. manly within, and enough good in him to bring
him triumphantly over all obstacles of poverty,
temptation, or study to an upright, honest, un
shakeable manhood. He must be full of enthusi
asm for his class, his fraternity, his literary society
and his girl. He must believe in his college foot
ball and baseball men, throw up his hat for a vic
tory and refrain from grumbling at a defeat. He
must study hard when he studies and play just as
hard when he plays. Above all, he must be loyal to
his college; conscious of her defects with a willing
ness to be one to remove them ; ready to defend
her good points and to show them to those inter
ested refusing to believe statements detrimental
to those in authority until he has investigated and
knows them to be true.
But the great difficulty is that American colleges
are not old enough to have traditions; that our
numerous vacations prevent a man becoming at
tached to his college by continued residence ; and
that so many entering and leaving before gradua
tion tend to break up long friendships and at
tachments. The English student goes to college
to live; the American to stay until next vacation.
In an English school, seniority of age or class
makes a rigid caste ; in America all fraternize
equally. It would take a strong persuasive power
here to make a Freshman polish a Senior's shoes.
The "beloved Doctor" or the head of the school
there, becomes plain "Prex" here and sometimes
more attention is paid to inveigling his live stock
into the chapel some dark night, than to pac
ing with him up and down his garden in loving
conversation with arms entwined. Likewise, "de•
lightful Professor So and So" becomes "Billy"
or "Shorty" or "old Baldy," whom the under
graduate would always love to meet hereafter—
alone in the woods—with a gun.
However, our typical college student is not half
bad at heart with all his peculiarities, and he de•'
serves to be drawn for time by some master hand
as Tom Brown was drawn. Who will be the
Hughes to write for America ? s.
THE FREE LAWCE.
THE RECOLLECTIONS OF A PRIVATE.
Gettysburg? At the very mention of that
name the blood courses through my veins with the
speed of an electric car, and I prick up my ears
like a cavalry horse at the sound of a bugle.
Recollections of conquests in arms and in love
flash across my mind. My chest swells in triumph
and I long once more for the scene of the fray,
when I think of how I, single handed, cleaned out
two tonhs after the revival and knocked put Pac
er's eye with the fair one who weighed two
hundred.
Military life just suits me—to be the hero of the
girls; to strut the town followed by an admiring
quoto of small boys ; to march the streets headed
by the drum corps under Corporal Knittle, cheer
ed by the admiring multitude. What a nobleand
inspiring life it is—at least I thought so when we
disembarked at Harrisburg? There it was that
the glories of a soldier's life first burst upon me—
when I was permitted to parade the sidewalk with
a martial air, and, how grand it was later,
to march the streets, company front, head
ed by two policemen. It was rather taking down,
though, to hear the people on the sidewalks in
quire of one another ; "what orphan school is
this, anyway ?" These depressing remarks were
soon forgotten, however, after we had boarded
the "special" and were once more steaming toward
the scene of strife.
In clue time we reached the town and were march
ed to a dilapidated looking frame building, where
it was announced that we were to be quartered.
"Quartered," exclaimed the man next to me in
ranks, "I'd far rather be quartered than sleep (he
was a chemist) in a test tube like that."
We had to obey orders, though, and soon were
piling our blankets in rows along the sides of. our
temporary residence. The place was a skating
rink, I believe, and had also been used as the
town theatre, so there was at one end a sort of
a stage with a lot of finely painted drop curtains.
Our kind commandant, to make the place look