THE FREE
His good blade carves Me casques of men, for Me Free Lance
thrusteM sure."
VOL. XVI.
A TALE OF VACATION.
" 'Sh-h-h !" was the greeting I received on entering the room of
my generally termed "eccentric" friend of "State" during the fall
of iB—.
Henry Groetly was of German descent, born among the super
stitious wilds of Berks county ; his parents could barely make the
algebraic symbol "unknown," termed their mark. They believed
in witches, ghosts, satyrs, poly-wogs, pow-wowing, etc., every
thing, in fact, the ignorant of old ever did and ever will. Strictly
orthodox in religion, with all that it ever implied, including the
supreme distrust in a Supreme Being. Happily for this only son,
Henry, they were rich old folks and took particular pride in their
boy; but it was with many misgivings and fear for his boy soul
that the father allowed the son to gratify his ambition for a col
lege education. .
Henry had been in "State" seven years when I arrived ; he had
walked off with first honors in a course in Chemistry, and bid fair
to do the same in Biology. At the time of this tale he was domi
ciled in room No. 484. He had for his motto, which was hung
between the two windows at the foot of his bed in large German
characters, "Was clein Hand zu thun finclet, clas thue mit diner
Macht." On his right hand, when in bed, on the wall, was a pic
ture of the Nazerene ; on his left, a large representation of an
Egyptian scene, pyramids, sphinx, the Nile, dahabreahs and the
LANCE.
OCTOBER, 1902.
No. 4.