himself up for hours in his musty library and read
ing and studying the literature of his fatherland, of
which he was passionately fond ; then tee a strong
healthy boy interested in sport, little heeding study,
full of life and vigor, having no body but aged
servants for companions. How little congenialty
between two persons of this sort? What innumer
able opportunities for harsh and eraseable behavior
on the part of the elder, and impudence and rebel
lion on the part of the younger ?
Yet my grandfather appreciating the fact that I
should in all probability inherit his wealth, had
taken pains that I be educated as became his heir.
At the age of eighteen, after several years tutoring,
he sent me to this very college to complete my edu
cation. I stepped into college as though from a
prison house. Delighted at the companionship of
boys of my own age, there were no sports in which
I was not 'a participant, no deeds of lawlessness
and ravage in which I had not a hand.
Yet with all this I kept well up in my work, was
well liked by my instructors, and passed all ex
aminations creditably with the exception of one,
and that was German.
At the close of my jun'ior year I had yet three
conditions on that study to remove. Notwith
standing my being of German descent I could not
learn that language. Night and day I would re
peat to myself those horrible verbs,—lch babe, du
halt, er hat,—until they ran in my head as to almost
drive me mad, only to go to the recitation next
day and find it com?letely gone.
My old grandparent was infuriated at my nonsuc
cess in the study of the language which my ances
tors had spoken for centuriei. And as my reports
went to him with the word "condition" inserted
after "German" he became more and more angry
and often made threats to cut me off without a cent.
My senior year came around I was well up in
everything but that accursed German, for in that
I had still two conditions from my junior year.
My grandfather had positively refused to com
municate with me until I removed them and gradu
ated with my class,
LANCE.
THE FRE
At this juncture, however, he suddenly died, lit
tle, I might frankly say, to my sorrow.
I shall never forget though the thrill of horror
that I experienced when a few days after his burial
I was present at the reading of the will and learned
that to me he had left all his property, but upon
the condition that, in his words—"for the space of
four years after my demise he speaks or writes no
language but the German."
I was dumbfounded at the po3ition in which I
was placed,—cut entirely off from communication
with my dearest friends, and yet to have refused to
comply with the conditions of the will, would have
thrown me penniless and profession less upon the
world.
I determined at once to leave the country and
accordingly left college and engaged passage on
the first steamer for Europe, having decided to lo
cate in Berlin, where at least after a few months
time I could communicate with my fellow men.
But harder than to leave my native country,
harder than to cease speaking my native tongue,—
yes, far harder was it for me to bid farewell to her
who but a few weeks previous had become the very
light of my existence,—Catharine Smith, the sis
ter of my old college chum.
To describe her with the same lips that holds this
pipe would be profanity. Read Byron's poetic de
scription of sunrise in the Alps and you have a per
fect likness of my Catharine. Was she pretty you
inquire. PA= I Beautiful ? Beyond descrip
tion. Stiffice it to say that I was never so happy
as when basking in the sunlight of her countenance.
I had yet one evening before the steamer on
which I had taken passage sailed, and so determin
ed before my departure to get her promise to wait
for my return. Early that night I repaired to her
home full of hope, and patiently awaited her ap
pearance. At last she came. Never had she look
ed more divinely beautiful. Never was I more
deeply in love with her.
"Good evening, Fred," she said sweetly, as she
crossed toward where I was standing, "I am so
glad to see yon,"