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Selections from the 
undergraduate pub- 
lications at Arn- 
herst College : : : 
Edited by Walter 
Savage Ball : : : 
Illustrated by W'.ll- 
iam Cary Duncan 

Published by 


Amherst, mdcccxcvi. 

Copyright, 1896, 




The selections that make up this book 
have been chosen from the various publica- 
tions of the college in an endeavor to pre- 
sent, as faithfully as may be, a picture of 
the real student life at Amherst; life being 
best defined by the sophomore as "What 
we talk about after dinner." In order to 
accomplish this, mere literary excellence 
has not been sought for, since this is but 
one result of a single phase of college life. 
Undergraduates will care more to remem- 
ber what they talked about than how their 
classmates wrote ; while those who have 
already passed commencement day and the 
parchment "rite" will at best think of 
little merit the cleverness of undergraduate 
style, but care much to feel again the stu- 
dent abandon, which once enabled them to 
poke fun at the most sacred of their institu- 
tions or to moralize happily on the gravest 
questions of their college life. 

Of the three college publications, "The 


Olio " contains by far the most of the typi- 
cal student spirit. In the more dignified 
publications the college writer too often 
leaves the rich and attractive field of under- 
graduate experiences to attempt the por- 
trayal of scenes less familiar to himself and 
less interesting to his readers. ** The Olio " 
is at present almost the only place where the 
familiar scenes of Amherst are dealt with. 
Its position as the annual jest-book of the 
college gives it a freedom of thought and 
expression which, while they would often 
be entirely out of place in either of the 
other publications, nevertheless present 
student ideas on the faculty, the town, 
college customs and institutions, as found 
nowhere else save in the student's private 
den, amid clouds of laugh-tossed smoke. 
These are the things that are remembered 
in after years, and these are the things the 
present book endeavors to preserve. 

Several sketches which give expression 
to the free views and critical observation 
that characterize the student in his dealings 
with his immediate surroundings have been 
taken from the recent numbers of the 
** Amherst Literary Monthly." A few of 
the best stories that have appeared in the 


same magazine, describing Amherst scenes 
and illustrating the special features of Am- 
herst life, are included. 

The aim has been to make this distinct- 
ively an Amherst book. In accordance 
with this aim, a department has been given 
to articles on the Amherst senate, whose 
rise was viewed with so much interest by 
the colleges of the country and whose fall 
was mourned by the many friends of 
Amherst. Here will be found a letter 
written by an alumnus to the Amherst 
Student, at the time when the senate ques- 
tion was in special debate. In the same 
department are placed the undergraduate 
ideas on compulsory church and chapel. 
The lightly expressed sentiments of the 
student often convey in the directest man- 
ner his more earnest and thoughtful 
opinions on such questions as these. A 
book on Amherst life would also be incom- 
plete to alumni, present and future, without 
some memories of the faculty, for many of 
the student's best ideas come in connection 
with the professor himself, rather than the 
professor's teaching, where they of course 

Aside from classing the selections under 


the few very general topics the order of 
arrangement has been left pretty much to 
itself, thus illustrating the apparent irrel- 
evancy of the experiences and thoughts of 
him who has been called "the man with a 
purpose alterable only by a dispensation of 
Providence or a joke on his superiors": 
the college undergraduate. 

The selections in this book have been 
taken from the following sources: 

From the Eighty-five Olio: " The Mark- 
ing System," "Amherst Fire Department." 

From the Eighty-six Olio: **A Short 
History of Amherst College." 

From the Eighty-seven Olio: "Am- 
herst Miscellany." 

From the Eighty-eight Olio: "History 
of the Senate," "The Annual Picture Rush," 

From the Eighty-nine Olio: "Dedication 
to the Senate." 

From the Ninety-one Olio: "The Old 
Dormitories," " Ubi Sunt, O Pocula!'" 

From the Ninety-two Olio : " Extracts 
from the Catalogue," ,** To Julius Hawley 
Seelye," " Rime of the Ancient Derwall," 
"Compulsory Chapel Attendance." 

From the Ninety-three Olio: "Chimes 
from the Dumb Bells," "The Convents." 

From the Ninety-four Olio : "The Pui-- 
ple and White," "To Richie," "A Matin 
Idyl," " To the Pharisee." 


From the Ninety-five Olio: "To Good 
Old Doc," ''Four Lives," ''The Snake 
Editor's Dream," "To the Trustees," "In 
Amherst Town," "Ye Jolly Junior," 
"Satires of Amherst," "A General Esti- 

From the Ninety-six Olio: "To Profes- 
sor Garman," "A Reverie from Rhetoric," 
"The Convent Girl," "The Plugger," 
"The Maiden and Her Friend," "Over 
the Notch," "A Meditative Student," 
"Old Derwall on Memory." 

From the Ninety-seven Olio: "The 
Ex-Smoker's Lament," " As to College 
Hall," "A. P. A.," "To the Head of the 
German Department." 

From the Literary Monthly: "The 
Sport's Off Day," " Ministering Angels," 
**A Dimpled Platonist," "A Political 
Deal," " Sawyer's Holiday," "Two Verses." 

From the Student: "A Light Verse 
Doxology," "A New 'In Loco Parentis' 
Idea," "A Bit of Correspondence." 



The College. 

A Short History of Amherst College . i 

Extracts from the Catalogue, . . 9 

A. P. A., 12 

As to College Hall 16 

The Old Dormitories (1890), ... 18 

To the Trustees, .... 20 

Faculty and Courses. 

To Julius Hawley Seelye, ... 25 

Two Verses, 26 

A General Estimate, .... 27 

To " Good Old Doc," .... 28 

Professor Garman, 29 

To the Head of the German Depart- 
ment, 30 

Our Marking System, . . . -31 

Chimes from the Dumb-bells, . . 32 

The Rime of the Ancient Derwall, . 34 

Old Derwall on Memory, ... 37 

The Senate and Compulsory Church. 

Compulsory Chapel Attendance, . . 43 

A Light Verse Doxolog^, ... 45 

Satires of Amherst, .... 46 

The Snake Editor's Dream, . . 49 



History of the Senate to 1887, 
A Bit of Correspondence, 
A New " In Loco Parentis " Idea, 
Dedication of the '89 Olio, 
The Maiden and Her Friend, 

Amherst Types and Scenes. 

A Matin Idyl, .... 

Ubi Sunt, O Pocula ! 

The Annual Picture Rush, 

The Plugger, 

Ministering Angels, 

To the Pharisee, 

The Amherst Fire Department, 

A Meditative Student, 

The Sport's Off-day, . 

Before the Free Delivery, 

The Convents 

Amherst Reveries. 
In Amherst Town, 

Four Lives, 

Reverie from Rhetoric, 
Amherst Miscellany, 
The Ex-Smoker's Lament, 
To the Convent Girl, . 
Over the Notch, 
Ye JoUie Junior, .... 

Amherst Stories. 

A Dimpled Platonist, 
A Political Deal, 
Sawyer's Holiday, ... 














Old Amherst, our loved Alma Mater, 

Enthroned on thy beautiful hill, 
Thou fountain from whence purest water y 

In clear limpid streams does distill; 
Thy symbols, the book and the sun. 

Shall together the far lands enlight. 
All hail to thy glorious colors ! 

Three cheers for the purple and white ! 

Fond memories of thee shall e'er linger. 

Enshrined in each son's loyal heart. 
Thy precepts shall be as a finger. 

Directing our course on life's chart. 
Thy name shall sound forth as our watchword, 

Leading into the thick of the fight. 
As we press ever onward and upward. 

Proudly wearing the purple and white. 

Rich purple, the old regal color. 

The badge noiv of thy royalty — 
May its bright luster never grow duller — 

Ever strong as our own loyalty. 
Together, with its fair companion. 

So pure, unspotted, and bright, 
May it ever wave gloriously o'er us. 

Three cheers for the purple and white ! 




TO 1885. 

( The writer of this history desires to express 
his obligations to Professor W. S. Tyler, from 
whose excellent history of Amherst College he 
has derived much information ; and also to 
Professor Genung and Lord Macaulay^ whose 
styles he has tried to follow. ) 

The want of a college in the Connecticut 
valley seems to have been felt previous to 
the Revolution, probably wanted by the 
starving storekeepers, and as there was 
a mother in Amherst for the college, it was 
established here some time after the want 
was felt. 

The great natural beauty of the place 
had, perhaps, something to do with the 


college being located in Amherst, On the 
east was Pelham, a great and flourishing 
metropolis, as large, if not larger, then 
than now, and there were the ** Pelham 
daisies." The country about the north 
raised grapes and watermelons in abund- 
ance, and this could teach the students to 
look out for themselves. On the south 
there was a river, and that is all there is 
there now. On the west was Old Hadley, 
the Connecticut river, and Northampton. 
Students of the present day wonder what 
Hamp could have been in those days. 
Where were Smith and Miss Burnham's, 
and what would Hamp be without them ? 
You can borrow a dollar there now. 

But we were speaking of the founding of 
the college. There had been an effort to 
unite the mother to Williams, which was then 
a much larger and more flourishing college 
than it is now, but this finally fell through, 
as the Williams men wanted the earth. 
They don't now. But finally things came 
to a focus, and with the help of a Williams 
brother (how much we owe to Williams — 
they now teach us to play baseball !) and 
some masons the corner stone was laid 
August 9, 1820. We have tried to find it, 


but could not. It has probably gone to 
find the Starr Grove mines — another Am- 
herst industry. 

The college started in 182 1, with Zepha- 
niah Swift Moore of Williams (Williams 
again) as president. We will here remark 
that Williams seems to be as much the 
mother of Amherst College, as the Amherst 
Academy, and we are compelled in acknowl- 
edging the relationship to quote from Hor- 
ace : O matre pulchra filia pulchrior. 

The college was first called, and was, per- 
haps, a charity institution. We merely 
make this allusion to show how things 
change. No one would call it a charity 
institution now. There is no charity shown 
to students, or there would be no afternoon 
service on Sundays, and the editors of this 
publication would receive good scholarships, 
but we may get them yet. 

The term bills were $10 and $11, and 
the students received as much instruc- 
tion as we do now for $50, but they could 
not attend prayers and church as often. 
So we pay $88 per year for religious ser- 
vices — but we get our money's worth. 

Board was from $1 to $1.25 per week, 
and with the faculty grapes and Sunderland 


watermelons, the students probably had 
enough to eat. 

From its foundation up to February 21, 
1825, the college got along without a char- 
ter, but on that date one was granted, and 
Amherst became one of the chartered col- 
leges of the land. How many of the faculty 
and students have ever seen this charter ? 

In August, 1830, a great event occurred, 
namely, the founding of the Antivenenean 
society. The members swore off on about 
everything except watermelons and chapel, 
and the society was, and is now, one of the 
most popular in college. There have also 
been missionary bands in the college. The 
early bands converted the heathen in Pel- 
ham and Hadley, and the one now in col- 
lege is trying to convert the members 

The college has received in all but $52,- 
500 from the state, not a third of what a 
small college at Williamstown, or not a 
tithe of what Harvard has received, but has 
always looked out and cared for herself. 

The college has funds amounting to 
$595,000 (or had some years ago; it is 
probably larger now). The value of the 
buildings, funds, etc., is over a million 


dollars, and yet we are burdened twice a 
year by a note reading as follows : 

Amherst College, 

Mr , 

Dear Sir : 

The first (or second) installment of your 
term bill is still unpaid. Please give it 
your prompt attention. 

Yours truly, 

W. A. Dickinson, 


Comment is unnecessary. 

As tall oaks from little acorns grow, our 
college has grown so that now its branches 
cover many lands, while its roots derive 
nourishment from every country and every 
clime. Amherst has brave men in foreign 
lands working for the gospel of Christ. 
She has given lawmakers to our country, 
and has sent forth some of the greatest 
preachers of modern times. She has never 
given a president of the United States, or a 
pickpocket, but many of us are young yet. 

All old and young graduates love Am- 
herst, and when we go forth to our labors, 
among the happiest of our memories will 


be the days of our college life. When far 
away we can see as though in a dream, the 
rushes, rope-pulls, and rackets; the cutting, 
cribbing, and convents; the ball games and 
athletics; and we can also hear the college 
yell, and can almost see, rising and floating 
above all, the purple and white of old Am- 

So while we sit and muse these words will 
come to us: 

" And eastward still, upon the last green step, 
From which the angel of the morning light 
Leaps to the meadow lands, fair Amherst sat, 
Capped by her many- windowed colleges." 

And, while in the midst of these recollec- 
tions we are 

' ' Kind o' smily round the lips. 
And teary round the lashes," 

we will say down deep in our hearts: '* God 
bless and keep old Amherst ! " 




The following are the principles of ad- 
ministration observed : 

(i.) Work is assigned the student with 
careful reference to his capacity. This is 
especially true in the section of modern 
languages; this section points with pride to 
the fact that out of 976 students who have 
taken German or Italian 6^^ years, only J^ 
per cent, have died from tfrain fever, and 
in his case it was sunstroke. 

(2.) The student should make the utmost 
improvement of his time and talents in 
regularly and diligently doing what the 
athletic association assigns him. 

(3.) No student should be continued in a 
class for which he is unfit; no man who 
cannot horse accurately and fluently need 
apply for any monitorship. 

(4.) Every student is expected to cut one- 
tenth of all his recitations, or his case will 
come up before the senate. 

(5.) Regularity of attendance on the 


religious services is required, but close 
attention is purely optional. The section 
of English literature will on application 
.furnish lists of good books for use in con- 
nection with these services. 


Any freshman who takes this prize is 
expected to loaf, get fired out of Pott's, and 
suffer from swelled head, 


The instruction during freshman year is 
devoted to geometry, algebra, and trigonom- 
etry. In addition, the advanced division 
during the spring term pursues a course of 
surveying under the auspices of the athletic 


The freshmen are first instructed in the 
use of the various parts of the student body, 
and this is followed by laboratory work in 
the gymnasium. In the spring term a 
slight amount of study in human physi- 
ology is allowed, supplemented by many 
anatomical preparations and amusing illus- 
trations. All students are required to take 
this course, and very few ever regret it. 



Term bills $i lo.oo 

Room rent 2.00 

Fuel (in dormitories) and lights. . . 45.00 

Board (Merrick's) i3-5o 

Doctor's bills (Merrick's) 60.00 

Total $230. 50 

A higher rent is charged for some of the 
best rooms in the dormitories and in town. 
Expenses vary according to the character 
and luxurious habits of the students. They 
can be materially reduced by borrowing 
kerosene and stealing coal. 


This is an original forest of six acres, to 
which the attention of the sporting fra- 
ternity is now directed. It is well stocked 
with canaries and other game birds. Some 
of the trees have been measured with a 
theodolite, and they are 30 feet 6)^ inches 
high. Only a little underbrush has been 
left; a wagon road for the use of heavy 
teams passes through it, and lovers of the 
beautiful are allowed without extra charge 
to watch the trains on the Central Massa- 
chusetts get stuck in the cut, or gaze at the 


fences on the other side of the cut or 
around Blake field. The park is very- 
near Pratt field, and can be easily reached 
from there by way of Pelham. Students 
generally frequent this lovely spot in 
moments of leisure, or for the enjoyment 
of its facilities for quiet study. 

A. P. A. 


Object — By a closer fraternal union of the 
members to promote their mutual interests. 

History — Started by the townspeople in 
182 1, it has been virtually under their con- 
trol ever since. All are members, from the 
young imp old enough to run errands, to 
the venerable retired minister of the gospel, 
who, all aglow with kindliness and benevo- 
lence, labors to convince the anxious parent 
of the immense advantage that his son will 
receive in having a gray-haired guardian and 
adviser who can guide the inexperienced 
youth safely through (?) the many snares 


and pitfalls of college life, particularly of 
freshman year. 

The proceedings of the Association have 
always been characterized by the greatest 
unanimity and singleness of aim, and until 
recently no signs of internal dissension 
have been perceived. 

The first meeting of the year was held 
early in the opening week of fall term, and 
at first promised to be no more eventful 
than usual. After initiating the latest addi- 
tions to the faculty, and granting the degree 
of E. P. (Eminent Purloiner) to two tutors 
for their zealous work in behalf of the asso- 
ciation in their respective departments, the 
society proceeded to business. The report 
of the committee appointed at the last 
meeting to procure designs for badges was 
called for, and after much discussion a bit 
of sponge tied to the buttonhole with a 
gilt ribbon was adopted, as being most ap- 
propriate. The salute was also changed. 
Formerly it had been given by laying the 
forefinger of the right hand along the nose, 
and winking with the left eye. Now it was 
to be made by placing the hand with three 
fingers extended, upon the right breast 
pocket of the coat, that being the pocket 


where the members supposedly carried 
their pocketbooks. Tip objected on the 
ground that he carried his in his hat, and a 
special exception was made in his case. 

Next, secretary Swamp read his annual 
report. He said that the society was not 
as strong in some points as it should be, 
and care should be taken not to kill the 
goose that was laying the golden ^%%. The 
** co-op " store showed a falling off in its re- 
turns. The lecture course had kicked the 
bucket. The new "lab" with its unright- 
eous fees, was a winning card, but in order 
to silence the murmurs of the victims, the 
association had been obliged to give up 
vespers, and it looked now, as if compul — 
er — institutional worship would have to go 
too. At this. Spear's representative arose 
and objected so strenuously on the ground 
that it would ruin the trade in novels, that 
the idea was abandoned at once. Then 
Swampy suggested that *'gym" drill be sac- 
rificed, but at that Old Doc leaped to his 
feet. It wouldn't do. The Hitchcock and 
Blodgett syndicate had been by far the 
most productive scheme yet put in practice, 
and he wasn't going to see it pinched, not 
by a good deal. It was bad enough as it 


was. There had long been a demand for 
sweaters in place of the useless blue bags 
that Blodgett furnished as coats, and now 
Ninety-seven had gone and worn tennis 
trousers at the Lincoln exhibition. Prexy 
here rapped for order, and suggested that 
they let the matter rest until he had thrown 
out a few more sops from the chapel pulpit. 
He could tickle the boys a little on athlet- 
ics, scholarship, good-behavior, and so on. 
They could even bring up the senate matter 
again. It wouldn't do any harm to talk 
about it, and it might pacify the victims for 
a while. He guessed that with a little oil 
things would move on pretty smoothly. 

The advisability of establishing branch 
associations at Hamp and Springfield was 
next discussed, but it was finally decided to 
be unnecessary. 

The meeting was then adjourned, and 
the members repaired to Brother Deuel's, 

where they partook of on the new 




There has been considerable discussion 
of late among archaeologists in regard to 
the origin and identity of college hall. Pro- 
fessor Sterret had at one time actually 
made up his mind to discover in it the sites 
of Lystra and Derbe, but wisely changed 
his mind at the last moment, 3«d chose the 
far East instead, on account of its more 
healthful climate. 

The Noah's ark theory is another popu- 
lar fancy in relation to our relic of pre- 
historic architecture situated next the 
library. Professor Elwell says that "the 
building corresponds most decidedly with 
the recollections which he has of that his- 
toric craft." The fact that good, respect- 
able doves can be induced to take up their 
abode in the ramshackle tower, points 
strongly to some deep-seated cause for 
their affection other than any passing fancy. 
The professor even claims that he has seen 
the swift birds winging their way toward 
the tower with olive branches in their 
mouths, but on closer questioning it was 


found to have occurred in the nesting sea- 
son, and the so-called olive branches were 
proven to be straws from a stable-yard. 
Professor Frink claims that the west end of 
the building, at least, is a part of the 
original garden of Eden, for he says it 
always seems like paradise to him. His 
proteges, on the other hand, are unanimous 
in the opinion that it is the famous "Black 
Hole of Calcutta," renovated and restored, 
but possessing, nevertheless, many of the 
features of the original. 

Trembling undergraduates at examina- 
tion time have hinted that it was the well- 
known "lion's den" of Bible story, and 
between chattering teeth have sung "Dare 
to be a Daniel," as they entered its awful 

The Amherst G. A. R., with character- 
istic originality, positively asserted that it 
was Libby Prison, until Libby Prisons be- 
came as common at all large expositions as 
pieces of the true cross in Old World mon- 
asteries; and the idea was abandoned as 
too commonplace. 

A dispute then arose on the question of 
choice between the battleship Merrimac 
and the house where Lee surrendered, a 


compromise being finally effected and Fort 
Sumter chosen as the lucky place. These 
are but a few of the latest nineteenth-cen- 
tury suggestions as to college hall. All 
differ widely and all have some plausible 
points. The Olio cannot and cares not to 
discriminate. All it claims is that the old 
wreck ought to be put under glass and 
preserved for what it is — a relic; not forced 
into unseemly use as a hall of learning. 
People do not use Indian arrow heads for 
cobble stones, nor the "true cross" to 
train pea vines on. There is a propriety 
which demands that college hall be laid on 
the shelf or torn down. 


Among the many superior advantages 
which our college affords, none are more 
noteworthy than those which are offered by 
a residence in one of our admirable dor- 
mitories. The dormitory system is so 
simple and so complete, that to mention it 
in other terms than those of the highest 


praise would be to betray a carping spirit 
indeed. Perhaps the most elegant of them 
all is that known as North Purgatory, 
This building exhibits all of the Greek 
simplicity, but abhors those ultra refine- 
ments which, we are told, finally resulted in 
the spinal curvature of Greek outlines in 
general. Within are spacious rooms, which 
are arranged with great economy of space, 
being hampered by none of those obstruct- 
ing angles and shelving roofs which abound 
in buildings of the hybrid " Queen Anne " 
order. The hall-ways are provided with 
board floors, and there are three flights of 
stairs for the convenience of the students. 
Hardly less handsome and commodious, 
and an almost equal favorite, is the dormi- 
tory known as South Sheol. On the fourth 
floor of this building are the favorite rooms, 
looking out upon the tennis court and 
that beautiful specimen of modern architec- 
ture, the Appleton cabinet. The facilities 
for exercise afforded by these apartments 
are excellent, as coal may be carried from 
the basement up the three flights of stairs 
at the will of the student. The social 
advantages secured by a life in these noble 
dormitories are too well known to need 


enumeration here. Enough to say that 
these advantages are unsurpassed by those 
of any lunatic asylum in the country, and 
that the character of their occupants is in 
keeping with the incomparable tone of the 
buildings themselves. 


Or whoever is responsible for the selec- 
tion of the site of the new laboratory, we 
tender our most hearty congratulations. 
For inconvenience of access and general 
unsightliness it certainly surpasses any 
other location in town. It is difficult to 
imagine what deterred those controlling 
the location of the building from placing it 
on the Pelham hills. There it would have 
been a landmark visible for miles in all 
directions. All possibility of its being 
regarded as a part of the gas works or hat 
shops would thus have been avoided, and 
as for convenience — well, that doesn't ap- 
pear to cut any figure in the consideration. 
It is to be hoped that Pete, Amherst's 


only ticket speculator, or some other phil- 
anthropic ''sharper," ever mindful of the 
student's interests, will at once inaugu- 
rate a stage line to run between the vari- 
ous fraternity houses and our suburban 



In the twilight of life, when the husband- 
man's labor is done, 

Let him rest from the cares of the day, who 
hath labored so well 'neath the sun. 

For his service was honest and good since 
his service began, 

As becometh a worker in truth who is toil- 
ing for God and for man. 

In the autumn of life, when the husband- 
man, weary and gray, 

Findeth rest from his summer of toil, let 
our honor his labor repay. 

Let him rest as the husbandman rests, with 
his loved and his own. 

While he leaveth to others the fruit of the 
seed that his spirit hath sown. 

For the russet or gold of his harvest already 

And the reapers are stalwart and young 
who shall garner the wealth of his 
years ; 



And their hands shall be willing and glad, 

and their spirit be strong, 
As they harvest the fruit of his toil, and 

remember his worth in a song. 



A BIRD sang sweet and loud, — 

He kissed a little child: 
A rainbow burst a cloud, — 

He took a sinner's hand: 
A fruit tree blossomed white, — 

A death sting he beguiled: 
A blind man found his sight, — 

He made him understand. 

He towered head and shoulders over aver- 
age man, 
A noble figure that yet blessed the land 
it trod; 
I said, he stands upright as only godlike can, 
I said, his head is high because he talks 
with God 



IN 4000 A. D. 

And in a certain place named Massa- 
chusetts there was founded, in 182 1, a col- 
lege called Amherst. It has not yet been 
ascertained whether the College derived its 
name from the town in which it was situ- 
ated, but beyond a doubt it was the most 
noted of all similar institutions on account 
of the quaint and peculiar body of men 
which in those days was known as the 
faculty. Many nice young men came to 
this place in the fall, and stayed until the 
following summer. It is supposed that 
they came here to instruct the faculty con- 
cerning the movements of the world outside 
of Amherst. The so-called faculty were 
not "up" in this particular branch. No 
blame is attached to them, however, on this 
account, because they had belonged to the 
College for so long a time and had been 
handed down from epoch to epoch, genera- 
tion after generation, that the institution 


felt bound to hold them in restraint, lest 
some more formidable body like Fore- 
paugh's circus or Dartmouth College might 
capture and make way with them. 


Our Good Old Doc's a man, 
A man who needs no praise; 

To whom be peace and honor, 
Sound health and length of days. 

With step that's firm and quick. 
With accents sharp and true, 

With way that's bright and cheery, 
In truth — a man for you. 

No student has a friend 
Who'll aid near half as well. 

Or last so long and faithful 
As Doc, of whom we tell. 

And when in after years 
We all come back again, 

We'll greet Doc then right royal 
With voice and not with pen. 


For Good Old Doc's a man, 
A man right through and through, 

And though his locks are silver, 
He's young as I — or you. 

And so let honor rest 

Upon that silver head, 
And peace with gentle motion 

Her golden wings outspread. 

For Good Old Doc's a man, 
A man right through and through, 

And though his locks are silver, 
He's young as I — or you. 


A MAN whom Wisdom's children long 
To know; and knowing come to trust; 
And trusting learn to love. He strikes 
The deepest, noblest chords within 
Our hearts, and teaches us to know 
Ourselves, our fellows, and our God. 


From Tips* biological lectures: "If I 
should ever preach in the college church, — 
if such a thing were conceivable, — I would 
preach on the Sabbath ; and I don't know 
as I should say very much about the Sab- 
bath either. I would emphasize the other 
part of the text : ' Six days shalt thou 


If you're fond of racy stories, 

If you want a spicy joke, 
If you like to hear related 

A pleasant anecdote ; 
If your quest is for a teacher 

Who will never be a bore, 
Then hie you to the portals wide 

Of Richie's class-room door. 

If what you want is wisdom, 
Well mixed with common sense, 

If you wish to hear life's problems 
Discussed with eloquence. 


If you like a plain and earnest man, 

Who's a man right through and through, 

Then Richie is the proper one 
To fill the bill for you. 



Mr. X.— 

Latin, .... 

■ 3^ 

Greek, .... 



. 4>^ 

3 1^ 

Actual mark, . 

• 4 


Mr. X.— 

Latin, .... 

• 3 



Mathematics, . 

• 4 

3 I IP 
Your mark for last term was . . 3 
E. B. Marsh. 



" Gentlemen! By — by my eternal birth- 
right, if I see another one of you throw- 
ing a dumb-bell across this floor, I will 
hand him over to the captain for fifty cents 
a dumb-bell. You may think that it's 
smart, and funny, but it isn't. I know 
you're young and green yet, and feel good 
and like to frisk round and let yourselves 
loose now and then like new-born calves, 
but, gentlemen, I do draw the line some- 
where. I don't very often say, 'you shall,* 
and 'you sha'n't ! ' but there are some 
things which must be held sacred even in 
this gymnasium. You know they have a 
day in the church calendar which they call 
'All Saints' Day'; now I think that you're 
like the church. You have the day, but I'd 
like to name it 'All Devils' Day.' [Long 
continued yells and stamping.] Gentlemen! 
Gentlemen ! I command you to atten- 
tion. [Silence after a while.] When my 
father heard that I was to have charge of 
the gymnasium, says he, 'Edward, my son, 
you'll have to be pretty free with the boys 


and take care not to put too tight a restraint 
upon them,' and I've found out that it's so. 
It's always best to be obliging to you young 
men, but I'll have you to understand that 
my powers of endurance have a limit. I 
can dismiss the class; I never had to do 
such a thing before, but if I see any more 
such monkey-shines as you've indulged in 
this morning, I vow I'll do it." 

•'All right, I believe, Mr. Captain." 
N. B. — We might remark that after this 
speech an event happened which had never 
taken place before in the history of Amherst 
college. "Old Doc," actually forgot to 
say, "Gentlemen, the men marked absent 
are," etc. 

RiCHiE^s jokes are pungent quite. 
Sometimes, mayhap, rather trite; 
Richie is a " merry wight," 
And his marks are out of sight. 

Student (making out report in the 
Physics Laboratory) — Well, hang it, what 
was the object of this experiment, anyhow ? 

Voice (from a fellow slave) — To get back 
your $3 lab. fee. 


Richie has some pretty good ideas in 
his head. His latest, as expressed to his 
class, is — 

''Work like thunder. 
Play like thunder. 
Rest like thunder. 
Yes, by thunder ! " 



Somewhat back from the college street 
Stands the "lab." Oh, sweet retreat ! 
Around its antique, weather-beaten door 
The spirits of tortured sophomores loudly 

And from his station in the room 
The ancient Derwall says to all who come, 
"Five dollars more for Ned, for Ned; 
Five dollars more for Ned ! " 

Leaning halfway over the counter he stands. 
And points and beckons with his hands. 


Still he utters this solemn croak 
(While the sophomore, under his cloak, 
Pities himself and sighs, alas ! 
I'd give a fiver to be elected to pass), 
" You must not think, not think, 
You must not think." 


By day his step is low and light, 
But in the silent dead of night, 
Distinct his passing footsteps fall; 
They echo along the vacant hall — 
Along the ceiling, along the floor 
As he pauses at the bottle of H^SO^, 

"Your process will stick 'em, will stick 
Your process will stick 'em." 


Through days of grind and days of mirth, 
Through days of cuts and days of dearth, 
Through every swift vicissitude 
Of changeful time, unchanged he's stood. 
And as if, forever, he all things saw. 
He quietly sends these words of awe: 
** Your mark is below two, 'low two; 
Your mark is below two." 



Within that "lab " in festive glee, 
Sports a tutor from the faculty. 
Wild spirits round the laboratory roared, 
While the "Faculty" counted their hoard. 
But like the skeleton at the feast, 
That warning Derwall never ceased, 
"Twenty-five I've stuck, I've stuck; 
Twenty-five I've stuck." 


There groups of merry seniors played, 
There fresh and juniors carefully strayed, 
Oh, precious hours! Oh, golden prime ! 
Sufficiency of money, " supe," and time. 
E'en as a miser counts his gold. 
These hours the young Doc carefully told. 
"You'll pass very soon, very soon; 
You'll pass very soon." 


We will all be scattered soon, and fled; 
Some in prison, some still under Ned. 
When found, to freshmen we give this 

If you want a "gut," a "snap," something 



Elect '* Derwall " ; but as they hurry 

swiftly by, 
The ghosts of former classes make reply : 
" Yes; but not now, not now; 
Yes, but not now." 

Visitor (passing Walker hall, 2 p. m.) — 
What is this noise I hear at the left ? The 
boys cheering down at the football field ? 

Student. — Oh, no ! That's the German 
division laughing at one of Richie's jokes. 


Now, gentl'mun, er — right here, now, I'll 
r — make a few remarks, yer know, on — 
er — on-er-r-r — mem'ry, yer know. Mem'ry 
is a valuable thing if we — er — ta-ta — if er — 
yer hev it, yer know, and don't fergit ! 
Now, you learn a lot o' things about this 
and that and th' other, and you keep 'em 
'bout a day, yer know, and — er-r-r-r-um- 
er-r-um-eh ! eh ! eh ! and then, yer know 
(here Derwall gets warmed up), and then — 


a-a-a — yer fergit all-1-1 'bout um; yes, all 
'bout um. Well now, gentl'mun, thet's not 
the right way; mem'ry is ter remember 
things by, yer know — a-and if — a — mm — a 
yer fergit all you ever learn, yer'll never 
know much. You must learn, gentl'mun, 
to 'sociate one thing with another and — a- 
a-mm-a-ta-a-ta-a — m-make an impression 
on your mind, y' know, then you wunt 

Now, fer example, s'posin' two of you 
fellers — er — were ridin' out in a kerrige, 
well — er-a-er — say — ter — ter Hamp ! Yer 
— a-talkin' 'bout this thing and that — and — 
a-a lot of other nonsense, yer know ! 
Don't make much diff'rence, y' know, and 
yer don't care whether it's raining up er 
down ! Well now, yer know, 'sposin' yer 
git outer the railroad crossin' between here 
and Ha-adley, a — mm-a-er — and — er-r-r — 
yer know, while yer a talkin' and a foolin', 
ye' know, the car comes down the track-a, 
and cleans yer horse right out from in front 
of yer, what then ! Do yer fergit that 
right off? N-o-o, sir ! a-a-nd if yer come 
back to — a — yer A-a-lma Mater fifty years 
afterward, yer know, and ride over to 
Hamp, yer'll remember it just s'f 'twas 


yisterday. A-a-and — er — yer know, it's 
because it made an impression on yer, and 
yer 'sociated every part of that ride — a — ta 
— a — on the a-accident, y' know. Well, 
now, gentl'mun, it's exactly the same way in 
chemistry, yer know, this — a-mm-a 'socia- 
tion of ideas and-a this making an impres- 
sion on yer minds. 

Now-a, can someone tell me quick — a- 
mm-a-a — what's — a — the result if you pour 
water on — a phosph'rus (???) quick ! ! (And 
the recitation goes on as before.) 



The tired Amherst student who recol- 
lects the crusade in which The Student 
embarked a year or two ago, may, when he 
reaches this page of the "Olio," turn two 
leaves at once and say " Rats ! " The 
remark would apply with much force, no 
doubt, and especially to the thing itself. 
The unvarying grind to which we become 
so accustomed; scuttling up the hill, a 
complaining beefsteak within; the race on 
the stairs as the clock begins to strike; the 
well-worn hymn; the same old prayer; the 
monitors stretching their necks for the 
absent, and the sneaking student who hides 
his Potts or psych behind his neighbor's 
back. They are all too familiar visions. 

But the most familiar and significant 
thing of all, as we review our short term of 
college life, is the vivid emptiness of the 
faculty seats. Day after day these leaders 
of the blind present a noble array of five 


good men and true, in representation of a 
total thirty ! Day after day the farce is 
repeated; the morally stimulating lacteal 
nutriment is doled out to four hundred 
students who must swallow it, while a mere 
committee of the faculty attend to see the 
dose administered. The only variety is an 
occasional communication from the ath- 
letic moguls, said communication being 
limited to five minutes in length, a " Library 
Talk," unlimited, or the perennial dog with 
the handkerchief on his tail. 

The attitude of our faculty on the subject 
is a fine illustration of the good old sopho- 
more debate question : "Is the hope of 
reward a greater incentive to activity than 
the fear of punishment?" Indeed, we 
doubt that many, even of the most regular, 
attendants on chapel exercise have any idea 
to what extent the teachers, impelled to 
be present only by the hope of laying 
up treasure in heaven, cut the morning 
prayers. . . The view which every unprej- 
udiced man will take is, no doubt, this : 
Our faculty look upon compulsory chapel 
as a convenience, a means of gathering the 
students together; a time for the reading of 
prayer-meeting and recitation notices, and 


possibly, to young men, a season of good 
influence; they consider personal example 
and attendance unnecessary; they come 
when they choose, they stay away because 
they may; and when we are free from the 
burden of extra work on account of extra 
absence, we will do the same. 


Fiends around us, 

Fiends below. 
All intent on 

Bringing woe ; 
Fiends on this earth 

Do their work. 
At compulsa- 

Tory church. 
Fill the kicker's 

Mind with sin, 
So that hell can 

Take him in. 
Thus God's house is 

Blindly run. 
So the devil's 

Work is done. 




Awake, my Muse, get out thy sounding 

And strike the chords that in our hearts 

The sense to know what's right and what is 

Tune up, O Muse, and let's begin the song. 
The evils which beset our paths are few, 
Can be endured, excepting one or two; 
But ye, immortal gods, who drain the cup 
Of nectar, and upon ambrosia sup, 
These evils are the kind that make men 

And tear their hair and long for endless 

On Martinique's fair isle, where kindly rays 
From glistening Sol the ripe bananas raise, 
(Steady, my Muse, such puns are not 

Such low-born sporting frets your spirit 

Within the cluster, tempting to the eye 
The serpent /<?r de lance doth lurking lie; 


His yellow coils by luscious fruit con- 

Are in no way unto the eye revealed. 

But there he waits, the dreadful fer de 

And let some hungry passer-by by chance . 

Reach forth his hand — a sudden hiss — a 
cry — 

A swiftly darting tongue — a gleaming 
eye — 

And 'neath the tree there lies the passer- 

"And why this story?" some of you may 

Give heed then while I tell you, if I may. 
The ripe banana bunch doth represent 
This seat of learning, where each year are 

To cull its choicest fruits, a band of 

youth — 
A chosen band — who search for higher 

But Satan, like the hideous /(?r de lance, 
Abideth here, and lurking waits his chance. 
Religion here compulsory is made. 
And thus the plot for Beelzebub is laid. 
For worship to man's inner soul pertains; 


If made compulsory it nothing gains, 
But loses all, and its own end defeats 
When with imperatives man's soul it meets. 
Love wells spontaneous from the human 

And " must " and " shall " therein have not 

a part. 
But to return — this chosen band of 

youth — 
These earnest seekers after higher 

Set out to church, some filled with notions 

And some coerced by fear of Swampy's 

And here the devil plays a winning hand. 
For, like the snake in Martinique's fair 

He fastens on the youths whose souls rebel 
Against compulsory religion fell; 
And some escape and some go do down 

to — well ; 
Our simile is ended; now we'll cease. 
Go home, dear Muse, and rest and take thy 




It was one warm spring day of sopho- 
more year, one of those days which take a 
man away from his lessons and carry him 
back to the time when he was young and 
sinless, and had yet to serve his time in 
preparatory school and college. I was 
leaning back in my chair with a half-smoked 
cigarette in my teeth, and the blue coils of 
smoke with their strange fantastic shapes 
brought before my mind free and happy 
boyhood days, where compulsory church 
and Tip Ty were alike unknown, and where 
the Westminster Shorter Catechism was 
my only trial. Such thoughts were so hazy 
and so indistinct that I rested my head 
wearily against the wall and wept at the 
changes which time had wrought. 

As I leaned there in despair a film seemed 
to come over my eyes, even such a film as 
Paine's Celery Compound is guaranteed to 
remove. The cigarette suddenly assumed 
such colossal proportions that my cowed 
and beaten spirit drew back in terror 
against the wall. Then it began slowly to 


change. Little by little arms, legs, and 
a tail appeared, and in a moment there 
stood before me a nicotine representative 
of the devil. At last the truth burst upon 
me. I was dreaming ! For weeks and 
months I had striven to dream. I had 
eaten pickles and green fruit and washed 
them down with the vilest of lager in the 
vain hope that I might dream something 
for the "Olio," but my toils had all been 
in vain. I had even boarded at Merrick's 
to accomplish my purpose, but it was of no 
avail. And now, at last, when I had almost 
given up the struggle, success had come. 
I could scarcely conceal my joy. I felt 
like grasping the specter by the hand and 
thanking him for his welcome visit, when 
he interrupted my joyful thoughts with 
a solemn beckoning. Without uttering a 
word I followed him. Soon we came to 
the bank of a surging stream, where a for- 
bidding-looking fisherman with dark hair 
and beard was standing in his skiff ready 
to ferry us across. When my companion 
with the nicotine visage addressed him as 
Mr. Charon, my heart leaped with joy. 
Ha ! ha ! This was even better than I had 
anticipated. I was going to visit the devil. 


I would get a chance to interview him; to 
interview him for the "Olio"! In a short 
time we landed on the other bank and a 
mighty wind lifted us and bore us away. 
In time this wind carried us against a dark 
mountain, and before the wand of my 
strange guide the sides of the mountain 
opened and disclosed a wondrous country. 

In silence I followed my companion, who 
walked briskly up to a brazen gate, dropped 
an obol in the slot, and a three-headed dog 
came forth wagging his tail with a sicken- 
ing irregular motion that showed an utter 
lack of team work. Nimbly we sprang in. 
I had hardly entered when I tripped over 
the tail of an imp whom I afterward found 
to be quarter-back on the All-Hell football 
team. As I picked myself up and spit the 
brimstone out of my mouth, I said in broken 
tones to my companion: "Well, this /V hell." 
"Of course," he replied; "you ought to 
have known that from Cerby." Amid the 
shrieks and groans of millions of people I 
was borne away to meet " His Satanic Tail- 
ship." "What have we here?" shouted 
the devil. "A student, most respectful 
joblots," humbly responded my guide. "A 
student ! What does he want ? " asked the 


devil. "Is he dreaming ? " ** He is, Most 
Potent Wearer of the Crooked Hoof," 
again replied my companion. "Ha! ha! 
He dreams, does he ? Answer me, young 
man, answer me truly, are you intending to 
write up this dream for publication ? " For 
a moment my courage forsook me. For a 
moment I hovered between the right and 
wrong, but only for a moment; then my train- 
ing in swearing off cuts got in its fine work, 
and I promptly answered "No." This satis- 
fied the devil and he told me to step aside. 
Hardly had I vacated my place when 
Beelzebub, with the rest of the football 
team, came in with a new corpse. As soon 
as he had got within hearing distance, 
Beelzebub shouted out at the top of his 
voice: " A college professor ! " The devil 
actually went wild. He wrapped his cloven 
hoof around his neck three times in a long, 
loving embrace. Then he jumped down 
from his throne and began to prepare the 
skillet. "Throw him in!" he yelled. 
"Roast him! Extract his fourth root! 
Cut off the cologarithm of his cosine ! 
Season him with Jebbs and Potts! Grab 
his femur, Beelzy, and run down the Mid- 
way with it. Ha ! ha ! ha ! This is fruit ! 


This is regular cantaloupe ! " His frenzy 
was awful. Great beads of brimstone stood 
upon his brow, and his tail described un- 
plotable parabolic curves. 

I hated to tarry in proximity to such a 
demon, yet I disliked to leave without 
securing my interview. As soon as the 
devil had recovered from his first wild 
paroxysms I plucked him by the sleeve. 
** Say, Satan, old girl, do you believe in 
compulsory church ? " 

''Believe in it!" he howled. "Believe 
in it! Why, young man, it's the only sys- 
tem. Who wants to abolish it but cranks 
and fools ? I'll have nothing left by and 
by. They've done away with the fagot 
and the stocks, and they've succeeded in 
abolishing slavery, but I've got the saloon 
and compulsory church left, and I defy 
them to knock out either of them. Away 
with this opponent of compulsory church ! 
Away with him,Cigaretto ! " My companion 
grabbed me by the leg. His hand burned 
like fire, and I awoke to find my cigarette 
complacently burning a hole in my only 
pair of trousers. 

[Let no Joseph endeavor to interpret this 



Since the days of the renowned Dr. 
Thomas Arnold of Rugby^ student self- 
government has been the Utopian dream of 
college presidents, of whom none more than 
President Seelye of Amherst saw the desir- 
ability of the system, and none sooner than 
he sought to put it into execution. About 
five years ago this cherished idea took 
definite form, when the body now known as 
the "Amherst College Senate" was organ- 
ized, upon the same general plan which 
determines its existence to-day. 

At first, the senate was of little or no 
use. It being an experiment, the presi- 
dent's policy was very conservative. He 
gave it no defined powers; he reserved the 
right to introduce all business; he retained 
the power of absolute veto. But little 
business was transacted. The usual pro- 
ceedings were a speech from the President, 
congratulating himself and the senators 
that the present affairs of the college were 
in such an excellent condition as to require 
no legislation or adjudication, followed 


by adjournment. When any business was 
transacted, it was of such slight significance 
that it never reached the ear of the student 
body politic. The result of this tentative 
policy of the president was to bring the sen- 
ate into disrepute. If spoken of at all, it was 
spoken of with a sneer or a j est. It was called 
"a farce," or "a cat's paw of the faculty," 
or some similar contemptuous epithet. 

After three years of such existence, a 
sentiment was formed in college that the 
senate was of no use to the students, how- 
ever valuable it might be to the faculty and 
the college president; that the senate must 
do something, or do away with the pretense 
of self-government. 

In this crisis a constitution of defined 
power was demanded of the president. He 
was not disposed to grant it. He desired 
the constitution to form like the English 
constitution — by the precedence of its acts. 
The senators preferred the United States 
plan, thinking it better adapted to the cir- 
cumstances. At length a constitution was 
obtained. It did not embody all that the 
senators desired, but it was, at least, a step 
out of non-existence into existence. How- 
ever few and limited the powers obtained, 


they were at least defined, and not subject 
to variance by circumstance and arbitrary 
will. The senate revived, became a much 
more respected body, and entered on a 
career that may end in usefulness. But it 
is still a weakly institution. It has scarcely 
enough power to give it a sufficient vitality 
to live, much less to make itself felt in the 
regulation of college affairs. It may have 
all the power which at present can be given 
it judiciously; but to say that it is a realiza- 
tion of the idea of student self-government, 
is to speak absurdly. What the senate 
needs is a greater latitude of jurisdiction, 
as well as more definiteness of power. 


The dispute between the senate and the 
faculty which resulted in the withdrawal of 
the senators by the students in 1894 brought 
out in all the student publications of the 
college many articles and communications; 
all of which were of interest, and many of 
them wittily written. Most of these, how- 
ever, dealt more or less in personalities and 
would be out of place in any but a regular 


publication of the college. The following 
communication to the Student sums up, 
without details, one view from an alumnus: 
** It is fortunate that the present discus- 
sion between the faculty and the senate of 
Amherst college has been made public. 
We now have before us the several com- 
munications that have passed between the 
two bodies. Both the faculty and the 
senate agree upon the circumstances in- 
volved and the punishment given. A dif- 
ference of opinion exists as to what body 
ought to have decreed the penalty. . . 
After all, it is the welfare of Amherst col- 
lege that both faculty and senate must keep 
in mind. Co-operation of the two bodies is 
the key to their successful work. If the 
senate did have a cause of grievance against 
the faculty, it ought to have been stated on 
other than purely technical grounds. At 
the same time, this does not excuse the 
faculty from not entertaining more favor- 
ably the senate's request. . . The Amherst 
senate is already famous within college 
halls, and for the students to demand or 
even think of its discontinuance is both 
hasty and unwise. The senate should hold 
a most important position in the Amherst 


idea of self-government. It should be 
respected by both faculty and students." 

THE senate's position. 

From an Almunus Address at Springfield. 

The cutting system and the senate are 
but milestones along the course of giving 
the students a larger liberty. The student 
is on his honor as a gentleman, and may do 
anything under the sun consistent with that 
character. The idea is to make the student 
not only the governed but the governor. 
The old students thought it meant to break 
the rules, but given a part in the govern- 
ment they were bound to respect the laws 
which they themselves had made. The 
result was the decline and fall of hazing and 
the almost complete extinction of rowdy- 
ism. . . Amherst, that dear old College, 
so modest in all her pretensions, has shown 
to the world the possibility and the proba- 
bility of a self-governing college community. 
Many colleges have followed her example. 
Shall that example now fail in the hour of 
its birth ? Shall all that is unique and 
original in the system be swept away ? I 
hope not. I express the confidence of the 


alumni in the common sense and wisdom of 
the senate and faculty to preserve the sys- 
tem, although for years the senate has been 
the legitimate prey of the Olio^ the target 
for the shaft of adverse criticism by some 
students, and cherish the hope that thfe 
senate will stand as long as Amherst college 
stands, the queen of the hills *' on the banks 
of the old freshman." 

From the Report of the Senior Class. 

The acts of the faculty reduce the senate 
from the position of a governing body co- 
ordinate with the faculty, and acting in a 
sphere different in kind from that of the 
faculty, to a subordinate position having 
such a share in the government of the col- 
lege as the faculty may see fit to give. 
Such a subjection of the senate is incon- 
sistent with its independent action. We 
believe in the Amherst system as it really 
is, but the subordination of the contract 
relation and of the senate has undermined 
that system. Responsibility for student 
conduct is lifted from the students them- 
selves, where the Amherst system placed it, 
and assumed, in part at least, by the faculty, 


who Stand once more in loco parentis to the 

It remains, then, for the students to 
decide if they will acquiesce in the estab- 
lishment of a new Amherst system and 
give it their support. Our unanimous 
opinion is that it would not be for the best 
interests of the college to do so. The 
senate is not an end in itself; it exists only 
as a means for securing good student gov- 
ernment, and however much it may have 
contributed to Amherst's reputation in the 
past, it should be maintained only so long 
as it is useful for good student government. 
We believe that the senate system which 
would be established by this precedent 
would be of little usefulness as a governing 
body and would not secure the respect and 
co-operation of the students. The question 
is one which concerns the entire body of 
undergraduates and should be decided by 



There is a young maid of Amherst, 
My grandfather went with her first, 

Soon after my pater. 

And now I myself later. 
Will have her if worst comes to worst. 


As the greatest orator of his age has so 
well and fitly spoken (if we may be per- 
mitted to borrow from the store of his elo- 

We would dedicate this production to 
Cromwell ; but Cromwell was only a soldier. 
We would dedicate it to Napoleon; but Na- 
poleon made his way to empire over broken 
oaths and through a sea of blood. We would 
dedicate it to the Father of his country; 
but the great Virginian held slaves. 

Therefore we dedicate it to the most per- 
fect of all human organizations, 


For it never does anything at all. 



( With no especial reference to anybody^ 

Once on a time there lived a maid, 
A maid with noble fame; 
Who dwelt within old Amherst's walls, 
And she was a beaut, I can tell you, and 
everybody was dead stuck on her shape, 
and Freedom was her name. 

Now Freedom had a trusty friend — 
At least she thought him true — 
But subsequent proceedings seemed 
To prove pretty conclusively to Freedom, 

anyway, that you can't most always tell 

just what a friend will do. 

For when her friend found out that she 
Could easily be bossed. 
He took her business for his own. 
And' pretty soon Freedom began to get 
onto the fact that her fame, name, and 
everything else was most completely 


She found her power all was gone, 

Her blessings at an end; 

And when she came to figure up, 
She allowed that if anybody was responsi- 
ble for her loss of dignity and honor, it 
was probably that same old friend. 

Now, you may read between the lines. 

And think you read it well; 

But you must do it for yourselves, 
And you needn't think we're going to get 
ourselves into trouble by explaining the 
meaning of this poem, for we aren't; 
we're too cooney, and we don't intend 
to tell. 



When the shades of night are fading, 
And the day begins to dawn, 

When rests the tired student. 
With lessons weary and worn, 

Then comes upon the morning air 

A hideous pealing knell, 
And, with a curse, the student mutters, 

"It is the chapel bell." 

Then he rises wearily from bed, 
And hastes his clothes to don; 

And ever, as he dresses, 
The cursed bell rings on. 

Soon he seizes book and pencil, 

Hat and overcoat as well, 
And waltzes off to breakfast, 

To the tune of the chapel bell. 

Scarce the doughty steak is tasted. 
Scarce the coffee, sad to tell, 


When, with hasty stroke, ''Four minutes 
Peals out the chapel bell. 

Out of the house he rushes, 

With wild and frantic gait, 
But three rapid strokes from the tower cry 

**Too late, old man, too late ! " 

He slowly turns around and says, 

*' What a luckless dog I am," 
And then in sad despairing tone, 

" It is the seventeenth, oh ! " 


No more is heard the joke and song 
Which did the midnight hours prolong; 
No more doth fragrant steam arise 
From ham and eggs or chicken pies; 
No more we quaff our lemonade 
And wink at Kate the waiter maid; 
No more we hang up heavy scores, 
Since Frank Wood closed to us his doors. 




It is a beautiful October day. The light 
is perfect for fixing the beauties of Walker 
hall and the faces of Amherst's latest 
accessions on the plate of Pach's camera. 

Promptly at 2.45 p. m. the sinuous oper- 
ator ambles to the spot, sets his tripod, 
limbers his camera, and casts a professional 
but contemptous glance at the motley crowd 
on the steps. Some weak attempts at 
grouping have been made, but the artist's 
practiced eye quickly notes faults. He is 
hampered in his re-arrangement by ignor- 
ance of names. A good-natured shout 
greets him, as in mild and trade-beseeching 
accents he asks, '* Will that gentleman with 
the intelligent-looking face please come 
forward ? " The youth referred to blush- 
ingly advances, while the sickly smiles of a 
few show that they acknowledge the grind 
on the rest of the class, *' Will that very 
young-looking gentleman sit next the man 
who is trying to raise a mustache ? " brings 
two startled freshmen into prominence. 


The group is completed, and the camera 
set up. At this juncture a few canes and 
brush-sticks are stealthily produced from 
behind some of the stouter men, and 
accorded prominent places. 


Meanwhile a different scene is occurring 
in the French room. It is nearly tinie to 
dismiss the prize division. The com- 
motion of the odious atmosphere made 
by the vigorous applause at an unusually 
daring recitation leads someone to open 
the window. The freshmen and their 
canes catch his eye. He shouts to the 
division, who raise the class yell, and bolt 
without listening to the announcement of 
** Ten lines in advance." 


At the chapel a moment's stop is made, 
and a hurried consultation ensues. Run- 
ners are dispatched to the various tennis 
courts, and then the main body moves rap- 
idly toward Walker hall. The freshmen 
sit motionless, for the operator is about to 
lift the cap ; but how they wish he would 
hurry, and let them stir ! But he too has 


seen the advancing mob, and, overcome 
by terror, quickly takes the advice of a 
thoughtful sophomore, and removes his 
apparatus from the cyclone's path. 

The sophs break for the center of the 
group, and the half-dazed freshmen begin 
to make a few attempts at defense. The 
more cool and careful step inside the build- 
ing, deliberately take off coats and hats, and 
return to the fray; the more impetuous 
hand their hats to some of the juniors who 
have begun to gather, and sail in. 

Who can describe a lively rush ? There is 
the pushing, breathless mass in the center, 
from which some of the stronger and more 
ambitious are slinging off men, one by one, 
in their own efforts to get at the cane; the 
struggling victims in the middle, who would 
give millions for a free breath; the wounded 
on the ground; and on the outskirts the 
squads of more heated partisans, who are 
anxious to settle the matter by a single 
knock-down encounter. All must be seen 
to be appreciated. 

Are the whole class engaged ? Oh, no ! 
a few stand hesitant on the steps, wonder- 
ing if such a struggle can come under Doc's 
definition of self-defense, or whether it 


would break that contract^ and end their col- 
lege career should they indulge. 

The sophomores get the cane, break it up, 
and the recipients start off with their tro- 
phies, pursued by the gamy freshmen. 
One is downed; and the fight begins again, 
but is short lived. Another cane appears, 
and the contestants surge toward the gym. 

Thence a well-known figure emerges, 
bearing those symbols of authority, the 
black book and the fez. Doc scornfully 
looks on until the din subsides, then brings 
the book down vigorously on his palm, A 
sharp crack is heard, and a shrill voice 
pierces the air, "Young gentlemen, dis- 
perse to your rooms ! Juniors, that applies 
to you as well ! " The ringing laugh that 
follows brings another burst of ire ; and 
with " I am not a constable, but you had 
better move on, or take the consequences," 
the kindly doctor loses breath, and retires. 
The classes, preferring movement to the 
consequences, separate, and glide away. 

The sophs have exchanged hats, books, 
and raiment for glory and inch fragments of 
a twenty-five cent cane ; and the freshmen 
depart in a battered condition without a 


And where is Pach ? His manly feelings 
have been outraged. His dignity has 
suffered the severest insult of all his experi- 
ence with numerous college classes; but, as 
his instruments are unhurt, he bottles his 
wrath, folds up his tent like the Arab, and 
as silently steals to the train for New York. 


Who sits from morn till late at night 

His eye upon the page. 
And squanders youth and social grace 

To gain in knowledge age ? — 

The plugger. 

Who stands so pale before his class 

And pulls a glorious four, 
And when exams, send havoc round 

Is first to leave the floor ? — 

The plugger. 

Who prides himself upon a key 
Which points to brain alone, 

And, culture's pygmy, mounts at last 
The learned commencement throne ?- 
The plugger. 


Who makes for life and all its joys 

A mere existence do, 
And leaves the world no heritage ? 

'Tis sad to tell, but true — 

The plugger. 


There are at least five toilers connected 
with this noble institution whose value is 
grossly underestimated. I refer to the five 
daughters of Erin, whose duty it is to effect 
the weekly sweeping of the dormitories. 
They are no common drudges; the study of 
their methods is an inspiring lesson on the 
amount of interest and even attraction that 
can be found in the meanest toil merely by 
absorbing mind and heart in the work. 
The quantity of ingenuity they display in 
the apparently simple process of sweeping 
would do to invent a flying machine. 

I will back this statement by proof. For 
example: They invade a room that is ap- 
parently spotless, make a few passes with a 
broom, and behold a bushel and a half of 
dirt! Where they get it I cannot tell. 
Unless we accuse them of familiarity with 


the black art, we must admit either that 
they brought it with them, or that it was 
there before. In either case their genius is 
quite bewildering. 

Further illustrations: Having collected 
said quantity of dirt, they scatter part of if 
on your desk, a larger part in little fuzzy 
rolls about the floor, and deposit the rest 
behind the piano. The top of the piano, 
by the way, they make a repository for 
umbrellas, overshoes, base ball bats, and 
other equally appropriate articles. They 
marshal! your rugs in battalion line from 
your door to nowhere. They arrange the 
Japanese screen so that it will hide the 
bookshelves instead of the set-bowl, and 
they never fail to swap your desk chair for 
your chum's. 

These inspiring creatures not only put 
thought into their work, but take keen 
delight in it, as may be seen from the 

If you like to keep your slippers in the 
waste basket, where they'll be handy, the 
women dump them out with the paper, and 
hurry old Charlie downstairs with them. 
They do this so that you will have to spend 
the rest of the morning in sub-chapel, 


rooting through seventeen old rubbish 

In your bedroom they show a fertility of 
resource that leaves Odysseus a simpleton 
in comparison. They pile all the clothes 
they can find on a single chair, and then 
put something heavy on top of them, so as 
to muss them as much as possible. They 
drop your razor strop over behind the 
bureau, or somewhere where they think you 
won't find it. They hide one shoe in the 
bed clothes, and throw the other as far 
under the bed as the wall will permit, so 
that you will have to get down on your 
stomach, and wave madly after it with your 
cane, and swear. 

When they get through with your floor, 
if they find out that you are studying and 
want quiet, they detail one of their number 
to stand at the head of the stairs and slide 
the brooms, dust pans, mops, etc., down 
one by one, to the bottom. They do this 
with great glee, for they know it will make 
you think things you'll be sorry for after- 

Sometimes they scrub the hall floor. 
This is a good deal of work, but they like 
to do it, for they have discovered an odor- 


iferous washing-powder that discounts any 
laboratory on the market. It delights them 
to think that the sickening taint will linger 
about the halls for a week. 

I have just mounted those three weary 
climbs (what bungling idiot ever named, 
them flights ?) of stairs, and have seen two 
of these calico-vested fairies sitting on the 
steps and flirting with old Professor Charlie. 
Innocents ! May they be forgiven ! As for 
us — may the saints preserve us ! 


In our quiet modest way, 

To you we'd like to say 
That your trick of smiling broadly in the 

When others make mistakes, 

Or some very harmless breaks. 
Makes you like unto a most consummate ass. 

And the way you shake your head, 

When anything is said 
That does not suit your own precise idea, 

When so very oft repeated, 

Makes one think you quite conceited, 


At least, 'tis so to me it does appear. 
We do not doubt your knowledge, 
You're the pride of all the College, 
But this very fault has won you many 
So if you less will do it, 
Or, still better, quite eschew it, 
You'll do much to gratify 

The Olio. 


The small muckers finally succeeded in 
rousing up the different members of the fire 
brigade, and they gathered slowly about 
the post-office steps. After talking for a 
short time in subdued tones, one of the 
older and more intrepid members mustered 
courage to inquire, "Where is it?" No 
one appeared to know, and finally two or 
three of the more active and headstrong of 
the brigade, in spite of the solemn warn- 
ings of their elders not to precipitate 
matters, started to walk up to college hill 
in order to get a view of the surrounding 
country, and, possibly, to discover the 


whereabouts of the fire, since there seemed 
to be no way of avoiding the conclusion 
that there really was a fire somewhere. 
They were spared this trouble, however, 
by meeting a small boy, who told them 
the fire was at South Amherst, and they 
returned to the expectant group at the 

After mature deliberation to decide 
whether the aforesaid S. B.'s witness should 
be admitted or not, it was voted by a small 
majority to get out the engine, and several 
started for the engine house. After mov- 
ing a wagon, three ladders, and a worn-out 
hose carriage, they got the doors open. 
Here they found that someone had stored 
a score or two of empty barrels and several 
dozen dry-goods boxes in front of the 
engine, but the boys were getting excited 
now, and in twenty minutes these were all 
removed and the engine drawn out. 

Then ensued a violent discussion as to 
whether they should draw it by hand or use 
horses. The advocates of horse-power 
finally prevailed, and two pairs were sent 
for. On their arrival, however, it was de- 
cided that one pair was sufficient, and the 
second pair was sent back. 


The next difficulty was as to how they 
should ride, but, at last, having disposed of 
themselves on various parts of the machine, 
they started off amid the cheers of the 
muckers and the admiring gaze of the town 
fems. Suddenly came a halt. Several 
members of the department were seen to 
hold a somewhat hurried consultation. 
There followed a few moments of suspense. 
Then it became noised about among the 
anxious throng who were watching their 
movements, that the department had for- 
gotten their rubber overcoats. 

The excitement was getting tremendous 
now, and it did not take long to decide that 
they must have their coats, and to send 
the ever ready muckers after them. The 
coats were brought and donned. Then 
they started again, the town maidens keep- 
ing a little way ahead on the sidewalk and 
looking back with mingled awe and venera- 
tion on the advancing cavalcade. 

On reaching the foot of college hill, it 
was decided that all four horses were none 
too many, and the second pair was sent 
for. After an extra trip to get splices for 
the reins, these were attached to the first 
pair, and again the procession moved on. 


When at length the summit of college 
hill was reached and they actually caught 
sight of the flames, they gave a yell, in 
comparison with which the Eighty-four howl 
became a melodious undertone, and tore 
down the hill at a marvelous rate of speed. , 
One of the horses gave out on reaching 
freshman river, but was quickly rolled out 
of the way and they dashed madly on. 

At length the scene of desolation was 
reached, but they were too late — the fire 
was out, and after going into the neighbor- 
ing houses to get warm, they returned home 
to receive the well-earned plaudits of their 

It would seem as if the glory thus acquired 
were sufficient for ordinary mortals, but our 
gallant fire brigade were soon to add new 
luster to the crown already won. 

It was a calm Sabbath evening, and not a 
sound disturbed the sacred stillness of the 
hour, when again there rang out upon the 
startled air of the cry of fire. The firemen, 
ever on the alert, gathered in hot haste. 
They could see all too plainly the bright 
tongues of flame sweeping upward in the 
northern skies, until they reached the stars 
and fired the whole heavens. 


Would they get there in time ? Well, 
they were making desperate efforts and 
would probably have succeeded in reaching 
the place, had they not become discouraged 
when a worthy farmer informed them that 
they were running to put out the northern 

One more exploit which capped the cli- 
max of their renown and we will close the 
thrilling recital. 

It was the wild midnight. The tame mid- 
night watchman was off watch and had gone 
to bed some time before. The town was 
sleeping quietly, all unconscious of the fact 
that the wide devastating fire fiend was 
doing his disastrous work near by. Hap- 
pily, one of the gallant sons of Vulcan was 
awake. Through a rift in the clouds which 
hung over the Pelham mountains he caught 
sight of the malignant glow of fire, which 
grew brighter and brighter as he gazed. 
Pausing only for an instant, he darted 
down the stairs and sped through the streets, 
raising the terror-fraught cry of Fire. 

The brave firemen responded with their 
wonted alacrity. The engine was manned 
and they started on their way, looking 
defiantly toward the rapidly increasing 


light, when the moon, from above a bank of 
clouds, at last shone full upon them with a 
serene smile, which seemed to say, "Put 
me out if you can," and the story of their 
heroic daring is complete. 



My thoughts are so profound that their 

profundity is immeasurable, 
My mystic meditations deal with themes 

obscure and terrible, 
I think and then I meditate, then meditate 

and think. 
And then I tell whome'er I meet how much 

I love to think. 

I think about myself, and me, and then of 

I, and ego ; 
Again about myself, and then about how 

much I know. 
I know it all, and even just a little else 

beside ; 
And with my knowledge and my thoughts, 

I'm wholly satisfied. 


Yes, yes, I'm very proud of what I say, and 

think, and know, 
And am, and feel, and hear, and see, and 

read and learn ; but oh ! 
This world's too small for me — I fain would 

soar away. 
And tell the men on Mars how much I know 

and think and say. 

At length, if I but keep at work, and think 

hard all the time, 
I'll have it all thought up; and then, how 

odd and how sublime. 
To never rest, but keep at work as hard as 

e'er I can. 
And go, and what I have thought up, un- 

think it all again ! 


"Don't talk to me," he said, "I've got 
a bad one." It was needless to ask what 
his vague statement meant, for he would 
have called himself the victim of a bad 
"grouch." His more scrupulous room- 
mate might have called it a mood, or the 


blues, but it all amounted to the same 
thing. And when I respected his wish and 
held my peace, he began to speak in a sort 
of aggressive way, as if daring me to con- 
tradict him. 

" I don't see what it all amounts to," h^ 
said to me, and I knew that more was to 
follow. " I'm not accomplishing anything. 
I'm not doing anybody else any good, and I 
doubt very much if I am profiting by it 
myself. I am repeating the prodigal son's 
follies in a way of my own, I'm wasting 
my father's substance in riotous living. 
My very mode of life is a systematic and 
continued deception of the people at home. 
If I were what my father thought I was I 
wouldn't be able to put my hat on, and if I 
fulfilled my mother's expectations nothing 
short of a halo would do for me. My kid- 
brother idolizes me, and his one ambition is 
to be some day the man that he imagines I 
am now. And she," here he pointed to a 
photograph on his desk, **she writes that 
she envies my future, for she knows that 
my ambition will raise me high above men 
some day." He stopped speaking, and for 
a long minute the clock ticks and the crack- 
ling of the flames were all that broke the 


silence. Then he began again, ** Yes, I'm 
deceiving them all shamelessly, but if I 
told them, it would break their hearts, 
and if I should change without telling 
them, they couldn't believe in me any more 
implicitly than they do now. Two more 
years in college, lots of time to straighten 
up in, and — I'm having a good time. Call 
it wild oats if you want. What do I care ? " 
From quiet regret his voice rose to loud de- 
fiance. "Keep your sermons for someone 
else. I'm going out to-night to eat, drink, 
and be merry. Don't stay up for me. 

His room-mate said that it was three 
o'clock when he came in with thick utter- 
ance and unsteady step. The law of com- 
pensation had demanded its right, and after 
his unwonted soberness he had taken pains 
to lose his sobriety. And the next morn- 
ing he met me with the old ** devil-may- 
care " expression, which announced, better 
than words, that earnestness had once 
more yielded to carelessness. 



The room is not at all prepossessing in 
appearance. Its bare wooden floor, only 
a foot above the sidewalk, is invariably 
soiled with slush, mud, or dust, according 
to the season of the year. The very door 
which one encounters on entering is old 
and dingy and battered, one side being dis- 
figured by a couple of flaps which look like 
ill-conceived patches for protection of the 
holes beneath them. The walls are cov- 
ered by a motley collection of signs and 
notices, which only serve to intensify the 
general air of disregard for ornament or 
cleanliness. A fly-specked clock adorns 
one corner, and though this once must 
have had no mean pretensions to respecta- 
bility, it now has fallen into the sadly di- 
lapidated style which pervades the whole 
place. Not a chair or a bench has ever 
gained footing within its bare and homely 
precincts. The view from its spacious 
windows includes only the roadway, the 
town pump, and a few brick buildings. 
Yet there are hours during the day when 


this unpretentious — nay, even disagreeable 
— apartment is crowded with an eager, ex- 
pectant gathering. 

The explanation of their patient, con- 
stant attendance is easy. For all interest 
centers about a V-shaped structure which 
projects well into the room from the rear 
toward the door, lined with a series of little 
cells which lend to the whole the appear- 
ance of a vast honeycomb. The tiny com- 
partments are systematically numbered and 
each apparently has its own proprietor. 
About these the swarm of busy bees 
hovers, each bent on his own cell, finally 
turning away content with a white budget 
from it, or slowly making off without booty, 
showing by his very bearing disappoint- 
ment that the genius within has not seen 
fit to reward his devotions. 

Some rarely go away without at least one 
of these mysterious white billets, while 
some come for days at a time without 
receiving any prize at all. But a careful 
observer could see that they who oftenest 
deposit tribute in a slot at the apex of the 
V are most frequently the ones to receive 
like tokens. Not seldom the color is lav- 
ender, or blue, or pink, these same tints 


imparting added value, while those of yel- 
low or bronze exterior are treated with 
contempt and often cast aside without 

Such is this most popular room and such 
are the proceedings within it. Doubtless 
the reader has already recognized it, if 
not, he may see some points of resemblance 
when at the next mail hour he betakes him- 
self to the Amherst post-office. 


Two convents in a college town, 
Whose fair, sweet nuns, discreet, 

March in two dainty throngs each day 
Through the elm-shaded street. 

Though guarded by a Saint Bernard 

And by a gallant knight. 
Naught of their beauty can be bound: 

It flashes as the light. 

Though only from afar can we 

Behold, admire, adore, 
Our gracious kindly patron saints 

Be they forevermore! 


Fair, gentle saints, inspiring hope, 

How they do edify! 
Sweet incense on our shrine we burn 

To their divinity! 



In Amherst town the blue skies beam 
On many a bright and hopeful dream 
Of youth, which knows no doubt, no fear, 
And thinks of friends and friendships near; 
And trusts that men are all they seem. 

So this is youth, and youth's bright dream. 
It somehow has a brightened gleam 
From off the shining sunbeams clear, 
In Amherst town. 

And yet a day will come — I deem — 
When brightness all away will stream ; 
And all the world so dark and drear, 
And men so strange; that then I'll hear 
They crave again that sunny dream — 
In Amherst Town, 





Strolling down the College highway; with 

its many ferns and flowers, 
Chanced I on four people, trudging on 

through all the weary hours. 
Each seemed different from the others, 

each a different story told, 
Which I heard as I was passing, and in 
memory still do hold. 

First I met a saddened spinster, old in 

years; and worn, and thin, 
With a tear-stained face and wrinkled, 

pitted with the marks of sin. 
She had gone through life, for nothing, 

bearing scanty wreaths away. 
And I shunned the aged vixen, with her 

hideous hair of gray. 


Then there came a lovely matron rounded 

in the prime of life. 
Walking on in matchless beauty, carrying 

crowns from many a strife. 


When she bowed she spoke with sweetness, 
and her breath was like the rose, 

Like the skies her beauty, sunny grace, 
compelling love from foes. 


Next I met a saucy maiden with a dirty, ' 

ugly face. 
Shambling on 'mid grievous weeping, with 

a walk devoid of grace. 
She was overgrown and clumsy, with a 

heathen, country air. 
And I know not what for rudeness with 

this maiden could compare. 


Last of all, a funny infant came a-toddling 

down the road. 
Stubbing 'gainst the stones and squalling in 

the latest ^ la mode. 
But I rather liked the fellow, with his cute 

and childish ways. 
For he had the brightest, freshest looks I'd 

seen in many days. 

Saw I also in the distance, other people 

coming on, 
But I stopped and did not meet them, — you 

may hear of them anon. 


In a tavern someone told me, all were Alma 

Mater's kin, 
Yet their lives were very different — One 

alone the prize could win. 


*TwAS on an arm in Nungy's room. 
Inclosed by many a penciled square, 
A hideous head with rumpled hair, 

Upon an arm in Nungy's room. 

Did someone draw that horrid face 
To keep awake to meet his doom; 

Or was the artist's aim to grace 
That old chair arm in Nungy's room ? 

Perhaps a Goethe traced each line 
Upon that poor defenseless arm. 
And genius' power was the charm 

That could create such form divine. 

Maybe we'll see a Rubens loom. 
With heaven-sent power and master's 

Out from the man who left his brand 

On that chair arm in Nungy's room. 

Whoe'er he be, where'er he dwell. 
Who drew that frightful image there, 
Long may he live, to have his share 


Of blessed life, and live it well. 

But may some memory bring him round 

Matured by this world's sun and gloom, 
To see what ugly work I found 

On that chair arm in Nungy's room. 


To order hash or not, that is the question : 

Whether 'tis better for man to suffer 

The pains and terrors of outrageous hunger, 

Or to take hash with all its mysteries, 

And by one great gulp to end it. 

To eat, perchance to dream, ay, there's the 

For in that sleep what dreams may come 
Of hair, of dogs, of cats, of puppies' tails; 
Of shingle nails; of tin tomato-cans; 
Of bones; of fishes' tails and fins; 
Of skins of apples and potato-rinds. 
The choice of hash, or nothing, puzzles the 

And makes us rather bear the hunger that 

we have 
Than fly to evils that we know not of. 
Thus does this element make cowards of 

us all. 



Oft upon a midnight dreary, while I pon- 
der, weak and weary, 

Over many a long and toilsome lesson of 
to-morrow's four, 

While I'm nodding, nearly napping, sud- 
denly there comes a tapping. 

As of someone gently rapping, rapping on 
his cuspidor. 

'Tis my room-mate softly spilling ashes 
from his pipe, for more : 

Only this and nothing more. 

At my desk, so slowly working, sit I, with 

no thought of shirking, 
Though my will can very little longer 

'gainst this craving war. 
How I long to do this rapping, do this soft, 

this gentle tapping. 
Filling my old pipe with 'baccy, as so oft in 

days of yore. 
Oh, these fetters that restrain me burn into 

my bosom's core : 

For I smoke, ah, nevermore. 


Ah, distinctly I remember, and the thought 
is dear and tender. 

How I loved to sit and linger over many a 
peaceful smoke. 

There I found a way to borrow freedom 
from my every sorrow ; 

For I'd learned to rout all trouble in wreath- 
ing clouds of smoke. 

Often from my dreams I waken, thinking 
that my pledge I've broke: 
But, alas, there's no such hope. 

And my pipe is useless lying, all the weed 
within it drying; 

In the corner of my desk it's doomed to 
stay for evermore; 

While I sit, so vainly trying, all these long- 
ings in me crying 

For the smoke of incense, healing to my 
heart so sick and sore; 

But my pipe from out that corner, though 
my feelings wage fierce war. 
Can be lifted nevermore. 



Sweet maid, to these bleak hills allured 

To drink thy fill at learning's fount; 
Fair being, in whose soul I ween 

Minerva's shrine is paramount; 
Do me this grace, sweet lady mine, 

To give my burdened heart relief, 
Grant me a hearing, only list 

To my o'erpowering, hopeless grief, 

I meet thee oft in aimless stroll 

And view thy passage from afar. 
As longingly as sage of old 

E'er watched the rising of his star. 
In concert hall I see thee oft, 

And looking, lose all thought of song. 
Or muse, or anything except 

The charms that to thyself belong. 

Thy presence, too, at vesper-tide 
Enshrines the spot, and all the hour 

My homage seeks thy heart alone 
My soul is fast in Cupid's power. 

Thus am I tossed with love of thee. 
Thus has my sorrow daily grown. 


Now give, I pray thee, beauteous maid, 
Good heed unto that heart of stone, 

And see if thou hast not one glance, 

One thought for me. I wait thy word 
With anxious heart. Can'st not bestow 

One look on me ? Hast thou not heard ? 
Thou can'st not. Then alas for me ! 

What visions now must take their flight. 
I blame thee not, but thou hast made 

Of me a most heart-broken wight. 

Go on thy course toward wisdom's goal, 
But when at last cute Cupid's bow 

Shall pierce thy heart, then, then alone 
Can'st thou my present anguish know. 


Over the Notch, 'neath forest-clad height 
Rock-strewn, o'er-frowning his path on the 

He wends his swift way to that land of 


Over the Notch. 


Over the Notch, where the arbutus grows, 
Or autumn's bright red midst its pale yel- 
low glows, 
Soft breeze from the South in his face 
gently blows, 

Over the Notch. 

Over the Notch, to where sweet voices call, 
Fair faces glance coyly from window and 

Or lure him to ** Pepper-Box " — best place 

of all— 

Over the Notch. 

Over the Notch, in the darkness of night. 
The deep, sheer ravine's fearful plunge on 

his right. 
Slow and sadly returns he, this love- 
stricken wight, 

Over the Notch. 


Although at ease in outward guise. 

Within his fare he curses. 
He can't forget though hard he tries, 

The yawning void his purse is. 



Ferrand Eliot was reclining on his win- 
dow seat. It was a pleasant Saturday after- 
noon at the beginning of the fall term; here 
and there a tree had already put on its habit 
of red or gold, yet the afternoon was not 
cold, and a gentle breeze fluttered the 
silken drapery by the open window. Our 
friend was feeling particularly happy and 
contented this September day, although he 
was alone, this being one of his chum's 
regular days for worship at a certain shrine 
of Northampton. He held in his hand a 
sufficiently interesting story; the window 
seat was comfortable, and it was with a 
pleasant sense of an ownership of good 
things that he lay back and lazily surveyed 
the room before opening the volume. His 
eyes wandered over the familiar things — 
the regulation sets of foils, masks, and 
boxing-gloves, the college bric-a-brac, the 
"Ladies' Cloak Room" and ''Reserved," 
signs of freshman year; the patriotic purple 


and white banner, and several water-color 
sketches, Ferrand's own work; the mantel 
with its array of pipes, and a few medals 
won at Worcester or in the heavy gym. 
All these things his eyes surveyed with 
an expression of great content, until they 
came to rest upon the most charming thing 
in the room — the photograph of a young 
girl. Then, strangely enough, the placid 
expression changed to one of contending 
admiration, pity, and disgust. **Why 
should Frank make such a fool of himself? " 
he asked the ceiling — **and for her to throw 
herself away like that ! " Ferrand Eliot 
was a well-born and well-bred Virginian, 
manly, broad-shouldered, blue-eyed; a type 
which cannot be surpassed anywhere. The 
"sand" and skill which he exhibited on 
the football eleven, where he played right 
guard, together with his accurate scholar- 
ship in the classroom, showed that his 
muscle and the fiber of his brain were 
equally tough. He was a man whom every- 
one trusted. But there was a screw loose, 
as the fellows said. 

In matters of sentiment Ferrand Eliot 
was a Platonist. He thought it not only 
nonsense, but downright suicide, for two 


young people to fall in love with each other. 
"Why won't they be sensible?" he would 
exclaim. **Look about and see all the 
unhappiness lovers bring on each other and 
the rest of the world. It could be avoided 
so easily. What an absurdity to say that a 
young man and a young woman cannot be 
the closest friends, without degenerating 
into the sickly sentimental style of inter- 
course ! " He had lived a score of years, 
and had known many women intimately, but 
his platonic heart was still untouched by 
any unplatonic passion. 

On the other hand, his chum, Frank 
Hanway, held exactly opposite views. He 
claimed that he had always been in love, as 
has every other man, acknowledge it or not. 
"We all have our ideals," he would say, 
"and sooner or later every man will find 
attributes of his ideal centered in some 
woman." And so, of course, they had many 
long and amusing discussions on these 
interesting topics. There was something 
fascinating in Hanway's way of putting 
things which attracted his chum, while the 
latter's manly sincerity Frank felt to be 
worthy of respect. Now, Hanway had 
already found his ideal in the subject of the 


admired, pitied, and obnoxious photograph, 
the fascinating Miss Alger of Smith college. 
So he had lost no time in using man's priv- 
ilege by telling Miss Alger that he had 
always loved her, although until a fortnight 
previous to the declaration they had been 
utter strangers. Miss Alger, while her con- 
fession may have been less striking, was 
none the less in love with Frank Hanway. 
To most of their friends it seemed a perfect 
match. Not so to Ferrand; he could not 
be reconciled to such an abnormal state 
of things. Miss Alger was a pretty girl. 
Frank was a thorough good fellow. But 
the combination was intolerably absurd. 
The window seat was no longer comfortable. 
He frowned, fidgeted, and finally arose, 
pulled on his cap, and sought the com- 
panionship of his "Columbia," of whose 
platonic friendship he felt secure. But 
why did he take the road to Northampton ? 
At Northampton he turned to the left, 
crossed the meadows, ferried the Con- 
necticut at Hockanum, and followed the 
winding river toward South Hadley. The 
beauty of the quiet river; of the meadows 
dotted over with white houses and tobacco 
barns; of Northampton with it churches 


and colleges like pretty mosaics set in the 
emerald of wonderful elms; of the little 
rifts and puffs of smoke from furnaces and 
creeping enginds so far away, there was 
charm enough in all this to cause Ferrand 
to slacken his speed. Too great haste amid 
such surrounding loveliness would have 
been an impertinence, if not a sacrilege. 
He had ascended the long hill which rises 
abruptly out of the river, and turned his 
head as he began the descent to get a last 
glimpse of the quiet valley. 

There must have been some sort of mis- 
fit in the road, for he turned a somersault 
in the air and several on the ground, and 
saw stars for some moments. Among the 
stars he perceived a straw sailor-hat, a 
tennis-dress, and a frightened face. In due 
time the stars retired to their proper 
orbits, but the other articles considerately 
stayed, to resolve themselves into a very 
presentable young lady. 

"Can I help you?" said the young 
lady, regarding apprehensively a certain 
.part of Ferrand's head which bulged omi- 

"Thank you, very much," he said, get- 
ting slowly to his feet, and having sufficient 


presence of mind to touch his cap. "I 
shall do very well, I think." 

"Then I may smile just a little?" she 
asked. "I'm not ill-natured, but there is 
such a funny side to an accident of that 

She stood by the roadside dimpling 
softly, her brown hair blown backward. 
Ferrand began to be interested. It was 
certainly a strange manner for a young 
girl to use toward a stranger. Yet it 
was not familiar. In the presence of a 
"header," according to Ferrand's experi- 
ence, most young ladies would choose 
to scream or faint or giggle. Here was 
one who had promptly offered her aid, but 
evidently had no uncalled-for sentimental 
sympathy to deal out, even to such a good- 
looking young gentleman as Ferrand felt 
himself to be. To be sure there was a 
smirch of the roadway across his face, and 
his clothes were shockingly begrimed, but 
even then ! He rid himself impatiently of 
a little of the dirt, and collected his cap 
and his bicycle before turning to say a few 
decent phrases in his best ladies' manner. 
She was seated further back from the road, 
sketching quietly, with a little preoccupied 


knot in her brow and her head on one side. 
Ferrand took off the rescued cap. 

"You were very kind to try to help me, 
and I forgive the smile," he said. It was 
quite as unconventional a remark as hers 
had been, he thought. She looked up at 

"I am really glad you weren't hurt 
seriously, Mr. Ferrand Eliot," she said. 

This explained the whole thing. It was 
someone he had met and forgotten; and 
yet Ferrand did not forget easily. 

She was quick to notice the embarrassed, 
remembering expression on his face. 

** No, you needn't try. You have never 
met me anywhere, and yet I know you quite 
well, Mr. Ferrand Eliot," she said. 

"I give it up," said Ferrand, laughing. 
He had no doubt that this self-possessed 
young lady would explain in her own good 
time. In the meanwhile there was no 
hurry. But she laid down her sketchbook. 

**In the first place," she said, "you are 
a chum of a certain Amherst man named 
Mr. Frank Hanway, aren't you?" 

"Yes," said Ferrand, "but " 

"In the second place, Mr. Frank Han- 
way is engaged, I believe they call it, to a 


certain Smith girl called Miss Alger, isn't 

"Why, yes," said Ferrand, **but 
how " 

"In the third place, I am the room- 
mate of this Miss Alger, who is engaged 
to the man who lives with the man whose 
name is Ferrand Eliot. Now do you 

" Oh, yes," cried Ferrand, " and you are 

Miss " Here he stopped and thought 


"Ah," she said, dimpling again, "you 
aren't so well informed about me as I am 
about you. Allow me to introduce myself 
in a shockingly irregular manner as Miss 
Helen Prescott, at your service, sir." 
With this she bowed meekly. 

"Of course," said Ferrand. "How 
stupid ! But that doesn't explain how you 
recognized me." 

"Oh, you were pointed out to me at 
the first football game, so the mystery is 
all gone." 

"I wonder if you have your chum's in- 
terests at heart as much as I have mine," 
said Ferrand. "If you have, you have a 
grudge against Frank Hanway." 


** Yes, indeed, I have ! " she cried, ** Do 
you know, you men are a bit provoking 
with your brag about stanchness, fidelity, 
and all the other solid virtues which women 
are supposed not to possess. As if women 
couldn't be as good friends as men ! " 

" I think you are right," he asserted, 
"and I only wish all women were as sen- 
sible as you; but what is still more pro- 
voking to me, is the generally accepted 
idea that a man and a woman — you and I, 
for instance — can't be together and enjoy 
each other's companionship without going 
through the absurd process of falling in 
love. Now, there are Frank and Miss 
Alger — but it's of no use to argue with 
Frank," and Ferrand turned his brown 
head impatiently. 

"And Margaret is quite as obstinate," 
said Miss Prescott gloomily. "Isn't it a 
pity ! " This was certainly a very unusual 
girl. She was pretty, but of course that 
was a secondary matter, thought Ferrand. 
It was her frankness and good sense that 
were so attractive. He followed a sudden 

"Miss Prescott," he said, " what do you 
say to our demonstrating to these beloved 


idiots the strength of our position ? I like 
you, at all events " 

"And I like you, Mr. Eliot," said Helen 
Prescott. " And here is my hand to clinch 
the bargain. We must save those children! 
And now, to show that you are in earnest, 
I wish you would go away at once! The 
other girls left me here to do some sketch- 
ing, and it is time for them to return with 
the carriage. I should like to have you 
meet them, but it might be rather unpleas- 
ant for you, looking as you do, you know — 
and we have met in such a singular way. 
And, if you should come to the Hubbard 
house with Mr. Hanway some time I 
should be very pleased to meet you." A 
dimple and a courtesy, and Ferrand found 
himself dismissed. 

" The fact of our first meeting for con- 
spiracy is to be kept in the dark, then," he 
reflected, as he rode slowly toward the 
ferry, "or is it merely a feminine tribute 
to the goddess Grundy ? " So it happened 
that he told Frank about the accident, with- 
out mentioning its other than material con- 
sequences. He felt a little guilty, but it 
was a consolation that his guilt was shared. 

It came to pass a week later that, as they 


were walking down from chapel together, 
Ferrand said : 

** I suppose you are off to Hamp, as 
usual, this evening, to see the fair one ? " 

**Yes," said Frank, shrugging his 
shoulders, and expecting to hear the usual 
tirade about "sentimental bosh," and so 

" Well," said Ferrand, " I think I'll come 
with you and hear the turtledove coo, if 
you don't mind," 

Whereat Frank wondered greatly, for 
hitherto his efforts at bringing together his 
chum and his sweetheart had been frus- 
trated by a true Virginian obstinacy. 

That evening Ferrand was duly presented 
to Miss Alger. 

"Not so bad," thought Ferrand; "she 
doesn't look like a maniac. But then the 
way she looks at Frank! And they would 
have been quite as comfortable if they 
hadn't shaken hands for quite five minutes. ' 

They had spoken the introductory com- 
monplaces, when in came the demure Miss 
Prescott, who expressed herself as delighted 
to meet Mr. Eliot. But there was a stray 
dimple for Ferrand alone — when the turtle- 
doves had drawn aside with an uncon- 


sciously relieved expression — which showed 
that she had not forgotten their bargain. 

We need not say how often during the 
following winter Ferrand spent his evenings 
in Northampton, nor how many letters with 
double postage passed and repassed the 
long bridge; there were so many things to 
be talked over with reference to the refor- 
mation of the lovers. So far, indeed, from 
there being any immediate gratifying re- 
sults in the behavior of the lovers, conse- 
quent to the Platonic example so studiously 
set for them, they seemed to be getting more 
and more incurable. But everything does 
not come to pass in a day, and the two con- 
spirators labored on. 

So senior year sped by, and the com- 
mencement day partings drew near, and 
the evening came when Frank and Ferrand 
must make their last visit upon the Hub- 
bard house piazza. Not that Frank cared 
a whit; he was all in the future; the Hub- 
bard house had been to him a rather 
inconvenient place of tryst. But to Fer- 
rand it was a melancholy time. To keep 
alive an intellectual friendship across a con- 
tinent is no easy matter, in spite of the 
graphs and phones of this privileged age. 


He found himself looking with envy upon 
his chum, who was not to know the pangs 
of intellectual separation. Frank had some 
errands to do, and Ferrand found Miss 
Prescott alone. They shook hands in their 
usual business-like way. But they did not 
succeed in being very talkative. 

"I'm afraid all our efforts have been a 
vanity, after all," she said; "we have had 
a great deal of trouble for nothing, haven't 
we ? " She was sitting with her back to 
the light, and he could see her dimpled 
cheek in profile. 

"For nothing?" he said mechanically. 
She turned slightly, so that he saw a little 
helpless quiver of her under-lip. He rose 
from his chair, throwing out his arm as if to 
cast off some weight. Then he came before 
her, raised her gently to him, and looked 
long and lingeringly into her face. It was 
not very long after this that the two fool- 
ish lovers came into the room, and were 
naturally surprised. The fellow-philoso- 
phers looked, to tell the truth, a little 

"This isn't a very good example " 

began Helen. 

"The simple truth of the whole matter 


is," said Ferrand, calmly but with unction, 
" that Plato was an old fool! " 

But I doubt if Plato could have withstood 
those dimples. 

Le Roy Phillips, '92. 



Reginald Thompson's face was clouded 
as he lounged on the window-seat, and even 
the smoke-wreaths from his pipe floated 
away with an air of dreariness. 

Reginald was only a sophomore, yet he 
was taking a farewell look at the books, the 
pictures, and the knickknacks in his room. 
In a short time he was to be expelled from 

A few evenings before, a freshman had 
been suddenly seized while strolling about 
the campus, and had been blindfolded be- 
fore he could catch more than a glimpse of 
his assailants. He had been led away and 
hazed. In the midst of the fun his tormen- 
tors were interrupted by the approach of a 
watchman. They fled around a corner, only 
to encounter another man. But he was 
hurrying to catch a train and had no time 
to trouble himself about the disturbance. 
So the fugitives passed him without inter- 
ference, and there was no one to tell who 
they were unless the victim himself had 
some idea. And, in fact, the latter had 


Stated most positively that one of his tor- 
mentors had been Reginald Thompson; 
that he had not only recognized Thompson's 
voice, but had even caught a glimpse of him. 
The accused denied the charge in vain; only 
his most intimate friends would believe him, 
for he had not been in his room on that 
evening, and no one could say where he 
had been. 

The laws of the college required that 
hazing be punished with expulsion ; but first, 
the student must come before the college 
senate, and without the sanction of this 
body no action could be taken. 

A meeting of the senate had therefore 
been called by the president, but had been 
postponed because one of the sophomore 
members had not yet been elected. 

Thompson's chum and room-mate, Wil- 
Ham MacMaster, was the president of the 
sophomore class, and was using his influ- 
ence to the utmost to help his friend. 
Reginald knew this, and his face brightened 
considerably when MacMaster burst in upon 
his meditations on the window seat. 

"Hello, Reggie ! " he cried; "stop your 
scowling now, old man, and cheer up, I have 
some good news. " 


" Well, Bill, what is it ? " asked Regi- 
nald, with a smile that was almost gloomy. 

"The election will be to-morrow and 
Townsend is going to run for senatorship," 
began the other as he sat down and shoved 
both his hands into his pockets. " All of 
our crowd, of course, will vote for him, 
and I made a deal with the Theta Epsilons, 
so that they will be in for him too." 

"It is awfully kind of you, Bill, to take 
so much trouble for me." 

"Come now, you had better keep your 
thanks until you are well out of this scrape. 
I have seen all the senators and they seem 
to be equally divided for and against you, 
so that Townsend's election is absolutely 

"Who else will run for senator ?" asked 

"Oh, I nearly forgot to tell you that. 
The other side will vote for Borden." 

" That's bad news. I always hated that 
man, and I guess he was not over fond of 
me. He is a low, mean sort of a fellow." 

"Yes, I know," answered MacMaster, 
"and he has a strong pull with the ouden's. 
But he won't stand the ghost of a show. 
Now I must go and canvass some more 


votes. So I'll see you later." And with 
this assurance MacMaster left his friend to 
relight his pipe. 

The next day came and with it the sopho- 
more election. The chapel was filled with 
the members of the class, but there was not 
the usual laughing and bluffing. The boys 
felt the importance of the meeting. They 
knew the effect that their votes would have 
on Reggie's happiness, and, though he was 
well liked, all were indignant at the hazing 
that had been done; the sentiment of the 
class was against it, and the boys had de- 
cided to vote as they believed their class- 
mate deserved. 

As Bill MacMaster entered the room arm 
in arm with Townsend, he was greeted with 
a cheer. But he took little notice of the 
greeting, and sat down apparently in anxious 
thought. A little later, a short, thick-set 
man entered the room amidst applause al- 
most as loud as that which had greeted 
MacMaster and Townsend. In acknowl- 
edgement of the applause he bowed his 
large head with its matted covering of 
black, curly hair, and smiled with a look of 

It was Alvan Borden, the other candidate. 


His coarse features were full of character, 
and his small, dark eyes twinkled from 
shaft-like depths. One could see at first 
sight the power and ability of the man ; 
yet it seemed ability more for the bad than 
for the good. 

Since he had thought it would be awk- 
ward, if not indelicate, Thompson did not 
come to the meeting. 

When the room was well filled, MacMas- 
ter arose and called the meeting to order, 
and they proceeded to the election of the 

Besides Townsend and Borden there was 
one other nominee. The informal ballot 
was collected, and showed forty-six votes 
for Townsend, for Borden thirty-seven, 
and a few for the third man. This result 
made MacMaster feel assured, as he called 
gayly for the second ballot, that Townsend 
would be elected. But then the votes were 
again collected, and the secretary read, 
"Townsend has forty-seven votes, and 
Borden fifty. Mr. Borden is elected." 

This time MacMaster looked around 
helplessly. He felt that his chum's last 
chance was gone. He had not expected 
defeat, and it was some time before his 


feelings allowed him to ask: " Is there any 
further business ? " 

The same evening the meeting of the 
senate was held, and both Reginald and 
the victim of the hazing appeared. 

Again the freshman told the story of the 
hazing, and accused Reginald of being one 
of his tormentors, and again the sophomore 
denied the charge, but acknowledged that 
he had no proof. "Very well," said the 
president, who presided over the meeting; 
**if you have nothing else to say in your 
defense, you may withdraw to the next 
room and await the decision of the senate." 
Reginald went out and threw himself down 
on one of the hard wooden benches. He 
knew too well what the decision would be, 
for since Borden had been elected senator 
he had given up even the faintest hope. 
He was younger and more sensitive than 
most of his fellows. Some men in his posi- 
tion would have shown boastful indifference 
which they would have mistaken for manli- 
ness. But not so Reginald; he dreaded 
the results and longed for some proofs of 
his innocence. Thoughts of the disgrace 
and of his father's disappointment jostled 
through his brain. Why did not those who 


had really done the deed acknowledge it 
and free him from the punishment ? Then 
his thoughts wandered to facing the de- 
cision, but a few moments off, and he deter- 
mined to meet it as firmly as possible. He 
would be ashamed to show any weakness. 
So he mustered up his courage and waited 
patiently. It was only a few minutes later 
that he heard the latch behind him turn, and 
looking around he saw Borden's massive, 
ugly head poked through the half-opened 

**The president sent me to summon the 
culprit to reappear before the meeting," said 
the senator jeeringly. "Will you kindly 
follow ? " 

Reginald bit his lips and followed, but 
his resolve not to flinch was strong, and 
he stood before the president's desk with- 
out wavering. 

Then the president said: "Reginald 
Thompson, the senate has decided that 
on account of your actions against the 
freshman whom you hazed you are un- 
worthy to be any longer a member of this 
college. Hereafter you will attend none of 
the recitations or exercises." 

Reginald turned and was just walking 


toward the door when it flew open, and in 
rushed MacMaster, followed by another 
man. The class president was excited and 
he evidently brought news. His eyes were 
flashing, his cheeks were reddened with 
running, and a smile of exultation touched 
his lips. Then, remembering the decorum 
proper before the president, he checked 
himself and said, as calmly as his excite- 
ment would allow, ** Mr. President, excuse 
my interruption; I hope that you have not 
yet voted upon this matter, for I have 
found a witness." 

" I am very glad to hear it," replied the 
president, **for we want all possible light. 
What has the witness to say ? It is not too 
late, if it is anything of importance." 

The newcomer stepped forward and, 
after a moment's hesitation, addressed the 
president: "As I was hurrying to catch 
a train on last Friday evening I heard the 
watchman shouting, ' Stop those fellows ! 
Stop them ! ' and at the same time two 
college men ran past me at full speed. I 
had only just time enough to catch my 
train, so, without taking much notice of the 
trouble, I hurried on. To-day, when I re- 
turned from my trip, I found the whole 


college talking about some hazing that had 
been done on the evening when I left town; 
I found that Thompson of the sophomore 
class had been accused of being one of the 
culprits, and that as such he was to be ex- 
pelled from college. I asked for particu- 
lars, and it was proved to me that the two 
men who ran past me as I was going to my 
train last week were the very ones who had 
done the hazing. Reginald Thompson, 
sir, — " the last sentence was said very de- 
liberately, — " Reginald Thompson was not 
one of these two." 

The whole room had been perfectly quiet 
while the testimony was being given, and 
when it was finished there was a look of 
relief upon the faces of all, with one ex- 
ception. The president smiled with satis- 
faction, for he had been troubled through- 
out the affair by the steady denial of the 
supposed culprit; and most of the senators 
shared his feelings, even those who had 
voted against Thompson, Alvan Borden 
alone did not feel the universal pleasure. 
If one had watched him while the witness 
had been speaking, one would have seen 
how those deep-sunken eyes flashed with 
hate, and how he longed to pounce like 


a tiger upon the witness and stop his testi- 
mony. But no one noticed him, and when 
the witness had finished and all eyes turned 
toward the president, the senator's, too, 
followed in forced composure. 

Then the president, remembering his 
duty, asked of the witness: ** Since Mr. 
Thompson was not one of the two men 
whom you met, can you tell us who they 
were ?" 

" One of them I refuse to name," was 
the reply, "for the punishment of the 
other will be enough for a precedent. He 
was Mr. Borden." 

If the meeting had been surprised when 
Reginald had been proved not guilty, it 
was still more so at this sudden accusation 
of the real culprit, and all looked toward 
Borden, expecting on his part at least a 
denial of the allegation. But they were 
disappointed, for, with a look of dogged 
indifference, he waited silently until the 
president had asked: "Do you acknowl- 
edge these things, Mr. Borden ? " 

Then indeed his sullen eyes flashed in 
their deep sockets, and, since he saw that 
denial was useless, he answered, "I do." 
Alfred Roelker, Jr., '95. 



When we asked Sawyer to go with us for 
a " quiet little time " on Mountain Day he 
refused. It is unnecessary to say that we 
were greatly surprised. For heretofore 
Sawyer had been the most anxious of us all 
to go off for a celebration; it had always 
been Sawyer who had taken the leading part 
at such times — and Sawyer had always felt 
the worst the next day. 

So when he refused — and his language 
was not uncertain — we knew there must be 
some strong reason for his decision. ** Go- 
ing somewhere else ? " asked Tomkins. 
**No; got to stay right here in Amherst 
all day," "Hang the money; your credit 
is still good with me," said Badger. 
" 'Taint money, Badge, old boy. Thanks 
very much, — no, I don't mind borrowing 
a little more, — but I have to be here — fact 
is, fellows, I am going to work all day." 

To such a declaration as that from 
Sawyer we could make no immediate reply. 
It was as though the sun should rise over 
Northampton some morning and pass across 


the heavens eastward, settling behind the 
Pelham hills at night, in which case we 
feel very sure language would fail to ex- 
press our consternation. And thus we were 
at first dumfounded at Sawyer's words. 

It was natural, however, that we should 
all try to offer some explanation for Sawyer's 
conduct, ** Crazy," said Badger, "Look- 
ing for a three," disdainfully remarked 
Tomkins. " Getting pious, more likely," 
said I, **No, it isn't any of those things, 
fellows. I'll tell you; you see, here it is 
senior year and I have not done any work 
since winter term sophomore year. I have 
a lot of things to pass off, and I don't want 
to leave them all till senior vacation — they 
might interfere with class-supper. So I'm 
going to stay home Mountain Day and 
get some of them up. I think there are 
seven in all, and I guess I can nail four of 
of them on that day." 

This explanation from Sawyer we all con- 
sidered insufficient. 

"Why, I've got six myself, old man," 
said Tomkins, " and I'm going to leave 
them till some Sunday next term. Besides 
it's our last Mountain Day, Jack, and we 
ought to celebrate." 


But it was all of no use, and so we went 
without Sawyer, missing him every moment 
of the day and half wishing we had stayed 
at home. 

And this is the way Sawyer kept Moun- 
tain Day. 

He set his alarm clock at five-thirty, so 
that he could do his mathematics before 
breakfast. Then during the forenoon he 
was going to write nine essays for the 
rhetoric department — essays for which he 
had no time when they were due. That 
would leave the afternoon for fall term's 
physics, and in the evening he could easily 
read over a term's German. It all seemed 
very easy, and I am convinced that Sawyer 
really thought he would enjoy the day as 
much as though he went with us. 

When the alarm went off at half-past five 
Sawyer thought of his resolutions and got 
right up. It was an entirely new experi- 
ence for him to do any work before break- 
fast, but after a few unnecessary prelimi- 
naries, which included a walk around the 
common, he considered himself ready for 
work. By breakfast time he had reviewed a 
quarter of the mathematics and was tired, 
but encouraged. After breakfast he started 


directly for his room, but, remembering 
that he expected a letter, he changed his 
mind and went to the post-office. As he 
was coming away from the office he met 
Jones, who asked him to have a game of 
billiards. Jones was the man who had 
beaten him twice within a week; Sawyer 
had been waiting for a chance to play with 
him again, for he disliked to remember an 
unavenged defeat from so unpopular a man 
as Jones. But it was out of the question 
for him to play then; so he answered, 
** Sorry, but I am very busy to-day, Jones — 
some other time." 

Jones looked rather surprised and smiled 
a little. Sawyer recognized the weakness 
of his excuse, and so, as Jones was turning 
away, he ran over the situation in his own 
mind. "The math, is practically done; I 
can do those essays in three hours, and 
that will leave plenty of time for the 
German. Besides, I've studied three 
hours already this morning and am tired. 
I guess a little recreation will clear up my 
head — I don't want to get sick studying." 
So he called to Jones and said he did have 
time, after all. This seemed more satis- 
factory to Jones, and so they went up to 


the hotel. The result of it was that Jones 
won the first two games, and only by the 
most careful kind of play did Sawyer get 
the next three. When they had finished it 
was eleven o'clock, and Sawyer hurried to 
his room to begin on the rhetoric. At his 
room he found the morning paper and he 
smoked a p.ipe over that, saying to himself, 
** A fellow can't afford to get behind on the 
questions of the day — especially just before 

By dinner time he had written one of 
those nine essays, and had decided the 
theme of another one. He and Wilkins 
were the only ones at dinner, — everyone 
else was observing the day. 

**What 've you been doing this morning. 
Sawyer ? — haven't seen you at all," said 

"No, I've been working ever since five 
o'clock this morning; I'm tired as the 
deuce, too. I never knew before how much 
a fellow could do in a day; I've practically 
made up a term's math, and a term's 

"Oh, yes; when a fellow applies himself 
he can do a lot of work in a few hours. 
Going away this afternoon ?" 


"No; going to finish up the day as I've 
begun it." 

After dinner Sawyer went directly to his 
room and filled his pipe. He reviewed the 
situation again: "I 'can finish the essays 
in another hour, and get the German out 
before supper. Then what will I do this 
evening ? Oh ! yes, physics. That will 
take fully two hours. Guess I ought to 
have a little nap — can work better after it." 

So he got onto the window-seat and took 
a nap which lasted till after three. He was 
wakened by a rap at the door which proved 
to be by a boy with a special delivery letter. 
The letter bore the postmark Northampton, 
and was as follows : 

" My Dear Mr. Sawyer : 

" My roommate was agreeably surprised 
this noon to receive a telegram from her 
friend Mr. Blewes of Yale, saying that he 
would call this afternoon. As it is impos- 
sible for us to get a team, we are going to 
have a little tea this afternoon about five, 
and we want you to make the fourth one. 
You can readily see that the tea will be a 
complete failure without you — for three is a 
very ugly number. So please come — if you 


don't I'll never I expect you without 


*' As ever, most cordially yours, 

" Grace Talmadge. 
** Smith College, Thursday noon." 

Of course Sawyer's first thought was to 
go over. Then he remembered that he had 
a little work to do, and the result was a 
burst of profanity which was by no means 
mild. But it was far from natural that any- 
thing should stand in Sawyer's way when 
this particular young lady was concerned. 
And he reasoned it all out this way : " I've 
done the math, and rhetoric; there was 
really only one thing I didn't understand in 
that physics, and I can get that up after I 
get back to-night. It will be easy to bluff 
the German. So I have already done prac- 
tically everything I had planned for to-day. 
Besides, my head aches and I feel a little 
feverish — staying in doors too much, I 
guess. That is a mighty pleasant note 
from Grace — er — from Miss Talmadge, I 
mean. I'll have to drive over, won't I ? 
Wonder if I'd better take up some flowers — 
very informally; white roses I guess — no, 
pink ; those go better with her complexion. 


It's lucky I stayed home to-day. Glad I 
did all my work this forenoon — it pays not 
to put things oif." 

As he was thinking the situation over to 
himself in this way he had already begun to 
dress, meantime whistling the classic which 
tells of O'Grady's swimming abilities. 

Sawyer's toilet was unusually elaborate 
that afternoon, but in due course of time he 
might have been seen going toward the 
livery stable. Although it was Mountain 
Day he was able to get a team, by means of 
which one hour later he was in Northamp- 
ton. The walk up Elm Street was not as 
interesting as usual, because there were 
fewer maidens to watch him from behind 
half-opened shutters or partly drawn cur- 
tains. But the end in view made the walk 
even under these depressing conditions far 
from unpleasant. They were waiting for 
him and She was radiant. The chaperon 
was not bad — the best thing about her 
(so Sawyer thought) was that she was 
called out soon after he arrived and that 
she came back only in time to say good- 
night, two hours later. Of course they 
were all glad he came; Blewes and the 
roommate because now Miss Talmadge 


would not be in their way, and Miss Tal- 
madge herself because she was no longer 
an odd one. She told Sawyer how she had 
worried lest he should not come, and how 
awfully provoking it would have been ; — 
all of which Sawyer considered personal. 
Then he told her how he had worked all 
day long from five o'clock till the time he 
received her note, a little after four, and 
how he had hurried to get over in time; all 
of which Miss Talmadge said was awfully 
hard luck. Then Sawyer went on to say 
that he was glad it was senior year, as he 
was getting very tired with all the work he 
had on hand, and he was anxious to get 
into business. And Miss Talmadge agreed 
that he looked tired and that doubtless a 
change would do him a great deal of good. 
Blewes and the roommate seemed to be 
very well acquainted, and for the most part 
they confined their conversation to them- 
selves. The time went very swiftly because 
pleasantly, until Sawyer heard the clock 
strike six. Then he made a movement to 
go, saying that he had some work for the 
evening, but the girls would not listen to 
such an excuse. After that Sawyer told 
her that he and some friends were going to 


give a german in a few weeks and he would 
like to have her attend. Of course she 
blushed and thanked him, saying that he 
was very kind, and that if he was sure he 
wanted her she thought perhaps she could 
arrange it. And Sawyer said of course she 
was the one he wanted and that he should 
have absolutely no pleasure if she did not 
go. So she promised and they shook hands 
on it, prolonging the handshake a few 
moments till Blewes turned to ask Sawyer 
about Amherst's football team. 

But at last it was time to go, as Blewes 
had to catch a train. Sawyer told the 
chaperon (who had come in a little while 
before) that they had missed her greatly, 
and that they were sorry she had been 
called away. Then he reminded Miss Tal- 
madge of her promise and they said good- 
night all around. Sawyer and Blewes 
walked down town together and parted by 
the post-office. Sawyer felt too well 
satisfied with the world in general and with 
himself and Miss Talmadge in particular to 
go home and to work again. He reasoned 
that after such a jolly time as he had just 
been having a little celebration was neces- 
sary. So he hunted up some of the boys 


(it was not a difficult task, for he knew 
where to search for them) and the evening 
passed very quickly. It was twelve instead 
of eight o'clock when Sawyer got to his 
room. By that time he had forgotten all 
about the work he had planned, and so he 
went to bed. 

The next day Sawyer asked us if we had 
a good time. We said that of course we 
did. Whereat he replied, "I'm mighty 
sorry I couldn't be with you, boys, but still 
I'm glad I stayed at home, for you see I 
made up practically four conditions, and 
now I'm sure of my diploma." 

And ever since that day Sawyer has borne 
witness to the theory that the only condi- 
tion necessary to the accomplishment of 
hard work is conscientious application. 

Chas. Amos Andrews, '95. 




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