn't give me one, no matter how well I 
 did; besides, what does a part amount to? No, no: it 
 is no use trying to make a dig of me. The old man 
 wanted me to go to college ; and to please him I said 
 I'd go if he would be liberal with the stamps. He has 
 kept his promise, and I mine ; but so far as it has done 
 
256 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HAHVAKD. 
 
 me any good, that is a great mistake. However, I have 
 one or two things that console me." 
 
 I hope they are not secrets," said Kate, laughing. 
 
 " Not a bit. In the first place, I've got as good a 
 room as there is in Holworthy." 
 
 " That's a comfort," said Sam. 
 
 " Yes, that is a comfort, I can assure you. Then I 
 thank God that this is my last year, and that, when it 
 is over, I can shake the dust of Cambridge from my 
 feet forever." 
 
 " You seem wonderfully down on Cambridge," said 
 Sam, deprecatingly. 
 
 " Just wait till you've been there as long as I have, 
 and you will be down on Cambridge too," returned the 
 Senior. " And, lastly and mostly, I hope to have the 
 extreme felicity of numbering Mrs. Wentworth and her 
 daughter among the guests at my spread, Class Day, 
 when I shall do my very level best to let them see that 
 I have felt all the kindness which they have bestowed 
 on such a good-for-nothing fellow. They tell us some- 
 where to count up our mercies ; and these are my three 
 mercies." 
 
 Next morning these two also, the one with regret, 
 and the other with bright anticipations, likewise took 
 their departure for Cambridge ; and thus ended the 
 summer vacation. 
 
XVI. 
 
 THE NEW SOPHOMORES. 
 
 The Sophomore witnesses the same eruptive appear- 
 ances about the doors of the college dormitories, that 
 excited his attention the year before, with this difference 
 of feeling, that now he views them with impatience 
 rather than wonder. There is the same moving from 
 old quarters into new ones, the same flurry and confu- 
 sion, and fitting of carpets and arranging of furniture in 
 the rooms. There is the same dusty appearance to the 
 buildings and the neglected and sun-scorched grass- 
 plats. There is the enthusiastic meeting of friends, tlie 
 eager shaking of hands, the joyous faces, — familiar now 
 for the most part, — with here and there a group of 
 awkward, nervous Freshmen : how young, and different 
 in every way, they are from the other students ! ' The 
 Sophomore sleeps uneasily in the unfamiliar room ; the 
 bell wakes him half-rested in the early morning; he 
 forgets for an instant where he is ; then, after a hasty 
 toilet, he rushes down stairs to the chapel, and off to 
 breakfast. He realizes that he is at last a Sophomore. 
 
 " Bloody Monday night " had come around once 
 more ; and this time some one else awaited its approach 
 with fear and trembling. " Do you suppose they will 
 dare to kick foot-ball after last year, and the warnings 
 
 257 
 
258 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 whicli have been given? " was a question that was asked a 
 hundred times during the day. The general impression 
 seemed to prevail, this year, that the college had seen 
 the last of the annual foot-ball game, and that it would 
 be a foolish thing to risk decimation, or something 
 worse, by setting Faculty decrees at open defiance. 
 There was, however, a very general sentiment that a 
 class which could put such a crew on the river as the 
 present Sophomores had the previous summer would be 
 too plucky to let the evening pass without a demon- 
 stration of some kind. 
 
 Throughout the day a careful observer would have 
 seen that something unusual was afoot among the 
 Sophomores. Little notes went from man to man 
 throughout the four divisions at the morning recita- 
 tions : perhaps it was not a consequence of these little 
 messages, but all through the forenoon groups of 
 Sophomores were gathered in eager consultation; mes- 
 sengers hurried from room to room, secret but swelling 
 with importance. Huntingdon was ubiquitous, — "a 
 sure sign that mischief is brewing," quoth a sagacious 
 Senior to his chum. "I never like to see a man so 
 prominent as that Huntingdon is, at first," he continued, 
 as the pair loitered for a moment on the hard walk in 
 front of Holworthy. "He is sure to fizzle out and 
 come to nothing before Class Day." 
 
 " Dead sure," replied the chum, consequentially. " In 
 fact, if a man is going to lay for class honors, the 
 shadier he keeps, the Freshman and Sophomore year, 
 the better." 
 
 After tea Villiers climbed the three flights of stairs, 
 in the north entry of HoUis Hall, that led to Sam's 
 
THE NEW SOPHOMORES. 
 
 259 
 
 new room, and presented liimself at the doorway. 
 
 Come for a walk,'' lie called, cheerily, as he entered 
 in response to Sam's invitation, and then stopped short 
 in amazement as he took the first step within. 
 
 '•"Why, Sam, what in the world is all this for?" he 
 said, earnestly ; for he discovered him arrayed in a pair 
 of huge spectacles, a false beard, and a coat turned 
 inside out. A shockino- hat lav on the table, and a 
 spade rested against the wall. 
 
 " I am getting ready for ' Cat Alley,' to be sure,'' 
 returned Sam, stoutly. Here, take some of this 
 toggery,*' pointing to a pile of outlandish stuff on the 
 bed ; '• adorn yourself, and come along. We must 
 have the whole class. It is time Ave were there now," 
 and donning his hat, and shouldering his spade, he 
 moved half way to the door, looking ridiculous enough. 
 
 Cat Alley,'' be it remembered, was a locality not far 
 remoA'ed from the square, well known to students. 
 
 " Stop a minute,'' said Villiers, earnestly. This is 
 rowdyish and ungentlemanly busmess, to say nothing 
 of the consequences which are sure to follow detection. 
 Let it all go, Sam : come for a tramp with me ; " and 
 his friend looked earnestly and entreatingly at him. 
 
 You wouldn't liaA'e knovm me A'ourself in this ris:, 
 would you?" he replied. "Xo: I am much obliged to 
 you, but I am in for it. I promised to go, and they 
 are waiting for me." Then, shouldering the spade 
 which, in a moment of irresolution, he had loAvered to 
 the floor, he clattered doAATi stairs, and disappeared in 
 the direction of Cat Alley." 
 
 Rumor had spread the information throughout the 
 college during the afternoon that, if the felloAvs Avould 
 
260 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 like to see some sport, they would clo well to be as 
 near the Delta as convenient, about dm,k. Accord- 
 ingly, shortly after sunset the undergraduates began to 
 assemble around the enclosure ; and soon there was 
 a goodly number, comprising J uniors. Freshmen, a few 
 Sophomores, and occasionally a Senior; leaning against 
 the fence, collected in merry groups, or airily saun- 
 tering to and fro, leisurely awaiting the event. The 
 Sophomores, on the other hand, were collected in 
 Cat Alley ; and, the procession being formed, they took 
 up the line of march for the Delta, moved into the 
 centre of the triangle, countermarched, and made the 
 circuit of tlie field, and then halted, while the spectators, 
 for a moment dumb through surprise at this novel and 
 unexpected entertainment, rent the air with a shout of 
 admiring approbation ; and the green resounded with 
 noisy laughter, and the clapping of many hands. 
 
 First came the marshal, a grotesque figure, whose 
 personal identity was entirely lost in his disguise ; then 
 the trumpeters or horn-blowers, equally well disguised, 
 discoursing most discordant sounds from their shells; 
 then the escort, a score or more in fantastic regalia, 
 followed by the priest in his robes ; next were the pall- 
 bearers, then the grave-diggers ; and twoscore mourners, 
 shocking-looking fellows, closed the procession. 
 
 Just at this time a professor crossed the triangle, and 
 all eyes centred their attention upon him. He glanced 
 quietly at the motley crowd, smiled, and passed on to 
 the Faculty meeting in University. He was not the 
 man to act the part of spy or Faculty detective. 
 
 Meantime the two grave-diggers had been busy with 
 their spades, and the grave was ready ; the priest, a big 
 
THE NEW sopho:moees. 
 
 261 
 
 fellow, read the service ; the coffin was quickly lowered, 
 and the earth throAvn in ; when suddenly the spirit of 
 the dead and buried foot-ball rose into the air in the 
 shape of a rubber balloon, and soared gracefully away 
 into the deepening dusk. At this the spectators, who 
 by this time numbered half a thousand, and who had 
 hitherto understood but imperfectly the real nature 
 of the proceedings, clapped their thousand hands, and 
 shouted their delight. Cheer after cheer for the Sopho- 
 mores rent the air, the procession was again formed, and 
 after making the tour of the college grounds, with a 
 transparency representing the apotheosis of the foot- 
 ball, cheering the buildings, and paying their particular 
 respects to the Faculty, who were in high council in 
 Uniyersity, three rousing cheers were given for the 
 class ; and the men scattered to their rooms. 
 
 The affair was a novelty and a success. 
 
 "I say, Dick," said one denizen of Holworthy to 
 another, " that wasn't so bad for the Sophs." 
 
 " No," returned the latter, " I should say not ; and 
 I hope the Faculty won't make it bad for them in the 
 way of decimation, either." 
 
 "Ha, ha, no! I should hope not," said the first 
 speaker ; " but it's a way they have when they fail to 
 spot anybody." 
 
 " Yes, it's a way they have, sure enough. In whose 
 fertile brain do you guess this exceedingly brilliant per- 
 formance originated ? " 
 
 Give it up ! " and the pair passed on to their pipes 
 and metaphysics. 
 
 " I flatter myself that went off pretty well," quoth 
 Huntingdon, as, ten minutes later, he doffed his gear, 
 
262. 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVABD. 
 
 and stowed it securely away. He had been marshal, 
 had conceived the plan, and, more than any one else, 
 put it into execution. 
 
 " Yes," said Sam, removing his beard, and making 
 himself recognizable once more (he had been one of the 
 grave-diggers) ; " I don't see what fault you could find 
 with that, I'm sure." 
 
 " They can't have spotted anybody, either," con- 
 tinued Huntingdon ; " though I saw three tutors, and 
 ever so many proctors, prowling around." 
 
 " I don't see how they could," said Sam. " I believe 
 I didn't recognize a soul myself." 
 
 " Come, now ; the evening's work isn't half finished 
 until we have polished the Freshmen off a little," said 
 Huntingdon, hat in hand, looking at his chum, who had 
 seated himself at the table, and taken up a book. " We 
 want you." 
 
 Now, Sam had fully made up his mind to have 
 nothing whatever to do with hazing. His mother and 
 sister had talked the matter over with him, fully and 
 earnestly, the evening before he left home, only the last 
 Wednesday night ; and he had realized, for the first 
 time, the anxiety that possessed them, lest his college 
 course should be brought to a disgraceful and untimely 
 end. It had seemed then that nothing could tempt him 
 into any possibility of disgrace; and he already felt 
 that he had broken his resolution. There were other 
 reasons, even stronger than these, why he did not care 
 to leave Cambridge, or in any way risk the possibility 
 of such an event ; but it is so hard to say No, some- 
 times ! He sat irresolute, one hand on his half-closed 
 book, the other on the back of his chair, while these 
 thoughts pass through his mind. 
 
-THE NEW SOPHOMORES. 
 
 " Come," said Huntingdon, once more : " be a man." 
 
 " I believe I won't have any thing to do with hazing, 
 chum : you must count me out there," he said, firmly 
 enough ; for the moment of doubt was gone. " Do my 
 share for me," he added, impetuously, as his chum hur- 
 ried excitedly out, looking every inch the hero. 
 
 Though Sam burned to be out with the boys, sharing 
 the danger with them, he turned to his book, and set 
 resolutely to work to dig out the next day's mathematics. 
 For a time, he got on very well, though it was hard to 
 fix the attention. Then as through the open windows, 
 and up the stairs, and in through the door, came the 
 shout and roar of a tumult below, he threw down his 
 book, seized his hat, and, rushing down stairs, plunged 
 into the throng. 
 
 That angle of the college grounds between Stoughton 
 and Hoi worthy, well illuminated, in spite of the dark- 
 ness, by the light from a hundred windows, was packed 
 with a dense crowd of students, representatives from all 
 j classes, with Sophomores and Freshmen predominating. 
 These latter were, for the most part, gathered together 
 around the northern doorway of Stoughton. The 
 Sophomores were in scattered groups, here and there ; 
 while the few Juniors and Seniors were lounging on 
 Hoi worthy steps, leisurely awaiting the events of the 
 hour. Sam asked, " What is up ? " several times, with- 
 out receiving any satisfactory information. It appeared 
 that, save the noise, some cheering now and then, and a 
 little good-natured raillery, there was no particular 
 disturbance. The Sophomores were waiting for the 
 Freshmen to disperse to their rooms, in order to initiate 
 the hazing of the year ; but these latter gentlemen were 
 
264 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 evidently not disposed to accommodate tlieir seniors on 
 tliis point. This masterly inactivity on the part of the 
 Sophomores was not to continue long, however. " We 
 are going to give the beggars a little rush," said Lewis 
 in a whisper to Sam, presently. "Surround them, and 
 hustle them through the entry and back, two or three 
 times, and wake them up a little. Keep close together, 
 boys ; now, then, here we go ! " and the Sophomores, 
 having gathered together their forces, deployed, and 
 surrounded the foe, and swooped down on them with a 
 mighty yell, with the intent to force them through the 
 entry. But the Freshmen were both numerous and 
 resolute, and held their ground well ; there was a mighty 
 jostling and swaying to and fro of a dark, struggling 
 mass, laughter and shouting and confusion worse con- 
 founded ; then twenty or thirty big fellows from the 
 two upper classes, who had been waiting their time, lent 
 their shoulders ; the Freshmen gave ground ; and, with 
 a loud yell, the entire pack of two hundred students 
 surged through the entry. There was a short struggle 
 at the rear doorway; and the mass was precipitated into 
 the yard, where many a one rolled in the dust as the 
 tussle continued. There was little respect for persons, it 
 being too dark to distinguish friend from foe ; and the 
 tumult increased. A newly appointed tutor appeared 
 on the scene to quell the disturbance, or at least " spot '* 
 the rioters, and unwarily ventured into the throng. A 
 huge and hilarious Senior, who was enjoying himself, 
 and carrying every thing before him, mistaking him 
 for a Freshman, perhaps, seized him round the waist, 
 lifted him bodily from the ground, and rushed him 
 along. " Here ! stop there ! hold on ! Do you know 
 
THE NEW SOPHOMORES. 
 
 265 
 
 wlio I am ? I am Mr. Smitlison," shouted the irate 
 tutor, with all the dignity which the circumstances per- 
 mitted. " Who in the is Smithson ? " ejaculated 
 
 the Senior, with the utmost contempt, dragging his 
 prize to a lamp-post, that he might have a good look at 
 his face, and then dismissing him with a jerk, that 
 sent the bewildered official sprawling on the grass. 
 
 Now some thoughtful men, who had been surveying the 
 struggling mass from the windows in Stoughton, brought 
 their water-pails, and bestowed the contents thereof on 
 their friends beneath. There was a general scatter- 
 ing at this, and laughter and the clapping of hands 
 from the windows of Stoughton and HoUis, after which 
 by degrees the crowd dispersed ; and once more all was 
 silent around old Stoughton. A party of Sophomores 
 with Huntingdon at their head went the rounds of the 
 Freshman rooms, and paid their compliments to as 
 many of their inmates as they could find ; by which 
 means, and b}^ the genius and tact of Mr. Huntingdon, 
 the reputation of " bloody Monday night " was more 
 than sustained, and the class prestige considerably 
 increased. 
 
 Sam, not caring to go with the hazing party,- had 
 climbed to his room after the disturbance about Hol- 
 worthy and Stoughton had ceased, and after working 
 out his mathematics, and waiting for his chum a long 
 time, had retired. Late at night he was awakened by a 
 hand shaking his shoulder. 
 
 " Chum, chum, wake up," said Huntingdon, who had 
 stolen softly up stairs with eagerness. 
 
 " Well," said Sam, sleepily, " is any thing the m.at- 
 ter?" 
 
266 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 " Have you been in the room all the evening?" Hun- 
 tingdon hurriedly asked. 
 
 " Pretty much," said Sam, with a yawn. 
 
 " Has anybody been here after me ? any tutor or 
 proctor? " 
 
 " No," returned Sam, beginning to feel interested as 
 he grew more thoroughly awake. 
 
 " Well, that's good," continued Huntingdon, with a 
 relieved expression. " I understand that the Faculty 
 were very much enraged, and voted that an inspection 
 should be made of the Sophomores' rooms, for the pur- 
 pose of seeing who were abroad, with the view of call- 
 ing upon those who were not found at home, to account 
 for their time this evening." 
 
 " That wouldn't be a very comfortable undertaking, 
 would it ? " said Sam, beginning to think of the even- 
 ing's work in a more serious frame of mind. 
 
 " Not altogether, though if nobody has been here we 
 are all right. They say that the Faculty consider the 
 disturbance of this evening unprecedented in the annals 
 of the college, and are going to make an example of 
 somebody." 
 
 No one ever discovered that the Faculty's officers had 
 inspected the Sophomores' rooms; and the idea had 
 probably originated in the fertile brain of some Junior 
 or Senior, who had disclosed it to a Sophomore for the 
 sake of the moral effect that might thus be produced. 
 But the red arm of Facult}'' justice fell on the class 
 within a few days; every tenth man, the innocent as 
 well as the guilty, receiving a " public," and one man 
 at least receiving a recompense most unmeet. 
 
 " Parsons is gone," said Longstreet, bursting into 
 Sam's room a few days later. 
 
THE NEW SOPHOMORES. 
 
 267 
 
 " Gone where ? " asked Huntingdon and Lewis to- 
 gether, while others looked inquiringly at the bearer of 
 the information. 
 
 " Why, taken up his connection, and left in disgust ; and 
 
 serves the old Faculty right too," said Longstreet, 
 
 excitedly. " Something ought to be done about ii." 
 
 " What in the world had he done ? " said Sam. " He 
 only returned a day or so ago from a six-months' suspen- 
 sion." 
 
 " Done nothing, of course," replied Longstreet, indig- 
 nantly. " It's a pretty good yarn though, — a deuced 
 good one, in fact ; " and the little fellow began to expand 
 with complacency ; " only mighty rough on him ; " and 
 he strutted consequentially about. 
 
 " Come, out with it," said Lewis. 
 
 " Listen," said the Sophomore, " and I will ' a tale 
 unfold.' You remember last year how he was off on a 
 regular spree for a week, cut prayers and recitations, 
 and finally church services all day. Well, he put in his 
 petition to be allowed to make it up, on the ground that 
 he had been called away to Newport, to see his cousin, 
 a middy in the naval school, who was desperately sick, 
 and whom he had accompanied to his home ; and had 
 his certificates all straight, and also one that he had 
 attended service twice on Sunday; every thing drawn 
 - up and signed — by his chum. 
 
 "Joe is a pretty sharp old fellow, and you can't 
 generally beat him much : so, when he went up to see 
 whether his petition was granted, the two had a little 
 talk. At first, Joe pumped him about the town, and 
 then about the school and the officers; but Parsons, 
 who had really been there in the summer, was well 
 
268 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 posted, and Joe was considerably nonplussed. At last 
 says the old cove, ' Travelling in the boat is very 
 pleasant : didn't you find it so ? ' knowing well enough 
 that the boat didn't run, and that every thing was 
 frozen as tight as a drum. 
 
 "'I came by the cars,' said Parsons, knowing that he 
 was getting into deep water. 
 
 " ' Oh, yes, of course : there is no boat now ; on which 
 train ? ' as polite as a basket of chips. ' I used to know 
 the hours, but I've forgotten.' 
 
 " ' He had me there,' said Parsons ; 'for I didn't have 
 the first idea about the train : had forgotten to post up 
 on that.' " 
 
 " And they gave him six months," interrupted Hunt- 
 ingdon. " Yes, we all knew all about that." 
 
 " Last Wednesday morning," continued Longstreet, 
 without deigning to notice the interruption, " old Jones 
 goes around to the room, and asks for ' Mr. Parsons.' 
 
 " ' He hasn't come on from Philadelphia yet," said 
 his chum, which was the truth. 
 
 " ' Oh ! hasn't he ? ' replies Jones with a grin : ' well, 
 when he does come, won't you be so good as to say to 
 him that the President would like to see him at his 
 office?' Parsons did not come on till last night, being 
 detained for good reasons this time, and went to see 
 the President the first thing this morning, wondering 
 what could be up. He Avasn't long in suspense. The 
 President informed him that the Faculty, at a special 
 meeting, had voted his suspension for a year, for his 
 part in Monday night's irregularities. 
 
 "'Monday night?' said Parsons, completely bewil- 
 dered. ' Why, on Monday night I was in Philadelphia. 
 I only reached Cambridge late last evening.' 
 
THE NEW SOPHOMORES. 
 
 269 
 
 " * I am sorry, Mr. Parsons,' said the President, sarcas- 
 tically; 'but four different members of the Faculty 
 saw and recognized you Monday night, in spite of your 
 disguise ; and they have voted as I said. You will 
 have twenty-four hours in which to leave Cambridge.' 
 
 " ' But I can prove that at that time I was in Phila- 
 delphia with my friends : I can prove by certificates, 
 where I was every hour from sunset to sunrise.' 
 
 " You must excuse me for saying so, Mr. Parsons,' 
 rejoins the Prex. ; 'but, after last term's experience 
 with your certificates, I fear they would not have very 
 much weight — ' " 
 
 " Had him there bad, didn't he ? " interposed Lewis, 
 with a mighty laugh, in which the room joined. 
 
 " ' Especially as your identity was proved by four 
 different members of the Faculty : of course we don't 
 want any better evidence than that of our own senses.' 
 So Parsons has taken up his connection, and left in dis- 
 gust ; and, for one, I don't blame him. And, by Jove, 
 it's too bad : we ought to take some action on it as a 
 class; " and the little man paused, quite out of breath. 
 
 " It is too bad," said Lyman, seriously. " Parsons 
 was a first-rate fellow : there wasn't much talk to him, 
 but he was always ready to do his part, and 3^ou could 
 always count on him." 
 
 " That's a splendid illustration of Faculty justice," 
 said Huntingdon. " Condemn a man first, and try him 
 afterwards, or not at all. I see how it all is. They 
 mistook me for Parsons : we are built about alike. A 
 good many thought the same, and spoke to me about it ; 
 and I can assure you," with a hard laugh, " I took no 
 pains to correct the error. I believe I must have had 
 
270 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 a narrow escape. I'm sorry for Parsons, but I suppose 
 it's his luck. Hov/ever, I don't believe he will be 
 much of a loss to the class : his example has been very 
 bad." 
 
 The rank-list came out at last ; and, as every one had 
 supposed, Villiers's name headed it. Huntingdon was 
 fifth ; and Sam was pleased to find himself well up 
 among the first twenty. Pretty fair for a boating-man, 
 he thought ; but he determined to do better than that 
 this year, and Villiers commended his resolution. 
 
 The question, whether there would be much hazing 
 this year, that was asked so often during the first few 
 days of the term, was speedily answered. The irregu- 
 larities of that memorable Monday night were followed 
 up by a series of outrages, perpetrated on the unfortu- 
 nate Freshmen, until people began to wonder where it 
 would end. The matter was discussed at length in the 
 daily papers of the neighboring metropolis; and the 
 tide of public sentiment set strongly against the cus- 
 tom. The Faculty made every exertion to discover the 
 offenders, but without avail ; and it was only after a 
 long-continued and desperate effort to stop the prac- 
 tice, during which one entirely innocent man was ex- 
 pelled, and they had finally selected Lewis, Lyman, 
 and Smith, three of the most popular men in the class, 
 and held them as hostages for the general good be- 
 havior, that the riotous proceedings abated. These 
 students had really been guilty of no offence, save of 
 paying a visit, in a friendly way, to a brother of Lewis's 
 in College House, who was delighted to entertain such 
 distinguished guests, and having a little sport at the 
 expense of the proctor of the entry ; but what of that ? 
 
THE NEW SOPHOMORES. 
 
 271 
 
 The class must be obedient, or these three men should 
 suffer the consequences ; so the class became obedient. 
 
 They were having a joUj time in the Freshman's 
 room, beyond a doubt ; and the proctor, a new officer 
 who had served in the army, and had very strict mili- 
 tary notions of duty, came to see what was the cause 
 of so much disturbance. They happened to know who 
 it was that was knocking at the door, and civilly refused 
 to admit him ; whereat he, impressed with the idea that 
 he must have surprised a body of truculent Sophomores, 
 to capture whom would be glory indeed, resolutely de- 
 termined to mount guard, and thereupon paced to and 
 fro. 
 
 " Straightway," said Lewis, who told the story with 
 great glee to an admiring crowd, " Jack, who is some- 
 thing of a musician, brought out his flute, and, getting 
 the rhythm of the tread outside, struck up the Rogues' 
 March ; whereat ' ye hero ' broke step, and we had a 
 laugh at him. He laughed too ; but he soon took up 
 his beat again, and marched on in spite of the music, 
 blockading us till one o'clock, four hours, by Jove ! 
 when we thought it was high time to turn in : so we ran 
 for it. He spotted us though ; and the consequence was, 
 that we all three had the honor of making an, explana- 
 tion vo the venerable body, sitting like so" many crows 
 in council, with the Prex. at the head of the table ; and 
 we came deuced near bidding adieu to these classic 
 shades too, for it was the very hardest thing to make 
 them understand that Sophomores could be in a Fresh- 
 man's loom on any other errand than to haze him. If 
 Jack hadn't been my brother, that would have been our 
 last day in Cambridge for a year at least. It was just 
 a rub and a go, as it was." 
 
272 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 ' I can tell you one thing that would have happened 
 if they had suspended you," said Longstreet, excitedly. 
 " We'd have just had a rebellion, and nothing less ; and 
 would have soon found out whether the Faculty could 
 get on best without us, or we without them." 
 
 At this the company enjoyed a laugh at the irate 
 little Sophomore and his rebellion. 
 
 It so chanced that the assignment of Sophomore 
 rooms had brought together a number of Sam's friends 
 in the north entry of HoUis. Of the four rooms 
 allotted to this class, he himself occupied one with 
 Huntingdon. Smith and Hawes had the one in the 
 rear; Lyman and Longstreet were in the room oppo- 
 site ; while Adams and Lewis had gone in together, and 
 were domiciled opposite Smith and Hawes. The col- 
 lege might have been searched in vain for four more 
 comfortable apartments, or for a set of jollier students, 
 than these happy Sophomores. A regular dig would 
 have fared badly there, though they were, on the whole, 
 a fair working set ; but some one was almost sure to 
 drop in at that last hour which they had mentally set 
 apart for work, and then one or two more would come 
 loafing along ; and after that it was as well to close the 
 book. Lyman had a piano, on which both he and 
 Longstreet were tolerably proficient performers. There 
 was nobody overhead to be annoyed; and they used 
 to have some of the j oiliest choruses, while not unfre- 
 quently, of an evening, the best voices of the Glee 
 Club gathered around the instrument. Perhaps, just 
 as one had settled down for a little quiet, Lewis and 
 Hawes would come in, and try their hands at a little 
 wrestling-bout ; for these four rooms were all used in 
 
THE XETV sopho:mores. 
 
 273 
 
 common ; and tlien tlie cliairs, tables, and imsubstantial 
 furniture fared badlv. while a light man like Adams and 
 Longstreet, or even Lyman, had the choice of making 
 spry dodges, or being half crushed by the big fellows. 
 Several times the stock had to be replenished; but 
 finally a place of refuge vas hit upon. 
 
 " Suppose, Tom, vre put all four beds into your room, 
 and use this for a study, and yours for a sleeping-room," 
 Sam said to him one day. 
 
 "Agreed," said Tom. The plan was forthwith car- 
 ried into execution, and was followed by the opposite 
 neighbors, giving to the rear rooms, which each con- 
 tained four beds, the appearance of hospital wards ; 
 but making the front rooms very cosey parlors indeed. 
 After this, if one wanted a quiet hour he could retire 
 to the sleeping-room, and usually enjoy as much seclu- 
 sion as he wished ; that is, if no one in a spirit of 
 mischief came to disturb him there, as frequently hap- 
 pened to Sam, when two or three came to secure his 
 presence for some pastime or other, declaring that he 
 was getting to be altogether too much of a dig. 
 
 Villiers had retained his room in College House ; 
 and it happened not unfrequently that Sam, driven by 
 his friends from one refuge after another, would slip 
 away from the merry compaiiy, and make liim a call ; 
 for in his room he could always secure the necessary 
 quiet. Thus it came about that these two friends were 
 as much too'ether this vear as ever before. One week 
 after another rolled quickly by, — busy weeks too. Haz- 
 ing was over; the college was as quiet, orderly, and 
 industrious as even the Faculty could desire. Novem- 
 ber drew on apace, and again Thanksgiving recesa 
 
274 STUDENT-LIFE AT HAKVAKD. 
 
 was at hand. Before this began, however, the Sopho- 
 mores were to have their first class supper at " Taft's," 
 " where I can howl all I want to, and go out and roll 
 on the beach," said Longstreet, rolling up his eyes with 
 delight. Huntingdon was to preside ; for lie still ruled 
 the class. 
 
XVII. 
 
 HAZIKG A FEESmiAK. 
 
 The class was destined not to separate, even for 
 the short period of Thanksgiving recess, until after 
 an event had occurred, fraught with important conse- 
 quences to more than one of its members. 
 
 Sam had kept to the letter his resolution to have 
 nothing to do with hazing. In none of the outrages of 
 the fall, that had set the little college world agog, 
 roused the wrath of the Faculty, struck terror to the 
 hearts of the Freshmen, and drawn down on the vener- 
 able institution the ire of the general public, had he 
 had a share ; and indeed, since the action of the Faculty 
 towards Lewis and the others, hazing had virtually 
 come to an end. 
 
 It so happened that there was a man among the Fresh- 
 men, who through all the persecution, had been passed 
 by. Allyne, he called himself, from a rural district in 
 Maine; a short, thick-set, powerfully built man, with 
 a neck like a bull's, great breadth of shoulder, and a 
 remarkable display of muscle, which he exhibited freely 
 on the river and in the gymnasium, where he would put 
 up the heaviest dumb-bells in the presence of an admir- 
 ing company. Rumor gave him the reputation of being 
 a first-rate " shoulder-hitter," and a dangerous man to 
 
276 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 encounter; and Ms appearance warranted the report. 
 It was certain that he had boxed with the " professor," 
 and broken a bone in his wrist, so that the good-natured 
 old athlete could not give his regular instruction in 
 sparring. That he was something of a bully, and more 
 of a braggart, was manifest. He had made his boasts 
 openly that he had not been hazed, and, what was more, 
 that there were not men enough in the Sophomore class 
 to haze him. It looked as though he would really go 
 free ; for the men who engage in this business are not 
 always the pluckiest in the class, smy more than they are 
 the most gentlemanly ; and their victims are wont to be 
 the effeminate and conceited youth from our New Eng- 
 land cities, so many of whom are to be found at Har- 
 vard. Besides, the fact that the Faculty held hostages 
 for the class, rendered it a more serious matter to engage 
 in an}^ thing that smacked of hazing. Matters had 
 come to svuch a pass, however, that it really seemed to 
 many of the Sophomores as though some action ought 
 to be taken in AUyne's case before Thanksgiving recess. 
 
 " You haven't paid your compliments to Allyne yet, 
 have you ? " was a question that Haskill had propounded 
 to Sam a score of times. " They say he makes his brags 
 that he won't allow himself to be hazed, and that there 
 are not men enough in your class to do it. It seems 
 as though he knew what he was talking about, doesn't 
 it ? No Freshman could have said that in our day." 
 
 The manner of the Senior was very aggravating, to say 
 the least ; but it was not half so bad to take this from 
 a Senior as from perhaps a pair of contemptuous and 
 .onceited Freshmen. The result of this all was that 
 tiwA were y^^y few men indeed, among the Sopho- 
 
HAZIXG A FEESmiAX. 
 
 277 
 
 mores, who did not feel that the class honor demanded 
 that Allj'ne must be taught a lesson. Thus it c;inic 
 about that Sam made one of a party of half a score 
 who went one night to put that bragging Freshman 
 through a course of sprouts,'" as Longstreet expressed it. 
 
 Huntingdon was the ringleader, of course ; then 
 there were Hawes and Smith and Lewis, of the boating 
 fraternity; Lyman and two more of the most gentle- 
 manly men of the class ; and last, as he was least in 
 stature, though the fiercest in spirit, was Longstreet. 
 This latter had indeed been a terror to the Freshmen, 
 in spite of his diminutive proportions : there was not a 
 Freshman's room that he had not visited more than 
 once, and hardly a Freshman, little or big, that he had 
 not bullied and maltreated. Though usually accompa- 
 nied by friends who were ready to back him up if 
 necessary, he did not hesitate to go alone into the ene- 
 my's quarters, where his very presence became a terror. 
 To-night was to be his crowning triumph. " I am just 
 going to most everlastingly punch that Allyne's head 
 for him, and let him know whether everybody is afraid 
 of him or not."" said he, capering around on a very tip- 
 toe of excitement, as the party prepared to sally forth 
 Xever was douo^htv warrior more eao^er for the frav. 
 
 It was only after many exhortations on the part of 
 his friends, that Sam was persuaded into breaking his 
 good resolution. His chum had appealed to him in 
 *^aiii ; and it was not till Lyman, that most influential 
 gentleman, had talked with liim, that he had consented 
 to go. '-You leaA'e Wentworth to me,*' he said, coolly: 
 " 111 bring him aroimd, or I am mistaken. We want 
 him, for he is as strong as a horse." 
 
278 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVAKD. 
 
 "This is a peculiar case, Wentworth, a class matter," 
 he had said to Sam, in his cool, convincing way ; " and 
 you will agree with me that the class is more than the 
 private feelings of any one man. I don't believe in 
 hazing, as you know yourself, any more than you do. 
 I abominate it most thoroughly : it is all wrong. We 
 ought to extend the Freshmen the right hand of fel- 
 lowship [a favorite expression of Sam's, for he had de- 
 fended his course many a time] ; but this is a peculiar 
 matter. It won't answer to allow a man who sets up his 
 Ebenezer, and says he worit be hazed, to go scot free, 
 just because he happens to be strong, and a hard hitter; 
 and you know very well this is the only reason why 
 Allyne hasn't been hazed till he cried ' Enough ! ' It 
 would be an eternal disgrace ; and we should never hear 
 the last of it, and should deserve never to. Besides, the 
 conceited dog must have a lesson : we owe him that 
 for his own good. A little bath in the river, some of 
 these cold nights, will do him more real good than all 
 he will learn for the year. It will be safe enough," he 
 added with a little tinge of sarcasm, " for Allyne isn't 
 the man to cry baby, and report to the Faculty, or I'm 
 much mistaken, though I do believe he is a coward. 
 And then you know, Sam," taking his arm, and speak- 
 ing in a confidential manner, for he had seen the young 
 man's face flush at the sneer, " we want the men of 
 character and standing in the class, like yourself, to 
 take hold of this business ; for it is a class matter. 
 You would not see me there if it were not." 
 
 "You may count me in," was Sam's reply to this 
 exhortation. 
 
 T think it must he conceded that Lyman had man- 
 
HAZING A FRESHMAN. 
 
 279 
 
 aged his case well : lie was a man to carry his points, 
 and succeed in life. 
 
 Twelve o'clock of a dark cold night, in the latter 
 part of November, discovered a dusky band issue noise- 
 lessly from the northern entry of Hollis, and taking up 
 the line of march for AUyne's room. Silently they pro- 
 ceeded across the yard ; and arriving at the corner of 
 the street near the house where the victim lodged, they 
 halted for a moment, and held a consultation. After 
 all, a man's room is his castle, and it is unwarrantable 
 to break into it, simply for the purpose of committing 
 an indignity; and, being gentlemen almost without 
 exception, they were conscious of this. All around 
 was dark and quiet. 
 
 " There's no light in the room: he's abed," whispered 
 Longstreet, walking on tiptoe (he had been forward to 
 reconnoitre). " Come on, boys, and don't make too 
 much noise ; the outside door isn't locked ; and, if it is, 
 I've got a key ; we must nab him before he's half waked 
 up." The dusky forms stole softly through the door, 
 and up the stairs to the landmg, and stopped before 
 the devoted Freshman's door. 
 
 "Now," whispered Longstreet, who had assumed 
 command, " do you fellows form a wedge ; when I say 
 ' three ' bust in the door, and grab him before he can get 
 his eyes open." Longstreet stood a little apart; the 
 black figures gather noiselessly into a mass ; there was 
 a whispered " one, two, three ! " — a crash : the door 
 flew open, the wedge was precipitated into the room, 
 stumbling over chairs and tables, while the Freshman 
 sprang out of bed in mortal terror, to be immediately 
 grasped by strong arms. 
 
280 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 " Here, get into your clothes, and be quick abo'ut it ! " 
 said Longstreet, flinging his garments towards him. 
 The fitful gleam from the grate gave a ruddy glow in 
 the darkness, by the aid of which the prisoner was suf- 
 fered to attire himself in part. 
 
 " Now trot out your liquor and cigars," said Hun- 
 tingdon, turning on the gas a little ; and, in obedience, 
 the Freshman produced a decanter, with some glasses, 
 and a box of cigars. 
 
 " Here, you big bully," said Longstreet ; " put some 
 coal on to the grate, will you ? or do you want your 
 betters to freeze?" The unwilling host replenished the 
 fire, which soon burst out into a cheerful blaze. 
 
 " I guess he won't bite," said Lewis with a laugh. 
 " He don't look very savage ; " and indeed he did not. 
 
 " Bite, not a bit of it ! " shouted Longstreet, capering 
 around the room. " Ha, ha ! Freshy, you didn't expect 
 us, did you? You've just got to take it now: never 
 you fear." 
 
 " Fill up, boys ! " called Huntingdon, standing glass 
 in hand. " Come, Sam ; no shirking. Here's a health 
 to the gallant class of — " 
 
 " What do you mean, you dog ? " shouted Long- 
 street, as with a blow he dashed the glass from AUyne's 
 hand, to shiver against the grate in a thousand pieces ; 
 
 " you don't suppose we'd have a Freshman drink 
 
 with us ; " and he drained his own goblet amidst a 
 shout of applause. 
 
 Now the visitors lighted their cigars, and formed a 
 half-circle around the grate, enclosing their host, who 
 appeared perfectly cowed, crowding him into close 
 proximity to the fiercely blazing fire. " Oh, we don't 
 
HAZING A FRESHMAN-. 
 
 281 
 
 mean that you shall catch a cold," said Longstreet, with 
 a merciless laugh. " Close up on him, boys ; let's give 
 Mm a scorching," and growing more reckless as he 
 poured another draught of the fiery Bourbon down his 
 throat, " Here, sit down, will you ? I want something 
 to put my feet on," he said, at the same time striking 
 him suddenly behind both knees, and pulling him to 
 the floor, a trick he had learned from long practice to 
 execute very cleverly ; after which he used him for a 
 footstool, coolly blowing the smoke from his cigar into 
 his face. 
 
 " There," he continued, " that's what I call comfort ; 
 don't you? You've found your true level at last, 
 haven't you ? " and he poured out a third glass of 
 whiskey. 
 
 "Stop, Charley: you've had enough," said Hunting- 
 don, interposing his arm. 
 
 " Well, maybe I have ; but I'd like to know what 
 business it is of yours. Let's anoint Freshy, at any 
 rate ; " and, with a quick turn of his hand, he poured 
 the entire glassful on the unfortunate man's head. 
 Then, striking a match with the utmost nonchalance, 
 " Xow we'll see if he keeps a good article ; for, if it is, 
 it ought to burn," shouted he ; and in an instant more 
 the Freshman's head would have been ablaze, but a 
 dozen hands averted the danger, while AUyne sprang 
 to his feet, with fists clinched and glaring eyes. 
 
 " Ah, he's getting waked up ; isn't he ? " said Long- 
 street, undisturbedly enough. Now, boys, let's give 
 him a regular trial, and sentence him as he deserves. 
 Hold out your hands till I tie them ; " and he went up 
 to the brawny Freshman to pinion his arms, with an 
 indifference to consequences almost sublime. 
 
282 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 " — — me, if I do ! you young bantam," said the 
 Freshman, with a growl ; and, with a quick blow, he 
 sent his persecutor spinning quite across the room. 
 Then, with a wild look around for some defensive 
 weapon, he grasped a chair, and, swinging it aloft with 
 brawny arms, he stood glaring and breathing hard, a 
 desperate and dangerous antagonist for a score attacking 
 ^ him in front. But, quicker than thought, Lewis and 
 Hawes seized each an arm from behind, the chair was 
 wrenched from his grasp, and his arms firmly bound 
 together behind his back, in almost less time than it 
 takes to tell. Now our gallant little Longstreet had 
 his man in his power, and woe be to him ! 
 
 Before any one could interfere to prevent, he reached 
 out and tweaked his nose savagely, and then struck 
 him twice full in the face with clinched fist, sharp, 
 rapid blows, and was preparing to continue his punish- 
 ment, when Sam caught him, and held him back. 
 
 " Keep quiet," he said, nervously. " Be still, I say ! " 
 shaking the little fellow with one strong arm, as he 
 struggled to break away. "You are drunk, Charley, 
 and don't know what you are doing. Shame on you 
 to strike a man in the face who cannot defend himself ! '-' 
 and he shook him again as if he were a child. " Fel- 
 lows, I think, if we can make any adequate apology 
 to this man, it behooves us to do so, and leave him." 
 Silence. " I don't see the fairness of this fighting ten 
 to one, and you wouldn't if you hadn't been drinking. 
 Chum, I think you had better come with me ; and I 
 hope all the boatmen will too. If this is keeping up 
 the class honor, Ljanan, I for one should much prefer 
 the eternal disgrace that follows letting this man alone. 
 
HAZING A FUESHMAK. 
 
 Mr, Allyne, I apologize to you most sincerely for my 
 share in this evening's work; " and out he strode. 
 
 As big as a turkey-gobbler, isn't he ? " said Long- 
 street, contemptuously, while he rubbed his shoulder 
 released from Sam's grasp. 
 
 There was a movement on the part of Lewis and 
 Hawes, as if the matter had gone far enough. 
 
 " Nonsense," said Huntingdon, in a half whisper. 
 " I'm glad he's out of the way : he didn't come with 
 any grace at all ; and now we can carry out our pro- 
 gramme. You haven't forgotten it, I hope." 
 
 " No, I hope not," said Longstreet, rubbing first his 
 shoulder and then his head. " Come, boys, in the first 
 place, blind his eyes." Forthwith a handkerchief was 
 tied securely over them. 
 
 " Now put him in the culprit's chair ; there, that will 
 do. Now, prisoner, have you any thing to say why you 
 shouldn't be proceeded with just as we please?" A 
 silence. " Of course you haven't. Ain't you a Fresh- 
 man ? " shouted the little fellow, while the others roared 
 with laughter to see him hopping about. " Haven't 
 you treasonably asserted that you wouldn't be hazed, 
 and that there were not men enough in the whole 
 Sophomore class to do it ? Haven't you stirred up the 
 Freshmen generally to sedition and rebellion against 
 the rule of their lawful superiors, thereby bringing 
 many woes on their unlucky heads ? Haven't you? — 
 Haven't you? — Of course you have, and more too ; and 
 therefore it is that I pronounce the sentence, that you 
 be first branded on the cheek, and then ducked in the 
 river. Proceed to execute it ! Is the iron red-hot ? " 
 
 " Here it is," said a solemn voice ; and the poker 
 
284 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 heated to a white heat was held in danf^erous proximity 
 to his face, while an icicle was suddenly pressed against 
 his cheek, causing a most uncomfortable shock to the 
 prisoner, and the Sophomores joined in a hearty laugh 
 at his discomfiture. 
 
 " Now, boys, let's take him down to the wherry-raft, 
 and give him a bath ; and then I think both parties will 
 be satisfied, and we can leave him with our best com- 
 pliments," said Huntingdon. The Freshman was in 
 his shirt-sleeves ; and Lyman considerately threw his 
 great-coat over his shoulders, and assisted him to put 
 on his shoes. Then the party, Allyne securely guarded, 
 marched quietly down to the boat-houses and out on to 
 the wherry-raft. The night was dark; not a star 
 twinkled through the gloom ; the wind blew chill over 
 the bare brown marshes; and the river swashed by, 
 black and cold. 
 
 "You can swim, can't you?" suggests Lewis. 
 
 " Come, in with you ! " said Huntingdon : " we've 
 wasted time enough over your case." But the Fresh- 
 man held back. 
 
 It's a little rough to put a man into the water such 
 a night as this," he said, shivering in spite of himself. 
 " You wouldn't push me in with my hands tied behind 
 me, would you?" he asked as the impulse from behind 
 pressed him to the very edge of the water. 
 
 Of course they had onl}^ intended to frighten him, 
 and the pressure ceased at this. 
 
 I will untie your hands," said Huntingdon. " Turn 
 around so that I can get at them ; " and others crowded 
 up to assist in the work. There was no alternative : he 
 was obliged to stand on the edge of the raft, facmg 
 
HAZING A FRESHMAN. 
 
 285 
 
 the water, while liis hands were being unbound. How 
 black and cold it looked ! Of course he understood 
 that, the instant his hands were free, he was to go in. 
 He meant to whirl around, and take as many of his per- 
 secutors with liim as possible, and stood warily waiting 
 for the first sensation of a loosening of the cord ; but, 
 when the instant so breathlessly awaited did come, a 
 vigorous shove sent him headlong before he could turn. 
 As he fell, his left hand brushed something, closed on 
 it with vise-like grasp; and such was his tremendous 
 strength, that, even at this disadvantage, he dragged the 
 unwilling and confounded Huntingdon, whose arm he 
 had caught, splashing and floundering into the water 
 with him. 
 
 Huntingdon was no match for the savage and sinewy 
 Freshman. " I'ye a mind to drown you," said the 
 latter. " How do you like this ? " and he soused him 
 under, and held his head down as long as he dared. 
 The party on the raft, with ill-concealed lack of 
 sympathy, shouted with laughter, and Longstreet fairly 
 capered with delight. " Go in, Huntingdon ! " he 
 shrieked. " Go in, old fellow : don't knock under to a 
 Freshman ! " 
 
 There was a splashing and blowing, and both parties 
 struck out for the raft, on to which they climbed cold 
 and dripping, and forthwith started on a run for their 
 rooms ; the rest following slowly, and in the best of 
 humor. Huntingdon up to that hour had indeed been 
 the leading man in the class ; but he had many secret 
 enemies, and few real friends ; and there were those 
 who would rejoice at his fall, even though they did not 
 care or did not expect to rule in his stead. His rule 
 
286 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HAEVAED. 
 
 had been too autocratic, his assumption of superiority 
 too plain, to endure long. 
 
 " Why, chum, what is the matter ? " was Sam's ex- 
 clamation, as the breathless and dripping man burst 
 into the room, rushed to the closet, poured out and 
 swallowed a tumbler full of whiskey, and, stripping off 
 his wet and clinging garments, rubbed, himself dry 
 before the fire. 
 
 " Oh, nothing much : I have been into the water." 
 
 " So I perceive," said Sam, dryly. " I should think 
 it was enough too. You must like water better than I 
 do, to go into it such a night as this without some 
 especial reason. There is nobody hurt, I hope." 
 
 " No," returned Huntingdon, with a growl ; " unless 
 I am. I suppose I may as well out with it. We took 
 
 that Freshman down to the raft to duck him. I 
 
 untied his hands, and the rest pushed him in ; only the 
 fools pushed before I could get out of his way. He 
 fastened on to me, and I went too ; and the scoundrel 
 tried to drown me, held my head under water five 
 
 minutes, I should think, and, it, it will be all over 
 
 college before to-morrow noon. I wouldn't have had it 
 happen for ten thousand dollars ; " and he meant what 
 he said.. 
 
 Sam had crammed the blanket into his mouth, and 
 lay very quiet till he could trust himself to speak. 
 " It's a bad go ; that is a fact, chum ; and I am sorry for 
 3^ou : though, if you had all gone in together, I should 
 have thought it served you right." 
 
 " But I'll make that Freshman's life a curse to him," 
 continued the irate Sophomore, " and any other man's 
 too, that ever mentions this affair." 
 
HAZING A PEESmiAN. 
 
 287 
 
 The story did go the rounds of the college before noon 
 of the next ^"lay : how could it possibly be other^vise? 
 Allyne '^as more than satisfied with the termination 
 of his hazing adventure, so that he even forgave Long- 
 street the indignities which he had vowed in his heart 
 at the time should be bitterly avenged, and he spread 
 the news broadcast. The idea of the elegant and fas- 
 tidious Huntingdon, the "nobbiest" man in the Sopho- 
 more class, if not in the entire college, floundering about 
 in the river of a cold November night, and a Freshman 
 whom he had undertaken to haze holding his head 
 under water, was too good to be kept a secret. The 
 story circulated with amazing rapidit}'. Everybody 
 knew it in a few hours, — professors and tutors, under 
 graduates, and members of the professional schools, the 
 "goodies" and " pocos," and even old John Reed: 
 everybody in the little college world heard it, and had 
 his laugh at the affair ; and though no one dared to rally 
 Huntingdon on his adventure openly (and his classmates 
 respected his wounded pride enough to refrain fi^om all 
 allusion to the catastrophe in his presence), members 
 of other classes were not always so particular, and 
 many an innuendo was levelled at him by the impudent 
 Freshmen. 
 
 " I say, Bob," one would call to another, quite loud 
 enough for all to hear, as he was passing a group of 
 them, perhaps in the company of some elegant com 
 panion, — "I say, Bob, do you know what is good for 
 indigestion? " 
 
 " Well, I have heard," Bob would reply, with a pecu- 
 liar drawl, " though I can't say that I ever tried it myself, 
 that a bath in the river any of these cold, dark nights 
 
288 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 is a most excellent specific for the disease." Himting- 
 don's black looks at such times had no effect whatever 
 on these irrepressible fellows, save to make their mirth 
 the more boisterous. 
 
 Thus, by the merest accident as it would seem, Hunt- 
 ingdon's popularity and influence received a fatal blow ; 
 and he himself felt that his power was slipping away, 
 — a consummation peculiarly unpleasant for him to 
 contemplate, for love of power was perhaps his ruling 
 passion. He knew that there were many who would 
 only be too glad, when the right moment came, to pull 
 him down from his high place ; though he still stood 
 the recognized class leader. 
 
 He was president of the Institute, the one Sophomore 
 society of those days, into which he had been chosen with 
 the first ten, perhaps the very foremost of that advanced 
 guard. The Institute dated its origin way back to 
 1770, and was a very pleasant society indeed. About 
 one-half the number of each Sophomore class were 
 admitted. The meetings were holden each week, on 
 Friday night, in a lower room in Massachusetts ; and the 
 entertainment was of a literary character, consisting of 
 debates not always too eloquent or brilliant, a lecture, 
 usually a fair Sophomoric production, and a paper made 
 up of original contributions, which perhaps compared 
 favorably with similar affairs at young ladies' seminaries. 
 It was not so much the entertainment that was enjoyed 
 by the young fellows, as the meeting together and 
 getting acquainted, the freedom of the hour, and the 
 sense of proprietorship. This used to be the only 
 opportunity afforded a class to form an estimate of the 
 talents of the different men, until the Senior societies 
 
HAZING A FEES mi AN. - 289 
 
 were entered ; so that the Institute was yalnable as yre'l 
 as pleasant. To be sure, the janitor used to corne 
 around at ten o'clock '\:\'ith his lantern and his big bunch 
 of keys, turn off the gas, and lock the door ; and the 
 " Institute " was expected to disperse. In Sam's day 
 they used frequently to disperse by repairing to the 
 steps of the old church in the square, and for an hour, 
 in the mellow moonlight, make night melodious. 
 
 At the close of the year there was the annual oration 
 and poem, after which the election of ten meml^ers 
 from the Freshman class was in order, — the ten most 
 popular Freshmen, they were supposed to be, who filled 
 np the number allowed from their class when they in 
 turn became Sophomores. This election was an event 
 of great honor for the Freshmen who were so fortunate 
 as to secure it, besides affording the Sophomores a great 
 deal of fun. The session, often protracted and stormy, 
 once over, the members of the Institute formed a pro- 
 cession, headed by the president, and visited, in turn, 
 each one of the new members elect, cheered them, and 
 received them into their ranks, after which the entire 
 company marched off to Kent's, where they entered 
 and took possession ; and oysters, cobblers, and cigars 
 were provided without stint. The Freshmen settled 
 the score, always a long one, for the intention was to 
 exhaust Kent's supplies ; and Kent, understanding this, 
 was sure to lay in a bountiful store. These customs 
 prevailed in Sam's clay at Harvard. Though Hunting- 
 don was president of the Institute this first term of the 
 year, Lyman was elected to fill that position for the 
 second term, almost unanimously. 
 
 A favorite Sophomore recreation of smashing Fre.di- 
 
290 
 
 STFDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 men's windows must not be forgotten, for it used to be 
 one of the prescriptive customs of the college. The 
 Freshmen for the most part occupied rooms on the 
 ground-floor in Stoughton, HoUis, and Old Massachu- 
 setts; and every Sophomore class, however well dis- 
 posed or well behaved in other respects, used to break 
 their windows not only once, but a score of times. 
 Tiie student returning late to his room, across the 
 college grounds, would hear crash after crash, and see 
 shadowy forms flitting around the old halls; and in 
 the morning it would appear that every Freshman's 
 window had been broken. -And this would happen 
 again and again, as has been said, too often to be 
 entertaining to the unfortunate occupants of the rooms, 
 for in cold weather it was, of course, a very serious 
 annoyance. The glazier would come in due time with 
 a knowing smirk on his face, perhaps bringing one 
 assistant with him, and go leisurely to work : it was 
 all gain to him, for there was no competition. The 
 Sophomores used to break, and the college at large to 
 pay. It appeared on the bill thus, — ^ . 
 
 Tq special repairs hy general average $5.00. 
 
 That was the student's share of the window-smashmg. 
 He must ]3ay, at all events : if he had not broken any, 
 whose fault ? 
 
 For the most part, the Sophomores used to be a 
 steady, industrious set of men, perhaps the hardest- 
 worked of any in the college. Hazing died away after 
 the first few weeks. The jolly fellows who in the 
 former year were accustomed to cut recitations and 
 prayers with so much indifference, and to provoke a 
 
HAZrS'G A FEES mi AX. 
 
 291 
 
 smile even on the face of the stoical-visagecl iiistirictcr, 
 by tlie nonchalance Avith Tvhicli they nn'^wered. Xct 
 prepared," were for the most part dropped to tread 
 the mazes of Freshman year over again, or vrere rus- 
 ticating in some pleasant though retired retreat : and 
 the class was fairly in workino' order, while hard ta.-ks 
 were doled out in abundance. "What an enddess amount 
 it seemed, to look at it in the lump I — mathematics, 
 chemical physics and chemistr}-, Greek and Latin, 
 Anglo-Saxon, themes, elocution and lectures : there was 
 enough to keep the most inveterate dig busy, and to 
 create in the mind of a man of fair ability and average 
 ambition a disgust for study that would endure long- 
 after the faint smattering he acquired had passed away. 
 At least it used to be so under the " old regime.'' 
 
 There was one never-failing cause for ]oy, however; 
 and that was that the Freshman year was passed. The 
 Sophomores still looked up with admiration and respect 
 to the dignified Seniors, whose very air seemed to 
 say, "We are the college;" but they did net appear 
 so very far removed as they had seemed a year ago. 
 There was the long, pleasant vista of Junior year vvdth 
 its easy electives, and days calling for perhaps but a sin- 
 gle hour in the recitation-room, drawing steadily nearer. 
 The professors, whom the Sophomores met for the first 
 time, were different men from the tutors vdio had had 
 charge of the class. There was Mr. Chubby, who pre- 
 sided over Anglo-Saxon and themes, — a genial, culti- 
 vated, high-toned gentleman, whose very presence was 
 an inspiration, and whom any one might know inti- 
 mately, or at least pleasantly, if he cared to take the 
 trouble. There was the "Philosopher,"' who infused 
 
292 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 the very breath of life into the Latin which had hitherto 
 been so (hy and inanimate, clothed it with real interest, 
 and made it almost a living reality, so that one won- 
 dered at the revelation, — a philosopher in very truth. 
 There was almost a feeling of regard for him as though 
 lie were a personal friend ; for he took a deep interest 
 in boating, stopped many a time to watch the ball- 
 plaj'ers on the Delta, applauding enthusiastically every 
 piece of brilliant play, and was the well-wisher of every 
 student and his concerns. There was the Greek pro- 
 fessor, too, learned and kindly and most difBdent withal, 
 yet of so upright and thorough-going integrity that it 
 was a disadvantage almost to be acquainted with him ; 
 for, through fear of shov/ing something like favoritism, 
 he was likely to err in the opposite direction; who, 
 though at flrst not quite appreciated, was remembered 
 as a noble man. At the termination of the Sophomore 
 year^ Sam would have modified very much his state- 
 > ments regard hig the instructors, and the feeling with 
 v/hich tliey were regarded. 
 
 There was a great revolution in the rank-list during 
 this year, as well as in the popularity and standing of 
 many of the men. It was now that those persevering, 
 industrious students, poorly fitted perhaps, who had 
 been working at a disadvantage, began to gain ground, 
 as the years of preparation told less and less in favor 
 of eacli man; while many a faint heart gave up the 
 fight, and disappeared from the list altogether. 
 
 At the beginning of the year, several new members 
 had joined the class, — Fresh-Sophomores, as they are 
 called, — audit appeared that one of them bid fair to 
 surpass every one in point of scholarship. Lewis, 
 
HAZING A FEESHMAN. 
 
 293 
 
 Adams, and Sam had been talking over class matters 
 one evening, and discussing various men, v/lien Adams 
 said suddenly, addressing Sam, " Your dear and par- 
 ticular friend Villiers won't lead the class this year, or 
 I am mistaken." 
 
 " You don't propose to dispute the headship with him 
 yourself, I take it," returned Sam, good-naturedly, at 
 which Lewis broke out into his hearty " Haw, havv^ ! " 
 
 " No," returned Adams, imperturbably ; but there 
 is a man in our division who will, and successfully too." 
 
 " What is his name ? " 
 I believe his name is Cole. He is a scrubby-looking 
 sort of fellow, whom. nobody seems to know or care 
 much about ; but he does make the most awful squirts 
 you ever heard. \Ye all wink at each other, and lay 
 back, and take it easy, when he is called up ; for he 
 would recite the whole lesson if he v/ere permitted : he 
 seems fairly to revel in it. He and the ' Philosopher ' 
 have a very pleasant tete-d-tete nearly every day." 
 
 " They say he fitted himself, and that he never went 
 to school a year in his life," said Lewis ; and I under- 
 stood that his w^ork had been almost absolutely perfect." 
 
 " Well," said Sam stoutly, for his faith in his friend 
 was steadfast, "if he can beat Villiers, he is welcome 
 to do it." 
 
XVIIL 
 
 CAMBRIDGE SOCIETY. 
 
 " Clmm. you are getting to be almost as much of a 
 ilig as that scrubby Villiers you go with so much." 
 This remarli was called forth from Huntingdon by 
 Sam's refusing an invitation to spend the evening with 
 him in the city. 
 
 " Villiers is a gentleman if there is one in the class," 
 flashed Sam ; " and I wish you would remember that 
 he is my friend." 
 
 He is indeed a gentleman," exclaimed Lyman, 
 " though, you Avould hardly guess it until you came to 
 know him thoroughly. I always supposed he was one 
 of the poor devils that studied for a scholarship ; but 
 when I went to him with the subscription-paper for 
 the repairs on the boat-houses, as I did only after con- 
 siderable hesitation, he came down with a hundred dol- 
 lars plump, drew his check for it, by Jove ! and that 
 opened my eyes. I was just surprised to find what a 
 nice fellow he is." 
 
 " He is one of the right sort," said Tom Hawes, who 
 chanced to be in the room, smoking, of course: ''tliat's 
 what h.e is. A man who will live close, and give his 
 n:ioney to help out public enterprises, is one of the right 
 sort, I say." In fac t, any one v/ho helped along the cause 
 of boating was one of the " right sort " in Tom's eyes. 
 
 294 
 
CAMBBIDGE SOCIETY. 
 
 295 
 
 " If he lives close, it is not because he needs to," said 
 Will Adams, "as I happen to know." Adams was 
 stretched at length on the lounge before the grate, the 
 picture of indolent ease ; and had so far mastered his 
 pipe that he was smoking very comfortably. " I have u 
 friend " (there was a general laugh when Adams men- 
 tioned his " friend ") " whose uncle is one of the trus- 
 tees of his property ; and there is a deuced lot of it ; 
 and, you wouldn't believe it, but he draws three thou- 
 sand a year." 
 
 There was a general exclamation at this statement. 
 
 " ^^o, I shouldn't believe it," rejoined Huntingdon, 
 sarcastically, " unless I knew it for certain. You have 
 -put one too many ciphers on, haven't you ? " 
 
 " What ever can he do with the money, Sam ? give it 
 away ? " continued Adams, not noticing Huntingdon's 
 rejoinder. 
 
 " I never knew or cared any thing about his money," 
 refcurned Sam, warmly; "but I have known for a year 
 that he was one of the most splendid fellows in the 
 class." 
 
 " And fortunate above all in that he has Wentworth 
 for his friend, and Adams for his panegyrist," said 
 Huntingdon, sneeringly, as he strode out, not too well 
 pleased with the expression of friendliness tov<^ards 
 Villiers which his thoughtless remark had called forth. 
 
 Of all the men who were beginning to hold a high place 
 in the esteem and confidence of the Sophomores, Yilliers, 
 as the year advanced, stood the foremost. Though he 
 had been voted a dig, and certainly was one, it was felt 
 that he had conferred honor upon the class by his 
 almost perfect scholarship ; but that he was also inter- 
 
296 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HAEVARD. 
 
 ested in tlie welfare of tlic class and of the college, and 
 lent his strength to further every commendable under- 
 taking, soon came to be apparent. He had been one 
 of the few to help bring about the great improvements 
 at the boat-houses ; he was deeply interested in the 
 success of the college " nine ; " and his tall form was 
 prominent at most of the championship games. He 
 had showed himself a powerful speaker, weighty rather 
 than quick, in the Institute debates ; he was always 
 ready to receive his classmates at his room, and culti- 
 vated their acquaintance in a manner peculiarly his own, 
 selecting for his attentions for the most part those shy, 
 reserved, retiring men, whose talents frequently escape 
 notice until late in the curriculum, if indeed they are 
 not passed by altogether. Moreover there was a magne- 
 tism about him, indescribable but most potent, which 
 inspired confidence, and commanded respect. 
 
 It was true, too, that Sam, in spite of his thoughtless 
 companions who made that upper entry in HoUis the 
 merriest and most frequented spot in the college, was 
 becoming almost as exemplary as Villiers. There Avas 
 a determination and character about him which had 
 been quite foreign to his character a year ago. There 
 was no more running-up of extravagant tailor's bills, no 
 more wanton squandering of money, no more associating 
 with idle and riotous students. He went at the year's 
 work with a will ; and spherical trigonometry and 
 chemical physics appeared to be the delight of his 
 existence. Everybody said, " What a dig Sam Went- 
 worth is jxettino' to be ! " and Huntino-don rallied him 
 bitterly sometimes, as we have seen. " There must be 
 some good reason for all this," he said more than once, 
 
CAMBKIDGE SOCIETY. 
 
 297 
 
 looking sharply at him, and with an expression not half 
 pleased. " Why, the man hasn't drunk a thimbleful 
 of punch this year, or smoked a cigar ; he is a perfect 
 anchorite, and a regular dig I " Huntingdon himself 
 had fallen out with work," as he expressed it ; and 
 his brilliant recitations were becoming very rare indeed. 
 
 Sam kept his own counsel : and not even to Villiers 
 had he, at this time, uttered a word as to the causes 
 which had wrought this change in him, though the two 
 Tounix fellows were to^rether more than ever : and Sam 
 came by degrees to consider college a place for earnest 
 study, rather than for recreation or enjoyment. 
 
 The Thornes, mother and daughter, lived in a fnie 
 house surrounded by elaborate grounds, in one of the 
 neighboring 5uburi)S, three miles or more away from 
 the colleges ; and Sam was not long in fniding the 
 shortest way there. It was a pleasant tramp across the 
 fields beyond the river ; and the way became in time as 
 familiar to him as the path to the chapel. The old toll- 
 keeper at the bridge soon knew his cheery face and 
 swmging stride, and had many a friendly gossip Avith 
 him about them college boys," as he stopped, on the 
 bitter winter evenings, to warm up a bit over the little 
 stove. 
 
 Mrs. Thorne was one of the best style of Xew England 
 ladies, — cultivated, rich, generous, and kind-hearted. 
 She v\'as pleased to see the lively young fellow, and 
 to welcome him for his mother's sake. She told him 
 in her own charmingly hospitable manner that her house 
 would always be open to him, and that he must try to 
 let it take the place of his own home while he should 
 be at Cambridge. She made a generous effort to gel 
 
298 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 leave of the Faculty for liim to spend Sundays at her 
 house, and attend divine worship with her family ; but 
 this was asking too much of that body. He took tea 
 there, however, every Sunday evening without excep- 
 tion during this college year; and jMrs. Tliorne's car- 
 riage was always waiting to take him to his room. 
 That he was the most fortunate man in the college, lie 
 was free to confess. He used to look forward to. Sun- 
 day evening as the bright spot in the week. 
 
 " I tell you, Villiers," he would say in his own impet- 
 uous fashion, you ought to go and see her at home of 
 an evening. She was divine, absolutely divine, last 
 summer ; but she is a thousand times more bewitching 
 in her own house. I don't know what will become of 
 me," he added, ruefully, a score of times. 
 
 By " her " he meant Rose. Her reception of him 
 had been cordial and sincere. He had found his way 
 to her house the second afternoon after his return to 
 Cambridge, in the troubled frame of mind which only 
 a lover knows. It had been seven whole days since 
 he had seen her, — seven years, it seemed after their 
 daily intimacy ; and as he strode up the firm smooth 
 driveway, he hoped and feared, doubted and believed, by 
 turns. It seemed as thousfh the summer witli its almost 
 blissful ending was only a dream, and that when he 
 should meet her again it Avould be only as a pleasant 
 acquaintance. " I won't give my name, if you please," 
 lie said as the servant looked inquiringly at him ; and 
 he waited three whole minutes in the most thoroughly 
 uncomfortable state. Light steps soon came quickly 
 down the stairs and into the room. " Ah, I know who 
 it is, Sam ! " she called, putting out both her hands 
 
CAMBKIDGE SOCIETY. 299 
 
 wiili a cliarming smile ; " and you are very welcome to 
 our liome ; " and straight wa}' all doubt A'aiiished from 
 the boy's heart. He was as happy as a bird. He could 
 not tell how it was, but somehow he was always happy 
 in her presence he thought ; it was enough to be near 
 her, see her moving about, even though he kept silence , 
 and no one who Imew her and saAV her, as he did, would 
 wonder that the vouns: fellow was charmed. 
 
 The afternoon was one to be remembered. " I am 
 going to take you for a drive, and sIioav you some of the 
 pretty places about here," Rose said, presently. " We 
 think very much of our drives, though I believe those 
 about Little Harbor were prettier. Mamma will be at 
 home at tea-time ; and I shall bring you back, for she 
 wishes to see you, and bid you welcome ; " and she 
 whirled him off in the daintiest little phaeton in the 
 world. "I always drive my ponies myself," she said, 
 laughingly, in reply to a half-gesture of her companion. 
 They rolled smoothh' along past CA^en, close-shaven 
 lawns, under arching elms, chatting merrily all the time. 
 "What wonder that he was intoxicated with delight ! 
 The call was prolonged to a late hour in the evening. 
 Besides the Sunday tea-drinking, Sam went to see Rose 
 as often as he dared, and looked eagerly forward to the 
 time when Kate should come to make the promised 
 visit ; for then he would have an excuse for going as 
 often as he pleased. 
 
 As the months of the year rolled swiftly by, Sam's 
 infatuation for iNIiss Thorne came to be pretty generally 
 known and talked over and lauQ:hed at in the little 
 college workl, though he was himself entirely ignorant 
 that this was the case. Since the victory at Quinsiga- 
 
300 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVAED. 
 
 mond, the crew had all become, to a certam degree, the 
 property of the college, and none more so than Sam, 
 Avho had become a very general favorite with all classes. 
 The exposure was owing to the good of&ces of his 
 chnm. Villiers had been with him to call at the 
 Thornes', and hatl divined what was only too apparent ; 
 moreover Sam, who must needs make a confidant of 
 some one, had told his story to Villiers without re- 
 serve. 
 
 " She is a lovely girl, a capable girl," said Villiers, 
 seriously and slowly. ^' I am not sure but there is a 
 deep nature there which Ave have not yet discovered ; 
 but," he added, half hesitatingly, " I shouldn't have 
 selected her for you, I think." Any thing divulged to 
 Villiers in confidence was as a sealed book ; and no one 
 would ever have been the wiser about all this, for him. 
 
 It was quite the reverse with Huntingdon. He too 
 went with Sam to " call on that pretty Miss Thorne ; " 
 and he rallied him unmercifully in his half-patronizing, 
 half-sarcastic manner, as soon as they were out of the 
 door. 
 
 " A little soft on R. T., aren't you, chum ? I under- 
 stand it all now ; " and he gave a soft, pleased, musical 
 laugh, albeit unpleasant enough in his companion's 
 ears. "I thought the young man didn't drop all his 
 fun, and turn dig, for nothing: I thought we should 
 get at the reason for all this, if we were very quiet, 
 and kept our eyes open ; " and he laughed once more. 
 Then speaking seriously, and moving close to Sam's 
 side, and slipping his arm through his, as the twain 
 trudged along in the darkness, he continued. Let 
 me give you a piece of advice, chum, as I would 
 
CAMBRIDGE SOCIETr. 
 
 301 
 
 give it to my brother, if I had one. I am older than 
 you, and have seen a good deal of the world, " — and his 
 voice fell, — " a great deal for a young man. Let me 
 warn 3'on before it is too late. Don't fall in love with 
 this girl. If you fancy that you are in love with her 
 now, fight it down like a man : you will have to do it 
 . some time ; and better do it of your ov/n accord, and 
 keep your self-respect, than to have to come to it by 
 and by, wlien everybody will talk about it ; for, as far 
 as getting any return of affection, you might as well 
 buy a beautiful image, and love that, — ay, better ; for 
 there was a fellow once wlio loved so well that he 
 warmed a marble statue into life ; but no man will ever 
 do so much for this lady of yours. Oh, I don't expect 
 you to believe me ! " he said, as Sam made an indig- 
 nant movement ; " but what I say is true. I have seen 
 just such women before ; very well in their place and 
 way, but the worst in the world for a hot-headed 3*oung 
 fellow to fall in love with. 
 
 " She treats you tindly ; and so you love her, and 
 think she is fond of you; but, my dear boy, she is just 
 as polite and kind to every one else. She is so because 
 it is her nature to be so, and not because she ever 
 thinks about it, or means any thing by it ; and if you 
 ever test matters, as I hope you never will, you v/ill 
 find that I am right. Chum, slie has no heart ! Oh, 
 there are lots of women Avithout that troublesome 
 organ, as 3'ou will discover for yourself before you are 
 ten years older. She is simply a beautiful piece of 
 mechanism. It often happens that the handsomest 
 v/omen are made up in just tliat way; and I am not 
 sure but that it is a good thing for the world generally, 
 
302 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 that tliey are. Tliey marry often, of course, sometimes 
 for the loaves and fishes, sometimes because it is a con- 
 venience, sometimes for reasons that no human heino- 
 can divine ; but deliver me from such an one ! I want 
 a woman with a little touch of enthusiasm, a little dash 
 of passion ; in short, a woman. 
 
 " See, if you don't believe me, if you can ever rouse • 
 this girl of yours out of her perfectly amiable condi- 
 ^ tion. See if you can ever make her face flush, or her 
 eyes glitter, or surprise her into emotion of any kind. 
 If you can, I am mistaken, as for your sake I hope I 
 am. I don't know her historj^, nor any thing about 
 her; but I would wager any sum that she has had 
 splendid offers before this, and has sent them away; 
 and, if she ever marries, it will be after she is an old 
 maid, and a man twice her own age. I have talked 
 plainly to you, chum, and have offended you, I dare 
 say; but for no reason other than good- will to you, you 
 may be sure. I hate to see you get tangled up in a 
 mess of this kind ; for after you have once given your 
 whole soul to some girl or other, and she has thrown it 
 away, the world v/on't be so fresh and rosy again." 
 
 This was Huntingdon's warning, delivered with a sin- 
 cerity and enthusiasm which he very rarely exhibited ; 
 but who ever took advice on such a matter ? As the 
 weeks glided swiftly away, Sam was drifting faster and 
 faster to his fate, becoming each day more diseply and 
 hopelessly involved ; but the hopeless element had 
 not become prominent as yet, and he had never known, 
 perhaps never was to know, so happy a time as the fall 
 and vv^inter months of this Sophomore year. There was 
 the hard worji, its.elf a pleasure ; the conscious determi- 
 
ca:mbPvIdge society. 
 
 303 
 
 nation to do his dutv ; tlie stealing away from his 
 college companions for an evening, after hoars of hard 
 application; the tramp across the brown fields and over 
 the river ; the hours that were like an enchanting 
 dream; the hiu^ried walk back to HoUis. after which 
 the prayer-bell seemed to ring in an inconceivably short 
 space of time. "When Kate came, as she did immedi- 
 atelv after the Thanksoivino; recess, he eave his incliiia- 
 tion a free rein, and spent his evenings almost entirely 
 in the service and companionship of the young ladies. 
 Xor conld the most fastidious lady have wished for a 
 more prepossessing esquire. His ciming chestnut hair 
 had grown out again: his ruddy, handsome face beamed 
 with good-nature ; his splendid physique was the ad- 
 miration and envv of half the men in the colleo-e. A 
 year and a half of college life had removed CA'ery trace 
 of rusticity ; and he had aco^itired a grace and dash of 
 manner entirelv his own. His sister mio-ht well be 
 proud of him. 
 
 He was the regular escort of these tv.-o young ladies 
 on all their pleasure-seeking exciu-sions, met many 
 fashionable people at Mrs. Thome's house, and, during 
 the winter, went the rounds of polite society, where he 
 might have been the peculiar idol and pet of the ladies, 
 vounc^ and old. but where indeed he found nothincr 
 beautiful, nothing charming, nothing attractive, save 
 his Rose. He looked forward to the vacation — those 
 weeks of 'separation — with dread, and wished that the 
 year might be one continuous term from September to 
 •June. 
 
 His devotion was too thorough-going to have escaped 
 observation and comment, even if his chum had not 
 
304 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVAKD. 
 
 spread the news immediate -y after tliat memorable call. 
 The little spasm of sincerity that had come over him, 
 when ho first discovered hi ^ chum's situation, had been 
 too lionest to last. The stury was too good a one to be 
 kept a secret, and ho told it to the company in that 
 upper entry of Hollis without delay. It lost nothing 
 by his telling, and straightwoy went the rounds of the 
 college world ; and, as has been said, Sam's infatuation 
 was universally talked over and laughed about. 
 
 As his intimacy v/ith Rose grew apace, and he had 
 more time to think over the matter, the words which 
 Huntingdon had spoken, which were so unacceptable at 
 the time, impressed him m'^re and more; and he began 
 to think there was something wanting in his relations 
 to Rose, though he coiild not have told, perhaps, just 
 v^rhat it v/as. There were times when he felt that she 
 did not fill the measure of his ideal. She was a fine 
 musician, a faultless perfc rmer on the piano, and a 
 beautiful singer. " Kate is nothing compared with 
 her," was his thought ; but, after his first enthusiasm 
 was over, he was obliged t;' confess that he had done 
 his sister injustice, and his ^^ensitive nature failed to 
 detect any thing more in hrr playing than perfect exe- 
 cution and faultless vocaiism in her other musical 
 efforts. One evening she phi) dd a sonata at his request, 
 which had been, of all comp jsitions, his favorite when 
 at home. He used to think that there Avas nothing like 
 it, as he listened to his siste • .-^ exquisite rendering; and 
 great had been liis delight at the prospect of hearing it 
 once more. But ho hardh .ecognized his old friend; 
 and he felt so disappointeu, tliat he thought he should 
 never care to hear it again. 
 
CAJSIBEIDGE SOCIETY. 
 
 805 
 
 One day, late in the winter, Rose slipped on an icj 
 pavement, and received a sprain that made a prisoner 
 of lier for several weeks. During this time, Sam 
 neglected all his duties, so far as possible, and was 
 nnremittinc: in his attentions. He brouo^ht her his 
 favorite books, and read to her by the hour ; his favorite 
 bits of Greek poetry, — of which language he was very 
 fond, — he translated with an enthusiasm that amused 
 liis fair auditor. " If you could only read them out 
 yourself from the original, you woidd like them as well 
 as I do," Sam said ; for he could not but notice her lack 
 of appreciation: " you would then see how worthy they 
 are to have lived all these years, to be read and admired 
 by hundreds of generations of men." Flowers and 
 such trifles he brought as often as he dared. Yes, he 
 did all that a generous-hearted, enthusiastic young 
 fellow could do, brought all his offerings, and laid them 
 at his mistress's feet ; and they were all received with 
 the same pleasant smile, the same amiable manner, that 
 had characterized her actions from the very outset. 
 By degrees he came to feel that there was something 
 wi^ong; to feel that in spite of his kind reception, in 
 spite of the pleasant hours passed together, in spite of 
 their charming drives and sleighing-parties, in spite of 
 her invariable acceptance of his company as her partner 
 in the german, or as her escort to the opera, he was not 
 gaining ground in the least. What plans the young 
 fellow had formed, or what it was he expected and 
 wanted, cannot be told ; but it was not in his nature 
 to Vv^ait, like Yilliers, till reason told him circumstances 
 justified action. Here he was, — a man in stature, but 
 a boy in every thing else, with not even a thought an 
 
306 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HAKVARD. 
 
 to the wa3'S and means of life, and a horizon that did 
 not reach beyond Class Day. He hardly expected ever 
 to marry his goddess : she was too much his goddess 
 for that ; but just as he had given his heart and soul 
 to the season's work in the boat, so he had devoted 
 himself this Sophomore year to Rose Thorne, and he 
 felt a keen sense of disappointment, sometimes mingled 
 with apprehension. Though this feeling was way 
 down below his college life with its many pleasures, 
 below his social round of gay gatherings, below the 
 intoxicating companionship with the young lady, below 
 his perfect accord with his mother and sister, it was 
 there, and haunted him at unguarded moments, like a 
 terrible nightmare. 
 
 Most of this is, however, anticipatory. It was the 
 growth of a year, not of the few moments it takes to 
 tell ; and this first term was almost purely a season of 
 unalloyed pleasure. 
 
 The rolling year brought around the Cambridge 
 assemblies once more, and again Sam was one of the 
 favored students honored with a card; and this time 
 he was not a Freshman, and understood the german. 
 Huntingdon had one, of course, and Villiers too ; 
 " though how in the deuce he manages to get in every- 
 where, is more than I can understand," said Hunting- 
 don to a contemptuous classmate. 
 
 " He does have a knack of turning up when you 
 least expect him," replied the latter. "Why, would 
 you believe it? I saw the list, and his name was the 
 very first of our men. Who in the deuce is he, and 
 where does he come from? I alv/ays supposed that he 
 was a scrub, and was going through on hard work and 
 
CAMBRIDGE SOCIEXy. 
 
 307 
 
 cliarity ; but it turns out that lie is richer than old 
 Isaac of York; and I have heard, for a fact, that hf^ 
 gives the doctor eighteen hundred a year for the benefit 
 of any poor devils who need it, and screws hin^self 
 down to twelve hundred." 
 
 Now, that last idea is all gammon," returned Hunt- 
 ingdon, shortly. " It's my notion 7ie started the story 
 for effect; for I believe he's a scheming, ambitious, 
 dangerous fellow. If he lives close, it is because he is 
 obliged to." 
 
 " Well, for one, I don't know him, and don't want 
 to. Society is getting in a beastly mixed condition 
 here, Huntingdon ; " and Hnntingdon confessed that it 
 was. 
 
 Now came our friends' first introduction to Cambridge 
 society. Cambridge society ! how can it be described ? 
 Cambridge society ! That immaculate company, that 
 conglomeration of j'outh and age, of frisky students, 
 grave professors and their families, and the scanty 
 sprinkling of townspeople. Cambridge society ! wdiere 
 girlhood is unknown, and where ladies never grow 
 passee ; where, in spite of the thousand young men, 
 an engagement is a rarity, and marriage an event almost 
 unknown ; where the girls cloy of young men before 
 they are out of their teens, and manifest a degree of 
 prudery and fastidiousness that is alarming ; where — 
 but no : the task is too severe for my humble pen, and 
 I leave the Avork to a more gifted and a more aspiring- 
 chronicler. Sam fairly went the rounds ; for he was 
 enabled in this way to pass several hours of an evening 
 in the companionship of her he loved best. 
 
 Kate came to visit Rose as has been recorded, imme- 
 
808 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 diately after tlie Thanksgiving j-ecess, and lemained 
 something more than two months. This Avas also 
 her first introduction to the fashionable world ; and 
 it soon became apparent that her head was in a fair 
 way of being turned by the gayety, flattery, and fasci 
 nation of this new life. The Thornes gave a splendid 
 german, and brought her out in magnificent style. 
 Everybody was charmed with her ; and she proved an 
 immense success, from the very first. Huntingdon, who 
 at once devoted liimself to her, was the envy of half the 
 geiitlemen of the set. AJl that were fortunate enough 
 to make her acquaintance we.'e assiduous in their atten- 
 tions ; and new admirers presented themselves on every 
 occasion. No lady was ever more sought after than 
 was Kate Went worth ; and none ever drank deeper of 
 pleasure than she. 
 
 There was, at this time, a law-student who was " the 
 rage " among the Cambridge belles. All the way from 
 Russia, and St. Petersburg too, he had come to Har- 
 vard, and to the Law School. " Not to study law yvith. 
 the expectation of ever practising it," he said a score 
 of times, as if an apology weie necessary for his gracing 
 the Law School with his presence. " Of course I don't 
 intend to do that ; but my father, you know, is the 
 personal friend of Gen. King (then United States Min- 
 ister to Russia) ; he said that if I would post myself up 
 a little in constitutional and international law, he w^ould 
 give me any position connected with his embassy I 
 wanted ; and my father (he pronounced the words with 
 an indescribable dravv^l), who thinks that every word 
 that Gen. King says is gospel, sent me here to study 
 constitutional and international law ; after which, I am 
 
CAMBRIDGE SOCIETY. 
 
 309 
 
 going to have a high position in the United Stntps^ Em- 
 bassy at St. Petersburg." 
 
 This young man (who was almost a Russian, for his 
 father carried on an extensive business in petroleum in 
 that country's capital) rejoiced in the aristocratic name 
 of Cartier. Carter it had been once. He came with 
 pockets plethoric with money, and witli letters of intro- 
 duction which insured him a most flattering reception ; 
 and to say that he create 1 a sensation in Cambridge 
 society, would hardly do justice to the furore that was 
 consequent upon his arrival. He was gifted by nature 
 with a fine figure ; ambrosial youth shone in his face ; 
 his locks were thick and curling, and his whiskers of 
 the most distinguished cut • his clothing was elegant in 
 the extreme ; his manner was a happy mixture of gal- 
 lantry and effrontery. He might have been a grand 
 duke : he was a very stupid and a very dissipated young 
 man with a very rich father. But this first winter he 
 was an immense success in society. He at once singled 
 out Kate Wentworth as the lady most worthy of his 
 devoirs; and soon found his way to Mrs. Thome's 
 house, where he afforded the young ladies, who imme- 
 diately saw through his pretensions, and sounded his 
 capacitj^, a vast deal of entertainment; for he could 
 gossip by the hour of the gay life at St. Petersburg 
 and at Paris, where his mother lived in great style at the 
 Grand Hotel. 
 
 Perhaps it was this circumstance that incited Hunt- 
 ingdon to enact the role of a most devoted lover, and to 
 try to secure the prize before some one else should chaim 
 it. At any rate, he was certainly making great progress, 
 as appeared, in Kate's favor. If he was not prospering 
 
310 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 wholly in these days ha his college relations and stand- 
 ing; if the work of the year too long neglected began 
 to entangle him, and his once brilliant recitations were 
 now for the most part, lamentable failures, so that the 
 kind-hearted Doctor, who had the well-being of every 
 student at heart, was constrained to remonstrate with 
 him over the change ; if the class at large regarded him 
 less and less as a leader, and ceased to believe that he 
 was infallible, and if his word was no longer law among 
 them ; if many had grown tired of his rule, and were 
 plotting against him ; if his enemies no Longer hesitated 
 to assail him both openly and in secret : in short, if he 
 was that pitiable individual, the most popular man in 
 the class gradually but surely losing his influence, and 
 sinking into insignificance, — this term, of all others, 
 was the brightest in his social life. lie was received 
 everywhere ; and, wherever he went, he was without a 
 superior in elegance, polish of manners, and powers of 
 entertaining and fascinating. Above all, he felt that 
 he was Kate Wentworth's most favored admirer. Here 
 were a score of the first-society men wild after her, 
 watching their opportunity to be her partner in the 
 german, to escort her to the opera, to hold her fan or 
 bouquet ; and he might have her all to himself for the 
 asking, as he believed. 
 
 He was almost content to let the headship of the 
 class go without a struggle. " After all, what does this 
 popularity among a hundred overgrown boys amount 
 to ? " he said, reasoning xnth. himself. " There is not 
 a man among them all that begins to be my equal ; and 
 they all knov/ it. What profit is it going to be to me 
 to lounge about here two years and a half longer, grind- 
 
CAMBEIDGE SOCIETY. ^ 
 
 311 
 
 ing at matliematics, dead languages, logic, and meta 
 pliysics? I don't need to know these things; and I 
 sha'n't know them, even if I remain. I have half a 
 mind to carry off this girl who moves me so strangely ; 
 she would be glorious in her love while it lasted. We 
 could go abroad where people understand the art; of 
 living as they do not here ; " and he was strongly 
 tempted to bind himself. 
 
 Rumor, in the person of Mr. Cartier, had already 
 spread the report of an engagement. Some thoughtless 
 friend had rallied that gentleman on his devotion to 
 " la helle Wentworth," as he was pleased to call her, 
 and congratulated him on the success that was likely to 
 ensue. 
 
 " I ? " quoth he, with a very foreign shrug of the 
 shoulders. "Ah no, I am not so fortunate. That Soph- 
 omore has it all his own way there. You know I have 
 hardly had a fair chance (for the young sprig of the 
 law really believed he coidd make any woman desper- 
 ately in love with him, if he only chose). " He is an old 
 friend of the family ; they were pla}unates together 
 when children, and have been betrothed to each other 
 three years; " and in this form the story went the round. 
 
 It almost seemed as though Huntingdon might have 
 had his desire. Kate, be it remembered, was verj' young 
 and very inexperienced ; and it was not to be wondered 
 at that she was bewildered by all this homage. How 
 could she help adoring the opera, — she who was so 
 enthusiastically fond of music ? The bombast, sickly 
 sentiment, and false passion, that abound so plentifulh*, 
 had the ring of true gold in her inexperienced ears ; 
 and at her side was a man who could appreciate all, 
 
312 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 and even point out new beauties ; enhance lier pleas 
 ure bj accurate criticisms well-timed comments, and 
 comparisons with and reminiscences of Old-World art- 
 ists of renown. Surely a man who could love music 
 as he did must have a good heart. She must have 
 misjudged him in her old-time distrust. 
 
 How could she help loving the german, when for the 
 first time she enjoyed dancing to her heart's content, 
 — she, who was so full of buoyant, healthful spirits ? 
 How could she help loving fine dresses and the deli- 
 cious waltz music ? How could she refuse the homage 
 of all these elegant gentlemen who vied with one 
 another in showering attentions upon her? And how 
 could she help being pleased and flattered at having 
 this fine-looking and fascinating young fellow by her 
 side, with whose attentions any lady of all that fastidi- 
 ous circle would have felt herself honored ? So she 
 danced and flirted, and Avent to operas and concerts, 
 balls, germans, and assemblies, and was content to have 
 Mr. Huntingdon for an escort ; apparently more than 
 content. She would hardly have been recognized as 
 the girl who three months ago had been so simple in 
 her pleasure. 
 
XIX. 
 
 DO"WN IN DITTSITY. 
 
 ThiTS the year glided on Tritli its gayeties, its hum- 
 drum routine, and its tragedies, for each class is a little 
 TTorld within itself; and I should give a very ^Tong 
 impression if I led any one to believe that the siun of 
 college life consisted of successful study or easy afflu- 
 ence, or falling in love with pretty girls, and brilliant 
 social pleasure. Many men there were, of excellent 
 families, who forgot what a social gathering was like 
 before the four-years* course of study was finished ; for it 
 was onlv to a verv few faA'ored ones that tlie Cambrido^e 
 hospitalities were extended. 
 
 Though the number of poor students is perhaps pro- 
 portionally smaller at Harvard than at any other college 
 in the land, there are many brave hearts (and this is 
 especially true of the professional students) who toil on 
 sometimes without the common creatitre-comforts. and 
 struggle manfully along the rough path to golden knowl- 
 edge, sacrificing enjoyment and leistu^e, and sometimes 
 health, and even life itself. 
 
 Sam, coming out of the gymnasium one stormy after- 
 noon in January near the close of the year, espied Vil- 
 liers ploughing his way tlu^ough the snow-drifts in the 
 direction of the Delta. 
 
 313 
 
314 
 
 STUDENT-LrFB AT HAKVAED. 
 
 " Where are you going clown there in this storm ? " 
 he cried, and hurried up to him. 
 
 " Down to Divinity, to see Cole," shouted Villiers : 
 " come, won't you ? " And now there are two figures 
 breasting the storm and the flying snow. They floim- 
 dered across the Delta, and down to Divinity. 
 
 " Where do you room ? " This question was occasion- 
 ally heard. 
 
 Oh, down in Divinity." The reply was accompanied 
 with a flush perhaps. 
 
 " Down in Divinity ? what, in the name of all that is 
 v/onderful, makes you go down there among all those 
 scrubs ? " was almost sure to be the rejoinder ; for it was 
 not a very popular place. Many a good-hearted fellow 
 has graduated without having seen the inside of the 
 old hall ; and yet one who has not lived there himself, 
 or had a friend of whom he has seen much who has 
 roomed there, has missed by no means the least interest- 
 ing phase of student-life. 
 
 Divinity Hall is the seat of the Theological School, 
 as might be inferred from its name. It comprises 
 within its four walls, library, chapel, recitation and 
 lecture rooms, and apartments for the students. It 
 stands apart by itself, a quarter of a mile or more north- 
 east from the college-grounds. The location is a little 
 gloomy perhaps, and an air of undisturbed quiet and 
 perfect peace usually pervades its halls. The building 
 was designed for the exclusive use of the "divinity 
 pills," as their irreverent fellow-students call them ; but 
 tlie school had not been so full but that there had been 
 rooms to spare for some scientific and law students, and 
 such undergraduates as were unfortunate enough to find 
 it convenient to go there. 
 
DOWN IN DIVINITY. 
 
 815 
 
 Notwithstanding the prejudice against going " down 
 to Divinity," it was by no means the worst place in 
 Cambridge. The rooms were very comfortable ; just 
 large enough for one, with cosey grates and gas, and an 
 alcove for the bed, and a large closet. And they had 
 one especial virtue in the eyes of their often needy 
 occupants : they were cheap, at least for Cambridge. 
 
 " Cole ? " said Sam, half aloud, as they stamped the 
 snow from their boots, on the threshold of the hall , "I 
 don't think I know him by sight, even. Ah, I remem- 
 ber now : he's the man that Adams said would give 
 you a rub for the headship." 
 
 It's a disgrace to the college, and the class, that 
 such a man as Cole should be here six months, and not 
 a dozen men know any thing about him," said Villiers ; 
 and he knocked at the door, — the two having ascended 
 two pairs of stairs, and proceeded some distance along 
 a dusky entry to his room. 
 
 Cole left his books, as Sam could see, to welcome his 
 classmates to his room ; and as he shook hands with his 
 host, whom he now remembered to have seen before, and 
 told him he was happy to make his acquaintance, liis 
 eye wandered about the room and its furnishings, and 
 a feeling of vronder came over him. Then he locked 
 once more at Cole, who was talking to Villiers. A tall, 
 gentlemanly fellow was Cole, with dark liair, and a pale 
 face ; the heau ideal of a student ; just such a man as 
 one reads about in books, as taking valedictories in 
 seminaries and theological schools. It was evident that 
 he was a cultivated gentleman, before he had spoken a 
 dozen won Is. His language was the purest and sim- 
 plest. 
 
316 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 But tlie room! so difPerent from any thing that Sam 
 had seen at Cambridge tlius far, where comfort, if not 
 luxury, Vv'as the rule, — bare walls and a bare floor ; a 
 plain, old-fashioned table, which belonged to the room, 
 and came with it ; two or three deal chairs ; and a small 
 cylinder stove, behind which were a kettle and a sauce- 
 pan. In the alcove were a rickety-looking bed and a 
 quaint sort of bureau (some more of the college prop- 
 erty). There was nothing cheerful or comfortable 
 about, the apcirtment : it was as uninviting as a room 
 could be. Moreover, there was a peculiar odor, as 
 though something had been cooked there two or three 
 hours ago, and the room had not been aired since. 
 " Does ho live this way because he likes it, or because 
 he is obliged to ? " was a query that entered Sam's 
 mind. " I should have the blues, and die of disgust 
 here, in a month," was his second thought. 
 
 Meantime Villiers had been carrying on a conversa- 
 tion with Cole, and discussing some matters that quite 
 surprised Sam. The two seemed to be very well ac- 
 quainted, as they were ; for Villiers had sought him out 
 early in the year, and had been a friend to him, — how 
 valuable a one, no one but the stranger himself knew. 
 They were talking about the hall and its occupants. 
 
 " Oh, I like it," said Cole, brightly. " I don't see 
 what more one could ask for. We have every conven- 
 ience here. The rooms are snug and warm, and well 
 taken care of ; and I do not mind a five-minutes' walk 
 to prayers and recitation. Our letters are brought to 
 the reading-room down stairs, which is nice ; while the 
 reading-room itself is a great attraction to me. Wc 
 have a sufficient number of the daily and weekl}? 
 
DOWN IN DIVINITY. 
 
 317 
 
 papers, and all tlie religious papers and magazines, and 
 no trouble of going out of the house for the news. 
 On the opposite side from the reading-room is the library 
 of the Theological School ; and there is a yariety of 
 curious and instructive and entertaining books. It is 
 a delightful place to go into and mouse around when 
 you are tired of study, and have nothing in particular 
 to do. Above it is the chapel, where they have prayers 
 every evening at five." 
 
 " That is rather an improvement on turning out 
 these cold mornings before breakfast," suggested Sam. 
 
 " Yes, so I think. I often drop in when I have 
 time ; and it seems so much more like devotion than 
 the farce at the college chapel in the morning." 
 
 " Yes : it is hard to expect very much devotion or 
 piety from five hundred restless young fellows in the 
 morning, before they are half awake, and cold and 
 hungry besides," said Villiers. 
 
 This evening service here is quite different," con- 
 tinued the host. The music of the choir and or^-an 
 rolls up through the silent halls, and sounds very 
 beautiful. I should be very sorry to have the service 
 done away. The professor is so kind as to allow me 
 to practise on the chapel organ when I v/isli ; and it 
 is H greater pleasure than you can imagine, perhaps. 
 It is old and small, but some of the pipes are very 
 sv/eet. I visit the chapel for this purpose frequently. 
 Friday evenings there are religious cervices in the 
 chapel. A good many come, friends of the students, 
 with a generous sprinkling of ladies in pleasant even- 
 ings. TLe exercises arc conducted by the Theological 
 students themselves, and are for the most part very 
 
318 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVABD. 
 
 interesting, for tliere are many very bright men in tlie 
 school." 
 
 " I am sure you make out quite a list of attractions," 
 said Sam, smiling. 
 
 " Oh, but the greatest remains to be told. I suppose 
 you know that most of us down here are poor enough ; 
 at least we nearly all find it desirable to economize. I 
 tliink two-thirds of all the men in the building either 
 keep themselves entirely, or go out to dinner and pro- 
 vide their own breakfast and tea *' — 
 
 " I should think the ' marm ' would want double price 
 for her dinners under such circumstances," interrupted 
 Sam, with a langh. 
 
 Very likely ; but they mostly keep themselves en- 
 tirely, and in this we are admirably accommodated. 
 We leave our basket and pail just outside our door over 
 night, and in the morning take in our milk and our 
 fresh loaf; and some of the men down here live on 
 bread and milk for the most part, or make it answer for 
 breakfast and tea. It is very convenient ; but unfortu- 
 nately I do not like milk myself, and so am put to the 
 trouble of cooking a meal much oftener than I should 
 otherwise be. I keep myself altogether, and lind it 
 very much cheaper than I could possibly board. You 
 will hardly think it possible," and he smiled somewhat 
 sadly, but I have lived here on eighty cents a week, 
 and for quite a little time; and prices are very high 
 now, you know. But I do not believe that it is health- 
 ful to live as I did then," he added, gravely. " I alwaj^s 
 have meat now at least once a day." 
 
 " Eighty cents a week ! " exclaimed Sam, in astonish- 
 ment. " Why, our ' marm ' charges eight dollars for 
 
DOWN IN DIVINITY. 
 
 319 
 
 meals ; and many of the fellows go home Saturday, and 
 stay oyer Sunday; and she grumbles at that, and says 
 that she is losmg money, eyery thing is so yery dear.'' 
 
 " Oh, that yas only for two or three weeks when I 
 was excessiyely hard up. It costs me about a dollar 
 and sixty cents a week for what I eat now, and I belieye 
 I liye as well as a man needs to liye. For instance, I 
 usually haye some tea and an egg. with toast or bread 
 and butter, for breakfast. For dinner, a potato bakes 
 nicely in the ashes under the grate ; and I buy a bit of 
 corned beef and boil it, or a roasting-piece -and take it 
 oyer to the bake-house ; and once a week I haye them 
 bake me a pot of beans. Then I can broil a steak as 
 nicely as need be : and sometimes I indulge in some 
 apple-sauce. I haye eyery thing I want to eat. Some 
 of the men club together, and haye jolly times with 
 their cooldng and housekeeping, and it is not nearly as 
 much of a hardship as you would imagine.'' 
 
 " I don't see but that, if you had yotu- wiyes down 
 here, you would haye eyery thing that goes to make up 
 the sum of domestic happiness ; but I suppose they 
 would not allow that?'' said Sam. 
 
 "I am not so sure,"" replied Cole, laughing. 1 think 
 there was a minister who had his wife and family here 
 last term, and they carried on housekeeping in two 
 rooms. AVhat I find it hardest to accustom myself to 
 is the solitary life one leads : it was almost imendurable 
 at first, and this sitting down to a table alone and gob- 
 bling sometliing, I don't think I altogether enjoy eyen 
 now." 
 
 '•How do you find the men of the school?" asked 
 Villiers. 
 
320 
 
 STUDENT-LITE AT HAKVAED. 
 
 " Oil, I like tliem so far as I am acquainted. I think 
 there are many fine fellows here, — men of ideas. If 
 they were not men of ideas, I suppose they would not 
 be here ; but of course there is every grade of capacity, 
 as there is of affluence and social standing. One thing 
 strikes me very pleasantly : they seem to be more 
 bound together by a common bond than the undergrad- 
 uates ; they seem more polite to one another, and on 
 better terms. There is very little of the exclusiveness 
 which I cannot help noticing in the college." 
 
 " I don't think our fellows are exclusive, do you, Vil- 
 liers?" said Sam, quickly. 
 
 No, they were not so far as Sam was concerned. 
 
 " I don't know that they mean to be, but they cer- 
 tainly are," replied Villiers, to Sam's great surprise. 
 
 " Some of the law-students whom we have here," 
 continued Cole, quickly and pleasantly, " are the rough- 
 est specimens of the student genus in the hall ; and I 
 think there is a little hard feeling between them and 
 the theological men, — distrust on one part and con- 
 tempt on the other perhaps. I was not a little .amused 
 at an incident that happened in the reading-room a few 
 days ago. I was glancing over a file of papers, and was 
 hidden from view in one of the recesses, when two of 
 the ' Divinity Pills,' as they call them, came in. After 
 looking around for an instant, said one of them in an 
 irritable tone of voice, ' Where do you suppose " The 
 Christian Examiner" can have gone to? I haven't seen 
 it for a week.' 'Neither have I,' returned the other; 
 'and I can't think what can have become of it unless 
 some of those Freshmen have carried it off out of pure 
 mischief. I don't suppose they would want it to read, 
 
DOWN IN DIVINITY. 
 
 821 
 
 yon know.' ' IMore likely some of those Yv^estern la-w- 
 stuclents Lave taken it to kindle their fire with,' replied 
 the first speaker. ' Do yon know, I have no donbt they, 
 wonld open letters if they thonght there was any 
 money in them ; I saw one of them fumbling them 
 over the other day, and he looked sheepish enongli 
 as I came in. I don't think it is safe to have our letters 
 left here myself ; ' and they were going off cross enough, 
 when in came the librarian with the missing file. The 
 reading-room is not warmed; and he had taken the 
 papers to his room to read in comfort by his fire, and 
 had neglected to bring them back." 
 
 Sam thought that was a pretty good story, and one 
 that would bear repeating ; and the three laughed 
 heartily at the anecdote. 
 
 " Yes," continued Villicrs, " there is more or less 
 feeling of that natiu'e between the different depart- 
 ments of students, though it is unaccountable to me. 
 The undergraduates seem to consider the professionals, 
 one and all, as so many scrubs, altogether unworthy of 
 their notice ; and the professional men, particularly the 
 graduates, look down upon the college boys as a set of 
 conceited young dogs, who ought to be taken in hand 
 and have some of the nonsense rubbed oat of them." 
 
 They had been sitting in the dusky glow which the 
 coals shed over the room, but now the host struck a 
 ngnt. " I save a large bill by using kerosene," he 
 explained to Sam ; " and I. find I like it better than gas, 
 the light is softer for the eyes and steadier; and now, 
 gentlemen, I hope you- will do me the favor of taking 
 tea with me. It will be a real pleasure to me to have 
 your company, and I shall not be in the least incom- 
 
822 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 moclecl. I can give you a cup of tea and a slice of 
 toast, and a bit of beef perhaps, if it is not all gone." 
 
 They accepted his invitation readily, and Cole made 
 his preparations for the meal. The table was cleared of 
 books, and a newspaper spread thereon in lieu of a 
 tablecloth. The kettle was soon singing merrily on the 
 stove, the plates were laid, and some butter and a loaf of 
 bread produced. The beef proved not to have been 
 entirely devoured ; and by the time the fragrant tea had 
 steeped, some slices of bread were nicely toasted, and 
 all was ready. " You will have to use your own knives 
 for the butter, and your spoons for the sugar," said 
 Cole, presenting this latter article in a paper bag ; " and 
 I am sorry I have not napkins for you. If I had ex- 
 pected this pleasure, I would have prepared for it: it is 
 not often that I have company." 
 
 They both declared that apologies were quite unneces- 
 sary, and Sam said truly that he had not for a long 
 time enjoyed a meal more. " Though I know I should 
 be lonesome," he said, thoughtfully. 
 
 " The change from my life of last year to this is 
 very great," said Cole, half in answer. " I had been 
 teaching and boarding around, and met a good many 
 people ; but I have little time for repining. I find the 
 work here pretty difficult, don't you ? " 
 
 " Yes," replied Sam, leaning back good-naturedly. 
 " I think it is all a most confounded bore." 
 
 " But you study very faithfully, I believe," said Cole, 
 with a smile. 
 
 Yes ; I have concluded that it is the easiest way 
 out of a bad fix, and work on this principle " (which 
 was not quite true, though just at that moment Sara 
 
DOWN IX DIVLNITY. 
 
 323 
 
 doubtless thought it was); "not because I like to. I 
 have made a solemn tow that if I survive the annuals, 
 I will never look within the covers of a mathematical 
 work again." 
 
 " Why, now, I like mathematics above all things," 
 exclaimed Cole, with honest surprise. '-I think it a 
 beautiful science : it is all explained and proved so 
 fully and exactly as you go on, and the way is made 
 so smooth and serene, one need never make any mis- 
 takes. I do not see how any one can help being 
 charmed." 
 
 Sam laughed long and loud at the idea of any one's 
 being charmed with mathematics. 
 
 " What do you like best ? " inquired Cole, a little 
 confused, while Yilliers remained a silent and amused 
 auditor. 
 
 If I can truly say I like any thing, I suppose that 
 I like Greek best," replied Sam, after a moment's 
 thought ; " but I am afraid I should not do much work 
 of any sort unless I were obliged to, as it were ; and I 
 have an idea that that is the way it is with pretty much 
 everybody," he continued, simply. " We come here for 
 the most part because Ave do, and without even asking 
 the reason ^vhy, unless perhaps a man has an ambition 
 to pull, like Tom, or to learn to smoke, like Adams. I 
 think study is the last thing we come for. Of course, 
 the work is all an imposition, and the instructors are 
 our natural enemies. That is the way most of the 
 fellows feel, I know. Once here, we have certain work 
 to do ; and for one reason or another, it may be because 
 we find it to be the easiest way on the whole to keep 
 up with the work, or it may be pride or ambition, or a 
 
324 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVABD. 
 
 desire to please a friend by a high place on the rank 
 list, or a way a fellow has from principle of doing 
 things pretty well, that keeps you at it regularl}^ and 
 industriously. Of course, there is a choice among 
 evils : once obliged to work, there are certain kinds we 
 like best, and there is a left-handed sort of pleasure in 
 it sometunes, when one is thoroughly warmed up ; but 
 I never imagined there was a fellow who really liked to 
 stud}^, who was sorry, for instance, when his lesson is 
 learned, because it was not longer, as Tom is when he 
 comes in from a pull, and who would keep on grind- 
 ing just the same if you took away all the surroundings 
 and incentives." 
 
 "Well, I believe I must say that I know I love 
 study," said Cole, earnestly. " I take the purest and 
 deepest pleasure in it, and I thought every one else 
 did, too ; and I still think you must be wrong. I enjoy 
 to the utmost every hour I can spend in this way ; and 
 I have worked hard, and given up a good deal, for the 
 sake of it. I might own a good farm in York State, 
 and be a family man, and be comfortably well off; 
 for I was not brought up to live in this way," casting 
 his eyes about the dingy room. " I have been four 
 3^ear3, — ever since I was twenty-one, working to the end 
 that I might enjoy the advantages here ; and I enjoy 
 every hour of my time. Come and see me .again soon," 
 he added, as the two young men rose to go. " I shall 
 esteem it a real favor." 
 
 " How does he expect to live ? " asked Sam, as they 
 groped their way down the dark hall. " What can he 
 do to earn any money ? " 
 
 " Oh, he will take a scholarship : that's tliree htm- 
 
DOWN IN DIVINITY. 
 
 825 
 
 dred a year ; and he vvill live on less money than that," 
 was Villiers's reply. 
 
 " Sure enough ; I forgot all about the scholarships. 
 That is not such a bad thing, — having scholarships, — 
 is it?" and Sam's heart began to warm towards the 
 venerable institution. He began to think the college 
 was not such a " miserable liolc " as it was fashiona- 
 ble to consider it among a certain class of students. 
 
 " These scholarships are splendid things in the hands 
 of such men as he ; but it often happens that fellows 
 get them who do not need them any more than you or 
 I, just because they stand high." 
 
 " That must be so," returned Sam, thoughtfully. 
 " There was Williamson vvdio had a scholarship last 
 year ; and he bought a piano, and was as proud of it 
 as a peacock." 
 
 " Yes ; and Young, who is as hard-working a fellow 
 as there is in the class, and who did not rank high last 
 year, simply because he was not half fitted, failed to 
 take a scholarship, just because Williamson took it. 
 If Williamson had not applied, or his application liad 
 been refused, as it should have been. Young woukl 
 have had the prize, and wouldn't have been off teach- 
 ing school noAY, thereby ruining his chance for any 
 successful work this 3'ear. That is one of the most 
 contemptible things a man can do, I think, — take a 
 scholarship just because it happens to be within his 
 reach, when he is not really dependent on himself for 
 his support, and there are so many earnest, deserving 
 men who are needy, and who don't happen to rank 
 high, for the most part because their advantages have 
 been poor." 
 
326 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HABVARD. 
 
 " Well, there is no cloiibt about Cole. What an 
 unmitigated dig he must be ! " 
 
 " Yes : he is sure of the first place in the class ; but 
 it is not quite right to call him a dig. I dig ; study is 
 work with me : with him, as he says, it is the highest 
 pleasure he knows. I doubt if there is a man in the 
 college that could hold out against Cole on a four 
 years' course. You know he said he might have a 
 farm in New York State. Well, there is more to his 
 story than that. His parents are from the north of 
 Europe somewhere, and belong to a sect who make it 
 a part of their creed to discountenance all education. 
 They deem it wicked as the Quakers do music ; so, 
 though they are well off, he has received nothing but 
 opposition from them. When he was a boy he showed 
 a most remarkable fondness for study ; but his father 
 kept him at work on the farm, and it was not till he 
 came of age that he could spend his time as he chose. 
 He had studied alone all that he could, and then he 
 managed to go to school a little. At length he taught 
 a school himself; and then a minister of the neighbor- 
 hood found him out, and put him on the track of 
 coming here ; and he, firm in his resolution, teaching 
 winters and working on a farm summers, without ever 
 having had a j-ear's instruction in his life, passed the 
 Fresh.-Soph. examination without conditions last fall: 
 and now you see him, and see how he works. Study 
 is the sole thing he lives for. It is his meat and driidi, 
 his work and his relaxation. Wliile I am off taking 
 my constitutional, or at the gymnasium, or loafing, he is 
 working ; while you are at the opera, or dancing with 
 Rose Thome, he is working : and working, not as you 
 
DOWN IN DIVINITY. 
 
 327 
 
 and I work, because we have so much to do, and want 
 it off our hands, but because it is pure pleasure to 
 him, — something that you and I have only a very 
 faint idea of. You were right, Sam, in what you said 
 about the way we study. It is a means with us, not 
 an end ; and we regard it as a means, — a duty to be 
 performed. How can any one, working on such a prin- 
 ciple as that, hold his own with a man who actually 
 revels in an opportunity which to us is irksome labor ? 
 whose study is the pure love of truth ? Xo one can, 
 of course. Cole is bound to lead the class. He must 
 be the first in scholarship, if he is not the first in the 
 rank-list ; but he will be first there, too." 
 
 " Come up, and let us work out those equations, and 
 plot the curves — " 
 
XX. 
 
 A PRIVATE ADMONITION. 
 
 It sometimes happens that we move about wholly 
 ignorant of an event which most nearly concerns us, 
 while with every one else of those who immediately 
 surround us, the matter is a subject of general knowl- 
 edge and common talk. Thus it came about tliat ever}^- 
 body knew of the engagement of Huntingdon and Kate 
 Wentworth, except those most nearly interested, — the 
 young lady herself, her brother, and Villiers. 
 
 The latter gentleman was not one to hear gossip of 
 any kind unless by accident. All this time he was 
 pursuing his unvarying routine of work, digging away 
 at " curves and functions," Greek roots, and problems 
 in chemical ph3^sics. The fashionable world had of a 
 sudden monopolized his lad}^ had taken her to itself, 
 and placed her on its very highest seat; and a few 
 v/eeks had sufficed to transform her from a simple 
 country-girl into a fme lady. All this he knew as of 
 course, and it touched liim to the quick. He bad 
 fought a hard battle with himself, the bitterest he had 
 ever known. The temptation to devote himself heart 
 and soul to Miss Wentworth had been almost irresist- 
 ible. He had paid his compliments to her, immedi- 
 ately upon her arrival at the Thornes', and she had 
 
 S28 
 
A PRIVATE ADMONITION. 
 
 329 
 
 received liim with a flush of pleasure that gave him 
 more delight than any thing that had ever happened to 
 him. His sense of enjoyment was keen and stroiig : 
 why should not he reach forth his hand, and take his 
 share of the good things which were so readily within 
 his grasp? Why should he not play his part in the 
 festivities of the season? He could certainly do it 
 well. Why should he risk the loss of this girl's love ii 
 he felt conscious that she was the one woman with 
 whom he could tread the journey of life ? Why should 
 every one else have his chance to win her when her 
 nature was excited and her reason dazzled by the pecu- 
 liar experiences of this first taste of pleasure ? and wh}^ 
 should he stand aloof? It was a Litter struggle, of 
 which these fev/ words can give no conception ; but he 
 finally determined that principle and duty were more to 
 be preferred than pleasure or success ; and any other 
 course than steadfast, unvarying application to the work 
 of the year, which was in truth most exacting in its 
 requirements, seemed to him foreign to the purpose of 
 a coUeo'e course. Thus it had come about that ciqiit 
 weeks of Kate's sojourn with her friend had jiassed 
 away ; and vvdth the suigle exception of that first call, 
 these two had not met, for Kate had chanced to be 
 away from home on the occasion of his two subsequent 
 calls. 
 
 He had, however, set apart a particular evening, 
 almost the last before she was to return home, as a time 
 when it v/ould be entirely becoming for him to call at 
 the Thornes' once more ; and this time he thouglit ho 
 would be early, for his heart fairly hungered for a sight 
 of Kate, and besides, he wanted to give her the benefit 
 
330 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 of some tlioughts and ideas whicli he felt slie ought to 
 hear. 
 
 He was making his toilet with all care, his thoughts 
 wandering away before him to Mrs. Thome's drawing- 
 room, when there was a knock at the door, and Haskill 
 entered. There was a dejected air about the usually 
 complacent and dignified Senior that struck Villiers 
 at once. Instead of his usual volubility, he merely 
 nodded, and dropped into a chair, and sat smoking in 
 silence, without even remembering to blow a ring across 
 to the fire. Villiers was polishing his boots. 
 
 " It's an everlasting shame ! " quoth the Senior, lugu- 
 briously, after a short silence. 
 
 Villiers merely looked up with an inquiring smile. 
 
 '•If it was anybody else," continued the Senior, 
 " even that booby of a Cartier, it would be bad enough, 
 but not so bad as Huntingdon. If I was a woman, and 
 Huntingdon was the last and only man left on earth, I 
 would prefer to be the rose that ' lives, blooms, and dies 
 in single blessedness,' as sweet William has it, rather 
 than take him ; that's just the good opinion I have of 
 Mr. Huntington, in spite of his good clothes and his 
 swell airs ! " 
 
 At this Villiers suspended his work with a startled 
 look. " What is all this about? " he asked. 
 
 "Why, don't you know?" exclaimed Hasldll. "I 
 thought you were cool about it : why, she's en- 
 gaged to him, that's all." 
 
 " Who's engaged to whom ? I don't understand 
 you;" and as the truth flashed through Villiers's brain, 
 he was almost seized with a faintness, though he threw 
 it off after an effort. 
 
A PRIVATE ADMONITIOX. 
 
 831 
 
 Kate Wentv/orth is engaged to Huntingdon," re- 
 turned Haskill, shortly; "and I say it's a shame, for I 
 don't believe there is a decent or an honest oiuice of 
 flesh in his whole carcass." 
 
 "I — I — are you sure ? " was all Villiers could say. 
 
 " Sure ? Of course I am ; I wish I wasn't. I had it 
 direct from Cartier himself: you know you can never 
 go there (Haskill had been a welcome guest at the 
 Thornes') v/ithout finding liim hanging around. They 
 do say he tried it on himself, and that she told him that 
 she and Huntingdon were very old friends, and had 
 promised to marry one another a long time ago." 
 
 " T don't think that can be true," said Villiers, who 
 for the most part recovered his self-possession by this 
 time. 
 
 " Well, they're deep and foxy, these girls, the best of 
 them;" and the Senior looked knowingly at the grate. 
 " The simplest of them can fool any man that ever was 
 born. I suspect it is a part of their nature to do it; 
 and when 3^ou come to a real wide-awake one, there's 
 no end to the mischief she will do. But you are going 
 out: I will come in again some other time." 
 
 Engaged ! engaged to Huntingdon ! " " Engaged ! 
 engaged to Huntingdon." "They were very old friends, 
 and had promised to marry one another long ago." 
 The words were like phantoms : they seemed to join 
 hands, and chase one another in a wild dance through 
 the young man's brain as he pressed on through the 
 early gloom, with mighty strides, towards iNIrs. Thome's 
 house. They seemed to dance to the rhythm of his 
 footsteps ; they kept time to the merry jingle of passing 
 sleigh-bells ; they moved slowly to the soft flow of the 
 
332 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 dark river; tliey trod softly to the whisper of some 
 overhanging pines. Couhl it possibly be true ? 
 
 He had made up his mind to give Kate some good 
 honest ad^'ice that evening, if he shoukl be fortunato 
 enough to see her alone, and had prepared it at length, 
 so that if it should not be even now too late, the allure- 
 ments of gay city life might not wholly absorb her best 
 thoughts and pervert her best capacities ; but if this 
 were a fact ! And again the words coursed wildly 
 through his brain. At least, he would have an assur- 
 ance of it from herself. 
 
 Even then she was dressed for a ball, as Villiers no- 
 ticed with disappointment as Kate glided into the room, 
 a bewildering vision of gossamer drapery trimmed with 
 flowers, sparkling jewels, shining hair, round, white 
 arms, and glancing shoulders, — a lovely apparition 
 withal. She gave him her hand with all her old 
 frank, cordial manner, that was almost re-assuring, and 
 immediately took him to task for shunning her as he 
 had done. 
 
 " I expected to see you often," she said, coming 
 straight to the matter ; for she had really been disap- 
 pointed, and even chagrined, at his very unreasonable 
 conduct. " It has really been unkind, when you know 
 that I like old friends better than new ones ; and 
 it is altogether unfair to misinterpret what one says, 
 Mr. Villiers," she added, with confusion, for he had 
 looked at her hand, and then at her face, in a man- 
 ner that asked the question as plainly as wordj ; 
 and tlien as the blood flushed to her very temples, she 
 flashed back at him a look of mingled indignation and 
 contem])t, as it were, at the very thought, that thrilled 
 
A PRIVATE ADMONITION. 
 
 333 
 
 him through and through, and effectually set his mind 
 at rest. How glorious she was in her displeasure ! She 
 seemed almost for the instant to tower above him, as 
 she stood there with flashing eyes and heightened color. 
 It was a picture that never faded from his mind. 
 
 " You know I cannot choose my companions, or my 
 escorts, except from those who present themselves ; and 
 I have not even seen your face for two whole months, 
 though you are only three miles away, and Sam finds 
 time to come here almost every day, on one errand or 
 another," she said, in a low voice. " One would natu- 
 rally suppose that all your kindness of last summer was 
 only pretended friendship ; " but at that instant Rose 
 came into the room, and just in time to prevent a break- 
 down. 
 
 She was not quite the same girl at this moment that 
 she used to be last summer. Perhaps dissipation had 
 begun to tell on her nerves, as was Yilliers's inward 
 comment ; perhaps it was owing to the shock that she 
 had received when the report of her engagement was 
 brought to her that afternoon by some thoughtless 
 lady caller ; perhaps the strongly contrasted conduct 
 of these two admirers, one of whom had been so per- 
 sistent in his attentions and to whom she had been so 
 thoughtlessly gracious, while the other had, for some 
 reason that she could not comprehend, neglected her 
 altogether, had caused her more pain than she had 
 cared to show ; perhaps much of her gayety had for a 
 time been enforced. At all events, she had indulged in 
 a good crying spell in her room that very evening, and 
 had felt that she would much prefer to remain at home 
 than accompany her friend, and had even pleaded a 
 headache. 
 
334 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HAKVARD. 
 
 " You must really go without me, Rose, to-niglit," she 
 said in reply to Miss Thornc's polite invitation to 
 Villiers to accompany them. " My headache is really 
 bad ; and I am going to rob you of Mr. Villiers's escort 
 too, for I am going to prevail on him to remain with 
 me, and charm it away." 
 
 " But this is your last german," returned Rose 
 lightly. " How can you ask me to console all those 
 gentlemen who are expecting to meet you in their 
 sorrow for your absence ? " 
 
 "Make my excuses to Mrs. ," said Kate, kissing 
 
 her as she turned away. Thus she dismissed one 
 friend, and retained the other, whom indeed she longed 
 to see. 
 
 " And now, Mr. Villiers," she said, turning to him 
 with her old bright smile, " will you excuse me while I 
 doff my harness ; or if I leave you for a moment, will it 
 be next summer before I shall see you again ? On the 
 whole, I believe I had better remain where I am ; and 
 she seated herself near the grate. 
 
 Villiers was in no mood for pleasantry, however. 
 All his ideas of the wholesome advice he had stored up 
 for her had vanished at the cordial reception and the 
 eloquent though unspoken reply to the question he had 
 looked. But it all came back tenfold, when he saw her 
 nervous agitation, and heard from her own lips a con- 
 fession of illness ; and he saw his duty plainly enough. 
 Her nerves never used to be unstrung, as he knew very 
 well ; and as for headaches, they were altogether un- 
 known ; this he kncAV, for he had often heard her say 
 so. It was an awkward matter, he felt, as he looked 
 at the lovely girl in her innocent beauty ; but he also 
 
A PRIVATE ADMONITION. 
 
 33c 
 
 felt tliat an honest friendship demanded tliat he should 
 ntter his thoughts. So after a minute's hesitation, he 
 began without comment or prelude, looking at the fire 
 with a severe expression. 
 
 " I was very sorry. Miss Wentworth, to hear jou say 
 and to perceive myself, that you are not quite well. I 
 fear it must be the result of the dissipation into which 
 you have taken such a deep plunge of late. It has 
 grieved me beyond measure to hear about it, for I have 
 feared the consequences." 
 
 How Kate would have resented any suggestion that 
 savored in the least of impertinence, had it been offered 
 by any other man in the world ! Now, however, after 
 the first flush of surprise, she sat demurely quiet. 
 
 " It is not so much the injury to the bodily health 
 that is to be deplored, broken down as it frequently is 
 by the round of gayety which fashionable city people 
 indulge in, as it is the injury that must almost inevita- 
 bly result to the intellectual and spiritual nature. The 
 body may perhaps be recuperated by a few weeks or 
 months of rest and recreation ; but the taste for a false 
 life, which is so often called into being, is not so readily 
 or so easily appeased. 1 should be very sorry to see any 
 friend of mine reach the state where parties and balls 
 had come to be the one engrossing object of exist- 
 ence." 
 
 Still the young lady was quiet. Perhaps her thoughts 
 had wandered, and she was musing over that early time 
 of their acquaintance when the man who was now read- 
 ing her a sermon on her follies was too constrained b}^ 
 her simple presence, to utter a single word ; she recol- 
 lected how very awkward he used to be, and how his 
 
836 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVAKD. 
 
 shyness had ahuost compelled her, in the exercise of 
 commonplace civility, to take the initiative with him, 
 and draw forth his unconfiding capacities. She could 
 hardly realize the change that had come over his deport- 
 ment since those days; and she looked once curiously at 
 him as if to be sure that it was in very truth George 
 Villiers. 
 
 recognize to its fullest extent the claim which 
 society has on each and every individual ; but what 
 social benefit is there derived from a german, when the 
 eight or ten hours are devoted entirely to dancing, and 
 when a thin or scanty dress, perspiration, and a sudden 
 draught of air, sow the seeds of death itself perhaps ? 
 Such affairs are not more than tolerable if quite occa- 
 sional ; but when they occur four or five times a week, 
 they were better to be utterly discountenanced." 
 
 An amused smile was just perceiDtible hovering about 
 the young lady's lips ; but she uttered no word, though 
 Villiers paused as if waiting for some reply. He began 
 to think, as he stole a glance at her, sitting there a very 
 picture of health, youth and beauty, that, after all, his 
 remarks might in point of fact be wholly uncalled for ; 
 and the thought v/as any thing but a re-assuring one. 
 
 " I trust you will pardon me, Miss Wentworth," and 
 he directed his glance at her now, " for I should not 
 think of speaking to any one as I have to you unless — 
 unless her well-being was very near to me ; and this 
 must be my apology, for I feel that I owe you one for 
 what I have said." Here the young man stopped short, 
 thoroughly confused, wishing that he was v/ell out of a 
 most awkward business, and well convinced that giving 
 extempore lectures to young ladies was not his special 
 
A PEIVATE ADMONITION. 
 
 337 
 
 forte. Of all the odd actions that he Tras ever known to 
 be guilty of, his talk to Kate Wentworth on this even- 
 ing was the most anomalous. But he was very much 
 in love with her; and it was not in human nature that 
 he should not feel sore at the sudden change in the cur- 
 rent which had drawn her for the time so far away from 
 him. This made him almost ready to quarrel with the 
 innocent and unoffending girl herself. 
 
 Perhaps, for the first time, she now guessed the 
 real state of his heart ; for there had never been, in all 
 his intercourse with her, any thing save the most guarded 
 courtesy : she had been free and almost familiar with 
 him, presuming on his thorough honesty and reliability, 
 and had vouchsafed him many innocent, thoughtless, 
 girlish favors, that no lover save an accepted one could 
 possibly have received, because it had never once entered 
 her thoughts that this grave, dignified young man had 
 felt any thing more than a friendly interest in her. But 
 of a sudden this new thought flashed through her brain; 
 and she was conscious of a burning blush, as she sat 
 there exposed to his wonderfully penetrating gaze. Of 
 a truth, her " nerves " had been severely tried that day. 
 
 She did not trust herself to say a word, but moved 
 silently to the piano ; and the rich-toned instrument 
 broke forth with that favorite sonata of Sam's. What 
 a strange way of maldng love ! If Villiers had said the 
 right words (and he had them on his tongue more than 
 once, nor was it lack of courage that prevented his 
 uttering them), he might have won the desire of his 
 heart there and then ; for strangely enough his whole- 
 souled devotion to his work, and consequent neglect of 
 Kate, had really furthered liis purpose more than any 
 
338 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HAKVAED. 
 
 other course he could have adopted. She had counted 
 on seemg much of hnn, as a matter of course, after theii 
 intimacy of the summer ; and how large a part of her 
 anticipated pleasure lay in ths expectation, only she 
 knew,- as day after day slipped away, and he had not 
 come. She heard of him as devoting all his time to his 
 college duties, working early and late, and taking no 
 part in social pleasures. At first she was surprised, 
 then disappointed, then indignant, then grieved. This 
 was her first visit away from home ; and in spite of the 
 kind attentions which she received, and the whirl of 
 gayety and pleasure in which she was involved, some- 
 times the homesick feeling would come, and with it the 
 thought of Villiers and the pleasant friendship of last 
 summer. 
 
 She missed him too, though unconsciously, in a dif- 
 ferent way. His intercourse with her had supplied 
 something that had been wanting to make her happiness 
 quite complete during this gay winter. She had been 
 entertained and amused by Cartier, and his affected 
 manners, and his spicy and interesting gossip ; she had 
 been flattered at the homage she had received from the 
 many elegant gentlemen she had met; she had been 
 fascinated by Huntingdon for a time, for he had some- 
 how seemed to embody all that was best in the many 
 allurements of the new life. But Huntingdon's powers 
 were really of a very superficial character, and the 
 two had at heart nothing in common. She had dis- 
 covered this as soon as the first glamour had passed 
 away; and she was conscious of missing the deep, 
 strong, trusty nature in which she had so confided last 
 summer : so that she was more than glad to see Villiers 
 
A PEIYATE ADMOXITIOX. 
 
 339 
 
 when he had come this evening. It was almost like 
 being at home once more. 
 
 All this time the exquisite music filled the soft air of 
 the room, bringing these two more perfectly at peace 
 than any spoken words could have done ; and, as the 
 last notes died away, every vestige of vexation, or 
 wounded feelings, or angry pride, had disappeared. 
 
 " Xow, if you will, please forget every word I have 
 said to-night,*' was Yilliers's earnest request, as he bent 
 his dear gray eyes over the piano= 
 
 "I will do better than that," said Kate, lauglangly. 
 " I will remember and profit by your discourse. Only, 
 you ought to have favored me with it sooner ; foi I go 
 back to Arcadia to-morrow, and I do not know v lien I 
 shall be a butterfly of fashion again. I have enjoyed 
 to the full, because I have always had this in mind; 
 I have enjoyed every thing so much I " and she gave a 
 little sigh. 
 
 " Seriously, now, Mr. Villiers,'' she continued, after a 
 moment's silence, " don't you think that you have fol- 
 lowed one extreme as far as I have the other? Per- 
 haps, if you had condescended to depart a httle from 
 3-our horribly dull routine, and favored us a little with 
 your company, we might have found it pleasanter to 
 have made those dreadful germans only occasional. 
 If our friends leave us to our ovtl devices, and with- 
 draw entirely the aid of their more experienced judg- 
 ment, they cannot blame us if we err at times. I have 
 peeped into Horace a little : don't he give some very 
 good advice about choosing a middle course, that is 
 equally good for all ? " Though Kate laughed lightly, 
 it was evident that her heart was speaking. 
 
340 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HAEVARD. 
 
 " It is my turn now. I am going to lecture you, and 
 then we shall be quits. I have had a feeling that we 
 don't always meet the most worthy gentlemea, or at 
 least that, if we do, they show us only the most trivial 
 side of their natures in our social gatherings. If this is 
 true, are we entirely to blame for acquiring a taste for 
 frivolity and a false life, as you call it ? I am sure I 
 think that we girls, all of us, desire the noblest and 
 truest ; I think our natures tend to that ; and I think an 
 earnest, high-minded man, with a purpose in life, owes it 
 to his friends that at least they shall have some associa- 
 tion with him, and gain some courage and strength from 
 the mere contact with his character ; and I do not think 
 that he is without fault entirely if he devotes himself 
 entirely to himself. There, now ! I hardly knew what 
 I was going to say when I began, and it is my turn to 
 beg your pardon ; but you will see that I have heard 
 rumors, and had thoughts, as well as you." 
 
 "And I too," said Villiers, thoughtfully^, " will remem- 
 ber and profit by what you have said." 
 
 The rest of the evening sped away on wings. 
 There was much to tell, now that the ice was once 
 broken ; and the room resounded with the voices and 
 the merry laughter of these young people who an hour 
 ago, it had seemed to one of them, might be an earth's 
 breadth apart. Yes, the winged moments flew away 
 till the sound of the carriage at the door made Villiers 
 start up almost in alarm ; and lo ! it was half-past one. 
 
 "You must certainly let the carriage take you to 
 Cambridge, Mr. Villiers," Rose urged: "it is worse 
 than the dark pulls you used to insist on taking last 
 summer, — walking to Cambridge at this late hour." 
 
A PRIVATE ADMONITION. 
 
 341 
 
 Kate also lent her entreaties, but without avail; and 
 once more the young fellow strode forth into the gloom. 
 But what a change ! How the very darkness seemed 
 as light, and the icy frozen earth to echo his footsteps 
 with joy ! How the river sang on its mysterious sweep 
 to the sea, how the wind through the little clump of 
 pines whispered of happiness, how the deep stillness 
 of night augured peace ! At least she was free, and 
 the great danger which he had feared was passed. 
 Until the time for him to speak should come, if it was 
 to come, he must wait and work and hope. 
 
XXI. 
 
 THE CONFEKENCE. 
 
 Huntingdon presided at the class supper at Taft's 
 with all possible grace, dignity, and wit ; and a right 
 royal time the fifty or sixty Sophomores who attended 
 the occasion had enjoyed, with the good cheer, ringing 
 songs and choruses, and the good-fellowship. Long- 
 street was as merry as any one ; but not even he cared 
 to "go out on to the beach, and roll." Huntingdon 
 presided at the class supper ; but he failed of being 
 elected president of the Institute for the second term, 
 Lyman having succeeded him in that dignity. He 
 seemed very much downcast about it, too ; for he had 
 really worked hard to secure a re-election, making it a 
 test matter of his power with the men. " I believe I 
 am the most unpopular man in the class, chum," he 
 said, just after the session was over. "I didn't get a 
 dozen votes at any time." 
 
 Whether he had ventured to try his fortune with 
 Kate Wentworth, or no, is a matter which no one ever 
 knew. He had certainly been with her the morning 
 before her departure ; but what passed between the two 
 who had almost been lovers, — if any thing of that 
 nature had occurred, — was a sealed book. Villiers and 
 Rose Thorne, Mr. Cartier, Will Adams and Miss El- 
 
 342 
 
THE CONFERENCE. 
 
 343 
 
 dredge, had waved their farewells, as the train bearing 
 the brother and sister glided ont of the depot ; but 
 Huntingdon, so conspicuous hitherto for his atten- 
 tions, was not one of those to say good-by. Kate's 
 departure was the beginning of the end of those brilliant 
 social pleasures which all had enjoyed with so much 
 zest ; for the few remaining days of the term slipped' 
 quietly away, and the winter vacation dispersed the 
 students, almost without an exception. 
 
 The experience of the preceding summer at Worces- 
 ter had served to awaken an unwonted interest in all 
 boating matters, both at Harvard and at Yale. The 
 Harvard boating-men had determined to wipe out the 
 defeat of the year before, if any possible exertions could 
 compass that result ; while Yale was equally determined 
 that the victory should stand as a representative one. 
 
 During the second term, some long-desired and most 
 necessary improvements in the boat-houses were fairly 
 inaugurated. At low tide, the water receded several 
 feet below the level of the mud bottom where the boat- 
 houses stood ; so that it was impossible, at that time, to 
 launch a single six-oar, or to get it in again, without 
 a tedious delay, if launched when the tide served. 
 Moreov&r the method of hoisting and lowering the long, 
 narrow six-oars, through the open space in the floor, 
 was, at best, awkward and inconvenient; and a boat- 
 house which ought to accommodate three or four shells 
 could be used for only a single boat. In short, the 
 accommodations were such that it was almost impossible 
 for a crew to train properly and pull regularly. 
 
 The improvements consisted in flooring over the boat- 
 houses, and arranging shelves or brackets on either wall 
 
344 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 for the boats to rest on. A stout broad platform resting 
 on piles was built across their river-front. A dredging- 
 machine was called into requisition, and a basin made 
 sufficient to float a large raft, which was securely an- 
 chored at either end by two or more piles being driven 
 deep in the mud, so that the raft could rise and fall 
 with the tide without drifting from its place. Two 
 long bridges fastened to the platform at one end, and 
 moving on rollers as the raft rose and fell, spanned the 
 distance between the raft and the platform. Dressing- 
 rooms and closets were constructed also, for the men. 
 The platform afforded a fine view of the river to either 
 bridge, and was a convenient lounging-place for the 
 boating-men and their friends. 
 
 It was to Wilkinson that these improvements were 
 principally due. He had worked indefatigably all 
 through the fall and winter. Not only the undergradu- 
 ates, but old boating-men and their friends, and the 
 friends of the college, were enlisted in the cause ; and 
 by the time the ice was fairly off the river, the arrange- 
 ments were complete. Now a, crew could launch their 
 boat when they pleased ; they were secured from having 
 their clothing stolen ; they took the shell from its rest- 
 ing-place, carried it down to the raft, and set it into the 
 water ; there was no sliding down or climbing up of 
 ropes ; their friends could have comfortable quarters to 
 lounge in while they were waiting the return of the 
 crew. The interest in boating doubled at once. 
 
 This year the Harvard was a working crew. Those 
 conceited and lazy Seniors had graduated and de- 
 parted; and Wilkinson, who had been appointed cap- 
 tain, was free to pick his crew of the best material 
 
THE CONFERENCE. 
 
 345 
 
 he could find. He liad at once selected Tom Hawes for 
 stroke, and Smith for bow. Tom's usually gium face 
 had brightened with honest pride when he was offered 
 the stroke of the Harvard: it was almost too much 
 glory to be possible ; but he was as modest as he was 
 honest; and, after the first flush of pleasure had sub- 
 sided, he very resolutely declined the honor. 
 
 " No," said he to the Junior who had so nobly deferred 
 his own rights : " we want Smith for the bow, and we 
 want you for strolie ; and I can pull in the boat, three 
 or five : it don't matter so long as I have a port oar," 
 
 "But that won't do," returned Wilkinson; "for I 
 am going to pull five myself, and Wentworth is to pull 
 three, and there is no place left for you except to pull 
 stroke. No, I sha'n't take a refusal. If I can have the 
 men I want where I want them, I believe we can teach 
 those beggars a lesson, and whip the best crew they 
 ever put on to the lake, and whip them soundly too ; 
 and that is what we all want, isn't it ? " 
 
 " Yes ; that is about it." 
 
 " Of course it is," continued the Junior. " I should 
 like to pull stroke of the Harvard : what boating-man 
 was there ever in the college that could help wishing it ? 
 But I would a thousand times rather pull five, and go 
 up there, and come in where the Harvard ought to come 
 in, than pull stroke, and come in as we did last year. 
 What we are all working for is to win the colors, isn't 
 it ? and, to insure our greatest likelihood of doing that, 
 we want you to pull stroke." 
 
 "I'll do it if you think I ought;" and once more 
 Tom's eyes sparkled with pleasure. " But," he con- 
 tinued, "you are heavier than I am, and the boat would 
 trim better with you in the stern." 
 
346 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 " The boat will trim well enough. I am going to 
 have Lewis for two, and Wentworth for three ; they are 
 both heavy men, particularly Lewis. I haven't made 
 up my mind as to four ; but Smith is light, and I'll have 
 the boat trim just as she ought to." 
 
 " Well, now, let me tell you one thing," said Tom, 
 warming with the subject. " Take an axe, and make 
 toothpicks of that last year's Harvard, and get a boat 
 not over nineteen inches wide." 
 
 " I don't believe in your narrow boats. That is too 
 narrow," returned Wilkinson, doubtfully. " You men 
 did wonders last summer, but I don't believe it was the 
 narrow boat." 
 
 " It was more the boat than any other one thing," 
 said Tom, earnestly. "I don't believe in a boat any 
 wider than is just enough to sit in ; " and the two friends 
 parted to renew their discussion at the earliest oppor- 
 tunity. 
 
 All this had happened in the fall, and the men had 
 worked regularly through the winter, with a zeal which 
 was something new. Hawes had invented a machine 
 called a rowing- weight ; and Wilkinson had by dint of 
 perseverance introduced three or four of them into the 
 gymnasium. The apparatus was simple, and afforded 
 splendid practice through the winter months, and was 
 as near like pulling in a boat as any thing could well be. 
 The men had worked manfully at these weights, follow- 
 ing the lead of Wilkinson and Hawes, who, estimating 
 that eight hundred strokes was about equal to a pull of 
 three miles, had set that stint for the crew. The result 
 of this was that when the river opened the men were 
 in splendid physical condition, and there was no need 
 of over-exertion. 
 
THE CONFBHEXCE. 
 
 347 
 
 Unaccountable as it appeared to Tom Hawes and 
 "Wilkinson, Sam had receiyed the intimation that he 
 was to pull three in the Harvard, with a coolness 
 almost amounting to indifference ; and had paid no 
 attention whatever to the suggestion of the captain 
 that eight hundred strokes a day on the weights were 
 absolutely required of every member of the crew. All 
 his old enthusiasm seemed to have disappeared ; and 
 finally, when pressed on the matter by Wilkinson and 
 the rest, he said, though apparently not without some 
 misgivings, that he thought he shouldn't pull that year. 
 After this decision was once announced he seemed more 
 inclined to adhere to it, the more he was importuned ; 
 and, of a truth, he was assailed on all sides in a manner 
 that made it very difficult for him. The worst of it all 
 was that he was unable to offer a single reason for his 
 strange determination. It hurt his own feelings more 
 than any one imagined ; for Went worth was generally 
 considered the very best man in the boat, and his action 
 in refusing to pull was something which every man in 
 the college felt he had a personal interest in, and which 
 he had a right to make a personal matter of if he chose. 
 And many chose to do so. Men whom he respected, 
 and who were prominent in their classes, argued the 
 matter with Sam again and again. It was hard to sav 
 Ko, and doubly hard to say No to TIawes, his old stroke, 
 who was grieved and disappointed more than he could 
 express ; and to Smith, his old captain, who was at first 
 severe enough in his condemnation. Then there were 
 Lewis and Lyman, and Adams and Longstreet, and 
 even Haskill, who never let slip an opportunity of ex- 
 pressijig his views about a man who had it in his power 
 
348 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 to " let his college be whipped by a set of beastly beg- 
 gars, and everlastingly disgraced, or to go in and ' pluck 
 up drowning honor by the roots,' as sweet William hath 
 
 it, and refused to ; and all on account of some 
 
 obstinate notion that the young man has taken, for 
 there's no sense in it all." 
 
 " If I was big enough I'd thrash you into it," Long- 
 street said a score of times, shaking his fist in his big- 
 classmate's face. 
 
 Even Villiers looked gravely at his friend with his 
 serious eyes, whenever the matter came up, and some- 
 times argued the point with him. 
 
 " If you were devoting yourself to study, and didn't 
 wish to pull on that account, I shouldn't have a word 
 to say ; but you are not doing that, as you must confess, 
 and you had much better be in the boat, in my judg- 
 ment." ■ 
 
 Huntingdon was almost the only man, of all Sam's 
 friends, who did not urge him to reverse his decision ; 
 and he had come to look with too much envy on the 
 young fellow's popularity and fair prospects to give him 
 wittingly any advice that would tend to further his 
 advancement in either of these matters. 
 
 Sam bore all this pressure with infinite good-nature, 
 as indeed he felt that he was in duty bound to bear it ; 
 and he even consented to a proposition by Wilkinson 
 that he should work along with the men even if he 
 would not agree to pull. " It won't hurt you, at all 
 events," said Wilkinson ; " and by the time we get into 
 the boat you may change your mind," 
 
 So the young man worked faithfully with his com- 
 rades, with whom, indeed, he would fain have joined 
 
THE CONFEEEXCE. 
 
 349 
 
 himself heart and soul, only that he had heard Rose 
 Thorne say some few words that led him to think 
 she did not altogether approve of a young gentleman's 
 pulling in a boat. It was only a remark that was 
 spoken incidentally, a protest from the most delicately 
 sensitive part of her nature against the hard work and 
 rough usage consequent upon a season's training in a 
 six-oar, and the effect upon a gentleman's appearance, — 
 one which she would not perhaps have re-affirmed ; but 
 it was fraught with meaning to Sam. As the weeks 
 and months rolled away, he became more and more 
 determined to win her ; and thus he had resolved that, 
 if rough hands and a sunburned face made him less 
 acceptable to her, he would never pull in a six-oar 
 again. 
 
 So through the winter and early spring he worked 
 along with the crew; for he felt that he must have seme 
 exercise, and that he might as well take it in this form 
 as in another. He had even been out in the boat with 
 them once or twice. It became apparent, that unless he 
 was going to take the place in the boat, and keep it, 
 he ought to say so, and retire for good and all ; and 
 meeting Wilkinson and Hawes on the Delta, as they 
 were coming up from the gymnasium, he told them so, 
 though he did it with a he^vy spirit. 
 
 It happened just then that the cheery form of the 
 Philosopher, who was almost the only professor in the 
 college who manifested any interest in the sports of the 
 students, drew near the three boating-men. 
 
 " I tell you what," said Tom, suddenly, " let's leave it 
 out to him," pointing over his shoulder. "Will you? 
 Come, now, that is fair; " and his face brightened. 
 
350 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 " I don't see why it isn't," said Wilkinson, earnestly 
 " we are all of us interested parties, and of course preju 
 diced in this matter. I know, Wentworth, you must 
 have some very strong reasons for holding out as you 
 do ; perhaps you wouldn't care to tell us what they are 
 altogether. Now, there isn't a man connected with the 
 college more respected, or more justly respected, than 
 he is," nodding with his head. " You can tell him, if 
 you like, without it's going any further. Will you 
 leave it to him ? Quick, or he'll pass by ! " 
 
 " Yes," said Sam, with sudden resolution, " I will ; " 
 and the three young men turned, and intercepted the 
 professor, who stopped with an inquiring smile; and 
 Wilkinson opened the matter, — 
 
 "We know that you are interested in every thing 
 which concerns the students ; and that is the excuse we 
 offer for bringing a matter before you, as we beg your 
 leave to do." 
 
 " No excuses are necessary, Mr. Wilkinson," said the 
 Philosopher ; and he nodded and smiled. 
 
 " We have agreed to leave to your judgment a 
 matter which concerns the college as well as ourselves, 
 and about which we cannot agree." 
 
 The Philosopher nodded again, though more seriously. 
 
 " You know we are boating-men ; and I am chosen to 
 select the crew who are to represent the college in the 
 contest with Yale. It is an honor which I feel all the 
 more deeply the responsibility of, in the face of last 
 summer's experience ; and I am bound to do every 
 thing I can to secure the best men. I have made 
 Hawes s^-roke, and Smith bow of the Harvard ; and of 
 course we counted on Wentworth to pull the same 
 
THE CONFERENCE. 
 
 351 
 
 place that he did last year in his class boat. But he has 
 refused to pull at all ; and nothing that I or any one 
 else has been able to say could make him change his 
 mind. I haven't argued with hun much during the 
 winter, because I thought he would come around all 
 right when the river opened ; and he has kept along, at 
 my request, with the men in their work. I don't think 
 we ought to go to Worcester tliis summer, unless we 
 can have the best crew that the college can possibly 
 turn out ; for I think, if we do, that there will only be 
 a repetition of what occurred last summer. Yale will 
 have the same crew almost without exception ; and to 
 beat it I believe we have got to make the best time that 
 has ever been made yet by any college crew, in a six- 
 oar. When I say that Wentworth is the best man in 
 the college to pull three in the Harvard, I only say 
 what everybody in Cambridge knows to be a fact. If 
 we go to Worcester without him, we shall go there with 
 a second-rate crew. There has been a good deal of 
 money contributed and expended, that we boating-men 
 might have a better chance on the river, and keep up, if 
 possible, with the increased interest in boating matters 
 which has come about at Yale ; and the money was 
 Tnostly given by graduates and friends of the college, 
 and readily too, when matters were explained to them, 
 DC cause they all felt that it wasn't pleasant to go up to 
 Worcester, and see the Harvard beaten, or fair that our 
 boating-men shouldn't have better facilities. For one, I 
 have spent time on these things that almost every one 
 would say ought to be devoted to other matters ; but I 
 have felt that some one must attend to them, or the 
 college regatta would have to be given up ; and I have 
 
352 STTTDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 neglected my regular duties for this business, because 
 I have felt that the college was more to me than I was 
 to myself; and I think every man would feel so, if 
 he would only look at the question in its proper light. 
 I thought all along that, when we fairly got into the 
 boat, Wentworth would come around all right; for 
 I couldn't see any reason why he should not, compared 
 with the reasons why he should ; but he still holds out. 
 I know that he must have some reason for this which is 
 good and valid in his own mind, though I have no idea 
 what it is ; but I don't believe that it is sufficient in 
 itself, or that it would really weigh against his doing as 
 we wish to have him. Mr. Hawes suggested that we 
 leave the question with you to decide, we to state our 
 reasons why he should come into the Harvard to you, 
 and he to state his why he should not, privately if he 
 pleased; and then you should decide whether he 
 should pull, or not. If you say No, then nothing more 
 shall be said ; but we will do the best we can without 
 him. Wentworth has assented to this. I think I have 
 presented my reasons. Shall we retire for a while?" 
 and he looked earnestly at Sam. 
 
 The Philosopher looked at him too, through his 
 spectacles, with a curious smile. 
 
 Sam stood doubtful. Should he make a clean breast 
 of it to the professor, whom indeed he felt he could 
 trust as the very soul of honor? should he tell him 
 that there was a girl who was more to him than him- 
 self, than the college, than the whole world ; and that 
 it was to win her, if so it might be permitted him, that 
 he had decided against his own wishes and his friends' 
 entreaties ? After all, unless she loved him (and he 
 
THE CO^^FEREXCE. 
 
 353 
 
 had come to feel almost sure that she did not), could 
 he ever possess her ? And if she loved him, would she 
 love him any the less for doing his part with all his 
 might (even though it made him rougher and less gen- 
 tlemanly in appearance for a little time), if those compe- 
 tent to judge thought he could do that part better than 
 any one else for the honor and glory of his college, 
 whose welfare he had at heart as deeply and sincerely 
 as any one? If she did not love him, would she accept 
 him on account of this sacrifice of which she could know 
 nothing? He stood irresolute under the gray clouds of 
 that cold, damp spring afternoon, the professor regard- 
 ing him earnestly on the one hand, the two friends half 
 in the act of withdrav/ing, and eagerly waiting an inti- 
 mation from him to do so, on the other. 
 
 " I will pull," he said gravely to Wilkinson and Tom. 
 It seemed almost as though he had said, " I will give 
 up Rose Thorne ; " and to the professor, " I am sorry 
 I have caused you all this trouble for nothing." 
 
 "It is not for nothing if it has in some way led 
 you to make up your mind for yourself," said the 
 Philosopher, nodding again, " as seems to be the case." 
 
 " You would have decided against me, at any rate," 
 said Sam, smiling sadly at him. 
 
 " That is by no means sure," said the professor, put- 
 ting his arm through the student's. Nodding pleasantly 
 to Wilkinson and Hawes, he moved on with Sam across 
 the Delta; for he perceived that he was not more than 
 half reconciled. I am glad you made up your mind 
 for yourself; for I am sure I wanted to have you in 
 the Harvard as much as ]\Ir. Hawes. But I should hardly 
 have dared to send you there against your own convic- 
 tions." 
 
354 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVAED. 
 
 " My convictions were all for my going in." 
 
 " Then I am sure you decided wisely. Unless there 
 is som3 strong moral conviction to the contrary, or 
 unless a man's scholarship is going to be entirely ruined, 
 any one who can pull as well as you can ought to do so, 
 particularly in an emergency like the present. By 
 another year, you will have earned . exemption if you 
 wish to claim it. I should have decided against you, if 
 your reasons had proved merely personal." 
 
 " Personal and selfish," returned Sam, laughing a 
 little bitterly. 
 
 The Philosopher looked quickly and sharply though 
 kindly at the young man, but made no reply ; and the 
 twain walked on in silence. 
 
 " Come in, Mr. Wentworth," he said, as at length 
 they reached his house ; " oblige me. Come in, and 
 smoke a cigar with me ; " and they entered. 
 
 Sam was now once more fairly in a six, and pulling 
 very much as the year before, except that the work was 
 harder and more regular since they could always launch 
 the shell at a regular hour of the day : only, this year 
 there was no training for any Harvard regatta; and 
 instead of being in a Freshman boat, he was the most 
 popular and most boasted oar in the college. The plat- 
 form in front of the boat-houses was always thronged, of 
 a pleasant evening, with fellows who were there to give 
 the crew a hearty greeting, and bear a hand in stowing 
 away the boat if permitted ; and to say that Sam re- 
 pented of his decision would not be true. His calls at 
 the Thornes' were less frequent, of course, than they had 
 been wt en Kate was there, or for some time after; but 
 
THE CONFERENCE. 
 
 355 
 
 he never missed his Sunday evening tea there, and was 
 pretty certain to meet Rose at least once during the 
 week. She smiled approval too of the work he was 
 doing in the boat, when he told her, as he did not till 
 late in the spring. 
 
 " You enjoy it so much," she said, with one of her 
 charming smiles (she had been peculiarly gracious to 
 him that Sunday evening, quite bewildering him) ; " and 
 I am sure you will win this year as you did last. I am 
 sorry," and she looked him full in the face with the 
 slightest conscious blush, " that I shall not be here to 
 witness your triumph." 
 
 " Not be here ! " said Sam, feeling as though some 
 terrible revelation were coming. 
 
 " No," said she, very sweetly : " we are going to 
 Europe in June. The day after Class Day, I think, the 
 steamer sails. It has only just now been decided on." 
 
 Sam sat silent. " Do you go alone ? " he said, at length. 
 
 " Yes ; mamma and I. We are old travellers, and 
 have been before." 
 
 " For a long visit ? " 
 
 " Nothing is decided. Mamma's health is very deli- 
 cate, and has been for some time ; and she is confident 
 that the change will do her good. How long we shall 
 stay is of course uncertain ; but probably a year or two. 
 "We go direct to the South of France." 
 
 How easil}' she spoke the words, as though it were 
 only a week's shopping in New York that she was 
 announcing I That was all that was ever said between 
 these two about the separation ; the preparations, as the 
 summ3r drew on, going steadily on. There was much 
 to be accomplished ; but all was done without remark. 
 
XXII. 
 
 haskill's spread. 
 
 The second term of the Sophomore year had drawn 
 nearly to its close, and the class had passed over half 
 the curriculum. It had been a prosperous year for this 
 company of students, replete with earnest work; and 
 though this had been sometimes grumbled at a good 
 deal, there was not a man but felt that he had been 
 improved. It had been a year productive of great 
 changes on the rank-list, as will appear by and by: 
 many who had stood high falling ignominiously ; while 
 slow, steady-working, painstaking men had climbed 
 into their places. It had been a year bringing, as we 
 have seen, changes in the class leadership ; Huntingdon, 
 and such of his followers as adhered to him still, having 
 gradually lost their influence, though no particular man 
 had succeeded that worthy ; perhaps because there had 
 been no occasion for a leader, after the time for fighting 
 Sophomores and hazing Freshmen had passed by. For 
 the most part, the members of the class had lost their 
 boyish looks, and had grown mature and manly. When 
 the last Sophomore annual (these annuals were the 
 severest tests of the entire four years) was finished, and 
 the men came from the ordeal Juniors, there was a 
 feeling of complacency quite indescribable pervading 
 their cheerful faces. 
 
 356 
 
haskill's spread. 
 
 357 
 
 It had been arranged that Kate and Mrs. Wentworth 
 should come to Cambridge some days before Class Day, 
 in order that they might not only be Haskill's guests 
 on that occasion, but also have an opportunity of visit- 
 ing the hall and buildings. They were to remain till 
 after the Thornes had sailed. 
 
 " That will.be charming! " exclaimed Miss Eldredge, 
 when Sam, announcing the plan, interceded for her 
 assistance in procuring rooms for them. " I will arrange 
 all that," said she. " They shall have my rooms ; and 
 I can get on very easily, without the slightest incon- 
 venience." 
 
 If Cambridge is ever charming, it is during these 
 early weeks in June. The college grounds with the 
 breezy elms, nicely kept walks and drives, and fresh 
 green turf, are then the centre of attraction to visitors 
 and friends of the students. There was ample oppor- 
 tunity to inspect every thing, — Harvard Hall, with its 
 pictures and sanded floor, and its trophies of bat and 
 oar ; the chapel, and the old chapel ; the museum in 
 Boylston, and the other museum " down by Divinity;" 
 Gore Hall the library, with its jocund custodian, 
 equally an object of interest with the stores of books 
 and pictures ; the Botanical Gardens, a mile away. 
 Everywhere the ladies received the kindest attention ; 
 and Villiers even gained permission for them to visit 
 the observatory, and look through the big telescope. 
 
 It was a season of the freshest pleasure, pleasure as 
 delightful as the season. Escorts were never wanting. 
 Sam, to be sure, was not to be counted on always, and 
 Himtingdon made no attempt at renewing his old inti- 
 macy ; but Villiers remembered the admonition he had 
 
358 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 received on a certain occasion, and found his time quite 
 at the ladies' disposal. Haskill, too, could call himself 
 his own master, for which he expressed his devout 
 thanks in his own peculiar way more than once ; and a 
 guide more replete with anecdote, or one affording more 
 entertainment by wonderful recitals, it would have 
 been impossible to secure. Adams always made his 
 companionship felt by his considerate care; and Mr. 
 Cartier, who was still the social lion of Cambridge, 
 was pleased to attach himself to this party for the 
 time. 
 
 Then there were croquet parties (the game was at 
 that time just at its greatest popularity) for morning, 
 afternoon, and evening ; and one evening serenade while 
 they were at the Thornes'. It was the last evening 
 they were to spend there ; and the music very much 
 delighted the girls. The evening for the Glee Club 
 concert brought a pouring rain ; but the little Lyceum 
 Hall, always too small for these entertainments, was 
 crammed full of youth and beauty ; and the delight at 
 the songs was, as usual, most enthusiastic. 
 
 Mr. Cartier was pleased to devote himself during these 
 June days to this party of friends ; and it soon became 
 apparent to all to whom his attentions were especially 
 offered ; for he was even more devoted to Kate Went- 
 worth than Huntingdon had ever been. His gallantry, 
 though always the pink of politeness and decorum, was 
 something essentially different from what had ever been 
 tendered the girl before. It indicated plainly, though 
 perhaps in a manner too subtle for analysis, the social 
 school in which the young gentleman had been reared. 
 It was almost impossible to refuse his attentions with- 
 
haskill's spread. 
 
 859 
 
 out positive rudeness ; and Kate accepted them and en- 
 joyed tliem to a degree and in a manner which alarmed 
 some of her friends a little, and harrowed poor Villiers 
 cruelly enough, though with the exception of vouch- 
 safing one of his grave looks now and then he made no 
 sign. 
 
 Others were, however, not so delicate, or at least 
 saw their duty in the premises differently ; and one day 
 Kate was surprised at receiving a little private advice 
 from her friend Haskill. 
 
 " That Cartier is getting to be a fast friend of yours," 
 he said to her, suddenly. 
 
 " Hardly a friend, Mr. Haskill, though he is very 
 polite and entertaining." 
 
 " I am glad to hear you say that," said the Senior, 
 quaking inwardly. 
 
 "What? — that he is polite and entertaining?" and 
 she laughed brightly. 
 
 " No : that he is not a friend of yours. He isn't fit 
 to be any girl's friend. He is worse than the other one, 
 if possible." 
 
 Kate flushed with anger, and her blue eyes gleamed. 
 She looked at the little fellow by her side, whose heart 
 sank into his very boots : he was so thoroughly fright- 
 ened that she relented at once. It was not an hour 
 since she had heard something of the kind hinted at by 
 her best friend, Mary Eldredge. 
 
 " I thought you couldn't know," said Haskill, humbly, 
 by way of apology, " though of course it wasn't my 
 business to tell you." 
 
 " Yes, it was," said Kate, graciously, for her anger 
 had quite vanished, " and I thank ^ou too. Of course 
 
360 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 I know him only as I meet him. He is received every- 
 where, and he is very polite and entertaining ; though I 
 have always thought him a very simple person." 
 
 " Well," said Haskill, in his own peculiar manner, for 
 his courage returned at the prospect of a bit of fresh 
 gossip, " perhaps he is simple, but J don't believe it. I 
 know he is invited everywhere, and made much of; but 
 it's a shame that it is so, for everybod}'^ knows all about 
 him here in Cambridge. I can't altogether understand 
 it, unless it is because people don't realize what a 
 thoroughly good-for-nothing fellow he is. He has good 
 looks and assurance, and plenty of money, and some- 
 thing of the foreign way about him that is taking, I 
 suppose, for he has been the rage among the Cambridge 
 girls ever since he has been here ; and yet if one of us 
 were to be guilty of his iniquities, it would fare hard 
 with him." 
 
 " You are a httle severe on poor Mr. Cartier." 
 
 " No, I am not ; and if I could only talk to you as I 
 could to your brother, you would say that I am not. 
 They say he has spent, in the six or seven months that 
 he has been here, over twenty thousand dollars." 
 
 Kate looked her surprise. 
 
 " He gave a supper to the ' Elise Holt Troupe,' that 
 cost a small fortune ; and that is the least questionable 
 of his expenditures. He isn't a fit companion for any- 
 body." 
 
 Kate was silent. 
 
 " I think the worst feature of it is that he seems to 
 be unconscious that he is doing any thing out of the 
 way. He has grown up so, and it all comes as natural to 
 him as breathing ; and that accounts for his being such 
 
haskill's spread. 
 
 361 
 
 a mighty innocent-looking fellow. He has fitted up a 
 place, — ' The Den,' they call it, — he and Huntingdon 
 and a couple of law-students ; and they say it's a regular 
 gambling-place, and that, if the police knew of it, there 
 would be trouble. I haven't been there myself, for 
 they are mighty careful who goes in, as of course 
 they want to keep it select and secret ; but it is no 
 secret to any one in the college. But I suppose, the 
 worse he is, the more he will be admired ; it is so roman- 
 tic to be almost a Russian, and to have no end of money 
 to spend, and — and to be wicked," and the little fellow 
 sighed in a way that was comical. 
 
 Just then who should be ushered into the room but 
 this wicked Mr. Cartier himself! At the same time 
 Haskill departed. 
 
 It was almost impossible for a lady, looking at him as 
 he stood there, to believe much to his discredit: he 
 was the very picture of fresh, innocent, manly youth, a 
 splendid figure, ruddy face, honest blue eyes, light, 
 curling hair and whiskers. I think Kate was not very 
 well pleased at what her two friends had told her. 
 Henceforth she must needs regard him with suspicion, 
 while before she had experienced only enjoyment in his 
 company, regarding him, as she had said, as an entertain- 
 ing young man who was not over-supplied with brains. 
 Could he be so entirely worthless ? She did not believe 
 it, though her confidence had been shaken; and her 
 manner lacked its usual cordiality, as the young student 
 noticed with surprise. 
 
 " How do you come on with your law-studies, Mr. 
 Cartier ? " she said to him, suddenly. 
 
 " Oh, ah ! well, not so very famously," said Mr. 
 
362 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 Cartier, rather taken back at the question ; for it was not 
 often that law-studies were the theme of his discourse. 
 
 " Do you find it pleasant reading Blackstone ? I 
 believe you call it 'reading,' don't you?" Kate con- 
 tinued, with her pleasantest smile. 
 
 " Oh, well, no. I am not reading Blackstone's. I — 
 I am reading Kent's. You see, I am not studying law 
 exactly, but only getting up international law a little ; 
 and as soon as I have read my two years here, I am to 
 have any position I desire on the Russian legation at 
 St. Petersburg. Prof. Smith advised me not to begin 
 with Blackstone's, but to take Kent's; and I believe 
 Kent's is altogether the best." 
 
 " Is there much of it ? " was Kate's next interrogatory. 
 
 " Four volumes," responded the future employee of 
 the United States ; " but only the first volume is about 
 international law. I — I read some whenever I can, and 
 I am almost half through." 
 
 " Half through with Kent? " 
 
 " Oh, no : half through with the first volume. You 
 see, it's more a matter of form, after all, than any thing 
 else. I shall complete the regular course at the Law 
 School in two years, and have my diploma, whether I 
 read any or not ; and, you know, I am not obliged to do 
 any thing, and only came here to please my father." 
 
 "And the lectures," said Kate, graciously, for she 
 seemed determined to call the young man to account, 
 
 do you find them pleasant ? " 
 
 " The lectures were such a fearful bore," returned 
 Cartier, " that I gave them up long ago ; but I shall get 
 my diploma just the same. Oh, I am bound to get my 
 diploma. I promised Gen. King and my father that I 
 
haskill's speead. 
 
 863 
 
 would do that. My father sent me to Siberia, to take 
 charge of the business there. It was a fearful place ; 
 and things didn't go well, as he soon discovered. 1 
 was three hundred thousand francs in debt in about 
 nine months. My father was fearfully angry ; brought 
 me back to St. Petersburg, and gave me no money at 
 all for almost six months. Then I went to Paris on 
 some business for him ; and I got very badly in debt 
 there ; and I don't know what would have become of 
 me, if it had not been for Gen. King. He interceded 
 for me again; and my father paid my debts, on the 
 express agreement that I should study hard for two 
 years here, and get my diploma. I promised to do this, 
 and of course I must. But I can get it just as well 
 without going to the lectures; and, indeed, I hardly 
 find time to go. 
 
 "But that don't trouble me," he continued, with an 
 expression of serious though tfuln ess altogether foreign 
 to his face. " I mean about my diploma ; but I don't 
 see how I am going to stay here, unless my father gives 
 me some more money ; and I am fearfully afraid he 
 won't give me any thing more. He gave me my money 
 for the two years, a very good sum, three times as 
 much as Gen. King said was sufficient ; and declared 
 that, whatever happened, I should not have any more 
 till the two years expired ; and I am afraid he will keep 
 his word, unless Gen. King can intercede for me again. 
 My father will be so angrj^, I fear it will be of no use," 
 he added, ruefully. 
 
 "It seems almost incredible that you could need 
 more money," said Kate, with a dash of scorn in her 
 manner, which was entirely lost upon the student. 
 
364 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVAED. 
 
 " It is all gone," lie returned, simply ; and Yilliers 
 and Will Adams entering the room, the <![uestion was 
 not discussed further. 
 
 It was Class Day evening. The great wish of Haskill's 
 heart had been accomplished. Mrs. Wentworth and 
 Kate had been his guests since morning ; and there had 
 been no more thoroughly happy man in the college than 
 he. Kate had entered so heartily into the pleasures of 
 the day, that her enjoyment had been something good 
 to behold. With rare tact she had turned away one 
 after another of the admirers who had sought her for 
 the dances or the promenade, and had saved her favors 
 for the almost friendless Senior. She made his spread 
 the triumph of the day, the most frequented of all ; 
 and the little man, who had indeed been most thought- 
 ful and kind, and omitted no possible attention to the 
 ladies, had fairly revelled in the glory of the occasion. 
 
 It was night: the festivities were well-nigh done, 
 and the day which crowns the student's college life 
 with its joys and festivities had already drawn to a 
 close. A dusky circle was gathered in the gloom 
 around the window in Haskill's room in Holworthy, 
 resting after the excitement and fatigue of the day, 
 talking over the varied incidents, listening to the tread 
 of many feet underneath the elms below, the hum of 
 voices, and the ringing songs of the Glee Club that 
 from time to time burst forth from the stand in front 
 of the old hall. 
 
 Perhaps even Rose Thorne felt the shadow of the 
 parting which was so swiftly drawing near to her ; for 
 she said to Haskill, " You must feel very sorry to think 
 
haskill's speead. 
 
 365 
 
 that your college clays are ended, and you are to leave 
 Cambridge so soon." 
 
 " Sorry to leave Cambridge ! " exclaimed tlie Senior, 
 brusquely. " Well, I am not, and that's the truth. I 
 don't see how that could be possible. I consider Cam- 
 bridge the meanest place I have ever had the fortune to 
 abide in in my short existence of twenty-two jenTS and 
 three months." 
 
 There was no little mirth at the young man's frankly 
 expressed opinion. Mr. Hasldll is as peculiar as he is 
 decided in his sentiments regarding Cambridge," said 
 Kate. 
 
 "Well, maybe I am peculiar," returned that gentle- 
 man, stoutly ; " but I am honest. Farewell, ye muddy 
 streets and foggy mornings, ye clouds of dust, and 
 droves of squealing pigs and bleating sheep and lowing 
 herds ! Farewell, O bell, thou that hast for four years 
 summoned us when we could but obey ! . In vain we 
 tried to drag thee down from thy belfry. Farewell, O 
 Thayer Club ! I shall nevermore regale me on thy 
 familiar viands. 'No: if there is one thing that I am 
 thankful for, it is that I can shake off the dust of Cam- 
 bridge from my feet forever." 
 
 " But you must be fond of some of your classmates," 
 said Miss Eldredge, seriously. 
 
 " I don't know," said Haskill, with equal seriousness. 
 " Some of them are well enough ; but, to tell the honest 
 truth, there are hardly six of them that I really know. 
 No, I have no regrets of any nature. I am going 
 to the medical school next year. The old gent has 
 set his heart on my being a doctor ; and as it makes 
 no sort of difference to me, I am going to accommodate 
 
366 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 him as well as I can. They say that every thing is 
 different there ; that there is no compulsion, and so 
 more honest work is done ; that you can speak to a 
 professor without being set down for a toady, whicli is 
 something that can't happen here ; and that a man can 
 dress as he chooses, and spend as little money as he sees 
 fit, without being called a scrub, which can't be said of 
 the conditions here." 
 
 " Do tell me what you mean by a ' scrub,' " said Mr. 
 Cartier, softly, from his place in the darkness. " I have 
 heard the word used very often here, without quite 
 understanding what it means." 
 
 This was too much for Lewis's gravity, and he 
 laughed in spite of himself, while Huntingdon quoted 
 in a loAV tone, but still quite distinctly enough, " Si 
 monumentum quceris, circumspieey 
 
 " Yes, Mr. Cartier," said Haskill, a little bitterly, 
 " Mr. Huntingdon has answered your question as well 
 as it could possibly be answered. If you want to know 
 what a scrub is like, you had better take a good look at 
 me the next time you meet me by daylight. I am a 
 scrub, for I don't come up to the Harvard standard. 
 It would grieve me more if I were not in such very 
 respectable company; but I take courage when such 
 men as Villiers are lumped in the same lot." 
 
 At this, both Sam and Adams laughed, and Hunting- 
 don was silent. 
 
 " I wonder where Mr. Villiers can be," queried Mrs. 
 Wentworth, perhaps with a view to turning the conver- 
 sation into a pleasanter channel, although she did not 
 quite understand it all. "We have hardly seen him 
 to-day, and I have feared that he might be ill." 
 
haskill's spread. 
 
 367 
 
 "He is well enough: I can voucli for that," inter- 
 posed Huntingdon, quickly. " There is an annual, 
 Monday; and he is undoubtedly digging for fear that 
 somebody may answer one or two questions more than 
 he." 
 
 " That is putting it a little strong, chum : you i:now 
 the annual is a week from Monday, instead of 1 Ion- 
 day," said Sam, with a good-natured laugh, in wl^ich 
 Adams joined. 
 
 " It grows late, and I fear we must be keeping you 
 gentlemen from your studies too," said Mrs. Went- 
 worth, simply ; and she turned to Kate. 
 
 At this Sam's mirth was redoubled, and all the gen- 
 tlemen save Huntingdon seemed to enjoy some pleasing 
 thought very much. 
 
 " I must say I can't see what reason there is for 
 laughing at a young man for attending to his duties," 
 said Kate, a little sharply. She had not seen Villiers 
 all day, except for half an hour in the morning, and 
 was vexed with him for keeping aloof at such a time, 
 as she felt he had no right to do. But she nevertheless 
 took up arms for him the moment he was attacked, as, 
 indeed, she would have done for any friend. 
 
 " We were not making merry at Villiers's expense. 
 Miss Wentworth," said Adams, slowly, after a little 
 silence ; " and, indeed, any mirth is ill-timed. — Sam, 
 you know where Villiers is, and whether he is digging 
 for an annual or not." 
 
 "Yes, I suppose I do," returned Sam gravely and 
 slowly. 
 
 " I am going to inform our friends, and especially 
 Huntingdon, why Villiers deserts the festivities of the 
 
368 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 day, though I can hardly make the statement without 
 disgracing myself." 
 
 " Why, what can it be, Will ? " said Miss Eldredge, 
 in a low, anxious tone. 
 
 " Shall I go on, Sam ? " 
 
 " Yes." All listened intently to Adams's recital, sit- 
 ting there in the gloom, with no sound save the murmur 
 of distant voices, and the sound of footfalls echoing in 
 the quadrangle. 
 
 " You know Cole of our class ? " and Adams turned 
 to Huntingdon. 
 
 " Yes, I know who he is," returned that gentleman ; 
 " but," he added, sarcastically, " I have never cultivated 
 his acquaintance." 
 
 "No, I suppose not," continued Adams. "He is 
 one of the scrubs of the class ; that is, any one would 
 say so thoughtlessly, and perhaps some might think so 
 after acquaintance with him. There were very few of 
 us who knew him : you did, Sam ? " 
 
 "Yes," said Sam. Now all was silent both within 
 and without. 
 
 " You have noticed " (again Adams addressed Hunt- 
 ington) " that Cole has been absent from recitations 
 for quite a number of days ? " 
 
 " No," said Huntingdon, shortly : " I have noticed 
 nothing at all about him." 
 
 " This man," continued Adams, " entered our class 
 last fall. He was a very modest, unassuming gentle- 
 man, unknown to everybody ; and as he wore very plain 
 clothes, and attended strictly to his own affairs, no one 
 cared to know him or to notice him, except to wonder 
 at the recitations he made, which were simply perfect. 
 
haskill's speead. 
 
 369 
 
 WTienever he was called up, we used to lie back, and 
 laugh and wink at each other ; for he would go on with 
 a translation as long as he was permitted; and there 
 seemed to he no such thing possible as pumping him 
 dry, no matter how many questions were asked hhn. 
 Well, it seems that Yilliers was the first to hunt him 
 up; and he found him living down in Divinity Hall 
 (why, I hardly knew there was such a place), and so 
 very poor, that he was simply starving himself, trying 
 to live on eighty cents a week. Just think of it for 
 a minute, — a gentleman living, or rather dying, on 
 eighty cents a week ! I believe he went through mtich 
 of the cold weather T^dthout an overcoat or any thing 
 like a substitute for one ; while there were scores of fel- 
 lows in the college, and even in the class, spending hun- 
 dreds and even thousands of dollars worse than foolishly. 
 Why, my bill just for cigars has been over three hun- 
 dred dollars this term ; and I am no smoker either. 
 But Yilhers, when he found he Avas diffident about tak- 
 ing any aid from him, brought his case before the doctor, 
 so that he had money enough supplied him to pro\dde 
 the necessaries of life, all that he could be induced to 
 accept. Yilliers cultivated his friendship, and took as 
 many of the fellows down to see him as he could pre- 
 vail on to go, and did all that was in his power to make 
 it easy and pleasant for him; though he knew that Cole 
 was sure to take the first place on the rank-list away 
 from him. Sam here, used to go and see him pretty 
 often, and so did Lyman and Longstreet. I told you 
 that I could not tell the storv ^vithout clisoTace to 
 myself. I never entered his room till last ]\Jonday." 
 Here a soft, white hand was put into his own. It 
 
370 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 was commonly enough remarked that what a girl like 
 Mary Eldredge could see in Will Adams, to make him 
 worthy of her regard, was a mystery ; but perhaps her 
 perception was not so much at fault as was supposed. 
 " Go on. Will," she half whispered. 
 
 " There is very little more. About ten days or two 
 weeks ago we began to miss Cole from recitation ; but 
 no one thought much about it. Monday I heard that 
 he was very sick with typhoid fever; that was really 
 almost the first I knew about him. I met Lyman by 
 chance, as he was going down to see how he was, and 
 he told me what I have told you; and I went down to 
 the room with him. It was enough to stir the pity in 
 any one, to go into that room, and see how that noble 
 man had lived and worked ; and I shall never forget the 
 sight of his pale, worn face as I saw it Monday afternoon. 
 It seems he had been sick three or four days before any 
 one discovered it. It was Villiers that found him ; and 
 he and Sam took care of him for almost a week before 
 the rest of us knew about it. 
 
 " Well, those first three or four days were what set- 
 tled the matter against him. Villiers called in a doctor 
 immediately ; but he shook his head. ' If I had been 
 there at first,' he said, ' I might have thrown the fever 
 off; but he seems completely run down, and I see no 
 chance for him whatever. All that can be done is to 
 nurse him and care for him ; ' and that has been done 
 tenderly and carefully of late. Some of the fellows 
 have been with him night and day, and he has had the 
 best possible attention. They sent for his mother as 
 noon as her address could be obtained." 
 
 " We all know where Mr. Villiers is now," said Kate. 
 
haskill's speead. 
 
 371 
 
 Yes : he and Longstreet have been with him since 
 the forenoon. He is delirious most of the time, and 
 seems to prefer Villiers to any one else ; and Charley 
 said that Class Day was nothing to him, and insisted on 
 staying with Villiers; and they are down there now, I 
 suppose." 
 
 " Has the young man's mother come ? " asked Mrs. 
 Wentworth, rising. 
 
 " She had not this evening," replied Adams. 
 
 " She had not an hour ago," said Sam. 
 
 " Why did you not tell me of this before ? " and she 
 took Sam's arm. " I must go to your sick friend at 
 once ; " and the dusky group around the window dis- 
 solved into the inner darkness of the room, and Has- 
 kill's Class Day was at an end. 
 
 On the morrow Rose Thorne was to sail over seas for 
 a sojourn of perhaps two years in a foreign land, and 
 she whose image had been for a year so cherished by 
 our student was to withdraw herself from his mortal 
 vision for that interminable period. He had secui-ed 
 the boon of driving her home that Class Day night, 
 though he could hardly realize, as he sat by her side on 
 the sultry, starlit, summer evening, that his last moments 
 alone with her were fast slipping away. 
 
 Although his companion was so entirely composed, 
 the young man had been in a fever of excitement, 
 these latter days, and was haggard and worn, — that 
 rosy, hearty young fellow. Curious thoughts, foreign 
 to the hour and his purpose, crowded through his 
 brain. He thought of his sick and perhaps even now 
 dying classmate ; and his own hope seemed to burn 
 
372 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HAEVAKD. 
 
 with scarcely more vigor than that feeble, fluttering 
 flame of life down in Divinity. He thougtit of his 
 two years more of college, of the work to be there- 
 after entered upon, and of life's battle to be won. 
 He thought of his friend so perfect in his self-control, 
 so steadfast in his devotion to dutj^ ; and contrasted his 
 strong manhood with his own selfish, impetuous, almost 
 foolish desires. Rose had her thoughts as well : per- 
 haps, however, the fatigue consequent upon the enjoy- 
 ment and excitement of the day made her content to 
 suffer the silence to remain unbroken ; and thus they 
 drove on. 
 
 Two hours later he assisted Rose to alight from the 
 carriage, at her own door. She stood on the steps a 
 moment, waving him a good-night, a sad, white, delicate 
 figure, in the light of the weird moon which had just 
 risen, oh, so lovely ! and then the door closed on her ; 
 and he felt that he was alone in the world, — alone, 
 in spite of mother, sister, and friends, as he had never 
 dreamed a human being could be. 
 
 How much of hope and bitterness, of passion and 
 disappointment, of success and mortification, ay, of 
 love too, and a deeper, stronger life, would come to him 
 before he met her again, he knew not, and would 
 not believe if he knew. He went forth into the night, 
 so calm and still, to bear his first great disappointment. 
 
 All through that beautiful June afternoon, Villiers 
 and Longstreet had watched by the sick man's bedside, 
 and ministered to him with woman's tenderness. The 
 soft breeze of summer had breathed through the room, 
 and at times the faint sound of music from the distant 
 
haskill's spread. 
 
 373 
 
 festivities had floated hither on the gentle air, telling of 
 beauty and youth, dancing, gayety and hapjDiness ; but 
 these three, the li^dng and the dying, had no thoughts 
 fop scenes like those. The long summer day had 
 waned ; and with the setting sun had come faint echoes 
 of the ringing cheers which told that the Seniors had 
 met together for the last time. The mantle of night 
 fell gently, and one by one the stars shone out. The 
 far-ofi strains of the band sounded faintly and sweetly 
 in the sick-chamber. The familiar songs of the Glee 
 Club, indistinctly heard, told that the hours were 
 creeping on. Then a ministering angel had come to 
 soothe the last hours of the dying man, with that 
 tender care which a woman alone can give ; and there 
 had been three watchers instead of two. While the 
 riotous students were holding high revel over their class 
 punch in the distant hall, and those scores of pretty 
 girls were sweetly dreaming of their partners of the 
 day before, and Sam was ]Dleading his unsuccessful suit 
 with Rose Thorne ; when the tumult and strife and 
 hurry and bustle of the great world was at its lowest 
 ebb, as the first cool breath of the morning was wafted 
 into the room, — the great mystery of life and death 
 was solved for one more soul. He went forth to meet 
 his future, to a revelation which to his pure spirit could 
 be only good, whatever it may bring of weal or of woe 
 to those who are weak, uncertain, and wavering. 
 
XXIII. 
 
 THE JUNIOK YEAR. 
 
 The Junior year used to be a pleasant resting-place 
 between the grinding work required of the Sophomores 
 and the spirited effort which the Seniors are wont to put 
 forth ; the pleasantest by far of the four, — " the loafing 
 year," as Haskill had said. It was at this point in the 
 curriculum that elective studies first made their appear- 
 ance, affording, to a limited degree, an opportunity for 
 the indiyidual tastes of different men to follow out an 
 inclination for classics, or mathematics, or the sciences. 
 It not unfrequently used to happen that the choice of 
 electives gave a man a very considerable amount of leis- 
 ure. There might be three days in the week with only 
 two recitations, possibly one or two days with only one. 
 Therefore it is, that there is less to chronicle of those 
 easy, idle days, and that there used to be fewer dis- 
 tinctive features of this year than of any other. 
 
 A group of our Juniors had gathered, one noon early 
 in the term, under the broad elms in front of HoUis, 
 and were in right merry mood. Longstreet was talk- 
 ing, laughing, and gesticulating, as was his wont when 
 well pleased. He and Sam had just come from their 
 recitation in elective Greek ; and he was telling the 
 company what a funny time they had had there. 
 
 374 
 
THE JUNIOE YEAR. 
 
 375 
 
 " You see, fellows, it is just the very best elective of 
 all : there is no trouble of preparing a lesson. We trot 
 out our ' ponies ' in the recitation-room, right under old 
 Sophy's nose, and squii^t every time: and the 'Athenian' 
 is perfectly satisfied. If he propounds any conundrum 
 about the construction, (as he doesn't often.) give a good 
 guess, and you are all right. There isn't a man of u:; 
 all that ever pretended to know any thing about Greek, 
 except Wentworth : and Sophy deads him regularly." 
 
 " That's so I " said Sam. glumly. " The less you 
 know, the better you get on with him. He is down on 
 ' my S}uitax.* and fairly scowls at you when you give a 
 rule out of it. I believe I'll petition to change my 
 elective.'' 
 
 He's just been roughing Went^vorth." continued 
 Longstreet^ gleefully. He had him up to-day, and the 
 young man made a splendid squirt : had dug it all out 
 with lexicon and grammar. But old Sophy looked 
 glum enough. * "Why did they use the aorist optative 
 in this place. ]\Ir. Wentworth ? ' " said Longstreet. mim- 
 icking to the life the broken English of the professor. 
 " Sam got off a learned discjuisition, inspired by ' my 
 Syntax.' that would have covered him with glory last 
 year. We all lay back, and grinned and v^unked at 
 each other, for we knew what was comings : and vou 
 had better believe the old fellow looked black. ' So I 
 ^"0 I XO I — Mr. Williamson : ' and Sam sat down, mad 
 enough too. Well. Williamson knows some Greek : so 
 he gave a rule, and Sophy deaded him : and saw me 
 laughing, and called me up. ' Mr. Longstreet, why did 
 they use the aorist optative here ? ' You see, I had 
 heard all about the old fellow's dodges : so I merely 
 
376 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 looked wise, and said I supposed it was because they 
 wanted to. ' Right ! ' said he ; and he nodded most 
 benignantly at me. ' It was because they did, because 
 they wanted to. Very right.' " 
 
 Of course everybody laughed at this original way of 
 teaching Greek syntax. 
 
 " Tell them the rest of it," said Sam : " don't stop 
 there." 
 
 " Yes, by Jove ! the rest of it is the best of it," said 
 Longstreet, in no wise disconcerted. " I was for sitting 
 down while I was in luck ; but Sophy told me to go on 
 with the translation : so I squirted out of a pony leaf 
 in my book till he stopped me. The word ' lion ' oc- 
 curred in the text. ' Mr. Longstreet,' said he, and the 
 old cove's eyes twinkled, ' how came there to be lions 
 in the Peloponnesus ? ' 
 
 " That was a poser. ' I suppose they must have swum 
 across from Africa,' I said. 
 
 " ' No,' and he shook his head ominously. 
 
 " ' Perhaps they came around by the way of Asia 
 Minor and the Straits.' 
 
 " ' No,' with a blacker look than before. 
 
 " ' Then they must have escaped from a menagerie.' 
 
 " ' No,' and he looked like a small thundercloud. 
 Well, I gave it up. 
 
 " ' There were no lions in the Peloponnesus.' He had 
 me there, didn't he ? " 
 
 This old professor, a native Greek, — " the Athen- 
 ian," as they used to call him in distinction from the 
 younger Greek professor, who was known as " the new 
 Athenian," — used to be one of the institutions of the 
 college. Deservedly a great favorite with the students, 
 
THE JUKEOE YEAE. 
 
 377 
 
 he was at the same time the most peculiar of college offi- 
 cials. He was a queer-looking old fellow, short of stat- 
 ure, with curling, iron-gray hair, long, grizzled beard, and 
 piercing eyes. He invariably appeared in a short blue 
 cloak and tight-fitting blue cap. He lived entirely iii 
 his room in Holworthy, devoting every hour of time 
 that could be spared from his duties to his dictionary. 
 They used in Sam's day to tell many funny stories 
 about him, and many which bore witness to his good- 
 ness of heart and friendly disposition toward the stu- 
 dent. A few years, and his place know him no 
 more ; but he will never be forgotten. 
 
 By this stage of the curriculum, the different sets of 
 men in a class can be readily distinguished fi^om each 
 other. There are the digs,"" less kno^^Ti and esteemed, 
 and caring less for aught save study, than any others. 
 There are the " scrubs," whose numerous ranks contain 
 some of the best and most talented members of the class. 
 It is hard to tell just what makes a man a scrub at Har- 
 vard. It is not the lack of money altogether, for some 
 very poor students are sometimes very much liked by 
 their classmates ; though probably no man who had an 
 abundance of money, and spent it freely, was ever con- 
 sidered a scrub. Nor does it depend on scholarship, for 
 a scrub may be the first or the last man in the class ; nor 
 on refinement altogether, for some of the roughest speci- 
 mens of the student are sometimes the most popular. 
 In very many cases, — in most, perhaps, — where a man 
 is coimted a scrub, it is his misfortune rather than his 
 fault. He in some way makes an unfavorable impres- 
 sion at the outset ; and then it goes wrong with him 
 
878 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVAED. 
 
 all through the four years. There was Haskill, a 
 thoroughly good fellow. One who knew him well 
 could not help liking him. But he came to Cambridge 
 from the far West ; he brought with him no letters of 
 introduction ; his manners were peculiar, his speech 
 idiomatic, his dress plain. At the outset, he was set 
 down as a scrubby fellow ; and nobody cared to know 
 him. He never belonged to any college society; he 
 never belonged to any "set ; " he never saw the inside 
 of a Cambridge drawing-room, or enjoyed the first 
 social privilege during his college life, until Mrs. Went- 
 worth took him to her heart, and invited him to her 
 house, after which the Thornes permitted him to call. 
 There used to be scores of such cases in every class ; 
 doubtless there are now. Perhaps the professors did 
 their whole duty when they heard the hour's recitation, 
 and marked the men fairly. Perhaps they could not 
 with reason be called upon to introduce the rabble of 
 college boys to their families. But the exclusiveness 
 that was invariably manifested by these gentlemen in 
 Sam's day bore hard on many a young fellow away 
 from home and friends. 
 
 Then there are the " boating set," and the " ball 
 men," and the "good livers," and the " society men," 
 and the " botanists," and the " naturalists : " in short, 
 if a man had any accomplishment to perfect, or any 
 fancy to please, the Junior year used to be the time in 
 which of all others he might carry out his plans. 
 
 There is quite a new set on the river at this time, — 
 quiet, gentlemanly fellows, who take the old " lap." or a 
 discarded shell, and pull in a complacent, dignified way, 
 as only Juniors can. The Delta resounded, every one 
 
THE JUNIOR YEAR. 
 
 3T9 
 
 of til 3 mellow autumn da^^s, with the crack of the bat 
 as the ball went whizzing through the air. How happy 
 these Juniors are ! They could never play ball before 
 as much as they desired ; but now they can practise to 
 their hearts' content. If one falls in with a pair of 
 students miles away from Cambridge, tramping through 
 , woods and over fields, collecting specimens of plants or 
 minerals or insects, they are sure to be Juniors, — com- 
 placent, dignified, happy Juniors. At least, it used to 
 be so in those days. 
 
 About this time a curious determination possessed 
 Mr. Huntingdon. He had made up his mind to win 
 distinction as a crack oar, and to pull in the Harvard in 
 his chum's place. He proposed this to Smith, who 
 simply laughed at him. Then he offered his services 
 to the captain of the class crew, who very politely 
 declined the tender. Nothing daunted by these two 
 failures, he concluded to organize a crew of his OAvn. 
 
 " Chum," he said suddenly one day, " I am going to 
 put a crew on the river, and I want you to pull stroke." 
 
 "I am sorry I cannot accommodate you," replied 
 Sam ; " but, if I pulled in any boat, it would be with 
 Smith and Tom." 
 
 " But this is only a crew for practice : there will be 
 no training or hard work, and you shall be captain." 
 
 Sam smiled, and replied, "I have given up work in 
 a six-oar, chum." Mr. Huntingdon was fain to seek 
 ctiiother captain. 
 
 Yes, Sam had given up work in a six-oar. If he 
 had a reason, or thought he had one, for refusing to pull 
 the year before, it was laziness or indifference that alone 
 
380 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 kept him out of the boat now ; for he was a very differ- 
 ent man this Junior year, as will more full}^ appear fur- 
 ther on. One would hardly have recognized him as the 
 easy, happy fellow of a twelvemonth ago. He was, 
 however, too much of a water-dog to give up the river 
 altogether. Jointly with Villiers he had purchased a 
 double-scull, which the two stalwart young fellows 
 propelled with tremendous power. In this craft they 
 explored the river for miles above the dam, carrying the 
 boat around falls or shoals or rapids ; and they used 
 frequently to start oft* early of a Saturday morning, 
 with a basket of lunch, and make a day of it, down the 
 harbor. They pulled so well that few boats could fol- 
 low them. 
 
 Huntingdon was a very persevering man, though, 
 indeed, it was not difficult for him to find five men to 
 join his crew, most incongruous elements though they 
 were ; men whom Huntingdon had snubbed in the days 
 gone by, but who were drawn together by a common 
 bond, — the love of boating; disappointed candidates 
 for the class boat ; men whose dream of happiness had 
 been to pull in a six-oar, and who now saw a possibility 
 of realizing their hopes ; all as enthusiastic as a captain 
 could desire. 
 
 Huntingdon's plan was to use the old club lapstreak^ 
 at least for a time. The class shell was too crank for a 
 company of beginners ; but the old lap. was the very 
 thing, — safe, comfortable, and light ; and she hung 
 strapped to the rafters in the boat-house, of no service 
 to any one. The class boat-club that had purchased 
 her was practically long since defunct. He himself 
 was a member; but as several of his crew were not, 
 
THE JUNIOE YEAB. 
 
 381 
 
 just for form's sake, he thought he would mention the 
 matter to some of the members, and see if there was 
 any objection to his using the boat. 
 
 " Oh, that is all right ; make such use of her as you 
 please : she is of no service to any one," was the repl}' 
 to his queries. At length one morning all was in readi- 
 ness ; the new crew met together at the boat-house, 
 and actually got under way. To be sure, the oars took 
 the water in a succession truly Freshmanic; and the 
 boat tacked from one side of the river to the other, 
 like a close-hauled craft beating to windward. They 
 did better next time, however; and there was a fair 
 prospect that Huntingdon's crew might come to some- 
 thing in time. One morning, not long after this, they 
 assembled at the boat-house stripped for their usual 
 morning pull; but the boat was gone. 
 
 " Well, this is interesting ! " said the stroke, with a 
 blank look. 
 
 " She hasn't been out for a year, except as we have 
 used her," said another. 
 
 Some of the club men must have taken her," sug- 
 gested a third. " They have a good right to her, I 
 suppose." 
 
 " That must be it," said Huntingdon, thoughtfully. 
 " It was such a charming morning, I dare say they 
 thought they would take a paddle. Wait awhile : 
 they can't be gone long.'* The men lounged around 
 expectantly for an hour, and then dispersed without 
 their pull; and one of them who went out in his 
 wherry reported on his return that he had seen the 
 boat and a club crew at Watertown. 
 
 Next day there was no boat again ; and the follow- 
 
382 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 ing day the result of their stripping, and coming down 
 to the boat-house, was the same. The men began to 
 grumble. 
 
 " Interest in boating seems to be coming up all of 
 a sudden," said Huntingdon, sarcastically. " It looks 
 precisely as though this thing was done on j)urpose, so 
 that we shouldn't use their old ark. I mean to stay 
 here, fellows, till she comes back, and see who has 
 taken her, and what it all means. I promise yon it 
 shall not happen again ; " and Huntingdon waited : the 
 rest dispersed. 
 
 Presently the nose of the boat shot out from under 
 the bridge, and the measured pace of a six-oar brought 
 her quickly up to the raft ; and in an instant she was 
 alongside. Huntingdon recognized half a dozen well- 
 known classmates, none of them his dearest friends. 
 Hawes had been pulling stroke, and Smith bow; and 
 there were Lyman, Longstreet, and Adams. 
 
 "How are you, Huntingdon?" called out Longstreet, 
 as he jumped briskly out of the boat. " We have been 
 out for a little pull, you see. It's splendid exercise this 
 fall weather ; the very best thing in the world to set a 
 man up for the winter; " and he bustled consequentially 
 about, putting away the oars. 
 
 " Then you doubtless propose to continue the recrea- 
 tion." 
 
 " Yes," returned Adams, with cool indolence. " I, for 
 one, am going to train for Wentworth's place in the 
 Harvard; and I want to pull all I can, so as to get 
 Tom's stroke ; " and he looked admiringly at his arms, 
 which were as soft and white as a girl's. 
 
 " Oh, weU, of course I'm going to train for the Har 
 
THE JUNIOE YEAE. 
 
 383 
 
 yard too," said Longstreet, drawing up Ms biceps, and 
 looking at his show of muscle with a very knowing 
 expression. " You needn't laugh : stranger things than 
 that have happened." 
 
 " This is what I wanted to ascertain," said Hunting- 
 don, with dignity ; " for, knowing your plans, I can make 
 my arrangements to suit them. It is not very pleasant 
 to get ready for a pull, and find that the boat is gone." 
 
 " You have wanted to use the boat I " exclaimed 
 Longstreet, in a loud and surprised tone. " Well, that 
 is news. — I say, fellows, Huntingdon has been getting 
 his crew together, and coming to take a pull every day ; 
 and we have been out in the boat ourselves ; and they 
 were getting on so finely too, so everybody said. It is 
 too bad, isn't it? " 
 
 At this there were grave faces and very general 
 expressions of sympathy, and regrets that their pulls 
 should have been so ill-timed ; but all the while the 
 winks and knowing looks exchanged among the young 
 fellows were enough to make it apparent to a much less 
 sophisticated person than Huntingdon, that he was 
 being most decidedly roughed. He stood quiet a few 
 moments ; one or two finished dressing, and went away. 
 
 "Well, fellows," he said at length, "if I had for a 
 moment imagined I was not perfectly welcome to the 
 boat, I would not have used her on any account." 
 
 "Wouldn't have tried to, you mean," called out 
 Longstreet, as he dashed off. 
 
 "You are perfectly welcome to the old craft," said 
 Lyman, with cool indifference, as he walked leisurely 
 with Huntingdon up from the boat-houses. You would 
 have thought, to look at them so polite and courteous 
 
384 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 to one another, and so ready to accommodate, that they 
 were the best friends possible. 
 
 " We can use the boat in the afternoon, if that will 
 not interfere with your recreation," suggested Hunting- 
 don, blandly ; for he had made up his mind to use her 
 in spite of all opposition. 
 
 " Certainly," returned Lyman : " suit your own con- 
 venience in this matter. Our recreation is of no conse- 
 quence compared with the training of your crew. Use 
 the boat whenever you like ; " but the worthy Junior 
 added to himself that he would be — — if his estimable 
 classmate should do any such thing. 
 
 The afternoon pull came off once ; and the next day 
 the new crew found that all pulling in that boat was 
 forever ended. Somebody had stove her in, in half a 
 dozen places ; the oars were broken, the rowlocks torn 
 off, the rudder unhinged and gone ; and the gallant old 
 craft which had taken so many jolly fellows on so 
 many jolly larks, which had trained so many oars that 
 had afterward honored the college, which had been 
 bravely through a score of races where she always had 
 done her best, which had been so long stanch and 
 true, so obedient to her master, so willing, so brave, — 
 lay a wreck on her side with half a dozen death-stabs, 
 her usefulness departed forever. 
 
 It was evident now to any one what this sudden 
 interest in boating, among men who had not pulled a 
 stroke for two years, signified. " An enemy hath done 
 this," was the involuntary thought of each one as they 
 gazed at the ruin in silence. 
 
 Not to be baffled in this way, Huntingdon bought a 
 boat from the Sophs., and so kept his crew on the river. 
 
THE JUNIOR YEAR. 
 
 385 
 
 It is evident from this incident that members of the 
 same class do not always bear the spirit of brotherly 
 love to one another. 
 
 One bright Saturday morning, in the fall, a large 
 crowd was collected in front of Hallis ; a cushion was 
 placed in a certain window in the second story of the 
 old hall; and a sleek-looking j^oung fellow, with a 
 glossy silk hat and an independent air, nonchalantly 
 seated himself thereon, facing the crowd below. When 
 comfortably settled, his hat waved in the air ; and the 
 short, sharp cheers for the respective classes of under- 
 graduates rang out, and broke the stillness of the 
 morning. 
 
 " What's that ? " asked one Freshman of another, as 
 they tumbled down the steps of University. 
 
 " Mock parts," returned the knowing youth. " Come 
 along ; they are bully. We are just in time : they've 
 not begun yet." They broke into a most undignified 
 run, and swelled the crowd just in time to join in the 
 abortive cheers for their own class, which is roughed on 
 this occasion as much as may be ; a general howl arising 
 and drowning their often undecided " Rali^ Rah^ Rali! " 
 
 Lyman was reading in his cool, self-possessed waj^, the 
 humorous description of the procession of " part " men 
 and others which are supposed to be en route for the 
 hall where the exercises of Junior exhibition were to 
 commence on their arrival. The narrator hit off local 
 customs and personal peculiarities, stopping gravely, as 
 some well-aimed shaft of wit or sarcasm struck its mark, 
 till the noise of the clapping of hands and the pealing 
 laughter subsided : then, as the grotesquely ridiculous 
 
386 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 procession entered the hall, Lyman read over one after 
 another the "mock parts," or supposed subjects on 
 which the imaginary orators were to hold forth for the 
 edification of the audience. 
 
 This reading of mock parts used to be one of the 
 very best incidents of the year. If a man had at any 
 time, during the two years and two months of his col- 
 lege life, made himself conspicuous in any way, he was 
 sure to hear of it at mock parts, in a way that was 
 certain to amuse and gratify the three hundred auditors 
 who were present, listening with eager ears, rather than 
 himself. A part, or perhaps half a dozen of them, 
 would be read over his name ; a familiar quotation, a 
 well-known line of poetry, a few suggestive words, call- 
 ing up the particular incident in an unmistakable way ; 
 his good actions, his folly, his vices, his conceit; an 
 awkward predicament of the time gone, an unfortunate 
 name, a Quixotic idea, an absurd pretension, — nothing 
 escaped the censorship of mock parts. For the most 
 part, this was good-naturedly given and taken. The 
 parts were sent in to the committee, none knowing 
 whence they came, and were read unless too bad. 
 
 How could it be expected that so unfortunate and 
 ludicrous an adventure as that of our friend Hunting- 
 don, when he was struggling in the water with an irate 
 Freshman that cold November night a year before, 
 should escape notice at such a time as this ? Fully one 
 third of the parts — one-half that had been handed in, 
 the committee said — were with reference to this mat- 
 ter ; and every possible change was rung upon it. Of 
 course all the Sophs, present were noisy in their demon- 
 strations when part after part was read, hittinsf off this 
 
THE JUNIOR YEAR. 
 
 387 
 
 midnight adventure of the swelly Junior. They could 
 understand the joke here if they could not in most of 
 the other cases, and made up for their enforced silence. 
 Who could blame them? had not Huntingdon treated 
 them, for the most part, last year, as though they were 
 dogs ? It was their turn now. 
 
 There was quite a little knot of Juniors too, Hunting- 
 don's own classmates, who were especially delighted at 
 these parts, and hooted and huzzaed and clapped their 
 hands, whenever one of them was read, in a very marked 
 manner. Many of the class forebore, for after the first 
 four or five there was little to laugh at ; but this par- 
 ticular group seemed bound to be very highly pleased 
 at this incident. It was plain enough to any one 
 of the three hundred gathered under the window of 
 Hollis Hall that morning, whether tutor or professional 
 student or goody or undergraduate, that Mr. Walter 
 Huntingdon was being most decidedly roughed. Some 
 men said it was too bad, — some of the more considerate. 
 Villiers looked very grave indeed, and expressed his 
 displeasure in decided terms ; but for the most part the 
 class didn't care, except that it was something to talk 
 about for two or three days. 
 
 Perhaps the most suggestive feature of the morning 
 was the fact that, in the arrangements for carrying out 
 the morning's programme, Huntingdon had been en- 
 tirely ignored. His advice had not even been asked on 
 any one matter. What a change in the position of the 
 man who a year ago ruled so prosperously ! and for the 
 most part it had all been brought about by three or four 
 determined men. 
 
 The Faculty had seen fit to assign Sam a Greek ver- 
 
388 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 sion for Junior exhibition, which was to come along 
 presently. The young man had climbei to the fifth 
 place on the rank-list for last year, to the satisfaction 
 of his friends at home ; and he ought to have been well 
 pleased with his year's grind. 
 
xxiy. 
 
 THE EUSSIAX. 
 
 After the memorable night in June when, as Sam 
 
 used often to declare in a comically lugubrious way, 
 " a glorious possibility yas blotted out of his life for- 
 eyer," he was a changed being. A man Ayho had neyer 
 before known a gloomy hour, he had now the most 
 terrible fits of ^' the blues ; " a man whose whole being 
 had oyerflowed with good-nature and kindness, his dis- 
 position seemed changed to bitterness itself; a man 
 who had had the fullest and most perfect faith in all 
 that was fair seeming, he appeared now to consider 
 truth, integrity, and honor a myth, and fair intentions 
 a cloak for treachery : he discoyered a false motiye in 
 eyery good deed, empty shoAy beneath fair adyances ; 
 and a sharp and sarcastic remark was eyer on his 
 tongue. 
 
 His mother was at first surprised, then grieyed, then 
 alarmed, at the transformation. He was not her boy at 
 all; and her tender heart was deeply wounded. Kate, 
 equally surprised, at once suspected the truth, though 
 there was that in her brother's manner which forbade 
 inquiry eyen by her. She urged him to take a tour 
 through the mountains, declaring that it must be dull 
 for him at home ; but the young man saw fit to remain 
 
 389 
 
390 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVAED. 
 
 where he was, and made himself disagreeable and un- 
 happy to his heart's content. 
 
 For a long time, Kate forbore all allusion to the 
 cause of his troubles ; but he was so comically woe- 
 begone, that at last her humor got the better of her 
 resolution, and she drew forth the whole story. She 
 restrained all mirth, and did her best to entertain and 
 comfort him ; but his wounds were too deep for her sim- 
 ple surgery ; they were not like the hurts that she used 
 to kiss away when they were children. The old, simple, 
 happy times were gone. The summer dragged slowly 
 enough, and how quietly, in comparison with the last ! 
 It ended at last, however ; and then came the return to 
 college. 
 
 The two chums were not particularly fond of one 
 another this Junior year. Huntingdon knew well 
 "where the shoe pinched," as he expressed it, with Sam, 
 and was in the habit of suggesting a sea-voyage as the 
 best possible cure for melancholy, besides indulging 
 in other pleasantry, until Sam one day cut him short in 
 language more forcible than elegant. After this there 
 was coldness and indifference between them ; and Himt- 
 ingdon was ever ready with one of his sneers. 
 
 Sam, on his part, had come to see his chum's charac- 
 ter in very nearly its true light. He saw how false this 
 man was, who had so fascinated him two years before, 
 and whom he had loved with the ardor of his boyish, 
 impetuous, confiding nature. As he was at this time 
 without a grain (^f charity for any thing that savored 
 of meaniiess or insincerity, or, indeed, for any thing 
 that chanced to come under his own most royal dis- 
 pleasure, whether with good reason or not, his contempt 
 
THE RUSSIAN. 
 
 391 
 
 for Huntingdon was now as deep as his admiration had 
 formerly been. 
 
 Wentworth was still a prominent and a rising man 
 in the class and college. He had contributed much 
 toward the splendid victory that the magenta had won 
 over the blue, in July, at Quinsigamond ; and though 
 the men had all been heroes, his manly proportions, 
 eminent strength, and graceful style had made his 
 name synonymous with the perfection of aquatic accom- 
 plishment. Especially among the men in the younger 
 classes, was his prowess a favorite subject for admiring 
 gossip. That easy, indolent, half-supercilious manner, 
 which had of old so commended itself to his taste, and 
 which he had striven so hard to acquire, came to him 
 quite naturally now, and became him wonderfully too ; 
 and many a Freshman sighed with envy as he regarded 
 the well-favored, complacent, indifferent Junior, and 
 thought that, were it possible to reach his standard 
 of perfection, the measure of happiness would be more 
 than full. 
 
 His own particular friends were indeed bound to 
 him with bands of steel, although he had a way of 
 saying sharp things, that might have made another man 
 many enemies. Thanks to Villiers, he had learned to 
 look with respect on the industrious, unobtrusive men 
 of the class, whom he used to pass by with an indiffer- 
 ence born of thoughtlessness, and to find in them much 
 that he was honestly compelled to esteem ; and these 
 men felt kindly toward him for his notice. No student 
 ever entered upon the Junior year with fairer prospects, 
 or at least with more flattering possibilities. 
 
 His habits of work were in strong contrast with 
 
392 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 those of a twelvemontli before. "Study is played 
 out," he said to Villiers more than a score of times, in 
 the cool, indifferent manner which now characterized 
 him, and often with the weary feeling that every thing 
 was " played out ; " to which proposition Villiers was 
 wont to reply only with a look from eyes tenderly 
 anxious and sad. Nevertheless Sam studied much, ear- 
 nestly at times, from sheer desperation for employment. 
 He made friends with the jocund Cerberus of Gore 
 Hall, not so easy a task for another man, and spent 
 hours and houi'S in its silent alcoves, in communion 
 with much that was good and much that was new. 
 He often read far into the night, putting by his book 
 only when his chum returned from some protracted 
 revel ; and the " midnight oil " was no myth to him 
 now. By degrees he came to understand what Cole 
 meant when he said that he studied purely for the love 
 of study, and to realize that a very perfect happiness 
 might be derived from books. But it was not yet time 
 for him to profit to the full by the discovery ; for he 
 was too indifferent and careless, too difficult to please, 
 to follow any thing long. 
 
 Villiers was only too kind and patient with his friend. 
 Sam kept his own secret ; and if Villiers mistrusted 
 the cause of his changed disposition, he never in any 
 way indicated his suspicions, or alluded to the past 
 year. For the most part, Sam was different towards this 
 friend than towards others. There was less snap and 
 sarcasm in his manner ; but sometimes he would have 
 his sneer, even at Villiers and his philosophy and faith 
 in the right. As their electives were different, they 
 were less together than in the years before ; though 
 
THE RUSSIAN. 
 
 393 
 
 Villiers was always ready to throw down his book, and 
 go for a pull on the river, or a tramp through the 
 fiountry. 
 
 The memory of his classmate who had died at his 
 post was often before him in these days ; and, strolling 
 by the hall one October afternoon, he thought he would 
 go in and see Cole's room. Climbing the two flights 
 of stairs, and proceeding cautiously along the dim 
 passage-way, he paused at length before the door. A 
 bit of pasteboard tacked on the panel bore the name of 
 Cartier ; and it was that gentleman's ever-cheerful face 
 that peered out at him as the door was opened in 
 response to his knock. 
 
 " Come in, Mr. Wentworth," said Cartier, extending 
 his hand cordially. 
 
 Sam entered without a word, so great was his surprise 
 at this most unlooked-for apparition ; and he was still 
 more sui-prised to see that appearances showed the law- 
 student to be the occupant of the room. 
 
 " How long have you roomed here ? " he said at 
 length, gathering his wits together. 
 
 " Since the summer," returned the diplomat. " It is 
 really kind of you to come and see me," said he, never 
 guessing that the call was not intended for him. 
 
 " Didn't you like your other rooms ? " queried Sam, 
 innocently. (Cartier had*been domiciled in elegant 
 quarters in a private house.) 
 
 " Oh, yes ; to be sure. I did not come down to this 
 place from choice." 
 
 " No ? " said Sam, a little puzzled. " How, then ? " 
 
 " From necessity, my friend ; " and Cartier laughed 
 though Sam thought chagrin and mortification had 
 their part in it as well as mirth. 
 
394 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 " You know," continued Cartier, passing Sam a costly 
 pipe, and tobacco from an elegantly carved dish, " that 
 I spent all the allowance I had, long ago. Since then 
 I have had little to live on except the expectation that 
 Gen. King (you know the General is United States 
 Minister at St. Petersburg, and a great friend of my 
 father's) would intercede, and get some more money 
 for me. The General sent me a few hundreds ; but he 
 wrote that my father was terribly angry, and would 
 give me nothing till the two years are up. I had paid 
 nothing for my rooms ; and, as the woman refused to 
 wait, I was obliged to give them up ; and I found out 
 this place. I had paid nothing for my board, and was 
 told that my place at the table was engaged. Well, I 
 get on here pretty well, with plenty of bread and milk 
 for breakfast, and coffee when I like to have it. I am 
 almost always invited out to dinner. I bought a car- 
 pet," and he glanced at the bare floor ; " but the fellow 
 would not send it until it was paid for ; and it is in the 
 store now, I dare say. However, my father must give 
 in soon. I am expecting every day to hear that he 
 has." 
 
 It was indeed passing strange, Sam thought, that this 
 young man, who a few months before had squandered 
 money without stint, should be living here in Cole's 
 room, breakfasting on bread and milk, and depending 
 on invitations for a dinner. But he appeared not in 
 the least overwhelmed at the change. Adversity sat as 
 gracefully on his shoulders as affluence. He was the 
 same debonair, ambrosial youth, apparently as content 
 with a crust of bread and a cup of milk, as ever he had 
 been with the greatest abundance. The room presented 
 
THE EUSSIAX. 
 
 395 
 
 a curious contrast of luxurious elegance and rude pov- 
 erty. There was tlie bare floor, and the primitive chairs, 
 table, and bureau, as it had been in Cole's tirae : the 
 same vooden bedstead, with the college bed, vas in 
 the alcove : but a luximous armchair vras drawn up in 
 front of the grate ; a little stand close by held a collec- 
 tion of the choicest pipes, together vdth trays, tobacco- 
 boxes, and smoker's paraphernalia, all of the most 
 reclierclie pattern; a pair of solid silver candlesticks 
 with half-burned candles were on the mantel : pictures, 
 statuettes, and articles of bijouterie, were gathered pro- 
 miscuously in a corner, ju^t as they had been left 
 three months before. On the table was a paper bag half 
 full of sugar, and beside it an exquisite china cup and 
 saucer and a pewter spoon. Several luxuiious dressing- 
 gowns lay about on the chairs : smoking-caps, several 
 pair of foils and masks, boxing-gloves. French boots, 
 slippers, neck-scarfs, jewelry, and jewel-cases, there were 
 in abundance. Hundreds of dollars could not have 
 purchased half the useless luxury that abounded, while 
 the commonest articles of necessity and comfort were 
 wanting. 
 
 Sam's curious eye took all this in, as he listened to 
 the Russian's recital, puffing away all the time at the 
 fragrant perrique. 
 
 '•"^"hile vou are waitins; for the old o^entleman to 
 come aXuund," he said, after a little silence, you must 
 noL forget that you have friends, or hesitate to use 
 .them. I am always at your service. I know what it 
 is," he continued with a smile. to be left before the 
 eud of the term with nothino^ on hand, and be hard 
 up ; for I have experienced it myself." 
 
896 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 " I may take you at your word some da^ said Car 
 tier, with an uneasy laugli. 
 
 " Pray do so now," returned Sam, earnestly. 
 
 " No, not just now, though I thank you much ; " and 
 he shook Sam's hand warmly. 
 
 " There is one thing that puzzles me," said our stu- 
 dent, frankly, though with a feeling that he might he 
 treading on dangerous ground; "and that is, I can't 
 understand how you can possibly have spent such a 
 large sum of money as you had at your disposal in so 
 short a time." 
 
 "Oh," laughing, "I can enlighten you. The ladies 
 had a good share of it: they run away with money 
 tolerably fast," said the Russian, with an air of inde- 
 scribable complacency. 
 
 " The ladies ? " repeated Sam, innocently, immediately 
 thinking over in his mind Miss Eldredge and half a 
 score of nice Cambridge girls. " They scarcely permit 
 a gentleman to spend much money for them." 
 
 " Ah ? No ! perhaps not," said Cartier with a curious 
 look at his guest ; " but that depends. However, I can- 
 not lay at their door the loss of all my money, or even 
 the larger part of it. No, my friend, I lost it, as I have 
 lost much before, at play ; " and the host carelessly 
 rolled and lighted a fresh cigarette. 
 
 Sam's looks showed that he did not fully compre- 
 hend the force of the statement. 
 
 " Yes," continued Cartier : " the largest part of the 
 money I had for the two years I lost at play ; only, in- 
 stead of rouge et noir, it was your chum's confounded 
 poker that was my undoing." 
 
 Our friend was more in the dark than before : and he 
 
THE RUSSIAN. 
 
 397 
 
 repeated the word "poker*' mechanically, to the mani- 
 fest enjoyment of his vis-{i-vis^ who langhed pleasantly. 
 
 " It is amusing to me, my friend, when I think of it," 
 he said, after his mirth had subsided : for he was far too 
 polite to suffer his guest to discern that he had been 
 laughing at him : " I spent a couple of thousand fitting 
 up the ' Den ; ' and it, together with your friend Hunting- 
 don and his little game of poker, have been my undoing. 
 A good many hundreds of dollars went into the pock- 
 ets of your excellent ]Mr. Huntingdon. But I regret 
 nothing ; " and he deftly rolled another cigarette. " My 
 father must come around before long, and then I must 
 have my revenge. Permit me : your pipe has gone 
 out;" and with his easy grace he presented alighted 
 piece of paper to Sam. 
 
 "I — I — thank you: I believe I won't smoke any 
 more," said Sam, returning the pipe to its owner. He 
 had been slow to comprehend Cartier's statements, but 
 he understood all now. So his chum was no better than 
 a gambler, who had fleeced this rather simple-witted, if 
 not unsophisticated, young foreigner. Curiously, as he 
 afterwards thought, it never occurred to him to attach 
 any blame to Cartier : he was so absolutely unconscious 
 himself of any moral oblici uity, — considering money 
 expended for "the ladies," or won or lost at play, as so 
 entirely a matter of course, — was so frank and honest 
 in his statements, and so innocent looking withal, that 
 no one who knew him ever thought for a moment of 
 blaming him for any thing he did; though, as Haskill 
 had said, his doino-s would have made another man an 
 outcast from society. 
 
 " By tlie way," resumed Cartier, " we have never had 
 
1 
 
 398 STUDENT-LIFE AT nARVARD. 
 
 the pleasure of seeing you at the 'Den.' Won't you 
 accompany me there some time ? One is not obliged to 
 play ; and the company is limited as to numbers, and 
 always choice." 
 
 " Thank you," said Sam, feeling, however, a little 
 uneasy: " I should like to go with you much." 
 
 " Then we can go now. Excuse me, but my room 
 has to serve for dressing-room as well as for reception ; " 
 and the Russian doffed his dressing-gown and slippers, 
 donned his street apparel, and the two young men set 
 out for the Den. 
 
 An attractive Den it was for most young fellows. 
 The house was small, and stood on a quiet street some 
 minutes' walk from the college buildings, surrounded 
 with trees, and having an air of modest, cosey comfort. 
 It had been leased by the students who first originated 
 the idea, and fitted up most admirably for the purpose 
 for which it was intended. The rooms were warmly 
 carpeted, and nicely furnished with every comfort that 
 could be asked for by a student. All kinds of pipes, 
 tobacco and cigars of every brand, and the choicest 
 liquors, were supplied in profusion. The walls were 
 hung with pictures of nude or scantily draped women, 
 many of them photographs or engravings from originals 
 of great artistic merit. A sable attendant ministered 
 to the wants of the company, and kept the premises 
 wholesome and clean between times. 
 
 Sam had never seen any thing quite like it all before. 
 The company never was numerous, — usually not ex- 
 ceeding half a score, — and comprised professional stu- 
 dents for the most part, some of them young bloods 
 who had seen life in European capitals, others who were 
 
THE RUSSIAN. 
 
 399 
 
 more familiar with life on the frontier, and some com- 
 monplace enough. All drank much whiskey, and the 
 apartments were dusky with tobacco-smoke. They 
 talked a slang that puzzled the young fellow at first ; 
 but there was a certain fascination in their company 
 that drew Sam often to the Den. 
 
 I think his purity, his fresh manhood, his unsuspect- 
 ing singleness of heart, and his prowess which com- 
 manded respect for his better qualities, had a certain 
 influence for good even OA^er the reckless fellows who 
 frequented this place. With the single exception of 
 his chum, they were all very polite to him; admired 
 his pipe, which was really the best-colored bowl in the 
 college (Hawes had smoked " navy "in it all the year 
 of Sam's probation) ; encouraged him to talk " boat," 
 and were very fair and considerate toward him in their 
 play, for the young man took his hand at poker with 
 the rest of them, though it was rather the companion- 
 ship and conversation (which from respect to him was 
 kept quite decent, for the most part, when he was pres- 
 ent) than the chances of winning or losing money that 
 attracted him. 
 
 It was no fault of Huntingdon's that at this time he 
 did not prove his chum's evil genius. It was no dis- 
 grace to a man like Cartier to lose a fortune at gam- 
 bling, and it was a very ordinary matter with him. His 
 father, whose wealth was really immense, was certain 
 to give him another fortune, after punishing him with 
 a little season of impecuniosity, the only chastisement 
 with which he could reach his son. The vice made him 
 a hero rather than otherwise, even with the most staid 
 and. respectable people of Cambridge. He was con- 
 
400 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 sciaus of no wrong himself; and perhaps for the reason 
 that he would shortly return to those parts where his 
 habits were the fashion, no fault was charged upon him> 
 The other men whom Sam met at the Den were for the 
 most part young fellows of character, with a purpose at 
 bottom, who, when they once entered upon the busy 
 scenes of active life, would forget their youthful follies ; 
 but for this young student to have become involved 
 would have been a far different matter. Yet Sam was 
 thoughtless of all this, prone to follow an example 
 which was for the time attractive ; and Huntingdon, 
 that personification of guile and fair-seeming purpose 
 combined, was determined to ruin him if it were possi- 
 ble. Huntingdon never consummated these evil pur- 
 poses, however. 
 
 Other avenues to ruin there were, which Cartier un- 
 wittingly (for in this he was a mere tool in the hands 
 of Huntingdon) threw open to Sam's thoughtless feet. 
 The simple-hearted boy had no adequate idea of the 
 foulness that was hid beneath all the beauty and blan- 
 dishment which he saw in these new scenes, — at least 
 he had none at first, — but destruction none the less 
 threatened him on every' side. In truth, he was tread- 
 ing dangerous ground. The honest work of the two 
 preceding years was at this critical point his best safe- 
 guard. It had strengthened his natural purit}^, refined 
 his tastes, ennobled his thoughts, and had impercepti- 
 bly infused itself throughout his whole being, making a 
 consciously wrong action well-nigh impossible. It took 
 the place of a religious principle, which might have 
 saved another man ; of a deep, soul-absorbing love which 
 a year ago precluded any danger like this ; of affec- 
 
THE EUSSIAN. 
 
 401 
 
 tion for mother and sister, powerless now to avert de- 
 struction ; of a deep-seated devotion to duty, like his 
 friend's, which as yet he had to learn. If Huntingdon 
 was pre-eminently his evil genius, this was in a certain 
 sense his guardian angel : for it had made vice or a 
 sudden plunge into it almost impossible. 
 
 The young man was not to escape, however, without 
 being sorely pressed. Though he could frequent the 
 Den, and join in the play there without forming a love 
 for this dangerous amusement; and though he could 
 walk in those paths thick set with danger without 
 once missing^ his foothold ; thouo'h he could see the 
 world " without beins; of the world, as he reasoned to 
 himself, — all this had its effect on his character and his 
 notions of what was right and proper, until he came to 
 look with different eyes on many things, and to admit 
 to himself, and argue with Yilliers, that such and such 
 an action might not be so exceedingly reprehensible. 
 Thus it came about that, though Huntingdon's plans 
 all failed of an immediate result, they still were near 
 bearing fruit exactly after their originator's heart, when 
 in the later days of the term, after all danger from them 
 had apparently passed away, the young student came 
 near making shipwreck, from causes unforeseen, acci- 
 dental, and unavoidable. 
 
XXV. 
 
 KNIGHT-EEEANTRY. 
 
 It SO happened that one night early in the term, Sam 
 was delayed in the city late, and that it was the last 
 car, which leaves the Revere House at twelve o'clock, 
 that he hailed at Charles Street. As the car slacked 
 its speed, he jumped on, entered, and dropped into a 
 corner sleepy and tired. Pulling his hat down over his 
 eyes, after handing the conductor a ticket, he attempted 
 to enjoy such rest for the next half-hour as might be 
 had in a horse-car. 
 
 But it soon transpired that there was to be no rest 
 for him at that time. Four or five students besides 
 himself had taken passage ; and, judging by their con- 
 duct, these latter seemed to think that the enjoyment 
 of the evening was but just begun. They were in a 
 decidedly hilarious condition, and were singing bits of 
 ribald songs, cracking coarse jokes, and behaving any 
 way except as decent young fellows ought. The con- 
 ductor came in to pick up the fares, and made some 
 little attempt to enforce order, and calm the disturb- 
 ance ; but he presently gave it up with a grin, and 
 went back to his place on the platform. It was the 
 last car," and he was used to it. 
 
 These Freshman doings chanced on this particulai 
 
 402 
 
KXIGHT-EREAKTPIY. 
 
 403 
 
 evening to be extremely disagreeable to the moody 
 Junior who sat somewhat restlessly in the corner, with 
 his hat pulled down over his eyes. He glanced quickly 
 around at his fellow-trayellers for a familiar face, if by 
 chance there might be one, and for the first time 
 caught sight of a female figure in the corner, at the 
 other end of the car. It needed but a glance to see 
 that the girl was most uncomfortable, and ill at ease ; 
 and Sam, as he glanced around once more, and compre- 
 hended her situation, looked ominous. He sprang to 
 his feet, and gave the bell a jerk. The driver put on 
 the brakes, and brought the car to a sudden stop, at 
 the same time twisting his head around, and peering 
 in through the door-glass, as though suspecting some 
 Freshman trick. The conductor was on the spot in 
 an instant, ^-ith an inquiring look. 
 
 Sam was still standing, and the Freshmen were sud- 
 denly quiet. " I want you to put those men off : they 
 are ' disorderly ' and ' intoxicated,' and are insulting that 
 young lady ; " and he pointed to a rule of the company, 
 which was hung up in the car, forbidding the use of 
 the car to intoxicated or disorderly persons. 
 
 The half-dozen Freshmen got on to their feet at 
 once; the conductor, quite nonplussed at the unex- 
 pected demand, stood silent with a vacant stare ; the 
 driver, guessing that some row was imminent, started up 
 Lis team ; the girl sat shrinking in the corner, her face 
 covered with her hands ; while the confusion, which had 
 ceased for a moment, became indescribable. The con- 
 ductor recommended that they all be quiet, and that 
 there be no fuss. One or two of the students were 
 ready to fight, and asserted their willingness vocifer- 
 
404 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HAEYARD. 
 
 ously : others with equal determination shouted out 
 their counsels for peace. All this time, Sam stood look- 
 ing dangerous, and feeling ugly. Fight ? he would like 
 nothing better. He pulled the bell again with a deter- 
 mination. " I demand once more that you put these 
 fellows off," he said savagely to the conductor. " They 
 have no right here." At this, the conductor threw the 
 door wide open, and invited the offenders to get out. 
 
 See you first," was the rejoinder from a big 
 
 Freshman who had put himself forward, while his 
 friends shouted with laughter at the joke. " Get out 
 yourself; and jou too!" he cried to Sam. "Who in 
 
 be you ? " at the same time strildng out with 
 
 clenched fist. 
 
 The only reply was a blow which sent the unfortu- 
 nate man with a crash half through a window, while 
 the stalwart and muscular boatman glared at his re- 
 maining antagonists. He could easily have whipped 
 them all in these close quarters, though more than one 
 was no baby. But the girl, sobbing violently, and half 
 frightened out of her wits, rushed between the bellige- 
 rents, and clasped Sam's arm, half in fear, half in sup- 
 plication. 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Wentworth, please stop ! " she cried. " I 
 — I don't mind the noise. It's no matter about me. 
 I'll get out and walk. I'm not a bit afraid ; only don't 
 fight." 
 
 " Sit down ! " said Sam, gruffly ; " you shall do 
 nothing of the sort : sit down, I say ! " and he tried to 
 shake her off. 
 
 " No, no, no ! " cried the girl : " this trouble is all on 
 my account. I'll go, and that will end it." And before 
 
KXIGHT-EREAXTRY. 
 
 405 
 
 he could detain her, she had darted out through the 
 still open door. 
 
 " This will never do," he muttered, looking first at 
 his opponents, who were ready for a second attack, and 
 then out at the darkness of the night. "I mustn't 
 leave her here : she's worse off than before." And 
 amid a shout of jeering laughter, and cries of " Stop 
 him ! Come back ! " he too left the car. 
 
 Sam found his protegee clinging to the railing of the 
 bridge for support, crying, and trembling like a leaf. 
 She had been badly frightened at the rudeness of the 
 students, and altogether terrified at the turn matters 
 had taken, and the breach of the peace that ensued; 
 and in spite of her protest to the contrary, she was also 
 terrified at finding herself alone on Cambridge bridge 
 at midnight, as what girl of seventeen would not be ? 
 The night was bleak, and she still had a childish terror 
 of the dark ; and thoughts of all the possibilities for evil 
 connected with the situation, the hour, the darkness, 
 the black rushing waters, the complete isolation, took 
 possession of her, and quite deprived her of strength. 
 She gave a scream of terror as Sam came up. 
 
 " It's only I," he said re-assuringly. "I am not going 
 to desert you in any such fashion as that. Why ! what 
 is it ? " as she went on crjdng violently. " I declare, 
 you can hardly stand: take my arm. I assure you, 
 J ou have nothing to fear now. I will see that no harm 
 happens to you, and that you reach youi- home safely ; " 
 and waiting patiently, and offering such words of sym- 
 pathy as the occasion inspired, when she was at length 
 in some degree re-assured and soothed, the two took up 
 the line of march through the gloom. 
 
406 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 It was not long as they walked on through the dark- 
 ness, before Sam found hhnself wondering what manner 
 of maiden, if maiden it was, the fates had consigned \ 
 to his care. A thick veil had effectually concealed her 
 face while in the car; he had not even thought 
 whether she was black or white : it was enough that 
 she was a woman, and most grossly and dastardly in- 
 sulted. But now, with the light pressure of her hand 
 on his arm, and the slight touch of her figure at his 
 side, he could not help wondering who she was, and 
 what she was doing alone and unprotected in the city 
 at that hour. Then he recollected that she had called 
 him by name. " Oh, Mr. Wentworth ! " she had said, 
 using his name pat enough. Her voice was soft, sweet, 
 and childish ; but he could not recollect that he had 
 ever heard it before. Altogether, his curiosity was 
 more piqued than he would have thought possible. 
 
 " You must think it strange," said the girl, artlessly, 
 breaking the silence after a time, " that I should be in 
 Boston so late alone." 
 
 " I should judge it to be rather an unusual experience 
 on your part at least," returned Sam. 
 
 "Yes, indeed. I almost never go to Boston, espe- 
 cially of an evening. I went this afternoon with aunty, 
 and she told me to wait for her at the horse-car station 
 till she came. I waited for her from half-past five in 
 the afternoon till twelve, and then I thought I must 
 go." 
 
 "I should say so." 
 
 "But I am terribly worried about aunty. I can't 
 think what can have happened to her, though I thought 
 perhaps she might not have noticed me in the car-office, 
 and so have gone home." 
 
KXTGHT-ERRAXTRY. 
 
 407 
 
 " Then I take it that you have had no tea to-night." 
 
 " Oh, no ; but I don't care for that. I have no fears 
 now except that something may be the matter with 
 aunty." 
 
 Sam, as his companion's weight became more and more 
 perceptible, thought that there might need be fears for 
 others besides "aunty" if they had much farther to 
 walk. 
 
 " Do you live near the square ? " he asked. 
 
 "Nearly a mile farther on," she replied, with a little 
 sigh : and there seemed no alternative but to keep on 
 till the long, dark walk should at last come to an end. 
 The way was, however, not irksome to Sam; for his 
 companion, unnaturally nervous and excited by the 
 events of the evening, prattled on in a way her naturally 
 shy disposition would have rendered impossible at 
 another time. 
 
 " I made every one of those handkerchiefs you wore 
 in the races summer before last, with my own hands. 
 Aunty said she couldn't be bothered with such things, 
 though she was gracious enough to say that I might 
 do it," she said, after a time. 
 
 " I never knew till now how much we were obliged 
 to her," returned Sam, as the recollection of the pretty 
 little girl whom he had taken Villiers in to see flashed 
 across his mind, " or to you." 
 
 " Oh, they were such pretty colors that I really 
 enjoyed making them, though I found it harder work 
 than I thought it could be. I had just come to live 
 with aunty then, and had never sewed much. I was 
 such a little girl — only fifteen." 
 
 " And now you are such an aged person, and so over- 
 grown," returned Sam, much amused. 
 
408 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVAED. 
 
 " Oh, no," slie replied, laughingly ; " only I thought 
 perhaps you wouldn't remember me from so long ago." 
 
 " Yes, indeed. I remember Miss Leigh perfectly 
 well, — Ruth Leigh ; " and he repeated the words half 
 sadly, as he thought of the joyous, happy time of that 
 Freshman year, — so long ago, it seemed. He might 
 almost have said, with Ruth, " I was such a little hoy 
 then." 
 
 " I always wondered," he continued, as the scenes 
 of those Freshman days came up fresh in his recollec- 
 tion, " if you could be the — that woman's daughter ; " 
 the " she-dragon's," he had almost said. His companion 
 flushed, though protected by the darkness, at this unex- 
 pected evidence of the student's interest in her. 
 
 " Oh, no, indeed ! I am not her daughter," she re- 
 turned, with a dash of indignation. "I call her ' aunty,' 
 but she is only a cousin of papa's ; though the only 
 relation that I have in the world. He said that she 
 would take care of me ; and so, when he died, I came to 
 live with her : though, if he had known, I am sure he 
 would have arranged differently." 
 
 " I always used to think of her as a sort of she- 
 dragon," said Sam. 
 
 " It isn't so much that," continued Ruth, eagerly. 
 " I think she intends to be kind to me ; but her ways 
 and ideas, and manner of life, are so different from 
 papa's, and so different from any thing I could evei* 
 become accustomed to, or even like, and sometimes I 
 can't help showing how I feel ; and then aunty gets 
 very angry with me, and tells me that I am rebellious, 
 and possessed with vanity and pride." 
 
 Sam laughed, in spite of himself, at the artless manner 
 
KNIGHT-EREAXTEY. 
 
 409 
 
 with which this charge against her character was related ; 
 and the girl laughed too, though a little nervously. 
 
 " But the worst of all is, Mr. Wentworth," she con- 
 tinued, as if plainly bent on divulging all her troubles, 
 " that I haven't been to school a day since I came to 
 Cambridge ; and I am forgetting entirely my music, 
 that papa was so fond of, and took so much pains to 
 have me carefully instructed in. I know he intended 
 and wished that I should go to school, and continue on 
 with music ; for he said so, and ^Tote so to aunty. 
 It isn't for lack of money, either ; for papa told me there 
 would be enough for me. I don't mind doing house- 
 work, and making bonnets ; though it isn't pleasant, 
 when you see no prospect of ever doing any thing else." 
 
 " I should say as much," exclaimed Sam, indignantly. 
 " She is a she-dragon, indeed." 
 
 "I really think," said Ruth, eagerly, as if determined 
 to do her relative full justice, " that aunty is honest- 
 minded in what she does. She claims that I have had 
 schooling enough, when I can read and write : says 
 music is a vanity and a snare, and that what a woman 
 wants to know is how to cook, wash, iron, and sew. 
 And all this I have certainly learned to do, during the 
 past two years. Aunty is my guardian ; and, of course, 
 as long as she is, I can only submit. But I have so 
 longed to ask some one whether a change could not be 
 made ; for when I am twenty-one it will be too late, I 
 fear." 
 
 Sam was silent, thinking. 
 
 " I know you must think me very bold, Mr. "Went- 
 worth, to make all these complaints to you ; but I have 
 so longed to tell some one ; and I haven't a single friend, 
 or acquaintance even." 
 
410 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 " By Jove ! " said Sam, with commingled excitement 
 and indignation. " This matter must be looked into, 
 and something must be done. I am awfully ignorant 
 myself about business, and guardians, and the like ; 
 but I know a body must have some rights. I'll take 
 Yilliers into the secret ; and he will pull you through 
 your difficulties." 
 
 " Mr. Villiers ! " exclaimed Ruth dubiously ; for 
 Sam's words had somehow struck a chill to her hopes. 
 
 He is the tall young gentleman whose eyes look 
 through you so, isn't he ? " 
 
 Sam laughed at this rather ingenuous description of 
 his friend. " His eyes are a little penetrating sometimes ; 
 but he is just the most splendid fellow in the world." 
 
 " Mr. Yilliers dislikes me. I know that from the 
 way he used to look at me ; and I should be terribly 
 afraid of him. If you please, Mr. Wentworth, I would 
 rather you should say nothing to your friend, or to any 
 one, if you please. Promise me that you will not. Oh, 
 please promise me ; for I should not have spoken to 
 you as I have, if any one else was to hear about it." 
 
 Sam promised, of course. 
 
 " You have been very kind, and I thank you for it," 
 she continued ; and, with a soft " Good night," Ruth 
 disappeared into the house, which they had at last 
 reached, while Sam slowly and thoughtfully made his 
 way to his room. 
 
 As a matter of course, he looked into the shop next 
 day to see how his charge of the night before was com- 
 ing on. She was there, and alone, as it chanced, and 
 received him with a mixture of cordiality, modesty, and 
 simple grace, that was very pleasing. The rear of the 
 
KNIGHT-EEPvAXTRY. 
 
 411 
 
 store was partitioned off, and fnrnislied for a sitting or 
 sewing room, and was altogether cosey and comfort 
 able. Into this sanctum Ruth blushingiy invited him. 
 " Aunty " was at home, resting after the worry and 
 fatigue of the previous night. She had thought to find 
 Ruth at home, having made the appointment for the 
 car-office in Cambridge, and had been thoroughly fright- 
 ened at her non-appearance, and for once entirely affec- 
 tionate in her greeting. 
 
 While Ruth was telling her story, Sam took a good 
 look at her ; for not only had his love-affair of the pre- 
 ceding year quite put the little girl that he used to 
 peep at through the window out of his recollection, 
 but Ruth herself had changed not a little. Fastidious 
 beyond measure as he was at this time, and prone to 
 speak harsh words against any thing feminine, he was 
 yet fain to nod approval as he finished his survey. A 
 fresh, delicate, sensitive face, small and regular features, 
 a forehead low and beautifully proportioned, with an" 
 abundance of wavy brown hair, and a countenance that 
 changed expression as rapidly as the varying emotions 
 which it portrayed, so that one might indeed read her 
 soul through it, — that was what he saw. Her figure 
 was slight, supple, and finely moulded; and she still 
 wore her black dress. He noticed that the little fore- 
 finger was rough from constant use of the needle ; but 
 the hand was perfect for all that. Another would have 
 seen at most a very pretty little milliner : he saw, 
 with the recital of her wrongs still ringing in his ears, a 
 young lady tenderly reared and carefully educated dur- 
 ing her girlhood, condemned, by circumstances which 
 she was powerless to control, to an existence of the most 
 
412 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HAEVAED. 
 
 uncongeni£Ll companionship and unmitigated drudgery. 
 Moreover here was an opportunity to exercise valor 
 and discretion, (so often that better part of valor,) in 
 looking after her rights, and reinstating her in the enjoy- 
 ment of those privileges and opportunities which she 
 craved so earnestly, and which were her right if her 
 story was a true one, as he could not for a moment 
 doubt it to be. 
 
 The days and weeks of the term slipped away ; and, 
 though Sam continued to "look in" frequently at the 
 shop, the question of a change in Ruth's condition was 
 never brought up in those little talks, which indeed 
 were short and fragmentary. The matter was one which 
 Sam fully intended to look into "by and by," though 
 when or in what manner he was unable even to guess. 
 
 One cold and rainy evening Sam had met Ruth going 
 home alone, and quite unprotected from the storm that 
 was raging. " Ho I " said he, stopping short, " this is a 
 pretty go ! why, this will never do ; " and stripping off 
 his own great-coat, he had wrapped her securely in 
 its folds, and sheltered her with his umbrella till she 
 reached home. He had chidden her too, gruffly but 
 kindly, giving her a very lecture on the perils' of expos- 
 ure to such a November storm. Then, though not 
 without a protest, and a feeling that he was not doing 
 exactly as he ought, but yielding to her determined 
 expression that he should not depart until he was warm 
 and dry, he had entered her home. Aunty was away 
 somewhere ; and the two had lighted the fire, made the 
 tea together, and passed an hour of perfect enjoyment. 
 The ice once broken, he found his way to the house 
 often of an evening. Was not tliis young lady in dis- 
 
KXIGHT-ERPvAXTEY. 
 
 413 
 
 tress, needing his assistance and protection? and was 
 not lie in good time to reinstate her in the enjoTment 
 of her own ? 
 
 As for Ruth, — girlish, affectionate, conhding Ruth, — 
 was not this ambrosial Jimior, with his curling chestnut 
 locks, his ruddy and honest and cheery face (for some- 
 how the young fellow forgot all his lugubrious thoughts 
 and feelings when in her presence, and was his natural 
 self), his broad shoulders, and his fatherly and protect- 
 ing manner, her very hero of heroes ? Her yeneration 
 for him was of earlier growth than the night when he 
 rescued her from insult. Away back in those fir.t-t days 
 at Cambrido'e, when the world had seemed all oTief to 
 her childish heart, his cheery presence when he came 
 smiling into the store to order neckties, and white and 
 pink silk handkerchiefs for the regatta, had left its 
 impression deep in her memory. Though from time to 
 time, when her acquaintance with him Avas ripening 
 into intimacy, she gaye him a A'ery full account 
 of herself, there was one chamber in her heart whose 
 secrets were neyer so carefully guarded as when he was 
 present. She did not tell him how she had peeped into 
 a catalogue, and read the scanty story that it had to 
 tell, or with what eager excitement she had deyoured 
 the account of his yictories in the six-oar; or how she 
 had got a glimpse at a rank-list that very fall, and with 
 a thrill of pleasure found his name high up in it : or 
 that, reading his name among the ''part" men of the 
 " Junior exhibition " of that year, she had stolen away 
 21 her most becoming hat and her newest gown, and 
 attended the exercises in the old chapel on that mellow 
 October morning, when she had thought his Greek 
 
414 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 dissertation a most wonderful piece of oratory, and the 
 Greek language altogether charming. All this time she 
 had regarded him as the very pink of perfection ; aud 
 the sight of him was alone enough to quicken her heart- 
 beats. And now, — now that her god had rescued her 
 from danger, and taken her under his care and protec- 
 tion ; now that Sam not only condescended to notice 
 her, but even took pains to be polite and entertaining, 
 to sympathize with her troubles, and plan a better con- 
 dition, to be as other mortals while in her company, and 
 even to accept her hospitalities, — she felt, with all the 
 depth and strength of her sensitive nature, that she 
 could live for him or die for him. 
 
 Thus it came about, that, as the days and weeks of 
 the term passed silently away, Sam drifted steadily and 
 surely, though slowly, into an intimacy which boded 
 nothing but ill. Very disinterested, he assured himself 
 he was, seeking only Ruth's welfiire, and looking for- 
 ward only till the time should come when he should be 
 the means of restoring her to the lot which of right 
 belonged to her ; very grave and dignified, and grand- 
 fatherly too, in his bearing towards her : but still uncon- 
 sciously pleased to have the charge of so fresh and 
 beautiful a life ; unconsciously as yet flattered to feel 
 his power to make her happy or wretched, for it needed 
 but a smile to make her gay, or a frown to make her 
 tremble, as he soon discovered ; and all this time drifting 
 into a tangle which would surely be a woeful puzzle to 
 extricate himjielf from when he should awaken to a full 
 realization of the situation. 
 
XXVI. 
 
 BEFORE THE FACULTY. 
 
 Meantime it began to go the rounds of college 
 gossip, as such matters inyariably will, that Wentworth 
 of the Junior class " had a soft thing on that mighty 
 pretty little milliner in the square." The story of the 
 disturbance in the car had leaked out ; and as it came 
 from the party who were in the wrong, and who had 
 had the worst of the fight as far as it went, they had 
 given it their own coloring. This, together with the 
 fact of his intimacy with the girl, which was a matter 
 of observation for any one, furnished the framework for 
 a story that would have been obnoxious to any decent 
 young fellow, most especially to our high-spirited hero. 
 Before the end of the term, he was in everybody's 
 mouth ; envied by some, condemned by more, but a 
 marked man in every one's eyes ; the affair discussed in 
 s way that would have made his blood boil had he 
 known what everybody else knew, — that is, everybody 
 except Villiers and himself. 
 
 He had told his friend about his adventure the very 
 next day, thinking it a coincidence worthy of remark, 
 that it should have been his fortune to protect the little 
 girl whom he had thought so pretty two years before, 
 and whom both had afterwards forgotten. He had 
 
 415 
 
416 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 wanted to tell him her story too, and apply to him foi 
 counsel, put her case in his hands ; but that he had 
 promised not to do. He had hinted at her being some- 
 thing different from what she seemed, belonging to a 
 different station in life from the one she now filled, till 
 Villiers's gray eyes had expressed an astonishment that 
 warned him to stop, if he proposed keeping his promise. 
 But he had very carefully refrained from letting Vil- 
 liers know any thing about his growing intimacy with 
 Kuth ; and the latter never once suspected that the mid- 
 night adventure had not been the last of it, till one 
 morning the story that had been in every one's mouth 
 burst upon his astonished ears. He lost no time in 
 seeking Sam out, though a little dazed, and not quite 
 comprehending it all. 
 
 It happened that Tom Hawes had been before him. 
 
 " It's an everlasting lie, the whole of it, Charley," 
 was Tom's exclamaiton when the news reached him. 
 
 " It does look a little fishy, that's a fact, — that part 
 about their driving Sam off the car. He isn't the man 
 to run away from Brackett and his crew," returned 
 Longstreet. 
 
 " You may believe he isn't : the lie sticks right out 
 there. And, as for the girl part, you may bet he's all 
 right there too." 
 
 " Why in thunder don't he go for those Freshmen, 
 and most everlastingly clean them out ? " and the little 
 Junior strode about with his irresistibly comical air. 
 " I would." 
 
 " The chances are he knows nothing about it at all," 
 replied Tom ; and I'm going to tell him ; for though it's 
 none of my business what girl he goes to see, or what 
 
BEFORE THE FACULTY. 
 
 417 
 
 else he does,— though I would bet my head on his doing 
 the right thing anywhere, for there isn't a mean streak 
 in him, — I can't have that Brackett and his crowd 
 cocking their hats at me, and winking at each other, 
 as though they had regularly cleaned out the whole 
 Junior class. If Sam don't thrash him, I ehall." 
 
 "Then he is doomed," said Longstreet, solemnly: "a'o 
 in, old boy." 
 
 Thereupon the glum boatman had sought out his 
 friend, and in his blunt fashion had told him the story 
 as it was told him. 
 
 " I couldn't believe it myself, Sam, and I thought 
 you ought to know it, and that you didn't ; and I see I 
 
 was right. Of course it's all a lie, old fellow;" and 
 
 he squeezed Sam's hand. " You needn't say a word;" 
 for the look of blank astonishment that had overspread 
 Sam's face had been more eloquent than words. " But 
 my advice to you is, to clean it up. Call on me if you 
 want any help ; " and he was off, leaving the student to 
 his reflections. 
 
 Sam had been as one struck dumb. Then the indig- 
 nation born of the consciousness of the most perfect 
 integrity surged tlirough him ; and his face flushed 
 darkly. Again, as after a time his thoughts grew more 
 dispassionate, and he was able to look at his intimacy 
 with Ruth, and consider it as it would necessarily 
 appear to another, he realized fully the mistake he had 
 made, the wrong he had done in risking the possibility 
 of her name being coupled with his, when from the 
 very nature of the case such an association could only 
 be to her discredit. He was penitent enough, but that 
 did not cure the mischief. Perplexed though he was, 
 
418 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 and by no means seeing clearly the course which would 
 with consistency and lionor lead him out of difficulties 
 which beset him, he would at least have gone no far 
 ther, had it not been for the ill-timed though well- 
 meant interference of Villiers. He, filled with astonish- 
 ment and alarm, came just at the time when the young 
 man's wounds were most sensitive and most easily 
 irritated, and by his firm, persevering, and unflinching 
 endeavor to mend matters, roused all the opposition 
 and independence in Sam's nature. 
 
 Villiers fully expected that his friend would deny 
 point-blank all acquaintance with Ruth, except what 
 might naturally result from the episode when he had 
 been her champion ; and when Sam by his silence ad- 
 mitted the intimacy between them, his face grew white 
 as if with sudden fear in a way that Sam had never 
 seen before. 
 
 " What do you mean by looking at me in that 
 fashion?" he exclaimed, turning square upon Villiers, 
 and looking with wrathful gaze into those sad, calm, 
 honest gray eyes. ^'You don't for a moment believe 
 that there has been or can be any thing unworthy in 
 my conduct towards that girl? Say you don't, or, by 
 , let our acquaintance end here and forever ! " 
 
 " If I thought that," said Villiers, gravely, " I should 
 not be here." 
 
 " Well, then, why in the devil's name do you come 
 here preaching me a sermon?" 
 
 " Because," returned Villiers, firmly, " I want you to 
 break off your intimacy and acquaintance with her at 
 once and altogether. It is the only safety for you 
 both." 
 
BEFORE THE FACULTY. 
 
 419 
 
 " Safety ! " exclaimed Sam, burning with anger. 
 
 " Yes, safety," replied Villiers, firmly. 
 
 " And suppose I do not choose to break it off either 
 at once or at all, but conclude to mind my own affairs 
 as I see fit, with the expectation that the rest of the 
 world will do the same ? " They were both pacing the 
 room, Sam excited and thoroughly angry, Villiers be- 
 coming more and more alarmed. 
 
 " It is just because the rest of the world will not 
 mind its own business, as you see it will not, that I am 
 come to you, as a friend not only has a right, but is in 
 duty bound, to do." 
 
 " You are very kind, and I am obliged to you for your 
 good intentions ; but I prefer to act in this matter with- 
 out interference from any one." 
 
 Villiers's face flushed, and he turned quickly as if to 
 leave the room. Then, determining to make one more 
 effort, he said, You know that it is not yourself alone 
 that you are compromising. Can you think of anything 
 that could be more abhorrent to a decent girl than 
 to have her name coupled with yours as your friend's 
 has been and is?" 
 
 Sam was silent. 
 
 "When any one's attentions cannot, from the very 
 nature of the case, bring any thing but confusion, is it 
 not common honesty to stop them ? " 
 
 Sam again had no reply for what he knew and felt to 
 be the truth. 
 
 4nd, besides all this, any one can see at a glance 
 that this girl is an affectionate, confiding, romantic 
 young thing, who would give herself away unasked and 
 perhaps unsought. Such a gift must be troublesome and 
 
420 STUDENT-LIFE AT HABVAED. 
 
 perplexing to the last degree, if one should happen 
 neither to expect nor care for it." 
 
 Sam had realized all this within the hour. 
 
 " I say you have no right, — come, now, have you, 
 Sam ? " and he laid his hand entreatingly on his 
 shoulder : " put all false honor and resentment at my 
 interference aside, — have you any right to go on in 
 such a matter, in a spirit of foolish independence, or 
 consulting only your own inclination and pleasure ? " 
 
 Sam had listened without a word, and, in spite of the 
 ugly feelings which somehow seemed to possess him, 
 had half determined to promise that he would abide by 
 his friend's judgment, which he felt was right, and be 
 governed by his counsel; but the words "inclination 
 and pleasure " set him all aflame. He shook Villiers's 
 hand off roughly. 
 
 "If it is agreeable to her and to me, that our 
 acquaintance should continue, I don't know that it 
 concerns any one else," he said, savagely. 
 
 " Not concern any one else ! Ah, Sam, you know 
 better than that. Do you forget your mother ? How 
 can it be possible, when a man has a sister, that his 
 errors should not concern any one beside himself?" 
 
 " No, certainly not ! " exclaimed Sam, with bitterness. 
 " Sisters are very great incentives to every thing 
 that is nice, especially if they happen to be some other 
 man's." 
 
 At that Villiers went his way, alarmed, hurt, dis- 
 couraged ; and Sam, out of sheer bravado, made love 
 outright to Rutb for the next two or three weeks. 
 
 Meantime he did not forget Tom Hawes's advice to 
 " clean it up." He was just in the mood for such work. 
 
BEFOEE THE FACULTY. 
 
 421 
 
 A spirit of vengeance possessed him ; and he chafed 
 continually till he could find an object on which to pour 
 out his wrath. First of all he interrogated his chum. 
 It was to Huntingdon's good offices that the present 
 situation of affairs was due. With an overweening 
 desire to see the young man ruined or disgraced, he 
 had, through Cartier's instrumentality, spread every 
 possible snare for him, and fairly gnashed his teeth at 
 seeing the unsuspecting 3'oung fellow walk safely amia 
 them all. He hated the very name of Went worth, and 
 had vowed that his hate should in some way have its 
 fill. He it was who had given both notoriety and color 
 to facts that, innocent in themselves, would else have 
 soon been forgotten ; and he fairly delighted in the 
 young student's confusion. 
 
 " Ah, ha ! " said he, with his cool, sneering laugh, 
 " you are a sly dog, aren't you, chum ? a sly dog, by 
 Jove ! Oh, I know all about those things, chum : I don't 
 want to hear a word," as Sam made an indignant ges- 
 ture. " They want to be kept mighty quiet, I know; 
 and you are doing perfectly right in cleaning the thing 
 up, and knocking any one's teeth down his throat who 
 pretends to believe any thing of the sort, and hushing 
 it up in every way you can : only," — and his face 
 darkened, and his eye gleamed wickedly, — " it won't do 
 with me. Save your righteous indignation for some- 
 body else. Oh ! ah, ha ! " and he laughed again, long 
 and immoderately. " I never would have believed it 
 of you, chum, — of you. The women are all alike to you, 
 equally objects of indifference, since a certain R. T. has 
 disappeared from these parts ; aren't they ? By Jove, 
 chum, she's a little beauty ; and I envy you." 
 
422 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 It was discouraging business ; and, but for the fires 
 of vengeance that burned in his soul, he would have 
 abandoned it all ; for the most that he could gather was 
 that the Freshmen had told that they had beaten him 
 in a fight for the possession of the last car one night in 
 the fall, and had driven him off, along with a girl that 
 he had taken up the quarrel for. There was no doubt 
 that Brackett, the champion and heavy weight of the 
 Freshmen, had plumed himself not a little on his victory 
 over the crack oar of the Harvard ; for his friends had 
 persuaded him that such had been the result of the 
 encounter, and he was unable to know from his own 
 recollection of the matter that this was not true. His 
 friends had certainly presumed on the non-contradiction 
 of the statement, to put on airs in a way that had 
 become particularly offensive to many of Sam's boating 
 friends, till it had come to pass that the feeling pre- 
 vailed very generally among them that Sam must take 
 the matter up. Ordinarily he would have laughed at 
 the whole affair ; but at this time he was not himself ; 
 and as if to add fuel to the flame, Tom Hawes and 
 Longstreet, and even Lyman, for whose opinion he had 
 more than ordinary regard, intimated, each in his own 
 peculiar fashion, that it was his duty and right to give 
 Brackett a sound thrashing. 
 
 " And do it publicly too, by Jove," said Longstreet, 
 earnestly, rubbing his hands enthusiastically together 
 at the prospect of a disturbance. " Teach the beggar 
 a lesson, by Jove ! " 
 
 " Never you fear but that it will be done thoroughly," 
 said Sam, glumly, " or that it sha'n't be as open and 
 public as liis — — lies have been." 
 
BEFORE THE FACULTY. 
 
 423 
 
 Having marked his man, he waited patiently and 
 quietly, nursing his wrath, till he should encounter him 
 some day with as many near as possible, to witness the 
 unfortunate Freshman's retraction or his punishment. 
 One Thursday noon he met him in front of University, 
 just as a hundred or two students were swarming down 
 the steps from the recitation-rooms, and as many more 
 were thronging up to take their places. Sam con- 
 fronted him, as with his friends and followers he was 
 passing on, stopped him, and regarded him a moment 
 with lowering brow and flashing eye, though Brackett 
 was no baby. Instantly a crowd collected at the cry 
 of " Row, row I " but the confusion was awed into silence 
 by Sam's wrathful look ; and all stood in eager expecta- 
 tion, while knowing looks and winks, and waggings of 
 the head, were freely exchanged. 
 
 "Mr. Brackett," quoth our hero, "I am informed 
 that you have seen fit to state that one night last fall 
 you thrashed me in an encounter we had in a car, and 
 drove me out of it ; and the story is all over the college. 
 Have you said so ? " 
 
 " Yes," returned the Freshman, sullenly. 
 
 " Well, then, I want you to retract it here and now, 
 fully and publicly, and to state that it is utterly and 
 disgracefully false, — a downright lie." 
 , " Well, I sha'n't," said Brackett, fiercely, " for you 
 know that it is true." 
 
 " Then take care of yourself, for I am going to knock 
 you down;" and with the word, in spite of the Fresh- 
 man's guard, he felled him heavily on the snow, where- 
 upon his friends assisted him away, too much stunned 
 to renew the conflict. 
 
424 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 " Hi ! " said Longstreet, excitedly, " lie throws up tlie 
 sponge at the first round." 
 
 " Shut up ! " said Sam, grasping him by the collar, 
 and holding him fast ; adding to the group of Freshmen, 
 If there is anybody else that thrashed me at that 
 time, or that would like to now, the present is his 
 opportunity." v 
 
 The gentlemen addressed were, however, occupied in 
 assisting in the retreat of their leader. 
 
 Then there was a clapping of hands, — for Brackett 
 was a bully, and many were glad to see him humbled, 
 — a scampering up the steps of University to recitation, 
 and Sam was alone with his friends. 
 
 " I say ! " said Longstreet, a little piteously, " let go, 
 can't you?" and Sam released his grasp which he had 
 retained unconsciously, while there was a general laugh 
 at the little man's crestfallen look. One after another, 
 the fellows congratulated him ; and for twenty-four 
 hours he was a hero indeed; then the entire matter 
 became a thing of the past. 
 
 There was more to come, however. It so chanced 
 that a certain professor passing by saw Sam's blow, and 
 heard his challenge ; and the next Monday Sam was 
 waited upon by our old friend the janitor, and informed, 
 that as the Faculty were to sit in council that evening, 
 and anticipated the pleasure of his company before 
 them some time during the session, he would be good 
 enough to remain in his room till he should be sum- 
 moned. For the moment, Sam's heart failed him : he 
 had never thought of this. 
 
 " I am afraid, chum, that you have got yourself into 
 trouble," quoth Huntingdon, with a malicious look. 
 
 The benevolent Cerberus disappeared down the stairs. 
 
BEFOEE THE FACULTY. 
 
 425 
 
 " I shouldn't wonder ; but I can't help it if I have," 
 returned Sam, with a half-sigh. Trouble certainly had 
 come thick and fast on him, these last six or eight 
 months ; every thing seemed to go wrong, he thought ; 
 and, for the moment, he felt well-nigh discouraged. " I 
 couldn't have acted differently under the circumstances.' 
 No, certainly not." 
 
 " I don't see how they can rough a man much for 
 knocking a man down who had lied about him as this 
 one had, and who refused to retract : I gave him a fair 
 chance. There wouldn't be much justice in it if they 
 should." 
 
 " That is perfectly true ; but you know what Faculty 
 justice is," replied Huntingdon, with a sneer. You 
 remember Parsons, don't you, and what he got for 
 bloody Monday night, when they mistook him for me ? 
 — a year's suspension; and he wasn't even in Cambridge 
 at the time. And you have actually knocked a man 
 down, and bunged him up considerably too, according 
 to all accounts. They say he won't be able to use his 
 eye for a month. However, I dare say you will pull 
 through all right : I trust so ; but I should rather not 
 stand in your shoes just now." 
 
 Sam waited in his room that Monday night in not the 
 most enviable frame of mind. He had assuredly wound 
 himseit up in a muso uncomfortable snarl. There was 
 Villiers, who had been right in all this matter, as he 
 always was. He had deceived him, and broken friendship 
 with him. He felt that his whole intercoui'se with the 
 innocent cause of his present difficulty had been wrong, 
 while he could not enough condemn himself for the lover- 
 like coui'se he had pursued during the past three weeks. 
 
426 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 He saw his folly in supposing that a hot-headed fellow 
 like himself could meet a girl as he had met Ruth, with- 
 out danger to both parties. Villiers had been right in 
 Saying that she was an affectionate, confiding, romantic 
 young thing, who would give herself unasked. And 
 Sam was free to confess that such a gift was more than 
 troublesome and perplexing : he was utterly at a loss to 
 know what to do about it. The neglected work of the 
 term, too, reproached him silently, but not the less 
 deeply. He could hardly bear to think of the blow 
 that his suspension would be to his mother and sister. 
 At length, a knock on the door interrupted his medi- 
 tations. The janitor with his kindly face, and his lan- 
 tern and bunch of keys, had come to escort him to the 
 Faculty meeting. 
 
 " Take your coat, Mr. Went worth," he said, pleasantly, 
 as Sam started up, hat in hand, to accompany him ; 
 " it is very cold without." 
 
 " Thank you, I sha'n't need it; " and indeed he did 
 not. He could not have told whether it was warm or 
 cold. The twain passed on in silence over the snow. 
 The big elms made moving shadows, which the gleams 
 from the lantern seemed to chase and try to seize upon, 
 as they passed across the yard. They ascended the 
 familiar stone staircase. Sam even found time to won- 
 der how the massive stone blocks were held suspended 
 one over the other without any apparent support ; and 
 then in a moment he was before the Faculty. 
 
 He cast his eyes coolly around, and took in the scene ; 
 for with the emergency had come calm, collected cour- 
 age to meet whatever might await him. It was the old 
 familiar President's room, with the folding-doors lead- 
 
BEFORE THE FACULTY. 
 
 427 
 
 Lag to the Regent's room thrown open. The reverend 
 President sat at the head of the table, at his usual desk. 
 The doctor was also present, and bowed politely, though 
 with an expression of grave, kindly concern on his face. 
 The Philosopher nodded to him, and smiled; and several 
 others greeted him pleasantly. There were twelve or 
 fifteen others of the corps of instructors, scattered about 
 the rooms in various attitudes. Prof. Chubby was 
 tipped back in his chair, nursing one of his feet. The 
 business was a thoroughly distasteful one to him, as 
 became more and more manifest as the session pro- 
 gressed. Two or three more were in a corner by them- 
 selves, laughing and talking over some matters of 
 interest ; while others with stern visages sat at their 
 places ready to mete out justice to the offender. Sam 
 afterwards said, as he told the story, that the weird- 
 looking professor of physics was in the Regent's room, 
 zealously rubbing a door-panel with the palm of his 
 hand, trying to bring out the fundamental note, and 
 that he did make it speak " very successfully, produ- 
 cing an excellent bass. 
 
 Presently the attention of the company was called to 
 business ; and the reverend President broke the silence. 
 
 " Mr. Went worth, you were seen to strike a Fresh- 
 man last Thursday about one o'clock, in front of Uni- 
 versity Hall, and knock him down ; and the student is 
 considerably injured, and complaint has been made 
 against you. You do not deny that you did it, I pre- 
 sume?" 
 
 " Xo, Mr. President : I do not deny it." 
 " What was the occasion of such a proceeding, Mr. 
 Wentworth?" 
 
428 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 " He had lied about me, sir, and refused to retract 
 the falsehood." 
 
 " What was the statement he made, to which jon 
 took exception ? Will you be pleased to relate it? " 
 
 Sam told the story given out by the Freshman and 
 his friends, as he had heard it. " This report was all 
 over the college, Mr. President ; and I could not allow 
 it to stand. Every one would have been justified in 
 believing it, if I had ; whereas it did not contain the 
 least particle of truth." 
 
 " There was a disturbance in a car, late one night, 
 in which you took part ; was there not ? " asked the 
 bantam of the Faculty, in his shrill, precise voice. 
 
 " There was, sir." 
 
 " Then, I should say that the statement which you 
 found so obnoxious did contain ' the least particle of 
 truth ; ' " and the professor's lip curled. 
 
 " Won't you state the facts of the case, Mr. Went- 
 worth ? " said the doctor, in a grave and anxious voice. 
 
 Sam told what took place on that now memorable 
 night, with glowing cheeks and flashing eyes. 
 
 " I don't wonder that he objected to Brackett's story," 
 said Mr. Prof. Chubby, quite audibly, to the Philos- 
 opher. 
 
 " No young gentleman of spirit would suffer himself 
 to be so belied with impunity," said the Philosopher ; 
 and he nodded to Sam, at the same time polishing his 
 eye-glasses. 
 
 " What became of the girl ? " asked that well-remem- 
 bered professor who had assigned the rooms, in his 
 shrill, nasal tone. 
 
 " I accompanied her home, sir." 
 
BEFORE THE FACULTY. 
 
 429 
 
 " Had you ever met her before ? " continued the 
 quondam curator of rooms. 
 
 " I was not aware that I had, at that time." 
 
 " But you had, in point of fact ? " 
 
 Sam was silent ; and the question was repeated more 
 shrilly than before. 
 
 " I don't see what that has to do with the matter," 
 said Mr. Prof. Chubby, in his brusque, off-hand manner. 
 
 "lN"othing at all, of course," said the Philoso-nher, 
 turning uneasily in his chair, and rubbing his glasses 
 more vigorously than ever. 
 
 There was a silence, broken only by a snort on the 
 part of the last interrogator ; and the President looked 
 inquiringly around. 
 
 " Ah, Mr. Wentworth ! " and the bantam half bowed 
 to the President, " you say, sir, that all this happened 
 last fall ; at what time during the fall ? how long ago ? " 
 
 " About ten weeks I should say, sir." 
 
 " Ah, yes ; about ten weeks ago," superciliously. 
 " How happens it that you have permitted this most 
 obnoxious story to remain uncontradicted all this 
 tune ? " 
 
 " I did not know of it till recently, sir." 
 
 " How recently, Mr. Wentworth ? " 
 
 " I think I first heard of it three weeks ago. Then 
 some time was consumed in tracing it back, and finding 
 out who it came from." 
 
 " And how long since you knew for a certainty who 
 the offender was ? " 
 
 " About a week, sir," replied Sam, not quite under- 
 standing the drift of this examination. 
 
 " Well, now, Mr. Wentwoi th, why did you let the 
 
430 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 matter rest a week, even? why did you not visit the 
 offender with your vengeance at once ? " 
 
 " Because, sir," returned Sam, a little contemptuously, 
 but very politely, " I thought best to wait for a favor- 
 able conjunction of circumstances. I desired the most 
 fitting opportunity, backed by the strongest inclination 
 for the work. There were times when my inclination 
 was sufficient, but the opportunity failed : it so chanced 
 that there was a most fortunate conjunction of the two ^ 
 at one o'clock last Thursday afternoon, at which time I 
 knocked the man down, as I had proposed ; " and he j 
 bowed civilly to the now irate instructor of youth, 
 while a smile lingered for a moment on the faces of 
 most of the company. 
 
 " It was a most unwarrantable proceeding, most 
 unwarrantable," half snorted the senior professor, " to 
 attack a student on his way to duty. You would be 
 glad to apologize, I presume, sir ? " 
 
 " Of course I could not do that, sir," returned Sam 
 politely, " without admitting myself to be in the wrong 
 from the first; and in that case I should owe Mr. 
 Brackett more than an apology," at which the Philoso- 
 pher nodded two or three times in succession. 
 
 It appearing that no one cared to ask him in any 
 more questions, the reverend President gravely informed 
 him that he could retire ; and he made his way to his 
 room, to speculate on the event. 
 
 To say that Villiers was grieved and alarmed at his 
 friend's conduct, would convey but a mild impression 
 of his feelings at this time. His anxiety during these 
 three weeks had been deep and unremittent. The inter- 
 
BEFOEE THE FACITLTY. 
 
 431 
 
 course between the tvro had been so slight that he did 
 not even know of this new danger that threatened Sam, 
 that he had knocked a man down, and been summoned 
 to attend tlie Faculty meeting. He only knew that his 
 friend was going very fast and far with the young lady 
 in the square ; and, look at it from whatever standpoint 
 he chose, he could see no good as the possible result of 
 such an intimacy, could discover nothing but harm for 
 them both. He was fully determined to break it up in 
 some way, if such a thing should be possible ; and he 
 was all the more inclined to persevere, because he felt 
 convinced that the young man had been drawn in by 
 circumstances to a relation which he never contem- 
 plated in the outset : so he made up his mind to save 
 him from the disgrace of an unworthy action, or the 
 necessity of fulfilling a damaging duty. The only 
 problem was how to accomplish this result. 
 
 Pondering over these matters, and torn by conflicting 
 emotions and doubts, he strode along, on this Monday 
 afternoon, towards the city. It was one of winter's 
 glorious days. The air, clear, crisp, fresh, and still, 
 tinted the horizon and the distant, snow-covered hills 
 vuth a delicate roseate hue ; on either side the pure 
 white landscape stretched away : hundreds of gay 
 equipages, with their merry passengers and jingling 
 bells, gave life to the scene. Presently the river, frozen, 
 and covered with snow, caught the deep purple and red 
 of the dying sun, and shone magnificently. Over the 
 city in front of him, the moon, nearly full, hung sus- 
 pended in the clear air, lending her reflected rays to 
 prolong the light of the dying day ; while the thousands 
 of windows, rising one above another on the liill before, 
 
432 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVAED. 
 
 threw back the fading sunbeams m dazzling showers 
 of purple and saffron and golden light. He strode on 
 through the snow, and plunged into the gloomy streets 
 of the city, just as the pageant faded away. 
 
 Unconscious of his path, he passed slowly along the 
 crowded streets, until at last he found himself quite at 
 the opposite quarter of the city, and before the entrance 
 of the finest of her Catholic churches. It was a week 
 of musical carnival with the Catholics ; and some festi- 
 val of the Church was being celebrated in grand style 
 within. Unwittingly he entered the edifice, and stood 
 with bared head and reverential mein, gazing upon the 
 kneeling thousands, as the low chanting of the priests 
 came in a monotone from the chancel. Of a sudden, 
 the organ pealed forth a familiar strain ; and that air so 
 familiar to him, and so well loved, that hymn to the 
 Virgin, was given with enrapturing effect. High above 
 the organ and the accompanying chorus, soared the 
 clear, thrilling soprano, bearing aloft the impassioned 
 music. 
 
 The young student stood spell-bound. The church, 
 with its snow-white pillars and walls, its kneeling 
 throng, its gorgeously attired priests, its thousand 
 candles, and clouds of rising incense, faded from his 
 sight. He stood once more in the homelike sitting-room 
 where he first heard these notes. His love for the place 
 and its precious inmates rose once more, fresh and green. 
 He remembered the deep-seated anxiety of that gentle 
 woman, lest her son, the hope of her life, should go 
 astray ; the promise he gave that blue-eyed girl, by the 
 river bank, years ago. Surely now is the time for him 
 to keep his word to her ! This is the day to which she 
 
BEFORE THE 5 ACULTY. 
 
 433 
 
 looked forward with instinctive dread. He remembered 
 how much he owed them both, for the many happy 
 hours they had given him ; and, as the music suddenly 
 ceased, he hurried from the church, resolved that at 
 least they should have full warning of the impending 
 danger. 
 
 Two hours later, just as the Faculty had voted, after 
 a long discussion, to suspend Wentworth of the Junior 
 class, he worded the following note : — 
 
 My dear Mrs. Wentworth, — If you can possibly find a 
 reason which will make it necessary for you to call your son 
 home for a time, it would be well to do so at once. Believe me, 
 it is my firm conviction that it is absolutely indispensable for 
 his well-bemg that he leave Cambridge without delay, and for 
 some little time. I hope I may impress you sufficiently with the 
 necessity for this change. Very truly yours, 
 
 George Yilllers. 
 
4 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 SUSPENSION. 
 
 The news of Wentwortli's suspension fell like a 
 thunderbolt from a cloudless sky, and was all over the 
 college before recitation next morning. One of the 
 tutors had told a student, the student spread the news 
 at prayers, and in a twinkling everybody heard of it, 
 unlucky Sam among the rest ; and he was immediately 
 the centre of a group of excited, indignant, and sympa- 
 thizing friends. 
 
 " Oh, well," was L3rman's comment, " it is just what 
 you might expect from the Faculty: their ideas of 
 justice are as yet in the egg," which expression of sen- 
 timent met with the most uuiversal approval. 
 
 " We had better not stand it any longer, fellows : they 
 have roughed us long enough," exclaimed Longstreet, 
 excitedly. Breakfast waited while this little indigna- 
 tion-meeting was in session. " It is high time to take 
 a stand, and let them understand that we are not 
 going to be abused in this fashion any longer. There 
 wouldn't be a dozen men left by Class Day except the 
 digs, if they had their way, confound 'em ! " 
 
 " That's so ! " echoed Lewis and Hawes and a score 
 besides. 
 
 " But what do you propose to do about it, Charley ? " 
 
 434 
 
srsPExsiox. 
 
 435 
 
 said Lyman, coolly. I, for one, don't see ho^v we are 
 going to help ourselves."* 
 
 "Do?" shrieked the little Junior. "We'll have a 
 rebellion : that's what we'll do ; and they shall take 
 Wentworth back, or else try their hand at running the 
 machine without us. According to my taste, it would 
 be mighty nice to lay off and let the Prex. and the old 
 Doc. and the rest of them go to prayers, and find no- 
 body there : he might pray just as long as he wanted to 
 then, and welcome." 
 
 There was a general laugh at this speech : for that 
 was more than the graceless students permitted the 
 Doctor to do those cold mornings. They gave him a 
 certain amount of time for his ^^rayer ; and if he forgot 
 himself (as in fact was not often the case), and seemed 
 disposed to prolong the exercise beyond the prescriptive 
 limit, there was such a shufihng of feet, coughing, and 
 confusion, that the reverend divine forthwith took the 
 liint, and brought his devotions to a close. 
 
 " And I tell you, boys, it would be just gay to loaf 
 and smoke and lay off, and see those wretched in- 
 structors go to the recitations to find nobody there I 
 Wouldn't it take them down some?" and the little 
 fellow's eyes glistened with delight at the anticipated 
 pleasure. " And, by the eternal Moses, we can do it, 
 
 too : " 
 
 " I guess you have been reading the ' Rebelliad,' 
 Charley. That thmg can't be done twice. You cotdd 
 not get the fellows to go in for it nowadays." Lyman 
 spoke gravely and seriously ; for it was apparent, from 
 the temper of the assembled group, that Longstreet's 
 plans were entertained by others than himself. 
 
436 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 " Oh, yes, they would ! " he replied, eagerly. " There's 
 all the Sophs, and most of the Freshmen, and one-half 
 of the Seniors ; and our men would go in of course. 
 We never shall have another chance like this : it is the 
 very thing ! " 
 
 " You won't do any thing so foolish on my account," 
 said Sam, earnestly, " that is, if you are my friends, and 
 want to oblige me in the matter. You couldn't carry 
 it through ; enough fellows would stand aloof to spoil 
 ever}^ thing, and you would have to cave at last, 
 Charley." 
 
 " Oh, I suppose we should have to cave at last," was 
 the ingenuous reply. 
 
 " And instead of one man suspended, there would be 
 fifty ; and it isn't pleasant to be suspended, when you 
 really come to the point," said Sam, smiling ruefully. 
 
 " Yes ; I suppose they'd make it Ijot for us. But 
 then we'd have the fun : they couldn't cheat us out of 
 that." 
 
 "Well, Charley, there wouldn't be much fun now: 
 it's too cold weather. Wait till it comes warmer, so 
 that you could lay off under the trees, and see those 
 wretched men going to the empty rooms : that would 
 do very much better." 
 
 " No : I guess you're right, Sam," he replied, dolefully. 
 " There wouldn't be much fun in it now ; but I thought 
 this was such a splendid chance ; and I'm blowed if I 
 don't have that rebellion first or last ! " And in truth 
 the curious little fellow had worked for this with a zeal 
 worthy of a better cause, and had pledged over half the 
 men in the college to join when he should give the 
 word. A rebellion was the dream of his college life, — 
 a dream that wa^ never realized. 
 
SUSPEXSIOX. 
 
 437 
 
 Sam presently received notice of his suspension for 
 the remainder of the year, and he must leave Cam- 
 bridge forthwith. " It is only to cross the line, a half- 
 hour's work," he thought, as he gathered his traps 
 together ; " and I may as well be off at once." He had 
 inveighed against Cambridge often enough of late ; but 
 now that he was to leave it, he was disconsolate. All his 
 fxiends, the entire college in fact, sympathized with him, 
 but that only served to make the separation harder; 
 and although here every one braved him out in his 
 action toward the Freshman, he felt that the presump- 
 tion would be against him when once he should have 
 stepped his foot outside. And the matter was not one 
 that he felt he should care to enlarge upon in explana- 
 tion of his situation. The best way would be to keep 
 shady, he thought as lie packed up. I can tell mother 
 and Kate all about it ; and lurther than that it is no 
 one's business ; and I shall have a splendid time to dig. 
 After all, it won't be so bad." 
 
 " Look out for a good room in Holworthy for next 
 year, chum, and run down when you can, won't you ? " 
 said Sam as he shook Huntingdon's hand with some 
 of the feeling of the old times when he had looked 
 I upon the handsome and accomplished student as a very 
 beau ideal. 
 
 " You may trust me to do both, chum. I am vastly 
 H sorry that you have to go ; " and they parted. 
 
 " Confound him I " soliloquized Huntingdon, as he 
 turned away. " I have no idea but that somehow he 
 I will make capital out of his misfortune, and come back 
 all the better for it ; " and his face grew dark. I 
 believe I had better have kept my mouth shut : then he 
 
438 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HAEVAED. 
 
 would have staid here, and been certain to Lave got 
 into a nice mess with that girl, whereas now he'll be 
 out of harm's way. If he could have got himself 
 expelled, there would have been some satisfaction in 
 that. Well, I sha'n't see him swelling round here for 
 one good while : there's some little comfort in that." 
 
 " God bless you, Sam ! " said Tom Hawes, as he 
 grasped his hand. " I am sorry you've got to go ; " and, 
 in spite of himself, a moisture gathered in his eye. " I 
 hoped you would be in the Harvard this season : we 
 shall need you there badly enough." Then in an 
 undertone, The society elections are coming on early 
 next term, and we'll see that your interests don't suffer. 
 We are all going in together, and you should be presi- 
 dent if you were only here ; for you are the best of us, 
 as we all know." 
 
 All the men, pretty much, came to give him a grasp 
 of the hand. " Now, then, fellows, three cheers for 
 Sam Went worth, the martyr to the right of protecting 
 a fellow from slander and lies ! " called Longstreet ; and 
 they were given with a ring. 
 
 " Three groans for the Faculty ! " called Lyman ; and 
 they were given most lustily. 
 
 " Let us form a procession, and escort him around the 
 grounds," said Lewis ; and the proposition was accepted 
 with a shout. But Sam was very determined in his 
 " No ; " and at last the hand-shaking was over. He 
 broke away from his hundred friends, and was off with 
 Villiers. Villiers was the second person who was glad 
 of Sam's suspension, though for reasons essentially 
 different from those which influenced the excellent Mr. 
 Huntingdon. He had perceived with pain Sam's mani- 
 
SUSPENSION. 
 
 439 
 
 fest attentions to Ruth during these latter weeks, and, 
 though powerless to do aught to arrest his friend in liis 
 folly, felt that it was horrible to suffer him to go on 
 recklessly and thoughtlessly, — whither, he could not, 
 dared not conjecture. The suspension was a very- 
 salvation : so this friend reasoned and rejoiced. 
 
 Sam and Villiers had gone together to see Ruth on 
 the occasion of Sam's farewell. Sam would not trust 
 himself to go alone. Ruth was well-nigh broken-hearted 
 at learning what had befallen her champion and hero, 
 and felt, with all her warm and girlishly enthusiastic 
 nature, that she would rather have died than have 
 brought ill to him. She meant to tell him this ; and 
 here he had come to her with this tall, grave man who 
 she felt had always disliked and distrusted her, and in 
 whose presence, and beneath whose soul-reading eyes, 
 she found it impossible to say a word. Sam had other 
 thoughts and purposes, however, than the mere utter- 
 ance of condolence and endearing phrases. He felt 
 that if he could be the means, even indirectly, of hav- 
 ing Ruth cared for as she wished and had a right to 
 be, then the events of the past weeks might be in a 
 measure redeemed; and his purpose was to place the 
 matter, with Ruth's consent, in Villiers's hands. 
 
 Sam, to his surprise, found it one of the most difficult 
 matters he had ever undertaken. The girl, so timid, 
 so pliable to his will, so ready to devote herself to him 
 body and soul, was utterly unyielding in this matter 
 where her own welfare was involved ; and it was not 
 till Sam introduced his own personal wish that it 
 should be so, — a reason which was all-powerful with 
 her, — that she at length consented. The matter was 
 
440 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 then explained to Yilliers, who in a few questions 
 gathered what information could be obtained from this 
 source, and promised Sam to look the matter up, and 
 restore Ruth to her rights. 
 
 " You put on the screws, and straighten every thing 
 out as it ought to be; will you?" was Sam's eager 
 request ; and Villiers promised that he would, without 
 delay ; and, as Mr. Villiers's promises were sacred mat- 
 ters, it was measurably certain that Miss Ruth's days 
 of house-drudgery and trimming bonnets were over. 
 
 The two had been very near breaking friendship over 
 this girl. Sam had been hot and insulting, and, though 
 sorry enough afterwards, would not make up his mind 
 to say so. Villiers, though he felt his motives to be 
 irreproachable, was conscious of having interfered in a 
 very delicate matter, and was not at all sure that he 
 had not made every thing worse ; but he too was not 
 prone to admit himself in the wrong. So they had gone 
 on for more than three weeks, barely nodding to one 
 another as they passed, — they who had loved each 
 other, how well they never knew till now. It had been 
 hard work for both ; and neither could have held out 
 much longer. When the suspension came, they in- 
 stinctively sought each other out ; and that which had 
 been growing and struggling in their hearts burst forth : 
 they confessed their faults, and asked forgiveness. 
 
 " You are worth all the girls in the world ! " said 
 Sam, as the two big fellows embraced each other on 
 the platform of the car, to the wonder of spectators. 
 " You are worth all the girls in the world, Villiers ; 
 and I have been just crazy. By Jove ! I don't know 
 what else it could have been. But take good care 
 
SUSPENSION. 
 
 441 
 
 of her, won't you, for she has been much wronged 
 on all hands ; and keep me posted on every thing that 
 happens ; and come down as often as you can, and cheer 
 a fellow up ; " and amid much waving of the hands the 
 train glided slowty out of the depot, and the young 
 fellow was gone. 
 
 Yes, Sam was gone ; but the great machine moved 
 on just the same. A man drops out of his place, and is 
 soon forgotten. His well-known form is missed at reci- 
 tations and lectures ; there is a gap at the table which 
 was wont to be filled; his cheery face and hearty 
 manner and sprightly talk are missed for a time : then 
 the void grows familiar, and, whether he is married or 
 buried, he is soon forgotten. 
 
 The first term drew to its close ; the winter vacation 
 slipped quietly away ; there was a gathering in the old 
 halls at the second term ; and soon the happy spring 
 season came on once more. The river showed signs of 
 life, as the ice, breaking up, fl.oated off ; and the boats 
 ventured out. The ball men were in the field be- 
 fore the ground had fairly hardened. Then came 
 the verdure and leafy glory of the spring and early 
 summer, then the hot weather, the digging for the 
 annuals ; Class Day, and at last the Juniors were 
 Seniors. But this is anticipatory. 
 
 Although the shock of the suspension was at first 
 severe, as the weeks wore away Sam found that this 
 visit to his home was not so bad. The doctor had 
 written Mrs. Wentworth a letter, stating that in his 
 opinion the action of the Faculty in her son's case was 
 an act of gross injustice. Sam had told his story, 
 which, taken in connection with Villiers's note, and his 
 
442 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 own enthusiastic statements in regard to that darling 
 little girl who was so fond of him, reconciled his 
 mother very much to his being at home for a time. He 
 had to face the curiosity of his neighbors ; but that 
 soon wore away, and his mother and sister made his life 
 as pleasant as possible. Kate teased him a good deal, as 
 a matter of course. " I shall keep a sharp look-out for 
 some more ' Lines : ' ' To R. L.' they must be this time. 
 Can't you make the old ones do, Sam ? You might 
 easily change so as to read, ' Maiden of the auburn 
 tresses.' " 
 
 Sam bore this more than once, in good-natured silence. 
 
 " I declare, I am dying of curiosity to know what 
 this young lady is like." 
 
 " I meant to bring a photograph ; but it was all so 
 sudden that I forgot it." 
 
 " Forgot it ! " exclaimed Kate, with a toss of the head. 
 " The idea of forgetting such a thing ! It was the most 
 stupid thing I ever knew. I have a mind to go to 
 Cambridge without delay, and see her myself." 
 
 " Do ! " returned her brother, half seriously. " You 
 would be more than paid for your trouble." 
 
 Though Sam was away from Cambridge, his memory 
 was strong among his friends ; and hardly a week passed 
 that he did not see some of them. They took pains to 
 keep him well informed on every matter of college news ; 
 and he thought that he had really heard more pleasant 
 gossip during his suspension than ever before. 
 
 Villiers came down regularly every other Saturday, 
 and remained till Monday morning ; getting leave of 
 absen/;e of the Faculty for this purpose, in some mys- 
 
SUSPENSION. 
 
 443 
 
 terious manner. Hawes came to tell him about the 
 society elections, and how successful they had been in 
 getting just the men they wanted. His chum came 
 down once, and spent an evening with them all ; and 
 it was quite like old times to see him there. Miss 
 Eldredge and Will Adams were Mrs. Wentworth's 
 guests for a fortnight, during the winter vacation ; and 
 the period of their visit was replete with the rural 
 festivities of the season. They were all surprised, anJ 
 not ill pleased too, at receiving a call from Mr. Cartier, 
 one day in the spring. He had come for a call, but 
 was easily prevailed upon to remain with them. 
 
 " I know we should not be keeping you from any 
 very important duties ; and we should be charmed to 
 have you with us as long as you can content yourself," 
 said Kate ; and her blue eyes smiled at him with a 
 charm he was unable to resist : and, without knowing 
 how, he found himself, for the time, almost a member of 
 the family. 
 
 As Kate had anticipated, this visit was a most pleas- 
 ant one. She had told Villiers that she was going back 
 to Arcadia ; and her life since that time had been in 
 Arcadia ; but I think there had not been the same 
 pleasure in its simple duties since that taste of dissipa- 
 tion which she had enjoyed at the Tliornes'. She was 
 as devoted as ever to her pursuits, her reading, music, 
 domestic matters, and social engagements ; but, though 
 she hardly confessed it to herself, she had seen better 
 things ; and the remembrance of them was sweet. 
 Cartier could tell her all the gossip of the set she 
 secretl}' wished to make one of once more ; and they 
 talked by the hour, Kate listening eagerly, and asking 
 
444 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVAED. 
 
 questions with merry laugh and smiling eyes, at the 
 Russian's recitals, while her nimble fingers wove some 
 pretty plaything. 
 
 " And your own fortunes, — they are sufficiently re- 
 trieved, I trust ? " said she, glancing at the luxuriously 
 attired young man. 
 
 " To a degree," returned Cartier, half seriously. " My 
 father has not relented as yet ; but I think he must, 
 before long. Gen. King has sent me some money ; and 
 my father would not suffer that to be without repaying 
 the loan : so it is almost the same as if he sent it to me. 
 But I have one thing to live for ; and I am determined 
 to accomplish it before I go home." 
 
 " What is that ? " asked Sam, from his place on the 
 couch before the fire. 
 
 " To have mj revenge on your chum, Huntingdon." 
 
 Sam and Kate were both silent. 
 
 " Yes. I owe it to myself to have my revenge on 
 him ; and I shall remain in Cambridge till I accomplish 
 it." 
 
 Kate had heard about the money lost at play, and 
 had been so shocked that Sam was fearful that his own 
 doings at the Den might be brought up next. 
 
 " He was very near getting your whole class involved 
 in a serious disturbance with the Faculty, only last 
 week," continued Cartier. 
 
 " I had not heard of that," said Sam, rousing himself. 
 
 " I am not able to give you all the details ; but it was 
 discovered that some book which you men are using was 
 out of print, and that no copies could be purchased at 
 the stores. Those belonging to the class mysteriously 
 disappeared from the rooms in a single day, almost with- 
 
SUSPEXSIOX. 
 
 445 
 
 out exception; and the recitations could not go on. The 
 professor was very Trroth. and substituted at once some 
 text-book more difficult than the first one. The trick 
 was supposed to be the work of Huntingdon." 
 
 " How did they get out of it ? " asked Sam, eagerly. 
 
 " I think Mr. Lyman and some others discovered that 
 there were enough b£)oks to be had to enable the class 
 to go on by borrowing from the Seniors, and making 
 use of those in the library ; and an arrangement to that 
 effect was made." 
 
 " What was to be gained by such a move as that, 
 eyen if no more of the books were to be had?" queried 
 Kate. 
 
 " I think an examination on what the class had been 
 over would be avoided. It was thought that Mr. Himt- 
 ingdon intended to re-establish himself in the popularity 
 of the class by this undertaking ; but Mr. Lyman woidd 
 not permit that." 
 
 " He would not be very likely to, if it was in his 
 power to prevent it," said Sam ; and then the conversa- 
 tion came around to pleasanter matters. 
 
 Perhaps the Wentworths enjoyed a sojourn that Has- 
 kill made with them as much as any thing that took 
 place in these days ; for he was never more replete with 
 his peculiarly entertaining information than at this time. 
 He expressed his indignation at the action the Faculty 
 had taken in Sam's case, a score of times ; and the 
 character he gave that venerable body would not have 
 delighted them much, I am sure. 
 
 " You heard about the fireworks in Goody's room?" 
 he remarked, in a matter-of-fact manner, as they were 
 
446 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 all sitting in the twilight ; though he knew well enough 
 that they had not, and, indeed, had come down almost 
 expressly to tell the story. 
 
 " No, I think not," returned Sam. " What was it ? " 
 
 " Well," said the medical student, with ill-suppressed 
 glee, " that's good I the best thing that has been done 
 this generation, and you not to know about it ! " and 
 his eyes sparkled with delight. 
 
 " Well, you see, the Sophs, were reciting to Goody 
 day before yesterday morning in at University 16. You 
 remember the big curtain in the room ? " 
 
 " Yes, the first college room I ever entered. I shall 
 never forget it." 
 
 " Goody was explaining away about the optative and 
 all that, when of a sudden there was a tremendous 
 explosion behind the curtain ; Roman candles went off, 
 serpents flew hissing around, mines and batteries ex- 
 ploded. The curtain was afire in no time. Goody gave 
 two strides, and was half way up the aisle and behind 
 the students. He wasn't frightened ; oh, no ! " and 
 Haskill laughed, and Sam too. 
 
 " The fellows were as surprised as Goody ; but they 
 rushed and opened the windows, and some got out that 
 way, and some by the door. There was a cry of ' Fire ! 
 Fire ! ' and, as the smoke poured out of the room, the 
 fellows rallied with their water-pails ; and there was a 
 great crowd, and water was plenty for a time. Some- 
 body had to take most of what was brought in, on their 
 persons ; for the curtain was the only thing in the room 
 that could or did burn." 
 
 " The professor must have felt badly," said Kate. 
 
 " Oh, didn't 'le ! he felt badly enough to think that 
 
SUSPENSION. 
 
 447 
 
 his students should wish to blow him up in that style : 
 so somebody drew up a statement expressing regard for 
 him, and disclaiming any knowledge of or part in the 
 matter ; and the joke was that every man in the class 
 signed it." 
 
 They all laughed at this. 
 
 "It seems to me as though that was carrying mat- 
 ters pretty far," said Kate, seriously. " I don't think I 
 understand the passion that seems to exist among the 
 students for setting fire to buildings, or blowing th6m 
 up ; encouraging rebellions, and troubling the souls 
 of professors. To me it looks very silly and foolish, 
 though it may all be very fine sport." 
 
 Haskill looked a little dashed. " But I haven't told 
 you the cream of the joke yet," he added. 
 
 " Do tell us," said Kate, mollified at once by his 
 downcast look. " I thought your story was finished, 
 or I shouldn't have interrupted you with my moraliz- 
 ing." 
 
 " You remember Lyman, Miss Kate ? Yes, you must 
 of course ; and your chum, Sam, will remember him a 
 long while, I fancy, for he blocked his little game for 
 him nicely. Your precious chum would have got the 
 class into a nice mess, if it hadn't been for Lyman and 
 a few others. Well, among the rest Lyman rallied 
 with his water-pail to help put the fire out ; and it so 
 chanced that he had on a new pair of pants, wliich were 
 ruined. What does the youth do, but go up to the 
 Prex.'s office next day, and tell that functionary that at 
 the fire yesterday where he had rushed to the rescue 
 with his water-pail, to save the college property from 
 destruction, his new pants had been ruined ; and ask for 
 
448 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 eighteen dollars to buy another pair with ! The Prex. 
 said he had no authority to pay out money for such a 
 purpose as that, — you know nobody ever knew him to 
 ' have any authorit}^ ' to do any thing, — but said, with 
 a twinkle in his cold blue eye, that he would lay the 
 matter before the Faculty. He was as good as his 
 word ; and, by Jove ! they actually voted to give Lyman 
 eighteen dollars to buy a new pair of pants with ; and 
 he had just the gayest old time playing billiards while 
 the money lasted." 
 
 They all laughed heartily at this yarn, which was 
 true in point of fact, although that is more than could 
 be said of many of Mr. Haskill's recitals. 
 
 " You have here a fine illustration of Faculty justice, 
 Mrs. Wentworth," continued Haskill, "in their sus- 
 pending your son, and voting Lyman eighteen dollars 
 to play billiards with; but, then, what can any one 
 expect better? It is about the wa}^ they manage every 
 thing there. Everybod}^ connected with the college 
 seems to use as little common-sense as possible in all 
 their doings. Every thing is so different where I am 
 now!" 
 
XXVIII. 
 
 SUNDAY EVENING TALK. 
 
 Besides running down every other Saturday, Villiers 
 passed the May recess with his friends at Little Harbor ; 
 and the dajs were wondronsly pleasant ones to him. 
 
 " It is, as I feared, too late for any mayflowers," said 
 Kate, as they were strolling home after a long tramp 
 through the fields in quest of them. " They are usually 
 gone by the middle of the month ; but the season has 
 been so late, I thought we might possibly find a few." 
 
 Yilliers was well content ; it was enough that he had 
 Kate for his companion. 
 
 "I believe I would walk almost any distance to 
 gather a bunch of mayflowers in the early spring. I 
 suppose you think me unduly enthusiastic." 
 
 " They are certainly exquisite," said Yilliers. 
 
 " Ah ! you cannot appreciate their beauties by the 
 faded bunches you buy on the street in the city. I 
 used to go with mother and Sam, and look for them, 
 when I was a very little giii ; and they used to pretend 
 that they could not find any till I had found the first 
 " one." 
 
 If our friend had been prone to passing compliments, 
 he would have told her, in some polite way, as he 
 looked down fondly at her fresh beauty, her pink 
 
 449 
 
450 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 cheeks, violet-blue eyes, and her wavy hair just (3harm- 
 ingly disarranged by the fresh breeze, that she was 
 a very mayflower of a girl herself : as it was, he only 
 thought it, which was perhaps better. They passed on 
 to the old landing, where Sam was at work overhaul- 
 ing the sail-boat. 
 
 " You cannot be quite safe. Miss Kate, in venturing 
 out to sea in that old sail-boat," said Villiers, although 
 he knew that Kate was almost as much of a sailor as 
 her brother. 
 
 " Oh, she will be seaworthy for a long time yet,'* 
 said Sam, looking up from his work. " She was ex- 
 tremely well built, and has been well cared for." 
 
 " I do wish 1 had a boat not quite so large, and with 
 only one sail," said Kate, eagerly, " and one that I 
 could call my own." 
 
 " Next winter, when I get back to Cambridge, I will 
 try and get you up one after your own heart. We 
 sha'n't do much boating this summer if we go to the 
 mountains." 
 
 " No," returned Kate. " It would be much nicer to 
 have one next year, built in Boston ; " and her eyes 
 sparkled at the anticipation. 
 
 " We can go a-fishing any time now," said Sam, as 
 he climbed on to the landing, and surveyed his work. 
 " She is already for service." 
 
 " You must not miss that if you care for the sport," 
 exclaimed Kate. When the apple-trees blossom is the 
 season of all the year. If you are enthusiastic enough, 
 you can go for a night's work. The fishermen set their 
 nets in the night, and haul boatloads of fish. And, 
 though they are very superstitious about having a 
 
 1 
 
SUNDAY EVENING TALK. 
 
 451 
 
 stranger in their boats, we can arrange it for you, if 
 you care to go." 
 
 Thus the two classmates had a night's sport with the 
 seine ; and it became an every-day occurrence for them 
 to haul a boatload of splendid brown cod from the 
 grounds in the bay. In this way, the time passed only 
 too quickly. 
 
 Sunday evening, as they were all gathered around the 
 ruddy fire, the conversation drifted around to religious 
 and metaphysical matters, and lasted a long time. The 
 Wentworths obtained a better insight of the character 
 and principles of George Yilliers than was ever vouch- 
 safed by him to any other friends, albeit it was accident- 
 ally given to them. 
 
 The events of the year had led Sam to ponder 
 over matters which had hitherto been the least to 
 occupy his attention ; and the result of his reflections 
 was a most thoroughly misanthropic condition. Thus 
 far, none of his friends suspected what gloomy thoughts 
 were laid away in the young man's mind. He- had 
 kept them all to himself, and pondered them in his 
 heart ; but this evening he gave vent to them with a 
 bitterness which pained and astonished them all. 
 
 " For one," said he suddenly, after a statement by 
 Villiers, " I have concluded that every thing goes 
 wrong, not only with myself, but with any one and 
 every one ; or at least, that every thing or any thing 
 is as likely to go wrong as right, irrespective of any 
 reason or justice for the one result or the other. Every 
 thing is Jiertzlich sehlecht^ — as bad as heart could 
 desire, — as Mephistopheles says in the play." 
 
 This utterance was a very firebrand. "How can 
 
452 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 you say so, Sam ? What is there that bears you out ? " 
 said his mother, anxiously. 
 
 " Oh, a thousand things I " returned the young man, 
 warmly. " Take Cole's case. He had worked all his 
 life for one single end, had sacrificed family, friends, 
 and fortune. His ambition was pure, noble, almost holy. 
 Just as he was beginning to realize the first fruits of 
 his efforts, he died; and all this desperate effort and 
 privation Avas in yain. What justice was there in his 
 case, that he should die ? " 
 
 No one can say that he has not gained more than 
 he has lost," said Villiers, after a silence. 
 
 " No : I presumed you would say that of Cole's case ; 
 but look at that little girl, who has been wearing out 
 her youth, and her life almost, in drudgery. What had 
 that innocent child done, that she should fare thus ? 
 She might have lived on that way always, but for the 
 veriest accident." 
 
 " She might have ; but, in point of fact, she is a 
 very poor illustration of your views," returned Villiers. 
 " Her affairs have been untangled ; and she is as happily 
 and favorably situated as need be. She has an ample 
 income, a competent guardian, is at a good school im- 
 proving her opportunities in a manner that shows that 
 adversity was not without good results in her case. I 
 have no doubt that the three-years' discipline she 
 endured, though it was hard to bear, will make her 
 more womanly and attractive and more useful in many 
 ways." 
 
 " Well, then," said Sam, coloring a little, " take my 
 own case for the past year and a half. What have I 
 done to deserve the disappointment and mortification I 
 
SUNDAY EVENING TALK. 
 
 453 
 
 have had to bear? I worked hard enough to fare better 
 in more ways than one. I — I set my heart on winning 
 Rose Thorne, as you all know. I did all I could, and 
 she sent me away. It may seem a little matter to you ; 
 but, if any thing of the sort ever comes home to you, 
 you will discover that it is not. Then see what a nice 
 mess I made of it this fall. I believe I have honestly 
 tried to do only what was honorable and right at all 
 times : the result is, so far as I can see, that I am sent 
 home in disgrace, and for no other reason than that I 
 would not suffer a parcel of tipsy students to insult a 
 young girl, and afterwards tell such a stor}^ about the 
 matter as pleased their fancy. Why, take the situation 
 of the people you find in the places I went to with 
 Huntingdon. You don't know any thing about these 
 things, and never will ; but they are there : the city is 
 full of all sorts of wickedness ; and the people who 
 make up this lot are at least human beings, men and 
 women, and not much different from other people, — I 
 dare say really not much worse. All these things, that 
 make or * break us, determine our condition in this 
 world and the next, as we are taught to believe, are 
 beyond our control, and as likely to be for evil as for 
 good, so far as I can see ; and there is really no justice 
 in any of it. That is my idea." 
 
 A silence succeeded this rather unexpected state- 
 ment. " I think," said Yilliers, " that you are on the 
 right way to a very comfortable state of mind in regard 
 to these things, which at some time or other perplex 
 every thoughtful person ; and I think that at no very 
 distant time you will emerge from this darkness, and see 
 the clearer for having passed through it. A great point 
 
454 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 is gained when any one fully realizes that the events 
 which shape his life are controlled by a power greater 
 than himself ; for, when he once believes this, he must, 
 if there is any reason in him, admit upon careful reflec- 
 tion that this power which brings these things to pass, 
 brings them to pass for his good, thereby saving him 
 many a time when, if he could have his own way, he 
 would rush straight to destruction ; and I think it is the 
 fault of our education that more men and women do 
 not realize this to be so. 
 
 " We are taught, for instance, all through our lives, 
 that every man is the architect of his own fortune. We 
 hear this from the time we are boys till we become old ; 
 and the doctrine pervades every field we enter upon. 
 We have the words given us to do into Latin when we 
 are at school, with an emphatic comment from the 
 master to remember them. In business or professional 
 or political life, the same principle is insisted upon on 
 every hand. They even preach it at you at church, 
 where, to make their theories consistent, they tell you 
 that we are absolutely free agents. Of course success 
 is the object which, if this principle is true, we are 
 bound to achieve if there is any virtue or manhood in 
 us. Many a man is unsuccessful : he fails through no 
 fault of his own perhaps ; but his training and education 
 have been such that he thinks it must be his fault, and 
 the world treats him as though it were his fault, and he 
 becomes discouraged, and gives up the fight ; says every 
 thing is out of joint, and that life is not worth the 
 having, just because he has not been permitted to work 
 out his plans after his own heart : whereas, if he had 
 been differently educated in these matters, he would 
 
ST7NDAY EVENING TALK. 
 
 455 
 
 tliirLk that perhaps it vras his own plans that -^ere out 
 of joint, and take courage, and try again."' 
 
 '•But YOU believe ve are all free agents? exclaimed 
 Kate : vre could not be responsible beings if we were 
 not." Kate was a most devout church-woman, and 
 came promptly to the rescue of principles which she 
 fancied had been assailed. 
 
 "I do not believe in any such absolute and entire 
 responsibility as is commonly accepted, any more than 
 I believe in absolute and complete freedom, which is 
 something existing in words only: and I will try to 
 give you my reasons for this. In the first place, I 
 believe with all my soul that our lives are controlled 
 from the bemnincf to the end : and I will trv to show 
 you why I think so. I dare say I shall not make my 
 meaning plain : and, even if I do, one needs to reason it 
 out for one's self, to realize it all fuUy : but I may pos- 
 sibly lend a helping hand to one who is struggling in 
 the dark, like my friend here. 
 
 You know you often hear it said, that a certain 
 event happened • providentially.* Thereupon the scep- 
 tic laughs at you, and says, ' Ho I a queer God this is of 
 yours : he permits things to take their own course in 
 ninety-nine cases out of the hundred, and then in the 
 hundredth stretches out his hand, and has this one go 
 right. Xow, let us be fair and honest in our talk, and 
 call things by their right names, and call it all chance ; 
 for certainly life is all cliance if any of it is, and you 
 admit that it is chance in the ninety and nine cases.' 
 And the sceptic is right. If there is any such element 
 in human life as chance, it must be all chance : if there 
 is any such thing as design, it must be all design. 
 
456 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HABVARD. 
 
 " Now, my idea is, that every thing comes to pass by 
 design ; that God's providence is in every thing, every 
 action and every thought ; and that, in common with 
 the rest of creation, we are under tliis omnipresent care. 
 You wonder perhaps at my stating this so gravely, and 
 say, 'Why, yes: we all believe that;' but no one I 
 have ever known believes it to the full extent to which 
 I mean to have it extend, — that existence from the 
 beginning to the end of life is in accordance with one 
 vast plan of God's which comprises every thing. We 
 get only glimpses of this plan from time to time ; but 
 every one sees more or less of it, and enough to enable 
 him to realize, if he will, that it exists in its entirety. 
 
 " If we are unexpectedly, and perchance wonder- 
 fully, rescued from danger, we call it a ' providential ' 
 escape, and thank God for it. If we meet with some 
 great disappointment, which we realize comes to us 
 from causes beyond our control, like Sam's trouble, we 
 say it is ' hard luck,' or ' cruel fate,' or ' adversity.' If 
 something quite unforeseen and unexpected comes to 
 us, we call it chance. In reality it is all one : there 
 can be no such thing as fate or luck or chance. It is 
 all God's providence and care ; and every thing in our 
 lives comes to pass in accordance with his infinitely 
 good and wise design. I have often thought that 'this 
 fact of God's omnipresent care over our lives, as shown 
 in his ordering of them, is the one absolutely unanswer- 
 able argument in proof of God's existence. 
 
 " I cannot tell you fully, Miss Kate, how the com- 
 monly accepted belief in free agency and consequent 
 responsibility exists consistently with this plan. Every- 
 day experience makes us conscious that we exercise 
 
SUNDAY EVENING TALK. 
 
 457 
 
 choice in our sphere of action, and that certain results 
 follow our choice ; but I still think that our choice 
 must be in accordance with God's design. The fact 
 that we are for the most part unconscious of God's 
 providence in our daily affairs ; that in the ninety and 
 nine events we cannot realize its existence, except we 
 realize it as ever present for the reasons that I am 
 trying to give you, — is sufficient to account for the 
 responsibility which we all feel and act upon. If we 
 are not conscious that our path is shaped for us, we 
 cannot but feel that we are shaping it ourselves. The 
 wisest government in human matters is that which con- 
 trols without conscious constraint on the part of the 
 governed. So it is that the divine hand which leads us 
 is manifest to us only enough to make us aware, if we 
 take the pains to reflect upon it closely, that it is ever 
 guiding and protecting us. When we begin to reflect 
 on these matters, it is with a firm conviction in our 
 freedom and responsibility; after a time we come to a 
 point where we cannot tell whether Hfe is controlled or 
 not; and farther on we come to ground where CA'ery 
 one admits that it is controlled. Every one admits this 
 to a greater or less degree. Xow, I believe that we are 
 controlled always, except that for God's own wise pur- 
 poses we are unconscious of this for the most part, and 
 only see God's hand directing our lives from time to 
 time : that is, that is the general condition of mankind. 
 I dare say I have wound myself up by this time, so as 
 to be altogether unintelligible." 
 
 " No," returned Kate, slowly. " I understand you, 
 though I never thought of this before." 
 
 " Then I suppose," said Sam, a little dryly, " that, 
 
458 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 according to this doctrine, any thing that happens to a 
 man is for the best. If he commits a crime, or takes to 
 drink and bad company, or if a girl goes onto the street 
 and to perdition, it is all right ! I should think there 
 were a good many stubborn facts in the way of your 
 little theory." 
 
 " So there are ; but there are still more stubborn 
 facts to account for if you accept the sceptic's belief ; 
 and one or the other I believe we must choose. This 
 problem of evil which you bring up has staggered 
 many a one, and made him lose his faith; but if my 
 theory is correct, there can be no such thing." 
 
 " But there is such a thing : a man must be crazy to 
 say there is not." 
 
 " Yes, as we estimate and judge, there is what we call 
 evil ; but in God's sight every thing must work for 
 good. There can be no such thing as evil in God's 
 administration. I cannot understand or explain how it 
 is that evil always works out good ; but I can show 
 you very strong reasons, as I believe, for my faith." 
 
 " Pray let us hear them." 
 
 " Well, Sam, suppose we take your own life ; for that 
 is something you are most familiar with, and are best 
 able to judge of. Perhaps you will admit that to your 
 best knowledge every thing that has happened to you 
 thus far — and nearly every thing has come about with- 
 out your agency — has been for your good, excepting 
 these two troubles which you have spoken of. Is this 
 true?" 
 
 " I suppose it is," said Sam, promptly. 
 " And I suppose you can think of things that at the 
 time seemed unmitigated evils, and which you were 
 
SUNDAY EVENIXC^ TALK. 
 
 459 
 
 perhaps responsible for, which you have since recog- 
 nized as good in their results.'* 
 
 " I see," said Sam, laughing, " you are going to corner 
 me. Yes, I admit that too. There was mj experience 
 (to speak of it tenderly) at the examination for admis- 
 sion. I thought that as bad as any thing could be ; and 
 yet I learned a yerj Ayholesome lesson." 
 
 " I will yenture to predict, Sam, that before you are 
 two years older you will rejoice that these two troubles 
 or disappointments came to you as they did." 
 
 Sam shook his head. 
 
 " I am sure Mr. Yilliers is right about tliis," said Mrs. 
 Wentworth. 
 
 " But eyen as you feel now," continued Yilliers, 
 " haye you any right to say that these two trials are not 
 good for you? Are you not bound, considering that 
 every thing else has happened for your best welfare, to 
 take these two trials which came without any fault of 
 yours, — no more than a hundred others which you con- 
 sider blessings haye come without any desert on your 
 part, — on credit, as it were, and belieye that these are 
 equally for your good; that some time you will see that 
 this is so, eyen if you cannot now ? Of course that will 
 not cure the ache and pain ; but it will help you to bear 
 it with courage, like a man." 
 
 Sam was silent. 
 
 " Your theory is as practical as it is beautiful, Mr. 
 Yilliers," said Kate. 
 
 " And it seems so yery simple to me," continued 
 Yilliers. " The old lady put it into the fewest words, 
 who used to say that such and such a thing that had 
 happened was right, otherwise it would not haye hap- 
 
460 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 pened ; aiid the way to it is so plain that no one need 
 miss it. Let any one take ten years of his life, and go 
 over them carefully, and see if he is not satisfied that 
 every thing that has happened to him has Leen for his 
 good ; if not all, at least enough to justify him in having 
 faith for that which he cannot as yet reconcile. Let 
 any one do this fairly and dispassionately, and there 
 are few who must not fain acknowledge that those 
 events which were at the time the most grievously dis- 
 appointing, the hardest to bear, the most baffling, the 
 most unjust, as it seemed, have really proved to be 
 events for which, on one ground or another, there is the 
 chiefest reason to give thanks, and events which show 
 God's care to be the tenderest at the time when it has 
 seemed as though Mephistopheles was right, and every 
 thing was ' as bad as heart could wish.' The difficulty 
 in the problem arises when you pass from your own life 
 and experience to that of others ; for there you go astray 
 very soon, if you have nothing to trust to but the 
 appearances which their lives present. You are wholly 
 unable to reconcile the misfortune and trials that others 
 have to endure, with any thing like justice or divine 
 goodness. You see only a tangled skein, in which the 
 dark colors seem to predominate in an appalling degree. 
 Vice and crime seem to riot unchecked ; and the hydra- 
 lieaded problem of evil confronts and confounds. But 
 return for a moment to your faith. You see that the 
 evil in your own life has been for your good ; your 
 trials, misfortunes, sins, even. Are you not right in 
 believing that the lives of others are ordered for them, 
 as your life has beeli and is from day to day ordered for 
 you, and that it is only your own ignorance that doubts 
 
SUNDAY EVENING TALK. 
 
 461 
 
 God's pro^-iclence, and tliat, if yon conld see only as 
 well into the lives of others as yon do in yonr own case, 
 you would know tliat all was well? '* 
 
 " You v-ould change very much our ideas of what 
 good is, ^Ir. Villiers,'" said I\lrs. ^Ventwortli. 
 
 Yes." returned Yilliers. I suppose so. It is pre- 
 sumptuous in me to say it : but I think tlie common 
 idea of good is all wrong. Good is any tiling one hap- 
 pens to want : wliile any thing unpleasant or disagree- 
 able is not good. Success in one's undertakings is 
 good, pre-eminently so : failure is not. The end of life 
 is to get rich, and have a good time ; and any thing 
 that promotes this is good. But this is all wrong, in 
 my humble judgment : and the home training, or school 
 teachino^s. or social customs, that so instruct, are wrono- 
 also. The object of life is education and discipline. 
 "\Ye are all of us at a great school : and we are here 
 to be educated and disciplined. The school is God's 
 school, and he is the master : and he gives us each that 
 kind of Avork and experience that will best develop us. 
 He sees the beginning and the end: knows our hearts, 
 lives, and destiny. We have our own fancies and no- 
 tions, as children always do : and for our own good 
 they are often crossed. But we always have just what 
 we need ; not Avhat we v^ant to crown success or hap- 
 piness, but what we need to carry out this great edu- 
 cation. 
 
 Occasionally you hear this principle set forth from a 
 pulpit, or liaA'e it advanced in a book : but in every 
 instance that I have ever known o-ood is used in its 
 commonly accepted sense, and thus the object of the 
 sermon or the essay is defeated. Xobody is deceived 
 
462 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HAKVARD. 
 
 by -nuch. talk. Everybody knows that things do not 
 come to pass in accordance with our wishd^, desires, or 
 our most earnest efforts, and that pLans do not result 
 happily or successfully or justly, so far as we can 
 measure justice ; that men die heartsick and broken in 
 spirit ; that their lives go out in darkness, though they 
 struggle hard to keep them bright ; that God does not 
 always temper the wind to the shorn lamb, but often- 
 times suffers it to perish ; that thousands follow a life 
 of sin and crime : so that for a man to preach that 
 every thing happens for the good of everybody, and 
 limit the meaning of the word 'good' to its common use, 
 is worse than for him to hold his tongue altogether. 
 For every one sees that, despite the curious stories and 
 incidents he has collected to fortify and establish his 
 position, there is a fallacy somewhere in the argu- 
 ment, and that what he says is not true in point of 
 fact and common experience ; and the congregation for- 
 get all about it as soon as they are half a mile from the 
 church door. 
 
 "But if my faith is right ; if we are each one of 
 us led by God's hand from day to day, all through 
 our lives ; if there is in store for us such success, 
 happiness, such failure, disappointment, discipline, even 
 though it be dark and fearful, as each one of us needs 
 for his best welfare ; if this is true, and we receive from 
 the paternal care that watches over us care that is per- 
 fect, infinite in extent, and incapable of a mistake, just 
 what we need ; and if we could be taught in our youth 
 to believe this, and to realize that when we are not 
 permitted to have our own way, and work out our own 
 plans ; when we are crossed, punished for our faults and 
 
SUNDAY EVENING TALK. 
 
 463 
 
 sins, we are receiving from God's own liand jnst sucli 
 mercies as we most need, — I think we should grow up 
 to be better and braver men and women. I think that 
 allegiance to duty, honest manly and womanly effort, 
 would come to be the end sought for, rather than 
 success at any price in our undertakings. I think there 
 would be a faith in each one, that would cheer and 
 sustain through the sorest trials and the most heart- 
 breaking disappointments, — a faith that would enable 
 us to see the light shining beyond, even though the 
 clouds shut do^vn dark on every side." 
 
 " Well," said Sam, when Villiers had concluded (and 
 he laughed a little nervously), " I won't say that it is 
 easier to preach than to practise ; but I think there are 
 some people who seem not to need any discipline. 
 They are blessed in having their heart's desire come to 
 them ; I suppose because it is just what they need, and 
 what will do them the most good. But you have 
 talked well, old fellow: you must have an ' 8 ' for this." 
 
 Although the young man spoke lightly, the words of 
 his friend mado df ep their impression on his heart. 
 
1 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 SENIOR YEAR. 
 
 At last Senior year and " Holworthy " have come. 
 
 A half-dozen of our Seniors were loitering one day 
 on the steps of the hall at noontide, as if unwilling 
 to break the pleasant gathering, chatting merrily over 
 the news of the day. 
 
 " Oh, Charley is going to give Villiers a rub for the 
 lead this year," quoth Lewis, in answer to a remark by 
 that gentleman. 
 
 " Yes, he is going in for a summa cum at the very 
 least," said Lyman, coolly; and Longstreet was the 
 centre of observation. 
 
 " I am going to have a part at Commencement, and 
 let folks know that my brains are not all in my heels ; 
 and you fellows may laugh as much as you please," 
 returned the diminutive Senior, stoutly ; and there was 
 a fresh shout of laughter from the company. 
 
 " And so the young man has turned dig, and given 
 up his rebellion, has he ? " said Sam, good-naturedly, 
 and there was a fresh outburst, though Longstreet 
 seemed in no way abashed. 
 
 " Dig ! " ejaculated Lewis. " That word does no sort 
 of justice to the facts of the case. You ought to hear 
 him squirt! There isn't a man in the division that 
 
 464 
 
SEKTOR YEAR. 
 
 465 
 
 begins to hold, a candle to liim. He will keep on as 
 long as the professor will permit.*' 
 
 The group seated themselves on the shady steps, to 
 while away an hour in pleasant gossip about class 
 matters. 
 
 It was even so : the eccentric little man had taken to 
 study, and was working with all his might for a "part," 
 and was as dignified and orderly at recitation as Villiers 
 himself. As his natural capacity was good, he was 
 making an excellent show indeed. Xor was he the 
 only one thus metamorphosed by the ambition to have 
 a part at Commencement. As usual, there were a score 
 of men who had hitherto barely kept their places in 
 the class, who, at the beginning of this last year, were 
 seized with a determination to distinguish themselves 
 on tlie rank-list ; and for a time they made a brilliant 
 display. Your plodding student who had always done 
 his work well, without making any especial exertion, 
 was quite thrown into the shade. But this sudden im- 
 pulse was wont for the most part to die out as the term 
 advanced ; and, as the professors understood it from past 
 experience, it did not usually profit the men much. 
 
 Here we are Seniors, and actually in Holworthy ! It 
 is hard to realize it at once ; it seems as though there 
 must be some other class above us to look up to. Tlie 
 dignity comes in time, however, and sits easily and 
 gracefully on our shoulders. We are the college. 
 We have our suite of apartments, — a sleeping-room 
 apiece, and the comfortable and almost elegant study- 
 room, with its deep, pleasant window-seats, whence we 
 look out upon the grounds and the checkered shade 
 under the elms, which from this new point of observa- 
 
466 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 tion seem really to have been planted in rows, a fact 
 we never discovered before ; and in the rooms about us, 
 overhead and underneath, are our best friends, our 
 classmates. 
 
 Being Seniors, with a great deal of dignity to spare, 
 we can unbend a little if occasion requires, and pitch 
 coppers, or play leap-frog, on the smooth, firm drive in 
 front of the hall ; or lounge an hour after dinner on 
 the steps, in our silk hats and slippers, in most elegant 
 ease. 
 
 Yes, there is no glory equal to the glory of the full- 
 fledged Senior at Harvard, as he calmly looks clown on 
 the classes below him from the inapproachable height 
 to which he has been so long a-climbing. The lower 
 classes, how infinitely removed they seem ! The very 
 President and Professors, — what are they more than 
 his servants, whose duty it is to keep this great 
 institution in the most perfect order possible, that he 
 — yes, he, who only a little time ago was a poor dog of 
 a Freshman — may enjoy the benefits thereby afforded? 
 It makes the work of the year, hard though it be, and 
 tasking severely the best mind, and the soundest consti- 
 tution by no means lightly, quite a different matter 
 from the intolerable grind it would otherwise be to 
 many. 
 
 Happy Senior ! enjoy these your halcyon days while 
 you may ; for great will be the fall from your pinnacle 
 of glory, when after Commencement you go forth into 
 the great world to earn your first dollar, and find that 
 even the boy who dusts the office, and kindles the fire, 
 and runs of errands, is for the time at least more valued 
 and more valu'ible than you ; since he does some deed 
 
SENIOR YEAR. 
 
 467 
 
 even tliough it be a small one, well, while you are 
 utterly inexperienced and unpractised ! So smoke on, 
 and dream on, and enjoy your glory wliile it lasts ; for, 
 when you have departed from this charmed circle, it 
 will have vanished forever I With hard work and happy 
 days, the senior year slips rapidly away. 
 
 Sam enjoyed, one evening late in the term, a call 
 from his friend Wilkinson, now a law-student of six 
 months or more ; and the talk was about the work and 
 amusements of the year. 
 
 " Yes, forensics always were a bore," said Wilkinson, 
 in reply to a remark of Sam's. " I don't suppose that 
 Fanny ever gave out a real live subject, or one which 
 could not be argued on one side equally well as on the 
 other. Do they rough him as much as ever ? " 
 
 " More, I should think. I get out of patience with 
 the fellows, though it's impossible not to laugh some- 
 times. Two or three of our division men have a way of 
 shaking the floor in a manner that annoys him very 
 much, as well it may ; for the windows rattle, and the 
 walls tremble, as though there was an earthquake ; and 
 he fijids it impossible to discover the offender." 
 
 " Yes, our men used to do that." 
 
 " Then they sometimes go in and sit down with their 
 overcoats on. As soon as the recitation begins, the end 
 man in the division gets up and leisurely takes off his 
 overcoat, folds it carefully, and sits down. Then the 
 next man rises, and does the same ; then the next, and 
 so on : all with the utmost gravity and decorum. The 
 funny part of it is to see him look up and give a half 
 snort, and try to discover what it is that is wrong ; for 
 
468 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 he is surely conscious that something is not as it should 
 be, though as he can discover nothing more reprehen- 
 sible than a man quietly taking off his overcoat he will 
 almost immediately forget time and space in his politi- 
 cal economy. He is a thousand times more interested 
 than any of us, though he has been over the ground 
 scores of times." 
 
 The law-student laughed softly at this. " He is so 
 sincere and earnest that it always seemed to me to be a 
 shame to treat him so." 
 
 " Oh, yes, it is a shame, of course ; but then, you 
 know, 'boys will be boys.' In the third division, Lewis, 
 Lyman, Longstreet, and two or three others, have the 
 front seat under his very eye. They sit cross-legged ; 
 and every time he calls a man up they ' legover,' as 
 Lewis calls it, — cross the other member ; and that puz- 
 zles him beyond measure. Yes, I feel sorry for him ; 
 for, as 3^ou say, he is sincere and earnest, and I think 
 our men are particularly hard on him. He told us the 
 other day, in an almost tearful voice, that he had taught 
 the Senior class here for twenty years, and that we were 
 the very worst Seniors he had ever had any thing to do 
 with." 
 
 Oh, yes," returned Wilkinson, with a quick laugh. 
 " He told our men the same thing. I believe he has 
 told every class so, so far back that the memory of man 
 runneth not to the contrary. I am not sure that he 
 does not say so to gain their good-will ; for I believe 
 there is scarcely a man that does not feel complimented 
 at the charge, whether he has taken part in the irregu- 
 larities or not." 
 
 " I dare say you are right," said Sam. 
 
SENIOR YEAE. 
 
 ^169 
 
 "Yon have the Philosopher in logic ant! metaphysics 
 this year, I belieA^e. Hotv does that Trork? *' 
 
 "Yes, we" have the Philosopher; and I really do pity 
 him. He tries so hard to explain the principles that 
 onderlie these branches, and give ns some real under- 
 standing of what we are studying ; and is so patient and 
 painstaking, going over the ground again and again, so 
 that it woukl seem as though the dullest might compre- 
 hend, while the fellows are for the most part so careless 
 and inattentiA-e, that he is fairly discouraged at times, 
 as any one can see.'" 
 
 " The Philosopher is a favorite of yours,'' remarked 
 "Wilkinson, smiling at the Senior's warmth and earnest- 
 ness. 
 
 " Yes : I believe there is no one I think more highly 
 of." 
 
 " Not even excepting the Doctor ? " 
 " ]Sro, not even excepting him." 
 
 "I haven't heard about your class elections: they 
 came off Friday, I understood. I haven't been in town 
 for a week." 
 
 " Yes, every thing passed off very pleasantly."' said 
 Sam, as he settled himself in his chair complacently. 
 
 " I take it for granted that Villiers was chosen orator : 
 there was hardly any one to dispute the place with him, 
 I should say." 
 
 " No : Yilliers was chosen on the first ballot, and the 
 vote was made unanimous ; it was nearly so at the very 
 first. I never saw one more completely taken by sur- 
 prise. I don't think he had the remotest idea that any 
 thing of the kind would happen." 
 
 " Well, he will do you credit." 
 
470 
 
 STUDENT-LIEE AT HARVARD. 
 
 " I believe there is no one who doubts that he will." 
 " Do I know any of the marshals ? " 
 " Tom was chosen first marshal, and Adams third." 
 " And I suppose Mr. Wentworth is to be the second," 
 laughingly. 
 
 Sam bowed modestly. 
 
 " I thought the crack oar of the class must come in 
 for some honors." 
 
 Sam did not think it necessary to state that he might 
 have been first marshal, but that his refusal to take the 
 place away from his friend was unchangeable. 
 
 " Lyman is on the Class-Day committee, and Lewis is 
 odist," continued Sam. 
 
 " Where is your chum ? didn't he get any thing ? " 
 
 " No," said Sam, half sadly. " I was sorry for him. 
 His name came up several times. Villiers and I did all 
 we could for him; but it was no use. He got into 
 rather a bad mess with that society business, you know ; 
 and none of the society men would vote for him. And, 
 though he w^as pretty strong with the outsiders, their 
 vote alone wasn't enough to do him any good." 
 
 "I should say not. I hadn't heard of any trouble 
 with the societies. I knew he didn't stand exactly as 
 he used to with the class ; but I always supposed he 
 was a deucedly strong man. What was the matter? " 
 
 Hesitatingly, " It is no secret, Wilkinson, or I 
 should be the last one to mention it, and perhaps I 
 ought not ; but it was this way : Of course, chum 
 wanted to come in with us : his old set was here pretty 
 much ; but you didn't elect him last year, as you know ; 
 and when I came back at the beginning of the year, I 
 found that he had not only not been elected, but there 
 
SENIOR YEAE. 
 
 471 
 
 was an extraorclinaiy feeling against his coming in at 
 all. At length, the list had been filled except three 
 places ; and you know what an undertaking it is to 
 elect anybody when it gets so close as that." 
 
 " I should think I did," returned Wilkinson, laughing. 
 He had been a leading society-man in his day. 
 
 " Well, I worked for him the best I knew how, and 
 so did Villiers ; and together we talked Tom over. And 
 at last, Lyman, who had been the most determined, 
 declaring that he should want to go out if the other 
 came in, j'ielded, and accordingly one night I brought 
 him the news of his election ; and I believe I had not 
 had a happier hour for a long time," and Sam's voice 
 grew lower. " I w^ent into the Institute on his nomina- 
 tion or suggestion, almost the first man of the second 
 ten ; and one good turn deserves another, you know." 
 For a moment, the two puffed away in silence. 
 
 I thought he didn't seem altogether exultant over 
 the good fortune at first, though he was more jubilant 
 by and by ; and we went about initiating him, and 
 L}Tiian had him in hand to put through." 
 
 "I dare say Lyman enjoyed that," said Wilkinson, 
 with a short laugh. 
 
 " Yes : I thought Lyman seemed to enjoy it rather 
 better than chum did. We were getting on with it, 
 however, and Lyman was nearly through, when the 
 president of the other society buttonholed Tom one 
 day, and said he understood that we were initiating 
 Huntingdon. 
 
 " ' Yes,' said Tom, in surprise, and wondering what 
 business it could be of his. 
 
 " ' We)l,' he continued, dryly enough, ' he had pledged 
 
472 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 himself to us before you elected him ; and, not knowing 
 of that event, we elected him in due course. Oh, we 
 don't claim him, or don't want him : you are welcome to 
 your man ; ' and he turned on his heel, and left Tom 
 pretty much speechless with astonishment." 
 
 " By Jove ! " said Wilkinson, " that was a bad go ! 
 Of course, you dropped him at that." 
 
 " Yes : there was no help for it." 
 
 "It is most remarkable how that man has fizzled 
 out," said Wilkinson. " Why, he kinged it over the 
 class for the first year and a half ; and, with his splendid 
 abilities, there is nothing he might not have aspired to. 
 I always said, the shadier a man kept the first two years, 
 the better it was for him ; and I am more convinced of 
 it now than ever before." 
 
 " I think you are right, though I doubt if it was that 
 altogether." 
 
 " And there is Villiers," continued Wilkinson. " How 
 green and awkward that man was at first, and how 
 everybody roughed him ! and now he is your very 
 strongest man." 
 
 " Oh, altogether so ; but it was impossible that he 
 should not get on." 
 
 As the law-student rose to go, Sam said, " Come and 
 see us often, Wilkinson. I have enjoyed the evening 
 above every thing." The guest departed, thinking that 
 he too had enjoyed an uncommonly pleasant evening, 
 and feeling pretty sure of a card to at least one spread 
 on Class Day. 
 
 If this chapter on Senior year is dull, it is not because 
 the year is uninteresting. Socially the Seniors are at 
 
SENIOR YEAR. 
 
 473 
 
 this time especial pets of their friends, if for no other 
 reason, because Class Day is coming soon; and th pre is 
 hardly a man who does not enjoy society pleasures, 
 dancing and feasting and flirting, to his fill, in one circle 
 or another. Our friends were no exceptions to the rule, 
 but on this memorable winter were the gayest, and the 
 most flattered and petted. 
 
 The very best and most interesting chapter of the 
 present volume ought to be one about the Senior socie- 
 ties ; for the four years present nothing that approaches 
 the peculiar enjoyment these organizations afford to the 
 members. But for the most part the matter is a sealed 
 book. 
 
 It is well known that there is a theatre in the society 
 rooms, and, if rumor is to be believed, a very complete 
 and pretty one, where plays, burlesques, and original 
 operettas (for these last are from time to time published' 
 in the " Advocate ") are brought out there, in a way 
 that is perfectly enjoyable to the audience. It is gener- 
 ally imderstood that the young gentlemen occasionally 
 make up into " stunning " ladies, and even appear in 
 ballet, and that the old members go back at times to 
 these entertainments, on which occasions there is feast- 
 ing and music and mirth. And when the many pecu- 
 liarities of genius that exist in a class of a hundred and 
 fifty college-students are considered, it will be readily 
 believed that these good times surpass, in point of fact, 
 any high repute that rumor may have given them. 
 
 Though Sam was usually very reticent about these 
 matters, he told one story that threw some light on this 
 society business, and gave him an opportunity to show 
 how he had made Kate the \dctim of a practical joke, 
 
474 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HAEVAED. 
 
 though he was quite willing to admit that an opportunity 
 to entrap her did not frequently occur. 
 
 " We used to dress up the fellows for the female char- 
 acters in our plays," said he ; " and we had no end of 
 fun at it too. You can have no idea what perfectly 
 splendid women they used to make sometimes. Smith 
 was the best we had : the figure was pretty stout, but 
 we did not care for that. In certain costumes he was 
 divine, absolutely divine ! 
 
 " On a certain night we were going to bring out a 
 little opera which Lewis had written, and I was to make 
 love to Smith (a splendid tenor) in double bass. 
 
 " ' What sort of rig shall I wear, Sam ? have you 
 any choice ? ' Smith said to me before he went to order 
 the costumes. 
 
 " ' Yes, indeed,' I replied. ' Get a white dress, by all 
 means : nothing becomes you so well. In a white dress 
 and one of those yellow, curling wigs, you will be so 
 charming that I shall forget myself, and make love to 
 you in earnest.' We had our rehearsals, and it was 
 necessary that I should be very soft and tender " — 
 
 " I am sure you found no difficulty in that," inter- 
 rupted Kate. 
 
 So the manager thought when he cast me for the 
 part," said Sam, roguishly ; " but I couldn't get up much 
 enthusiasm at the rehearsals, so I saved it up for the 
 occasion itself. Play night came, and there was a 
 crowd of old members besides our own men, and the 
 hall was packed ; and at last every thing was in readi- 
 ness except the prima donna. ' Come, hurry up. Smith ! ' 
 said Lewis, v^ho was stage-manager, rushing into the 
 dressing-room, M hich was in a precious state of confu- 
 sion, " we are waiting for you.' 
 
SENIOR YEAR. 
 
 475 
 
 " ' I am thinking you will have to wait a little longer 
 Fred,' said Smith, between his teeth ; and I wish you 
 could have seen him, or rather her, as she stood there : 
 golden curls, classic features, a most decided dishabille, 
 while clustered around her were half a dozen gro- 
 tesque figures, the characters of the opera, assisting her 
 out of some difficulty that was blocldng the progress of 
 events. 
 
 " ' What's the matter ? ' half whispered Lewis. ' Why 
 don't you put your dress on ? ' 
 
 " ' I can't get it on,' said Smith, desperately. ' It's 
 too small. I don't see what is going to be done, Fred. 
 If I only had that old goose [the costumer] here, I'd 
 teach her to be more careful next time I ' 
 
 " Smith had ordered, and the old lady had supplied, a 
 white dress, a very elegant garment indeed of satin, 
 with low neck, short sleeves, and a girth to fit the waist 
 of a slender girl. ' Look here 1 ' said he, holding it up : 
 ' I can't do any thing with that.' 
 
 " Generally the costumer was very careful, and took 
 pains to fit the dresses to the young gentlemen ; but this 
 time there had been some mistake. 
 
 " ' You must get into it the best way you can,' said 
 Lewis, impatiently ; and, thus exhorted. Smith slipped 
 the skirt over his head like an adept, and thrust one 
 sinewy arm into the strap of a sleeve, where it stuck 
 fast a little above the elbow. 
 
 " ' Here, let me rip it for you,' said Lewis, producing a 
 knife. ' You must get it on some way.' 
 
 ' Confound the thing ! " said Smith, in disgust : ' why, 
 there are no sleeves and no neck to it ; and I am as 
 brown as a berry. I can't show myself this way.' 
 
476 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 "'We can chalk you, I guess,' said Lewis, testily. 
 ' You ought to have looked out for this. I ouldn't 
 have had it happen for a thousand dollars.' Lewis, 
 that monument of good-nature and self-control, was 
 losing his temper very fast. 
 
 " Meantime it was rip ! rip ! tear ! tear ! and at last 
 the armhole admitted the thews and sinews, and the 
 other arm was introduced into the other armhole ; and 
 finally on it went. Ha, ha, ha ! " and Sam laughed tear- 
 fully at the recollection. " You ought to have heard the 
 fellows roar. The little waist with its trimming and 
 flummery about half covered Smith's broad chest ; and 
 no amount of coaxing and pulling could make it meet. 
 The audience outside the curtain caught sound of the 
 laughter, and applauded to the echo. They were 
 becoming impatient ; but the play could not go on, or 
 even begin, till the prima donna was dressed. 
 
 " One of the boys had been rummaging in the trunk, 
 however ; and, as good luck would have it, it appeared 
 that the old lady had been thoughtful enough to put in 
 a loose white waist made of some thin material, with 
 sleeves and a high neck, and of abundant girth. The 
 satin waist was detached from the skirt in a twinkling, 
 and Smith was ready in a trice. Good-nature once 
 more possessed the cheery face of the stage-manager ; 
 the stage was speedily cleared ; the bell rang ; the cur- 
 tain rose. The opera was an immense success, and 
 at its close Lewis was called out, and received three 
 times three, which he fully deserved. 
 
 " But this is all by way of preface," continued Sam, 
 with a droll glance at his sister : " the story is yet to be 
 told. Smith was so divine, that I persuaded him th.& 
 
SENIOE YEAR. 
 
 477 
 
 next morning to array himself in his robes, after which 
 we took a carriage, and went to a photographer's where 
 he sat for his picture. It is in mj album there now ; 
 and I challenge any one to pick it out as not being a 
 lady's picture. Then, shortly before the May recess, I 
 sent one of them to Kate, and wrote her that it was a 
 Miss Smith, whose acquaintance I had recently made in 
 Cambridge, and with whom I had been very much 
 charmed, — so much so that after careful and serious 
 thought I had asked her to marry me, and she had con- 
 sented, though the engagement was not to come out till 
 Class Day ; at the same time I begged her not to tell 
 mother till I should come home. Smith was one of 
 Kate's very particular friends, and had been in our 
 house scores of times, besides meeting Kate at Worces- 
 ter and at Cambridge ; and I never imagined but that 
 she would discover the original in the photograph. But 
 she was thoroughly deceived. She reasoned with me 
 and talked to me, when I went home in May, in a way 
 that was too comical. She even cried about it; said 
 the young lady was coarse and stagy-looking, and not 
 a bit nice ; and she was such a picture of grief, sobbing, 
 with her head on my shoulder, that I finally told her 
 who the original was." Sam went off in a hearty laugh. 
 
 " Yes ; I give in," said Kate, joining in the mirth. 
 " I ought to have been brighter, I confess ; but Sam 
 had had so many affairs with divine young ladies in 
 Cambridge and its vicinity, and his letter was so straight- 
 forward and honest, and he seemed so happy about 
 the engagement when he came home, that I never 
 should have guessed the truth." 
 
478 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 Sam had behaved very well during the year that had 
 elapsed since his suspension. In the summer following 
 that event, his mother and sister had made the tour of 
 the mountains with him, returning in time to have a 
 w^eek at home together before the Senior year should 
 call the young man back to Cambridge ; and the last 
 days of his suspension had been different from the first. 
 He had come out of the mist which had at that time 
 enshrouded him, and made every thing look so gloomy, 
 and saw something of that divine fitness of things which 
 Villiers had so earnestly endeavored to point out to 
 him. He had even come to rejoice at his two " hair- 
 breadth escapes," as he was wont to call his two love- 
 affairs. He still vowed that Rose Thorne was the 
 fairest creature alive ; but his infatuation for her had 
 apparently passed away. " It is all over," he said, heart- 
 ily, a score of times, — " all over, and a good thing to 
 have been through with ; for, after all, the most glorious 
 heritage a man has, or can have, is his freedom ; and I 
 wouldn't barter it away, to be tied down to any woman. 
 Eh, Villiers ? " To this sage interrogatory, it was 
 Villiers's wont to make no reply. 
 
 For Mrs. Went worth, the last days which her son 
 spent at home had indeed been delightful days. Sam 
 was more like the happy, free-hearted boy he used to 
 be before he went to college, than it had at one time 
 seemed possible he could ever be again ; and, in addition 
 to this, there was something about him, — - a deeper cur- 
 rent to his life, a manliness and character in his con- 
 duct, that made her proud of him, as she might well be. 
 She had no fears for the Senior year ; nor could her fears, 
 if she had entertained any, have been aught but ground 
 
SENIOR YEAK. 
 
 479 
 
 less. It came and passed by, witli its elevating and 
 ennobling work, leaving its inevitable impress for good 
 on all tlie members of the class, and, in not the least 
 degree, on the sensitive and impressionable mind of her 
 son. He had become very nearly a scholar, very nearly 
 a gentleman, in the truest sense. He caught glimpses, 
 ay, more than glimpses, of that perfect manhood, the 
 attainment of which he by degrees understood to be 
 the one great object of life ; and he realized too, before 
 the Senior year was done, for how much of tliis noble 
 ambition he was indebted to the college, and the four 
 years he had passed there. 
 
 Where was Ruth Leigh all this time ? She was, ere 
 this, in the enjoyment of a very considerable income of 
 her own, and had become quite a little lady. She was 
 working hard at an excellent school, a score of miles 
 from Cambridge, trying to make up for lost time ; for 
 all which good things she was indebted to Mr. Villiers, 
 and his thorough-going way of attending to business. 
 She and Sam had never met since that December morn- 
 ing in the Junior year, when he had left her well-nigh 
 heart-broken. He had quite a pile of letters from her, 
 however, filed away among his private papers ; and they 
 plainly told the story of her improvement. They were 
 cramped in penmanship, childish in expression, and full 
 of errors, at first ; but the latest ones were very faultless 
 epistles indeed ; and he was to see a very intelligent 
 and polished young lady on Class Day, which was close 
 at hand. 
 
 Yes ; the shadow of Class Day, that festival which 
 crowns with its joys the close of every student's Kfe at 
 
480 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 Harvard, had at last drawn very near. The work of 
 the course was completed. The Seniors had formed in 
 front of Holworthy, and marched in single file to Har- 
 vard Hall, for the last annual. It was hardly possible 
 for the student to realize that it was the last, as he came 
 sedately out of the hall, and folded and laid away the 
 examination-paper. Was there really to be no more 
 digging ? The mind failed to comprehend it all, for a 
 time. 
 
 The arrangements for Class Day and the spreads 
 were at last comipleted. What a deal of intriguing, 
 and wire-pulling, and trading-off of rooms, there had 
 been, that the right men might come together ! Some 
 of the rooms of the lower classes, particularly the 
 " tree " rooms, had been spoken for these two years. 
 There had been a vast deal of manoeuvring, before 
 every thing could be finally settled, and there had been 
 some hard feeling ; but all was satisfactorily arranged 
 at last. 
 
XXX. 
 
 THE TRIAL TRIP. 
 
 The two friends finished their last annual by the 
 Monday noon preceding Class Day. 
 
 " I am going down for mother and Kate this after- 
 noon. Come with me, will you ? We shall have just 
 time for dinner at Parker's, and the afternoon train." 
 
 Villiers stood irresolute. 
 
 " We are all coming up Wednesday morning ; and 
 the change will rest you, and freshen you for Friday." 
 
 " I am afraid I ought not, Sam," said conscientious 
 Villiers, who saw a score of duties for the two days that 
 would thus be devoted to pleasure. 
 
 " Don't disappoint me," continued Sam, earnestly, 
 putting his arm through his friend's. " There is time 
 enough for every thing ; and I want your judgment on 
 'The Ruby' [the boat he had built for Kate]. The 
 builder is going down with her to-day, is there now 
 perhaps ; and we must try the craft before Kate uses 
 her." 
 
 Villiers yielded at that, and evening saw the two 
 students at Mrs. Wentworth's mansion. 
 
 They had planned an excursion in " The Ruby " for 
 the next morning. But, though the boat-builder had 
 delivered his work as complete, Sam found many little 
 
 481 
 
482 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 changes to make ; and the forenoon wore away, and the 
 party had not started. Both boats lay at the Unding, 
 the old one with her sails set and idly flapping in the 
 sultry breeze, for the day had been most oppressive. 
 Sam was sitting on a thwart, working at the water- 
 breaker, vainly trying to extract the bung. Every thing 
 else had been already transferred to " The Ruby," and 
 it remained but to fill this cask at the spring, when all 
 would be in readiness for the start. " Confound it ! " 
 he said, hot and impatient with his fruitless efforts. 
 " I should think it had grown in there ; " and he jumped 
 out, and hurried up to the house for a hatchet or ham- 
 mer. 
 
 Just then Kate came down the path with some 
 wraps and a lunch-basket. She dropped the wraps into 
 " The Ruby," deposited the basket on the landing, and 
 glanced out over the bay. How the waters gleamed 
 and danced in the sunlight! The sails of the honest 
 old craft, now quite eclipsed by the new comer, moved 
 gently in invitation. " I believe there is time for a 
 little sail: we cannot go now till after dinner," she 
 thought. And she stepped aboard, and cast off, and 
 was half a mile from the landing before Sam, hatchet in 
 hand, came running down the path. 
 
 To his disgust, he saw the boat gliding smootlily and 
 swiftly away, and hailed with all his might; but the 
 distance was too great. " If she had only waited till I 
 had taken out the water-cask," he said, a little irritated, 
 " she might have gone in welcome. Well, we can't do 
 any thing now until after dinner ; " and he disappeared 
 into the boat-house. 
 
 Meantime Kate, taking such a course as would enable 
 
THE TRIAL TEIP. 
 
 483 
 
 her to return easily, was gliding over the water with a 
 free wind ; and the motion was so exhilarating that she 
 was well out on the outer harbor before she realized 
 that it was time for her to return. But the breeze, 
 which had been growing lighter, failed entirely as she 
 put the boat about ; the sails hung loosely ; the boat 
 rolled unpleasantly; there was 'not a breath of air, and 
 she waited half an hour. 
 
 " This is certainly provoking," she said, and rising 
 looked over the water in every direction. There seemed 
 to be a breeze farther in shore, if she could row in till 
 she reached it ; and she looked for the oars. But Sam 
 had taken them out. There was literally nothing in 
 the boat save the empty water-cask with its tight-fitting 
 bung. She could do nothing but wait ; and the sails 
 flapped idly as the boat rolled in the sea way while the 
 water swashed up against the sides, and occasionally a 
 little came aboard ; for it had been blowing fresh all 
 the night, and was rough ; and thus another half-hour 
 slipped away. 
 
 A sudden flaw of cold east wind struck and half cap- 
 sized the boat, sending a shiver through the girl ; a 
 lull succeeded, as the gust rushed landward, and in a 
 moment a smart shower with big drops drenched her, 
 and cut off the shore from view. 
 
 Then once more every thing was still. The troubled 
 surface of the sea grew black as the sky seemed to be 
 obscured in all quarters at once ; but there was no wind. 
 
 Masses of clouds low in the heavens came dark and 
 angry from the south, and twisted and twirled across 
 the zenith in a wild dance ; but still there was no wind. 
 
 At this she began to be alarmed. " I must take the 
 
484 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 sails down, for there is going to be a storm ; " and sho 
 wished herself safe at home. 
 
 But the sails refused to come down. It happened 
 that the halyards were new, and had scarcely been 
 used ; moreover, the rain had wet the new rope, which 
 was kinked and twisted in an inextricable tangle ; it 
 appeared also in its swollen condition to be too large 
 for the blocks. The foresail fell half way, and stuck 
 fast ; the mainsail would not lower at all. She looked 
 at the black, threatening clouds, and then at the spread 
 of canvas which all her efforts could not make less. 
 "If I only had a knife!" flashed through her brain; 
 and she searched every part of the boat with a desperate 
 eagerness, though in vain ; then, since she could do 
 nothing more, she sat quietly at the tiller, and awaited 
 the event. 
 
 In the midst of her own great peril, her heart grieved 
 at the destruction which threatened the faithful old 
 boat. The sails hanging so helplessly seemed mutely to 
 appeal to her for assistance, as though beseeching her 
 not to put their strength to this impossible test ; but, 
 even as she rose to make one more effort, the squall 
 came surging over the water, striking with resistless 
 force. The mainmast went with a crash ; the sail, catch- 
 ing the wind, ballooned up for an instant ; and mast and 
 sail and rigging were lifted high into the air, and swept 
 to leeward like a leaf. The foresail which was half 
 down and tied up, strained hard ; the mast bent, but 
 held ; and the old craft, plunging forward before the 
 gale, pointed straight out to sea. Kate bowled her head 
 wit] I a prayer that God might guide it in its mad 
 course. The broad ocean was before, the roaring hurri- 
 cane and rising waters behind. 
 
THE TRIiLL TRIP. 
 
 485 
 
 Even in this hour of peril she could but feel a certain 
 enjoyment in the wild magnificence of the scene, as she 
 flew before the fury of the storm. The sky, dark and 
 lowering, torn and rent in shapeless masses, ^hut down 
 close on every side. The shore was cut off from view; 
 the clouds whirled along in a SAvift fantastic dance ; 
 the air was filled with flying spray ; every wave was 
 white-capped; the sea ran high, and every moment 
 higher. Kate felt the grandeur of it all in spite of her 
 imminent danger. 
 
 For a moment there seemed to be a lull, and she took 
 heart. Then with a frightful roar, and a rain of blind- 
 ing spray, the storm came again to the charge. Her 
 hat flew into the air ; she was well-nigh lifted from her 
 place in the boat. The foresail with a loud flap was 
 torn away from the stops into a thousand shreds. She 
 felt that she must meet death now. So long as the sail 
 held, and she could scud before the tempest, she was 
 comparatively safe ; for the fury of the wind must abate 
 before long. But now she knew the boat would soon 
 lose steerage, and come broadside to, and then the sea 
 would break over her,* and she would go down, and there 
 was not even an oar to cling to. She was a brave girl, 
 but life was sweet to her, — how sweet, she had never 
 known till now. She thought of her mother, ever so 
 gentle and patient and kind ; of her splendid brother ; 
 of her lover — for such she then felt Villiers to be. 
 With a shudder she covered her face, as a big white- 
 crested mountain towered above her for an instant, and 
 then curling and breaking poured tons of cold, green, 
 pitiless water into the helpless boat. She felt the boat 
 sink under her, when, lo ! something dashed against her 
 
486 
 
 STUDENT-LUTE AT HARVAED. 
 
 body, and her arms clasped and her hands clutched with 
 all the strength of instinct and despair, the abused and 
 forgotten water-cask, which was there to save her life. 
 At the same instant, above the roar of the tempest, a 
 shout of encouragement reached her ears. 
 
 Villiers had taken it upon himself to drive to a neigh- 
 bor's some ten or twelve miles away, and bring two 
 young lady friends of Kate's to go on the excursion : 
 and the trio reached the house just as the sky seemed 
 to threaten a squall, and it appeared that the sail w^ould 
 have to be given up. 
 
 Kate w^ent down to the landing an hour ago," said 
 Mrs. Wentworth, as they rested for a moment in the 
 broad porch. " I will send for her." 
 
 "And I will be your messenger," said Villiers, "if 
 you will permit me. Perhaps I had better take an 
 umbrella." Thus equipped he strode down the path to 
 the landing. There was no one there. There were the 
 wraps in "The Ruby" as Kate had left them ; the lunch- 
 basket was on the wharf ; the sail w^as loosed from the 
 stops, and was ready to hoist ; but the old boat was 
 gone. Climbing the hill half way to the house, he 
 could see it far out on the bay. " Surely they can't 
 have gone out in this weather," he thought, forgetting 
 how pleasant it was an hour ago. " Perhaps they are in 
 the boat-house ; " and with hasty strides he reached the 
 door. 
 
 " O Villi(;rs ! " hailed Sam, out of the half gloom, 
 " you don't Bay that you have come at last ! Are you 
 all ready? I believe a little dinner would please me 
 now as well as any thing ; " and he rose leisurely from a 
 pile of fishing-gear he had been overhauling, at the 
 same time knocking the ashes out of his pipe. 
 
THE TRIAL TRIP. 
 
 487 
 
 " Where is Kate ? " asked Yilliers, almost fiercely. 
 
 " Kate ? " was the reply, in a tone of surprise. " Hasn't 
 she come back yet ? She went out for a sail an hour — 
 My God ! " as, emerging from the gloom, Sam looked 
 hurriedly at the sky. " It is going to blow a hurricane, 
 and she is out there alone. Why don't she get her sails 
 down, and reef them? She must see that there is a 
 squall coming on." 
 
 " Come ! " shouted Villiers, as, plunging down the 
 hill, he leaped aboard " The Ruby." " We are wasting 
 time : we must go for her. No girl could manage that 
 boat in such a storm as we are going to have. Hand 
 me that basket ; " and he stowed it away, together with 
 the wraps. " Now the oars ; you take in a reef, and I 
 will pull her out." 
 
 " Wait ! " shouted back Sam, half-way up the hill. 
 " I must tell mother. Wait ! I must tell her." 
 
 Mrs. Wentworth met him at the door, and understood 
 but too well. The sea I Was it indeed to be the 
 grave of all she loved ? She drew him to her an 
 instant, in a close and tearful embrace ; and then he 
 dashed down the path, just in time, for Yilliers with 
 uoundless impatience had reefed and hoisted the sail, 
 and cast off just as Sam sprang aboard. It was his 
 love's life that was waiting, — more to him than all 
 the world. 
 
 Villiers had already possessed himself of the oars, 
 and was pulling like a giant. Sam stood at the tiller, 
 watching the threatening clouds. It seemed as though 
 the storm must burst every second ; but it held off. 
 It was necessary to change their course, on passing into 
 the bay ; and if they could fairly get outside before the 
 
488 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 squall came, they would escape a danger^)us passage 
 through a narrow, rocky, and tortuous channel, which 
 both feared they might not otherwise accomplish. 
 
 " Let me take the oars," said Sam ; for it seemed 
 impossible to stand there doing nothing. 
 
 " No. We are doing as well as we can ; " and indeed 
 the boat was ploughing rapidly through the water. 
 
 " There it comes ! " shouted Sam. " In with your 
 oars, or you will lose them. We shall certainly need 
 another reef." They were half through the narrow chan- 
 nel, when the squall struck them broadside. The boat 
 careened till the standing-room was half full of water ; 
 but they must clear the ledge, just now to leeward of 
 them, or go down in the attempt. It was only half a 
 minute, and then they were past it, out in the bay ; and, 
 as the boat's head fell away, she rose promptly to even 
 keel, and, getting square before it, almost buried herself 
 as she plunged forward. 
 
 " There she is ! " cried Sam, getting sight, for the 
 first time, of the chase. " The squall hasn't struck her 
 yet ; one of the sails is part way down. Why don't 
 she lower them ? She must see it coming." 
 
 Yilliers, working with tremendous force, was bailing 
 out a ton of water, and just glanced ahead. 
 
 " There goes the mainsail like a kite. Ah ! the 
 foresail holds, and she falls off. We must overhaul her 
 soon ! " 
 
 Then the thick-flying spray hid the object of their 
 chase from view ; and both young men looked forward 
 with agonizing expectancy and straining eyes, with 
 hats gone, and hair blown wildly about; they too could 
 only wait. 
 
THE TRIAL TRIP. 
 
 489 
 
 From the windows of the house, Mrs. Wentworth, 
 mth white face and straining eyes, watched the young 
 fellows pull out on to the bay, saw the storm burst in 
 its fury ; and in a few seconds all was hidden from 
 view. Words cannot tell her grief. She stood mute 
 and motionless while the old house rocked on its founda- 
 tions ; and branches torn from trees, bricks from chim- 
 neys, loose boards, and clouds of dust, flying past in 
 mad confusion, bore witness to the violence of the blast. 
 It was almost past her comprehension ; and she too 
 could only wait. 
 
 Still the little Ruby " hasted on. It seemed as if 
 she had been built for this hour. Almost any other 
 boat in such a hurricane, and under such a press of 
 canvas, must soon have run herself under ; a lighter 
 sail must have gone to tatters at the first burst of the 
 tempest ; a single flaw in the mast would have sent it 
 by the board. The strain was terrible ; but every thing 
 was new and stamich, and every thing held. The pace 
 was grand, terrific almost. They seemed to leap from 
 wave to wave, and at times to shoot from the water. 
 
 " There she is, Sam ! " shouted Yilliers, in a sup- 
 pressed voice, and pointing nervously, — way off there, 
 to right of us ! " 
 
 *• if things only hold together five minutes longer ! " 
 said Sam between his teeth, as he changed his course ; 
 and then, with that second attack of the storm, they 
 saw the sail blown into shreds. Yilliers's face grew 
 white, as he saw the helpless old boat broach to, and 
 knew what must soon follow. The seconds were like 
 hours. They were almost within hailing distance : if 
 she would only look around, and take courage ! But 
 
490 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 Kate's thoughts are no longer of safety, no longer of 
 life. Villiers raised his voice ; it was lost in the war 
 of the elements. A sea rolling crosswise turned the 
 boat broadside to the wind ; a broken-crested mountain 
 of water filled and sank her before their very eyes. 
 
 " My God ! " said Sam, wildly. " And there is noth- 
 ing for her to cling to. I stripped the boat of every 
 thing, this very morning." 
 
 " Ha ! " shouted Villiers, galvanized into life, " she is 
 floating! see, on top of that wave. Shout! she must 
 hear us." And again and again they sent their voices 
 over the waters. The sound reached her ears, and 
 revived her heart, though her eyes were blinded by the 
 salt spray. 
 
 " Now, Sam," said Villiers, desperately, "do you steer 
 for your very life, and I will pick her up. As soon as I 
 catch her, clamp the tiller, and help me pull her in." 
 
 He nerved himself for the struggle : he summoned 
 all the forces of his manhood to this one effort. Reader, 
 you cannot know the dread danger of failure, or the 
 fearful effort that alone could crown success. They 
 were shooting on with a desperate ppeed which no 
 power of theirs could abate ; now plunging into a huge 
 wave, now toppling on the crest of a breaker, now 
 dropping down, down into a yawning abyss. They 
 stood breathless, almost heart-sick. She rose on top of 
 the next wave ; there was a dive downward like a flash, 
 a struggle, a sound of rushing water ; and witli a super- 
 human effort such as scarcely any other man could b^ 
 capable :)f, before Sam could render aid, he drew her 
 into the boat, half drowned, senseless, but alive. Vil- 
 liers's clatch on her arm left its marks for months. 
 
THE TEIAL TRIP. 
 
 ^91 
 
 Sam flung his arms around Villiers's nec"k, and kissed 
 him: and they both cried for jov. 
 
 T\lien the Glee Club and the Pierian Sodality gave 
 their annual concert on Wednesday evening before 
 Class Day. Sam vras in his place among the hassi 
 secundi, as if nothing unusual had transpii^ed : and Mrs. 
 Wentworth and Kate, and Villiers, Miss Eldredge. T\'ill 
 Adams, and Mr. Cartier. vrere a part of the brilliant com- 
 paiiy that thronged the little hall in spite of the pour- 
 ing rain ; for it is said ahvays to rain on the occasion 
 of this concert. If Kate vas more Cjuiet than ^vas her 
 vont. the friends missed her sparkling talk and merry 
 laughter vnthout guessing the cause; and no -one vas 
 surpri-ed that Mr. Villiers should be more abstracted, 
 grave, and dignified than usual. 
 
 The next day was a busy one. The final preparations 
 for the festival of the college year Avere completed. 
 The lawn in front of Holworthy had been clipped and 
 rolled, the vralks also trimmed and swept and sprinkled 
 and rolled ; bright dresses fluttered hither and thither. 
 Class Day eve came at last : and with many an anxious 
 look at the cloudy sky, and many an earnest wish for a 
 fair morrow, the Senior retired to be fi^esh and strong 
 for the duties and pleasures of the morning. 
 
XXXI. 
 
 CLASS DAY. 
 
 The day dawned at last, on which the class — a unit 
 for four years — met together for the last time ; and for 
 the first and last time the characters in this little story 
 also are all of them brought together. 
 
 The morning was bright. " Wake up, chum ! " 
 shouted Sam, knocking on the partition of Hunting- 
 don's room. " Wake up, and see what a glorious morn- 
 ing it is : it has rained during the night, and is clear ; " 
 and he leaned half out of the window to survey the 
 azure sky. He dodged in again, however, just in time 
 to escape a drenching from water showered down from 
 the window above by Longstreet, who, ever alert, had 
 heard his first call. Almost instantly there was a shout 
 through all Holworthy, a cry of " Heads out ! " Frowzy 
 heads and white shoulders protruded from all the rear 
 .windows of the Hall. There was a universal exclama- 
 tion of delight at the prospect of fine weather. Sleep 
 for the Seniors was at an end. Class Day had begun ! 
 
 Sam breakfasted with his mother and Kate, as he 
 had done every day since their sojourn in Cambridge. 
 " Some one must go for Ruth : I am afraid I can't get 
 ofp," he said, as they rose from the table. 
 
 " Mother and I will go," exclaimed Kate. " We can 
 
 492 
 
CLASS DAY. 
 
 493 
 
 take a carriage, and drive to the station for her. For 
 one, I am dying to see her, and have been for year. 
 I believe you don't care half as much about it as I do," 
 she added, with an impatient glance at her brother's 
 cool, easy indifference. 
 
 " No, probably not. There are vBry few emotions so 
 strong as female curiosity. Now, don't crush her with 
 your grand airs, Kate, as you generally do young ladies 
 when you meet them for the first time. Remember she 
 is a tender little thing, and be kind to her for my sake." 
 
 "How are we to distinguish her from others? We 
 have never met her," suggested Mrs. Wentworth. 
 
 "You ladies never more than half conclude your 
 arrangements. She should have worn a pale red rose 
 in her hair," said Sam, enjoying Kate's perplexity. 
 
 " Pale red nonsense ! " returned that young lady. 
 " We coiinted on you, to be sure, to go and meet the 
 ' tender little thing ' with us. Who could have guessed 
 your time was going to be so immensely precious? " 
 
 " There seems to be no help for it now," said Sam, 
 not ill pleased ; and they drove swiftly up to Porter's, 
 where they waited for the train that was to bring Ruth ; 
 the ladies in the carriage on the bridge, Sam on the 
 platform below. It came at last ; and Sam scanned 
 carefully the company of gayly attired ladies thronging 
 the platform, for the childish and bewitching face so 
 well remembered. 
 
 "I don't see her," he said: "women are always late ; 
 left behind, I dare say ! " and he was more disappointed 
 than he would have believed he could be, when a soft 
 touch was laid on his arm. He turned; and, lo ! it was 
 Ruth. But how changed ! What may not a year and a 
 
494 STUDENT-LIFE AT HAKVABD. 
 
 half at a fashionable boarding-school accomplish in the 
 way of transforming a simple, unaffected child into an 
 elegant young lady ? What is there in the matter of 
 social difficulties that can daunt a bright Yankee girl, 
 after such advantages ? 
 
 " I should hardly have known you," exclaimed Sam, 
 with ill-concealed .surprise and pleasure at the bewil- 
 dering vision ; and he kissed — who would not ? — two 
 sweet lips that were put up to him with the utmost 
 simplicity and confidence. It was plain that there was 
 no change in her heart, however much Ruth might have 
 been transformed in appearance : Sam had been too 
 truly her hero to be forgotten in a year and a half. 
 But how much did that kiss, and the easy indifference 
 with which it was bestowed, tell her of the change that 
 had taken place in this whilom lover of hers ! He had 
 forgotten her, — forgotten his kindness as he used to be 
 kind ! She flushed with shame and mortification : then 
 her face paled, and her lip quivered, as her disappoint- 
 ment struck chill to her heart. It was only for a 
 second : an air of determined gayety came at her sum- 
 mons, and she took on a dignity and reserve that Kate 
 herself could hardly have surpassed. It was plain 
 that, if Sam should want any more favors, he would 
 have to begin at the beginning like another, and work 
 for them. 
 
 But Ruth had taken his arm ; and they were chatting 
 merrily as they climbed the steps to the bridge above, 
 and approached the carriage. Kate darted an eloquent 
 look at her brother, as he handed in the guest, and 
 whispered, " A ' tender little thing,' I should think," as 
 she made room for him beside her, in a way that made 
 
CLASS DAY. 
 
 495 
 
 it difficult enougL. for tlie young man to suppress his 
 mirth. In spite of herself, she contriyed to awe the 
 Toung lady not a little : and the poor child, not yet 
 recovered from that first disappointment and chagrin, 
 nestled close to Mrs. Wentworth. in whom she instinct- 
 ively felt she had a friend. 
 
 The momentary embarrassment passed qiucldy away : 
 Kate's kind heart soon won the stranger's shy confi- 
 dence : and was she not now where for months she had 
 been dreaming she should be ? Sam was too genuine a 
 son of Adam to stand on his dignity long : the charming 
 girl so near him was too attractive not to rouse all his 
 gallantry, even if she had not been an old sweetheart. 
 He would hardly attempt the rule of grandfather again 
 with her. Before the short drive was ended, he was as 
 devoted and splendid " as the most exacting young 
 lady could desire. 
 
 I must tear myself away,*' he said, mournfully, look- 
 ing down at her fresh beauty, and don my harness ; 
 but I'll be back as soon as possible : and please remem- 
 ber you are my guest to-day, and that you are not even 
 to smile at any one else. Ah! here comes Haskill ; 
 and the young doctor came up, and was presented. 
 
 ]\Iother and Ruth are to have my seats in the church ; 
 you and Kate will have to range for yourselves." 
 
 Which, through the courtesy of Villiers, we are 
 very capable of doing." said Haskill. holding u^d two 
 bits of white pasteboard ; that is, if Miss Kate vnR 
 accept of my escort."' 
 
 Sam had lifted his hat, and strode off ; and the rest 
 uf the party entered the house, Kate and the doctor in 
 the rear. 
 
496 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 " So that is tliQ causa helli^^^ said the latter to Kate, 
 with a nod of the head at Ruth. 
 
 " Yes ; and I never was more surprised. I expected 
 to see a timid little girl. I could pull Sam's ears with 
 a will. Sometimes his practical jokes are too bad." 
 
 " She walks a queen," said Haskill, with an admiring 
 looking at the graceful and stylish figure in front of him. 
 " Your brother certainly is a man of taste, if his head 
 isn't quite ' level,' as we Westerners say. The idea of 
 that young lady trimming bonnets and washing dishes ! 
 She is better than the other," he said, confidentially. 
 
 "Yes, I think she is." 
 
 It was plain that Class Day had come. Every thing 
 about the college and Cambridge too told the story. 
 Horse-cars were fast discharging loads of gayly dressed 
 visitors ; and carriages replete with the same precious 
 freight rolled rapidly through the streets. The old 
 church in the square was ready for guests ; and ladies, 
 alone and escorted by white-gloved Seniors, crowded 
 in through the side-door ; and the galleries were soon 
 packed. This was the only opportunity for ladies who 
 were not fortunate enough to have reserved seats on 
 the floor, to gain admission. Groups of visitors strolled 
 across the grounds in quest of their friends. " Gentle- 
 men of color," with white aprons and gloves, took pos- 
 session of the rooms where the spreads were to be laid, 
 and flitted duskily hither and thither ; stacks of flowers 
 arrived, and were distributed; Freshmen looked curi- 
 ously at the novel scenes ; Sophomores and Juniors 
 strolled about with a conscious air ; and Seniors in full 
 dress appeared on every hand. 
 
CLASS DAY. 
 
 497 
 
 Agreeably to his promise, Sam soon returned for his 
 mother and Ruth. Kate and the doctor had already- 
 gone on. " I have just time to escort you to your 
 seats," Sam said, as he gave an arm to each ; adding as 
 they entered the now cool and well-filled church, " We 
 form in ten minutes for prayers. We sha'n't detain 
 you long," he continued, as they settled themselves in 
 the comfortable pews. 
 
 " Where is your seat to be ? " asked Ruth, with a little 
 blush, as Sam lingered for a moment. 
 
 " Oh, on the platform," said Sam, his eyes twinkling. 
 
 " I am not so stupid as that. I thought from your 
 baton that you might be distinguished by a position 
 that would make you visible to us common mortals," 
 Ruth replied, coolly. 
 
 " Yes," returned the young man, with honest pride, 
 " I am one of the marshals ; " then, with a merry look, 
 " I shall be on the very edge of the platform, where I 
 can keep an eye on you all the time, and make sure 
 that you reserve all your smiles for me." Again he 
 departed, and hurried over to Holworthy. 
 
 The class were in ranks on the hard drive in front of 
 the hall, — a hundred fine-looking young fellows in full 
 dress. Sam, baton in hand, went down the line, greet- 
 ing this friend and that with a very justifiable pride. 
 There was old Villiers with his robes; and he reached 
 out his hand, and gave him a shake, at their first meet- 
 ing for the day. Presently the column moved, as 
 Hawes gave the word, and marched on to the chapel, 
 where the class chaplain officiated ; and for the last 
 time they attended prayers. 
 
 Meantime the three lower classes formed in open 
 
498 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HAKVARD. 
 
 ranks on the avenue leading to the chapel, — each class 
 a little apart from the others, — and awaited the exit of 
 the Seniors. These, at the conclusion of the service, 
 formed once more, and, led by the band, marched down 
 through the open ranks. The hearty cheers rang out 
 from Junior, Sophomore, and Freshman, in turn; and 
 everybody wished them God speed. Yes, even the 
 "poco," who had cheated them as much as was in his 
 ability, stood a little apart, his round rosy face suffused 
 with a smile, swinging his hat, and shouting his good- 
 will. 
 
 This year the " Philosopher " had invited the Seniors 
 to breakfast ; and he received them cordially, and enter- 
 tained them most hospitably. After the repast, a half- 
 hour was devoted to social pleasures; and then once more 
 the procession was formed, and moved towards the church, 
 where friends have been all this time awaiting them. 
 
 There a crowd of students, who presently were to 
 have a rush and a tussle with the policemen, and who 
 had been besieging the door for an hour or more, opened 
 ranks to let the column pass in ; and amidst the mingled 
 cheers of the crowd, and the inspiriting music of the 
 band, the class marched proudly up the aisle, to the 
 seats on the platform. While the Seniors were seating 
 themselves within, the students and policemen were 
 having a desperate struggle for the possession of the 
 doorway without. But how could three men stand up 
 before three hundred ? Down they went ; and the 
 eager thi'ong was propelled by its own momentum 
 through the porch, and up the aisle, quite to the foot 
 of the platform. Then, as stillness reigned for a mo- 
 ment, and even the fluttering of fans was hushed in the 
 
CLASS DAY. 
 
 499 
 
 crowded churcli, while the reverend Doctor offered 
 prayer, an opportunity was offered to look around once 
 from the Seniors' seats. 
 
 On the north side of the platform were the hundred 
 Seniors, who met together, as the experience of the past 
 had shown, for the last time ; opposite sat the gentle- 
 men of the Faculty, and the distinguished guests of the 
 clay ; while between these two bodies were the Presi- 
 dent, the Doctor, and the class officers, — the marshals, 
 orator, poet, odist, and chaplain. At the opposite end 
 of the church, in the organ-loft, was the band, dis- 
 coursing music after the termination of the prayer. 
 The galleries on either ^ide were packed with an audi- 
 ence that gave them the appearance of two beds of 
 roses ; while every Senior recognized his best friends 
 among the gayly dressed throng that occupied every 
 available inch of room on the floor. It was an assembly 
 of youth and beauty such as could be gathered together 
 only on an occasion like this. As Villiers, chosen by 
 his classmates to speak to them and for them, came 
 forward, it seemed that, if an}^ thing were capable of 
 inspiring him to eloquence, it would be this occasion. 
 The poem, that happy compound of humor and pathos, 
 followed the oration ; and then came the ode, sung by 
 the class. This closed the exercises ; and the throng 
 streamed out of the church, glad to escape from the 
 suffocating jam. Yilliers turned, as a hand was laid on 
 his arm, and saw the Doctor standing behind, with 
 beaming face. 
 
 " I wish to tell you how much I am pleased with 
 your oration,"' he said, in liis kindest tone. " It would 
 be an honor to any man's heart or head ; " and he truly 
 meant what he said. 
 
500 STTJDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 As the orator of the day, Villiers had the honor of 
 walking down the aisle and across the street arm in arm 
 with the President ; and that gentleman too was pleased 
 to bestow his sincerest praise on what the student had 
 said. 
 
 Sam lost no time in seeking out his mother and Ruth ; 
 and, with one on each arm, sauntered slowly along, with 
 hundreds of others, towards Hoi worthy and the spreads. 
 It was a proud and happy moment for every Senior ; 
 the very highest pinnacle of college glory; and Sam, 
 for he was quite overflowing with happiness, ran on 
 with a string of talk vastly entertaining to Ruth at 
 least ; and presently they arrived at the rooms in the 
 old hall, where they found Kate and Haskill already in 
 possession, the guests fast arriving, and the spread in 
 readiness. A spread given by so many and so dis- 
 tinguished Seniors as this one was (for among its hosts 
 were the orator, two of the marshals, a member of the 
 Class Day committee, and the odist) could not but be a 
 very brilliant and fashionable affair ; and, for the next 
 two hours, there was a jam of elegant ladies and gentle- 
 men thronging this particular entry and these particu- 
 lar rooms : yes, a veritable jam, that sadly disordered 
 the attire of the ladies, and made them flushed and 
 breathless. Little rivulets of melted cream trickled 
 down on to their elegant drapery ; strawberries and bits 
 of salad were trodden into the fabric of their robes. 
 It was almost impossible to breathe sometimes, and fre- 
 quently quite impossible to stir ; but the young people 
 seemed to enjoy it, and will probably, as long as these 
 occasions bring them pleasantly together, and afford an 
 opportunity for feasting and flirting, and the display of 
 elegant toilets. 
 
CLASS DAY. 
 
 501 
 
 " They like tlie eating part too," said Haskill to Kate. 
 She liad received a score of inAdtations, and under the 
 doctor's protecting escort liad visited many spreads, 
 and paid her compliments to the hosts, and was now 
 ensconced in the cool, comfortable y"inclow-seat in her 
 brother's room. Do you see that delicate creature in 
 pink?'' Haskill asked, pointing out of the window. 
 " She has been to six spreads to my certain knowledge, 
 and has had a generous supply of salad, strawberries 
 and cream, and ices, at each occasion: and is evidently 
 not vet disposed to cry, ' Hold ! enough ! ' See her 
 crowd up the steps." 
 
 " Xonsense ! " said Kate, laughing merrily. " You 
 must be mistaken." 
 
 ''Xot a bit,'' returned the doctor, stoutly. "I de- 
 clare,'" he continued, ''it is a good thing to see Yilliers 
 dispense his hospitality : he is as polite as some of those 
 old fellows you read about in books, isn't he ? "' 
 
 " I must agree with you this once," Kate replied, 
 with a smile. She had seen little of her lover thus far 
 during the day; but she felt that the splendidly noble 
 part he had enacted was all hers, and she could wait 
 with perfect content for the attentions which in good 
 time were sure also to be hers. 
 
 Kuth had been pleased to keep very near to Mrs. 
 Wentworth ; and Sam had been both attentive and vigi- 
 lant, and turned off any number of gentlemen who had 
 been eager to carry her away. The young lady was 
 content and happy, — as happy as she had clream.ed she 
 might be. All Kate's friends had been most kind to 
 her ; and she had found time to say a great deal to Mrs. 
 Wentworth. 
 
502 
 
 STUDENT -LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 " I was terribly afraid of Mr. Villiers at first. I had 
 a feeling that he disliked or distrusted me." 
 
 " I am sure it must have been quite groundless," said 
 Mrs. Wentworth. 
 
 " Oh, yes, indeed ! he has been more than kind ;. but 
 he has a way of looking tlirough one, that is very 
 uncomfortable. Do you not think so ? " 
 
 " I think I have noticed it ; but he does not m^an to 
 cause distress." 
 
 " Oh, no, indeed ! I don't mind it at all now. Oh, I 
 owe every thing to him, more than I shall ever be able 
 to repay. I might have been with aunty still ; and I 
 was so very, very wretched. There was over six thou- 
 sand dollars of my interest-money that had accumu- 
 lated in her hands ; and Mr. Yilliers made her produce 
 every dollar, and told the judge that he thought my 
 services had more than recompensed her for any trouble 
 or expense she had been at on my account ; and the 
 judge said he thought so too. It was wicked, I know, 
 but I couldn't help hating her ; and I was delighted to 
 see her frightened, as she most thoroughly was." 
 
 " She must have been a very unamiable person." 
 
 " Mr. Villiers has been to the school to see me several 
 times, to see how I was coming on ; and that I have 
 had the best possible care and instruction is owing to 
 his good offices, I am sure." 
 
 Then Lyman came to claim Kate for a waltz in Har- 
 vard Hall. "I have been feeding the hungry long 
 enough, and am going to dispense with my hospitality 
 for the present. It will be less crowded than later in 
 the afternoon ; " and the twain disappeared down the 
 stairs. 
 
CLASS DAY. 
 
 503 
 
 By this time the music of the band playing for the 
 dancers on the green below came up strong and clear; 
 and few remained in the rooms save the especial friends 
 of the Seniors. Sam came up to the group around his 
 mother, looking hot and tired. 
 
 " I believe Class Day is hard work : don't you find it 
 so, Will?" 
 
 Yes ; it is a consolation that it comes only once," 
 said Adams : "it has been a task, though a pleasant one, 
 these last two hours." 
 
 " I knew he would be quite worn out if he remained 
 there any longer entertaining those stupid people : so I 
 fairly rescued him from his friends, and brought him in 
 here to enjoy a little rest with Mrs. Wentworth," said 
 Mary Eldredge. 
 
 " You hayen't tasted a morsel of any thing yourscK," 
 said Ruth, looking shyly up at Sam. 
 
 " I believe I haven't, though I had forgotten it; " and 
 the young man looked ruefully at the melted cream, and 
 the unsavory fragments of the feast. 
 
 " I think there must be something more tempting in 
 that apartment," said Ruth, giving a nod at the room 
 where the caterers had established their headquarters. 
 " I am interested to know,"' continued the girl, with an 
 honest blush, " because I am hungry myself. I thought 
 you might prefer even my poor company to feasting 
 alone, and have waited for you." 
 
 " That is just splendid ! " exclaimed Sam, his face 
 flushing with pleasure. A requisition on the ebony 
 gentlemen was forthwith honored by an abundance of 
 fresh viands ; and the two seated themselves in the 
 recess of the eastern window for a cosey lunch. 
 
504 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVAKD. 
 
 " Hunger is the best sauce ; but I have somethiDg 
 better for this feast," said Sam, presently. 
 "Indeed! what is that?" 
 
 " Somebody that I haven't seen for a year and a 
 half," he said, with an admiring glance at the lovely face 
 so near him. 
 
 She had not lost that trait of changing expression 
 with every varying feeling, which of old used to be her 
 chiefest charm ; and, as Sam looked at her, her confusion 
 was complete. 
 
 " You have not improved in the least," she said, 
 coolly, after a moment. 
 
 " That certainly is more than can be said of every one 
 I know," Sam replied, with a bow. 
 
 Ruth flushed with pleasure and pride at this : had 
 she not worked with all the energy in her power, that 
 this compliment might be deserved ? 
 
 " What is his majesty perplexing himself about 
 now? " asked Ruth, as the ice-cream disappeared before 
 Sam's silent but determined attack, while a doubtful 
 expression settled over his face. 
 
 "I was wondering what in the deuce I have been 
 thinking of, that two people have not met for a year 
 and a half," he said, honestly. 
 
 " I have wondered why many times," Ruth replied, 
 in a soft voice. 
 
 " Do you remember the first time we had tea together 
 in your aunt's house ? It was different from our feast 
 to-day; but I believe I never enjoyed a pleasanter 
 hour," said Sam. 
 
 " Can I ever forget it ? " said Ruth, tenderly, " or how 
 you wrapped me in your own great-coat, and scolded me 
 
CLASS DAY. 
 
 505 
 
 all the way home, getting quite drenched yourself all 
 the tune ? " 
 
 If it was necessary, as it seemed to be in the morning, 
 for Sam to begin and win Ruth's favor over again, he 
 had done his work so well the first time, that it would 
 be an easy matter now. He was very near her : their 
 faces were very close together as they sat in the win- 
 dow's recess, talking over those bygone days ; they were 
 both well pleased. It seemed for the moment as though 
 an engagement might have to be chronicled as one of 
 the results of Class Day ; but the Fates — naughty trio 
 — had decreed otherwise. Who was that looking 
 through the doorway at the happy pair as they sat 
 billing and cooing, half hidden by the drapery of the 
 window? Had this woman come with her impassive, 
 cold, fascinating beauty, all the way across the ocean, to 
 separate these two now so nearly drawn together ? Had 
 she come to unsay the word she had spoken two years 
 ago ? At least she was there ! There was a rustle of 
 drapery on the threshold ; Sam's eyes glanced towards 
 the door ; the color faded out of his face ; he sprang 
 forward with an exclamation. Yes, it was she ! it was 
 Rose Thorne ! and as Sam stood before her, looking 
 into those calm, wondrous eyes, and listening to that 
 familiar and well-loved voice, the two years that had 
 gone by were like forgotten dreams, and he was as 
 much her slave (and he knew it too) as he had ever 
 been in his most devoted moment. Ah, yes; freedom 
 is a grand thing, a glorious heritage ; but it is not for 
 you, my bonny Senior, at least not as yet. And Ruth, 
 who sat there quite forgotten amid the confusion and 
 surprise attendant upon the arrival of this new and 
 
506 
 
 STUDENT-LIFIJ AT HARVARD. 
 
 unexpected guest, — did not the poor child take it all 
 in at a glance? Could she fail to recognize the 
 destroyer of her happiness, so nearly made perfect, in 
 that beautiful, emotionless face ? " Discipline, disci- 
 pline ! education and discipline : that is the true end of 
 life : " it almost seemed as though our worthy friend 
 Villiers uttered the words, as he comprehended it all ; 
 as he saw the flush on Sam's face, and the glitter in his 
 eye, which he had been wont to note there of old ; and 
 the desperate look about the little white mouth half 
 hidden in the recess of the window. " It is not to be 
 happy ; it is not to have one's heart's desire ; it is not 
 to be successful in our plans, or to prosper in our 
 undertakings : it is to be disciplined after God's own 
 will into the perfections of manhood and wotuanhood, — 
 that is the true end and object of life." The words 
 seemed almost to ring in the air. It might well be 
 asked how a little o£ his theory would fit his own broad 
 shoulders. He had certainly never had it to wear as 
 yet. 
 
 Lyman, with Kate on his arm, had at length elbowed 
 his way up the steps into Harvard Hall, where the 
 " round " dances were in order. " It will not be so 
 crowded if we go in for the first," he had said. 
 
 "I do not see how it could well be much more 
 crowded," was Kate's thought as they revolved quickly, 
 keeping thne with the delicious waltz-music. Dancing 
 in this close, crowded hall on the hot June afternoon, 
 when the air soon became filled with a thick, fine dust, 
 while the slightest exertion caused a profuse perspi 
 ration, and where no cooling breeze, no refreshing 
 
CLASS DAY. 
 
 507 
 
 draught of air could come, used to be a Class-Day cus- 
 tom. Delicate girls who would not have thought they 
 could walk half a mile used to dance there by the 
 hour, the whirling waltz, the quick-moving galop, — 
 while outside under the broad-spreading elms, beneath 
 the cool shade and on the firm green turf, with comfort, 
 and opportunity for pleasant chatting, and room in 
 abundance, the band would vainly summon the dancers 
 to what would seem a most attractive pastime. The 
 many who came to see the dancing on the green, and 
 the hundreds who could not gain admission to the hall, 
 would promenade around the enclosure. The windows . 
 above were always filled with spectators, but the dan- 
 cers were not there. 
 
 Excuse me, but please take me out," said Kate, 
 after the first round ; and she leaned heavily on Lyman's 
 arm, till after a struggle they gained the open air once 
 more, and wended their way back to Holworthy, where 
 greatly to her surprise and joy she found her dear 
 friend Rose. 
 
 The hours passed slowly but steadily away with mu- 
 sic and dancing, and chatting and flirting, and all the 
 gayeties of Class Day. The throng grew denser, as the 
 afternoon waned ; the square became quite choked with 
 vehicles ; for hundreds came to see the exercises at the 
 tree, who cared for nothing else. 
 
 The tree, a noble elm, around which the class was to 
 meet at eventide, and sing Auld Lang Syne," stands 
 almost in the centre of a little quadrangle formed by 
 the rear of Ilollis, Harvard Llall, a side of Holden 
 Chapel, and Harvard Square ; the intervening space 
 being rather more than a hundred feet wide, and a 
 
508 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 hundred and fifty feet long. A stout rope had been 
 stretched around the tree, enclosing a circle of perhaps 
 a hundred feet diameter. Late in the afternoon oui 
 old friend the janitor brought a heap of little bunches 
 of flowers, which he proceeded to fasten securely to the 
 tree eight or nine feet from the ground, girdling its 
 old trunk with a beautiful garland. As the last bunch 
 in the wreath was secured, he removed his ladder, and 
 smiled complacently on his work. I believe that will 
 puzzle them," he thought, as he walked quietly away. 
 How many years he had performed this service, he 
 alone knew; but it came around once for every class, 
 and was his last duty for them, and his pleasantest. 
 
 Before these preparations were fully completed, the 
 space between the rope and the buildings, by no means 
 a large one, had begun to fill up ; and it was not long- 
 before every inch of standing-room was taken. The 
 day had been hot ; and the sun, though low in the sky, 
 poured its burning rays full upon the expectant com- 
 pany, who waited with the utmost patience, and endured 
 the discomfort of the situation without a murmur. 
 Every one of the hundred windows that commanded a 
 view of the tree was set Avith bright faces ; the dance 
 and the promenade w^ere deserted ; and the attention of 
 every one was centred on the most interesting feature 
 of the day soon to occur. 
 
 For the last time the Seniors had formed in front of 
 Holworthy ; but how different was the appearance they 
 presented from that gathering in the morning, when 
 each man had been in faultless attire ! All the oldest 
 and most shocking hats had been reserved for this occa- 
 sion, and were now donned; while on their tops or 
 
CLASS DAY. 
 
 509 
 
 fronts, pasted in large white figures, appeared the year 
 of the class. Old coats, which might still be decent, 
 had been substituted for the swallow-tails ; and the 
 class, before so gentlemanly in appearance, stood trans- 
 formed into a rabble of rowdyish and seedj'-looking 
 characters. 
 
 In this guise, with the band at their head, they 
 visited in turn each of the buildings, and with three or 
 nine cheers passed on. They then planted the class 
 ivy at Gore Hall. The round face and rounder figure 
 of the librarian greeted them at its wide-open portal, 
 and the old library echoed with their ringing salute and 
 the tramp of their feet ; thence they marched on to the 
 tree, the band playing the class song. 
 
 Within the enclosure, about the tree, gathered in a 
 group by themselves, stood the Freshmen, — Freshmen 
 no more after this day, but now about to be "roughed " 
 for the last time by the Sophs. They were making 
 their preparations for the struggle that was presently 
 to come, quietly, but with a determination that spoke 
 for itself. They had resolved that there should be no 
 flinching, and that their ring should not be broken : and 
 they were grasping one another's hands with a clutch 
 that became more nervous as the dread moment drew 
 near. 
 
 In a secona part of the circle stood the Sophomores, 
 assembled in full force. It was their business to break 
 the ring which the Freshmen would presently form, as 
 speedilj' and in as many places as possible ; to drown 
 the cheers of the Freshmen with their own lusty yells, 
 and to improve to the utmost this final opportunity of 
 making it uiicomfortable for the young fellows. Mean- 
 
510 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVAKD. 
 
 time the Juniors, collected in a group, were recruit- 
 ing tlieir ranks in a way that excited the amusement 
 of the spectators. The Juniors as a general thing do 
 not care to turn out for this tree business, many pre- 
 ferring to look on from some comfortable position, with 
 the ladies, to whom they can explain the proceedings. 
 They have been there as Freshmen, to stand up for their 
 rights ; as Sophomores, to bully their inferiorb", they 
 must perforce go when they shall be Seniors : what 
 \vonder that they like to beg off this once ? Tnere was 
 c|uite a little group of them, however, within the circle ; 
 and these seemed determined to make it uncomfortable 
 for the shirkers, who were screening themselves behind 
 the ladies at the windows, now and then peering out at 
 their classmates below. As they caught sight of such 
 a one, it was, " One, two, three," and a shout of 
 " Dixon I " from the entire body, which performance 
 they repeated until Dixon came down and joined 
 them ; after which another shirker was singled out and 
 summoned in the same noisy manner. 
 
 The music of the band had been heard for some 
 time, and the distant " Rah ! rah ! rah ! " of the Seniors, 
 as hall after hall was saluted ; the sounds came nearer, 
 and gi'ew plainer ; the tramp of feet became audible ; 
 and amid the cheers of the undergraduates, the plaudits 
 of the spectators, and many exclamations of wonder 
 and delight at their remarkable appearance, the Seniors 
 marched rapidly into the circle, and took their stand 
 in the remaining vacant space. The marshal waved 
 his baton, and all was still; then the hundred students 
 sang their class song, after which the cheering began. 
 They cheered first their own and the three lower 
 
CLASS DAY. 
 
 611 
 
 classes, each class in turn joining in and swelling the 
 salute, till it came to the Freshmen, when there was 
 raised a tremendous liowl by the Sophomores. There 
 was something indescribably stirring about these class 
 .salutes. Then they cheered eyerybodj, — the Presi- 
 dent and the goodies, the Faculty and the pocos, the 
 proctors and the professors, while the ladies came in for 
 three times three, and then as many more ; after which 
 they cheered the classes again, and once more there 
 was silence. 
 
 Again the marshal raised his baton ; and at the sig- 
 nal the dense groups of students who had thus far 
 stood separate in the four parts of the enclosure were 
 galyanized into sudden actiyity ; and almost in a second 
 of time four complete rings, each of a hundred men, 
 had formed around the old elm. It was indeed a pretty 
 moyement, and the spectators murmured their admira- 
 tion. The rings thus formed stood motionless, the 
 Seniors nearest the tree ; the Juniors, Sophomores, and 
 Freshmen, in due order. 
 
 " After the Seniors haye sung ' Auld Lang Syne,' " 
 said Hawes, I will waye my hand, and the classes will 
 moye around the tree, the Seniors and Sophomores to 
 the right, the Juniors and Freshmen to the left. When 
 I hold up my baton, the running will cease.'' 
 
 He nodded to the chorister, who started the song. 
 
 The Freshmen who formed the outside ring stood 
 neryously waiting for the running to begin, breathing 
 hard, and ^yith hand grasping hand. The Sophomores 
 were also expectant : but their attitude and appearance 
 boded ill to the Freshmen. It was a moment of intense 
 interest. 
 
512 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 Meantime the Seniors, hand in hand, were singing 
 their farewell song ; swinging their arms to the rhythm 
 of the music, slowly at first, they increased the move- 
 ment till it could be no faster, when Hawes gave the 
 long-looked-for signal, and the running around the tree 
 began. 
 
 It lasted for a few seconds only : the marshal held up 
 his baton almost immediately ; but the action which in 
 the outside rings had degenerated into a tussle between 
 the two lower classes was kept up longer there. The 
 Freshman line was soon broken in a score of places, 
 some hard knocks were given and taken, and more than 
 one pair rolled in the dust in a close embrace ; but it was 
 all without malice, and forgotten the next day. 
 
 The Seniors, as soon as Tom held up his baton, one 
 and all made a rush for the garlands of flowers about 
 the tree ; and the attention of all was soon fixed on this 
 surging mass, leaping, climbing, jumping, and vainly 
 trying to reach the wreath. 
 
 " They are too far from the ground ; ,no one can reach 
 them at that height ! " exclaimed Ruth ; and for a time 
 it appeared as though the garland must remain unbro- 
 ken. If one climbed on to the shoulders of a classmate, 
 the moment he approached the tree, and stretched forth 
 his hand to pluck the flowers almost within his grasp, 
 an unfriendly hand was sure to pull him prone to the 
 ground. 
 
 " There goes Sam with Longstreet astride his shoul- 
 ders ! " cried Kate : " they will be more successful ; " and 
 all watched the two Seniors working their way through 
 the throng towards the tree. Sam elbowed his way 
 slowly but with unflagging perseverance ; and Longstreet 
 
CLASS DAY. 
 
 513 
 
 successfully beat off all assailants, striking meruilesslT 
 right and left, and maintained liis position in spite of all 
 attempts to dislodge him. The clapping of a thousand 
 hands resounded, as the little felloe plticked the first 
 bonquet from the wreath, and. timiing deliberately 
 toward the "window from which our friends were look- 
 ing down, kissed his hand to the ladies. Then he 
 scattered the nijso^'tvs amono- the sttidents below him. 
 Villiers with Adams on his shoulders liad attacked the 
 wreath on the opposite side ; others had climbed to it on 
 the shoulders of classmates ; and in a trice the tree was 
 stripped bare, and every man had some of the flowers. 
 
 But all was not uver. thotigh the end was near. For 
 a moment there was quiet ; and then came the parting 
 scene, when these clas.-mates of fotir years rushed into 
 one another's embraces. These two had pulled many a 
 mile together in the same boat ; these two had for four 
 years sat side by -ide at recitatiun. lecture, and exami- 
 nation : these, kindred pursuits and congenial tasks 
 have led along the same pleasant paths ; the bonds of 
 the same society have brotight these \ery close together. 
 The petty jealoii-ies of clique were forgotten, and for 
 once the warm fteling of brotherhood melted down the 
 reserA'e of the coldest ; and the blows of the old hats, 
 and the sometimes rough embraces, were often but the 
 cloakings of warm emotions and tender feelings. The 
 sun set as the boisterous demonstrations were ended: 
 and the crowd dispersed, for the crowning event of the 
 day was ended. 
 
 Thus far it had been hard work for our Seniors, a 
 day no one of them would care to go through with 
 again ; but a cosey tea in the gray twilight, at which all 
 
514 
 
 STUDENT-LITE AT HARVAED. 
 
 the friends were present, was a delightful and restful 
 re-union. Villiers had had many demands upon his 
 time ; but his duties were now over, and he was ready 
 to relieve Haskill of his charge. Kate turned to him 
 with a look that made him forget that he was tired, as 
 she was wont in after-days, when her lord was weary 
 with toil, to charm him into fresh life with a touch or a 
 caress. 
 
 In truth, it had been hardly more than a look that 
 had pledged these two to walk the journey of life 
 together. He had put out his hand, she had put hers 
 in it ; and thereafter each belonged to the other. It 
 would have needed an unusually close observer to dis- 
 cover that they were more than very good friends, even 
 in after-years. Villiers never abated towards his wife 
 one whit of the grave, considerate courtesy that had 
 marked his days of courtship. 
 
 Ruth, after her cruel awakening from that blissful 
 afternoon dream, had shown a very proper spirit indeed. 
 She had flirted desperately with Dr. Haskill, whom she 
 declared to be "perfectly splendid;" had danced with 
 him in Harvard Hall, not minding the heat or the 
 dust; had quite ignored "-Mr, Wentworth," — and had 
 been very unhappy. She sat nestled close to Mrs. 
 Wentworth in the deepening twilight, a hand in one 
 of hers, so quiet. If any one could have seen her 
 heart, if Sam could have seen it — but he was devoting 
 himself to Rose. 
 
 " Stay for the evening, and let me drive you home," 
 he pleaded, in a whisper ; and as gracefully, pleasantly, 
 charmingly as ever, Rose replied, " Yes, I will stay." 
 
CLASS DAY. 
 
 515 
 
 The illuminations were not yet quite ready; the 
 music for the promenaders had not arrived ; it was not 
 time yet for the President's reception ; and all our 
 friends gathered in the twilight were inclined to be 
 yery quiet. Yes, they were all together here, — Sam 
 and his mother and sister, Yilliers and Huntington and 
 Cartier, Rose and Ruth, Miss Eldredge and Adams, 
 Lyman and Haskill. Happy, if quiet, one would say. 
 Ah ! there is envy, jealousy, despair, and passion, as 
 well as peace, rest, and content, in some of these 
 hearts. 
 
 As the class had assembled for the last time to-day, 
 so have those whom the Fates have brought together at 
 this hour met for the last time in the pages of this 
 little story. 
 
 The jam at the President's reception was immense, 
 an hour later. " What any one goes there for. Miss 
 Leigh, when it is so much pleasanter outside, is more 
 than I could ever understand," said the doctor, as he 
 and Ruth with difficulty escaped from the crowd to the 
 soft lawn. 
 
 " For the entertainment, I should say," replied Ruth, 
 sarcastically. 
 
 "Yes, that's good: I never thought of that;" and 
 they strolled slowly down to the enclosed space, where 
 the band was discoursing soft music, interspersed with 
 the songs of the Glee Club. The lights on the trees 
 twinkled sleepily, and the throng of promenaders glided 
 noiselessly along, half visible in the gloom. The doctor 
 was more than charmed with his companion. " If I 
 could only have a httle of Went worth's luck," he 
 
616 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVAKD. 
 
 thought, "llow grateful I should be!" and he made 
 himself agreeable to the best of his powers, telling her 
 now about some wonderful surgical operation at which 
 he had assisted, now about his home in the West, and 
 the "perfect trump " of an old man who was waiting for 
 liim there, and the glorious field for work and useful- 
 ness spread out before him. He was really eloquent. 
 Suddenly Ruth remarked, — 
 
 " You know all about Sam's attachment for Rose 
 Thome, doctor. Tell me about it : is it a hopeless 
 case ? " 
 
 This was rather a hard blow; but Haskill did not 
 flinch. 
 
 " Yes," he said after pausing a moment to take breath, 
 " I do know as much about it as anybody. I saw them 
 when they first met at the regatta ball ; and since then 
 it has been a hopeless case in more senses than one." 
 
 " Please explain." 
 
 " Well, she'll never marry him ; and for his sake I 
 hope she won't. She was at his house all that first 
 summer, and he was devoted ; all the next year he 
 danced attendance ; and then she went off, and left him 
 disconsolate." 
 
 " That is in ' one sense : ' now the other, please," with 
 a nervous little laugh. 
 
 " Well, Sam — he " — and the doctor hesitated. 
 
 " He is too infatuated to take No for an answer ?*' 
 
 " Yes, that is about the truth in plain English." 
 
 " Thank you," she said, very softly. 
 
 A warmer tie than friendship was eventually estab- 
 lished between these two. 
 
CLASS DAY. 
 
 517 
 
 Other words fell on tlie air of tliis summer niglit, from 
 figures that passed noiseless in the gloom : — 
 
 " I can't see what is going to be gained by waiting, 
 Mary, or why we can't be married at once, say Mon- 
 day.'' 
 
 " Oh, Will ! I must liaAX time to get ready first." 
 
 " You have had four years. I gave you fair warning 
 that I wouldn't wait an hour after Class Day. We 
 shall be too late for Switzerland if we delay." 
 
 * * ^ « * 
 
 " I am going back to Paris. It is the only place in 
 the world. It was a foolish day when I took it into my 
 head to come here. It has been wasted time." 
 
 "And you regret the four years, Mr. Huntingdon? 
 There have been those who have found much good in 
 them." 
 
 " Yes," bitterly : " your brother, for one, is wonder- 
 fully improved. But, after all, it is boys' play. Cartier 
 and I sail to-morrow." 
 
 " Yes : I have my degree, my father has relented, the 
 position is waiting for me ; and I am sure to have my 
 revenge on this gentleman, though it is long deferred." 
 
 ^ ^ ^ ^ 
 
 " My dear Mrs. Wentworth, you place the matter in 
 too strong a light. I have been careful for Sam, as I 
 best knew hovr to be, because the splendid young fellow 
 has been dearer to me than a brother. That he is suc- 
 cessfully and safely through college" — 
 
 ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ 
 
 " Rose," with a faltering laugh, " there must be some 
 requisite, some ideal standard that can be achieved. 
 Tell me what it is." 
 
518 
 
 STUDENT-LIFE AT HARVARD. 
 
 "No, Sam, there is none. But," and the words came 
 so faint .and low that he had to bend his ear to catch 
 them as they fell from her lips, " before I could marry a 
 man, I should have to feel and know that I could not 
 live without him." 
 
 ****** 
 
 Perhaps we cannot part with our friends better than 
 to leave them thus wandering under the elms. 
 
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 DUE DATE 
 
 JUN 3 01992 
 
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