The Free Lance.
“His good blade carves the casques of vieu, for the Free Lance
1 thrusteth sure."
Vol. XV.
OF HE stag - e from Bellefonle drew up and stopped before
. A the front entrance to the Main Building - . On the
seat by the short stocky driver sat a lad of about
seventeen years. He had been gazing steadily up at the
g’reat gray building for some moments, and as the stag"e
stopped he still looked, an expression of mingled wonder and
surprise on liis face.
“Well, wliat do you think?” asked the driver, who was
Ben Beaver ; our faithful Ben, who less than a year ago left
us for the happier home. For a moment the youth said
nothing ; then with a frown and a look of displeasure he ex
claimed, “This aint a college, it’s a penitentiary!” The
driver laughed and sprang down from the high seat to the
ground. “Well,” said he, “mebbe it is!” and he laughed
again; “anyways you'll find out when you experiences
yourself with the authorities ! ”
The lad climbed slowly down, looking the picture of de
jection. Meanwhile there emerged from the interior of the
stage several young men who by their manner at once
showed themselves to be familiar with the place and sur
roundings. They regarded the unhappy newcomer with
amused smiles, yet did not try to conceal the fact that they
December, 1901.
OLD JOHN.
No. 6.