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TRIENNIAL  RECORD 
CLASS  ^NINETY  SEVEN 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2010  with  funding  from 

Princeton  Theological  Seminary  Library 


http://www.archive.org/details/triennialrecordOOprin 


TRIENNIAL  RECORD 


OF  THE 


CLASS  OF  1897 


Princeton  University 


Edited  by  the  Secretary 

JOHN  HENRY  KEENER 


NUMBER  TWO  1 900 


THE  GRAFTON   PRESS 
NEW  YORK 


TO  THE  CLASS. 

The  following  pages  speak  for  themselves  and  need  no  formal  in- 
troduction. Your  contributions  have  been  so  generous,  and  of  such  an 
excellent  quality  that  vi'hatever  deficiencies  are  to  be  found  must  be 
traceable  either  to  the  limitations  of  the  Secretary,  or  to  his  proverbial 
shortcomings.  Notwithstanding  these  apparently  necessary  deficiencies 
the  Secretary  still  cherishes  the  fond  hope  that  this  book  may  serve 
to  keep  bright  the  memory  of  former  scenes  and  actions,  and  cement 
yet  more  strongly  that  bond  of  good  fellowship  which  has  been  such 
a  glorious  heritage  to  us,  and  which  we  have  perpetuated  with  such 
signal  ardor  and  enthusiasm.  Above  all,  may  it  increase  our  loyalty 
and  devotion  to  the  dear  old  place,  quickening  us  to  livelier  interest 
in  her  affairs  and  spurring  us  on  to  heroic  deeds  of  self-sacrifice  for 
her  advancement,  so  that  in  her  coming  greater  glory  you  and  I  may 

J    share,   not  as  admiring   spectators  but  as   those  who  have  borne  the 

'j    heat  and  burden  of  the  day. 

^  The  Secretary  takes  this  method  of  acknowledging  his  great  in- 
debtedness to  Colwell  for  the  valuable  assistance  rendered  in  the 
publication  of  this  book.  Indeed,  without  his  generous  aid  the  book 
could  not  have  become  a  reality.  His  devotion  and  unselfish  and 
painstaking  labors  deserve  the  thanks  of  every  member,  as  they  do 
the   eternal   gratitude   of  the   Secretary. 

But   the    Secretary   also   desires   to   express   his   great   obligation   to 

^  many  others  who  have  so  ably  assisted  him.  Some  of  these  at  great 
personal  sacrifice  aided  the  good  work.  While  the  satisfaction  of 
having  done  a  commendable  thing  is  a  partial  reward  for  their  services 
yet  the  proper  compensation  would  be  the  grateful  appreciation  by 
the  class  as  a  whole.  Of  this,  the  Secretary,  without  mistaking  the 
__  temper  of  the  organization,  can  assure  them.  Nothing  short  of  a 
f^   monument  should  be  their  portion. 

<^  J.  H.  K. 

U       Lawrenceville,  N.  J.,  May  15,  1901. 


•y 


k'^A 


468755 


^  ^ 
^       O 


CLASS  ORGANIZATION. 

PRESIDENT. 

Robert  Garrett ii  South  Street,  Baltimore,  Md. 

VICE-PRESIDENT. 

W.  W.  Wilson 714  Liberty  Street,  Clarion,  Pa. 

SECRETARY. 

J.  H.  Keener 68  N.  13th  Street,  Harrisburg,  Pa. 

EXECUTIVE  COMMITTEE. 

Robert  Garrett W.  W.  Wilson J.  H.  Keener. 

MEMORIAL  COMMITTEE. 

Arthur  M.  Kennedy P.  O.  Box  555,  N.  Y.  C. 

Edward  W.  Axson Mannie,  Wayne  Co.,  Tenn. 

Richard  B.  Kent "The  Garretson,"  Sioux  City,  la. 

Harry  W.  Leigh Suffern,  N.  Y. 

Robert  Moore Edgevv^ood  Park,  Pa. 

B.  R.  Miller 1123  Chestnut  Street,  Philadelphia,  Pa. 


THE  ARDEN  COP. 

"Now,  come,  Old  Johnny  Degnan, 

Oh,  sing  a  song  to  me; 
And  tell  me  what  you're  thinking 
Beneath  that  old  elm  tree." 


"Oh,  I've  a  helmet  an'   I've  a   shield, 
An'  a  cane,  an'  a  white  goatee. 
But  I've  never  a  voice  ter  sing  a  song, 
A  pretty  song,"  quoth  he. 

"Oh,  hang  your  pretty  song,"  said  I, 

"And  hang  your  voice  likewise, 
For  you've  a  heart  there  under  your  coat, 
And  Irish  blue  in  your  eyes." 

"Now,  come,  Old  Johnny  Degnan, 

Oh,  sing  a  song  to  me ; 
And  tell  me  what  you're  thinking, 
Beneath  that  old  elm  tree." 

"Oh,  yes,  I'm  Irish  born  an'  bred, 
I'm  Irish  ter  th'  bone, 
An'  I'll  sing  a  little  song,"  quoth  he, 
"If  ye'll  leave  me  alone. 

"Oh,  there's  byes  and  byes,  an'  byes,  an'  byes. 
There's  byes  that  comes  an'  goes, 
But  I'm  thinkin'  of  a  pretty  lot, 
Th'  lot  I  mean,  ye  knows. 


"Oh,  yes,  of  course,  ye  mind  th'  nine, 

An'  also  th'  eleven, 
Ye  knows  right  well  th'  class  I  mean, 
Fer   sure,   it's   Ninety-seven. 


"They  come  a  rushin'  inter  town 
As  if  they  owned  th'  place, 
An'  ter  be  true  wid  ye,  me  lad, 
'Twas  very  near  th'  case. 


"An'  when  as  Sophomores  they  was  here, 
Oh,  it  was  very  plain, 
I'd  have  a  contract  on  me  hands, 
Fer  they  was  raisin'   Cain. 


"As    upper    classmen    they   returned 

Wid  trunks  full  o'  new  clo'es; 
An'  some  o'  them  was  promised  men. 
An'  some  o'  them  was  beaus. 


"As  Seniors  gowned  they  walked  about 
Wid  heads  held  very  high; 
An'  when  they  left  th'  singin'  steps 
They  fetched  a  mighty  sigh. 


"Oh,  when  I  seen  them  march  away, 

A  likely  line  o'  lads 
A  lump  came  up  widin  me  throat, 

Fer  they  was  now  Old  Grads. 


"An'  every  one  slides  back  agin 
As  often  as  he  can. 
It  does  me  good  to  look  at  them, 
Fer  every  one's  a  man. 


"An'  when  they  all  was  out  three  years 

They  come  a-pilin'  back; 
The  best  reunion  ever  had 

'Neath  orange  and  th'  black. 


"Oh,  some  o'  them  is  business  men, 

A   gettin'   gold   so    fast, 
Th'   Astors  and  th'   Vanderbilts 

They  have  already  passed. 


"An'  some  o'  them  is  lawyer  folks 

A-writin'  out  a  brief, 
A  comfort  ter  an  honest  man, 
A  terror  ter  a  thief. 


"Th'  engineers  they  are  at  work 

In  this  and  other  lands, 
A-thinkin'  schemes  an'  doin'  them 
Wid  other  people's  hands. 


"The   doctors  are   so  very   slick 
Wid  knives  an'   drugs  an'  sich 

That  any  one  wid  half  an  eye 
Could  see  them  gettin'  rich. 


"An'    some   o'   them   is   teachers   too. 

Professors   o'   th'   best, 
A-wishin'  they  was  presidents, 
So  they  could  take  a  rest. 


"The  ministers  they've  gone  abroad 

A-makin'  people  good, 
A-preachin'  till  their  throats  is  sore 
An'   thankful    fer   their   food. 


"No  matter  what  they  try  ter  do, 

I   know   they'll    do   it   fine; 
The  credit'll  be  give  ter  them, 
Th'  honor'll  be  mine. 

"Oh,  sometimes  one  comes  strollin'  by, 
A  neat  girl   at  his  side ; 
A-walkin'  slow,  an'  mighty  close, — 
Ye'd   know    she    was    his   bride. 

"An'  sometimes  one'll  step  along 
A  proud  an'  happy  Pop, 
An'  bring  his  little  child  ter  shake 
Th'  hand  o'  this  old  Cop. 

"An'   most   o'   ye'll   own   a  home. 
An'   some   there'll   be   wid  none; 
But  every  mother's  son  o'  ye 
Is  sure  that  he's  got  one. 

"An'  that's  right  here,  as  ye  know  well. 
Right  here  in  Nassau  Hall ; 
An'  if  ye  want  an  open  door. 
Why  all  ye'll  do  is  call. 

"It's  time  fer  me  ter  ring  th'  bell, 
Me  throat  is  very  dry, 
An'  if  ye  have  th'  price  wid  ye, 
I'll  bid  ye  now  good  bye." 

"Johnn,  Johnny  Degnan, 

Johnny,  Johnny  Degnan, 

Do  you  want  me? 

No-o,  sir-ee, 

Not  this  afternoon-ter-noon-ter-noon-ter-noon." 

R.    O.    KiRKWOOD. 


THOMAS    DUDLEY    RIGGS,  Jr. 
Our  Class   Boy 


LETTERS  FROM  THE  CLASS. 


HENRY  BROWN  ABBOTT. 

Dear  Pop: — Pardon  my  not  answering  your  recent  communication. 
There  was  really  nothing  more  to  say  than  was  contained  in  my 
reply  to  your  first  set  of  questions.  But  since  you  insist  on  my  aping 
our  honored  professor  of  economics  by  repeating  the  plain  facts  many 
times — know  then,  that  I  am  in  the  stove  business  with  my  father, 
which,  fortunately  for  me,  insures  a  steady  job.  It  was  not  ever  thus. 
The  summer  after  graduation  I  began  exploring  the  mysteries  of 
Blackstone.  They  were  too  mysterious.  The  next  venture  was  in  the 
line  of  journalism.  Here,  also,  the  constant  necessity  for  the  investi- 
gation of  the  occult  was  too  wearing  upon  the  sensibilities  of  a  man 
who  was  not  gifted  with  an  abnormal  inquisitiveness  about  the  affairs 
of  his  fellow  citizens.  Three  months  of  the  "New  Journalism"  suf- 
ficed. I  next  sought  for  a  less  active  but  more  lucrative  employment 
and  found  it  in  a  National  Bank.  The  constant  presence  of  so  much 
gold,  with  its  suggestion  of  plutocracy  was  irritating  to  a  person  of 
my  democratic  tendencies.  In  a  year  and  a  half  I  had  learned  to  add 
figures  and  become  "warm"  enough  for  the  stove  business. 

I  am  not  married.  Do  not  intend  to  be.  Have  troubles  .enough  of 
my  own.  For  the  same  reason  I  take  no  part  in  politics.  With  best 
wishes  for  all  of  the  Class,  I  remain, 

Most  sincerely  yours, 

Henry  B.  Abbott. 

Zanesville,  O.,  March  28,  1901. 

ALEXANDER  JOHN  ATCHESON  ALEXANDER. 

Dear  Fellows: — Pop  requested  for  you  an  account  of  my  doings 
since  we  left  Old  Nassau.  This  will  not  take  long,  as  the  life  of  a 
medical  student  is  not  very  exciting  or  interesting  to  others,  and 
sometimes  not  to  himself.  I  have  done  nothing  at  all  to  distinguish 
myself — not  even  got  married  or  engaged,  as  many  of  you  have.  Up 
to  this  year  Charley  Roys  and  I  have  roomed  together  and  pursued 
the  even  tenor  (sometimes  "bass")  of  our  ways,  pursuing  at  the  same 
time  bones,  'itises,  grains  and  so  on.  We  haven't  quite  caught  them 
yet.  But  now  I  am  a  widow  since  Charley  is  acting  as  traveling 
secretary  for  the  Student  Volunteer  Movement.  Of  course  I  have  had 
several  vacations.    My  first  summer  vacation  ('97)  was  spent  at  home. 


having  a  good  time.  In  this  I  was  assisted  by  George  Howe,  Dan. 
Nevin  and  Bob  Kirkwood,  who  paid  me  the  honor  of  visits.  In  '98 
I  went  to  Europe  for  four  months  with  a  party,  one  of  whom  was 
Dan.  We  did  up  Great  Britain,  Norway,  Belgium,  Holland,  Germany, 
Austria,  Switzerland  and  France.     We  didn't  bother  Spain  at  that  time ! 

In  '99  I  also  did  some  traveling,  but  it  was  mainly  confined  to  my 
own  State.  Went  with  the  "Students'  Summer  Campaign  for  Mis- 
sions," visiting  about  fifteen  churches  and  making  about  twenty  odd 
"addresses"  (?).  The  same  summer  I  visited  the  Students'  Summer 
Conference  at  Ashville,  N.  C,  and  later  went  to  Chicago.  Last  spring 
I  took  a  week  off  and  went  to  Bermuda  with  some  of  my  family.  It 
is  useless  to  try  to  describe  the  delights  of  that  trip.  I  studied  for 
some  weeks  after  college  closed  and  then  went  to  Northfield.  After 
spending  six  wxeks  quietly  at  home  and  one  week  in  Chicago  I  came 
on  to  usher  at  "Ma"  Allison's  wedding,  where,  of  course,  I  saw  "Hec" 
Cowan  and  Charley  Dunlap.  After  seeing  "Ma"  successfully  made 
happy  and  enjoying  myself  greatly  in  the  process,  I  "substituted"  at 
Presbyterian  Hospital  for  two  weeks,  and  had  lots  of  profitable  and 
pleasant  experience.  That  brought  me  to  the  opening  of  College.  The 
Fall  term  was  broken  by  a  trip  home  at  election  time  to  "exercise  the 
sacred  right  of  franchise."  Sad  to  say  my  vote  did  little  good,  but  I 
had  a  mighty  good  time  in  initiating  Charley  Roys  (who  dropped  in 
for  a  few  days)  into  the  mysteries  of  "coon-hunting." 

Pop  has  asked  for  the  titles  of  any  articles  published.  If  he  doesn't 
throw  this  out  it  will  be  the  first  word  of  mine  ever  printed.  As  for 
my  permanent  address — the  same  as  of  old — Spring  Station,  Kentucky. 
I  hope  P.  &  S.  won't  be  my  address  after  next  May.  And  so  endeth 
"the  short  and  simple  annals"   of 

Alex.  J.  A.  Alexander. 

135  West  Sixty-Fourth  Street,  N.  Y.  City,  Jan.  26,  1901. 

EDWIN  SHERLOCK  ALEXANDER. 

My  Dear  Pop: — My  greatest  regret  since  leaving  Princeton  is,  that 
I  did  not  stay  to  graduate  with  the  glorious  class  of  '97.  It  is  an 
honor  to  have  been  a  member  of  that  class ;  for,  I  have  noticed  in  my 
brief  experience  with  a  very  kind  world,  that  '97  is  well-known  through 
the  deeds  and  good  fellowship  of  its  members. 

I  am  still  enjoying  single  blessedness,  and  have  taken  no  prominent 
part  in  politics.  I  enjoy  the  privileges  of  a  non-resident  member  of 
the  Princeton  Club  of  New  York.  Was  sorry  to  miss  the  reunion, 
but   was   seriously   ill   at  the   time,   and,   of  course,   could  not  attend. 

My  career  has  been  without  incidents  worthy  of  note ;  so  I  cannot 
add  entertaining  experiences  to  the  volume,  which  I  now  await  with 
much  pleasure. 

With  best  wishes  to  my  friends  of  '97,  believe  me, 

Very  sincerely  yours, 

Edwin  S.  Alexander. 

Newport  News,  Va.,  March  11,  1901. 

12 


CALVIN  TOMKINS  ALLISON. 

My  Dear  Classmates: — Letters  have  been  pouring  in  upon  me  for 
the  past  three  months,  from  our  faithful  secretary,  Pop,  some  re- 
questing, some  begging,  and  some  ordering  me  to  write  my  class 
letter,  under  the  penalty  of  forever  disgracing  the  class,  and  of  losing 
the  respect  of  our  beloved  and  honored  secretary.  To  all  of  these 
appeals  I  have  turned  a  deaf  ear,  partially  from  lack  of  time,  partially 
because  my  life  since  graduating  has  been  an  uneventful  one,  as  is 
the  case  with  most  engineers  during  the  first  few  years  of  their  career 
in  the  wide,  cold  world. 

But  the  last  straw  was  added  last  night,  when  I  received  a  C.  O.  D. 
telegram  from  Pop,  reading  as  follov.^s :  "I  must  have  your  letter ; 
send  promptly,  situation  desperate,  stir  yourself."  And  so  I  am  going 
to  stir  myself  and  place  before  you  the  few  things  that  have  hap- 
pened in  my  uneventful  life. 

After  graduation  I  joined  the  Corps  of  Engineers  on  the  New  York 
Central  and  Hudson  River  Railroad,  and  remained  with  them  three 
years,  during  which  time  I  counted  ties  between  New  York  and  Buf- 
falo a  number  of  times.  I  did  not  go  to  war,  as  some  of  you  have 
done,  adding  glory  to  both  our  class  and  nation,  nor  have  I  discov- 
ered any  buried  cities,  but  I  have  been  plodding  along,  slowly  climb- 
ing the  lower  steps  of  the  great  ladder. 

I  was  married  to  Miss  Snedeker,  of  Haverstrav/,  N.  Y.,  on  the  12th 
of  September,  1900,  and  have  since  settled  in  Stony  Point,  N.  Y., 
where  we  shall  be  glad  to  entertain  any  of  the  class  who  happen  in 
this  section  of  the  country.  After  my  marriage  I  entered  the  firm  of 
Rodermond  &  Allison,  general  contractors,  and  have  since  been  build- 
ing bridges  for  the  New  York  Central  Railroad. 

I  have  seen  very  few  of  the  fellows  since  graduation,  having  been 
tied  down  to  business  a  great  deal,  and  my  work  carrying  me  into  the 
country  away  from  the  larger  cities  and  towns. 

But  I  enjoyed  the  very  pleasant  days  at  our  Triennial  Reunion, 
and  am  looking  forward  with  a  great  deal  of  pleasure  to  our  next  re- 
union beneath  the  sounding  rafters  and  the  shady  elms  of  Old  Prince- 
ton. Ever  your  friend, 

Calvin  T.  Allison. 

Stony  Point,  N.  Y.,  May  15,  1901. 

OWEN  RANDOLPH  ALTMAN. 

My  Dear  Pop: — I  beg  your  pardon  a  thousand  times  for  being  so 
negligent.  I  can  simply  say  this  is  the  busiest  world  I  have  ever  seen, 
and  I  shall  only  receive  my  just  punishment  if  you  send  me  a  bill  to 
cover  expenses  for  the  many  pounds  of  paper,  the  dozens  of  postals 
and  the  hundreds  of  stamps,  not  including  the  trouble  to  the  secre- 
tary. I  trust  my  silence  has  not  caused  any  words  for  which  you  will 
be  sorry.  Almost  every  day  I  have  met  some  old  college  chum,  and 
the  first  greeting  was,  "Have  you  written  Pop?  No?  Well,  for  heaven's 
sake,  write  him  at  once," — and  straight  to  my  room  I  would  go;  yet  the 

13 


letter  was  never  written.  I  met  Long  John  Reilly  yesterday.  His 
words  were:  "This  is  the  last  chance.  Next  will  come  telegrams  and 
C.  O.  D.  letters."  So  I  attempt  to  tell  the  reasons  why  I  fear  I  have 
caused  our  most  worthy  secretary  many  days  of  worry.  Pop,  I  hope 
your  brain  has  not  atrophied  from  the  silence  of  a  few  lazy  mortals 
like  myself.  My  intentions  have  been  good,  but,  like  all  easy-going 
ducks,  I  have  neglected  duty,  and  now  I  am  sorry.  Can  you  forgive 
and  forget?  I  shall  promise  to  do  my  duty  in  the  future,  and  if  you 
can  stand  it  I  am  willing  to  relate  some  of  my  past  four  years.  But 
heaven  forbid  that  I  should  tell  all,  because  I  occasionally  meet  Lady 
Jayne  and  Baldy  Wilson  traveling  in  automobiles,  and  the  story  I 
would  not  dare  tell. 

If  you  ask  the  story  of  my  life,  it  is  a  brief  one — years  spent  in  the 
dusty  lecture  rooms  of  dear  old  Jefferson  Medical  College.  Of  course 
I  have  been  studious,  as  that  is  my  reputation,  and  if  good  fortune 
still  smiles  upon  me,  I  shall  in  three  days  have  an  M.  D.  attached  to 
my  name.  Say,  Pop,  how  Vv'ill  this  sound?  Owen  Randolph  Kenley 
Justine  Jacobus  Fat  Altman,  B.  S.,  M.  D?  Fat — you  should  see  me 
now.  New  weights  are  necessary  when  I  get  on  the  scales,  and  if  you 
were  to  see  me  from  the  side  you  would  think  I  was  Rev.  Crowdis. 

I  am  all  ready  for  business.  My  future  address  will  be  Masontown, 
Pa.  OfHce  opposite  the  square.  I  want  all  to  know  it  is  on  the  map, 
and  the  most  delightful  country  in  the  world — pure  country  air  and 
right  among  the  tall  timber.  Once  a  farmer,  always  a  farmer,  so  that 
explains  why  I  am  going  back  to  the  woods.  This  will  be  my  tempo- 
rary home,  but  some  day  I  shall  join  the  boys  again  and  return  to 
dear  old  Princeton,  where  I  spent  the  happiest  days  of  my  life. 

It  is  needless  for  me  to  try  to  answer  the  questions  I  find  in  front 
of  me.  I  am  able  to  write  my  name  in  full,  but  when  you  ask  such 
questions  as  "Are  you  married?"  God  forbid.  I  am  already  con- 
sidered an  old  bachelor,  and  my  prospects  for  a  future  partner  are  in- 
deed discouraging.  Name  of  business?  I  never  have  had  any,  haven't 
done  anything  for  ten  years  but  read  books,  and  yet  all  I  have  to  show 
for  it  is  two  sheepskins. 

Now,  I  go  out  into  the  wide,  wide  world  to  get  some  experience. 
I  am  looking  forward  to  the  number  of  months  I  shall  wait  for 
patients  to  call.  I  have  prepared  myself  with  an  extra  lot  of  pants, 
and  as  they  wear  through,  I  shall  be  in  position  to  change.  Now, 
Pop,  I  have  told  it  all.  I  have  done  nothing  to  be  ashamed  of,  and 
I  can  boast  of  nothing  for  which  I  am  proud.  I  exist  and  you  can 
always  find  me  the  good-natured,  fat  Dutchman  I  am  known  to  be. 

After  this  acknowledgment  and  senseless  missive  I  beg  to  wish  you 
a  most  happy  future.  I  hope  that  our  next  meeting  will  not  be  one 
of  hatred,  for  I  realize  your  anger  must  have  been  aroused  when  I  did 
not  respond  to  the  call,  but  I  have  made  promises  and  soon  I  will  be 
in  the  land  of  birds,  and  I  can  write  you  often. 

Ever  your  friend, 

O.  R.  Altman. 
Philadelphia,  Pa.,  May  lo,  1901. 

14 


ALFRED  OSCAR  ANDERSSON. 

Dear  Po/';— Unfortunately,  I  have  not  been  closely  enough  in  touch 
with  college  men  in  the  past  few  years  to  know  exactly  what  sort  of 
a  letter  you  want.  Presumably,  however,  you  desire  that  each  man 
should  tell  about  himself,  and  that's  what  I'll  do  with  due  apologies 
and  feeling  of  my  own  unimportance.  I  have  been  doing  newspaper 
work  steadily  since  I  left  Princeton,  and  at  present  am  in  Kansas  City, 
in  the  employ  of  the  Scripps-McRae  Press  Association  Company,  as 
manager  or  agent,  for  the  territory  which  appertains  by  geographical 
conditions  to  this  bureau. 

The  association  is  in  the  business  of  gathering  and  disseminating 
news   by   telegraph.     About   eighteen   months   ago   I   left  the   Kansas 
City   World,  a  paper  then  owned  by  the   Scripps-McRae  league,   on 
which  I  had  served  in  various  capacities,  to  go  to  the  Chicago  office 
of  the  Press  Association.     For  about  a  year,  or  until  last  August,   I 
was  in  and  around  Chicago,  taking  in  three  of  the  national  political 
conventions  and  being  sent  about  the  middle  west  as  news  events  justi- 
fied.    Incidentally  I  brought  a  courtship  in  Chicago  to  a  very  success- 
ful  and  very  happy  conclusion,   and   took  my  wedding  trip   with  an 
order  in  my  pocket  appointing  me  manager  of  the  bureau  at  St.  Louis. 
Until  February  i,  I  lived  in  that  city,  which  is  favored  by  nature,  and 
apparently    struggling    unsuccessfully    with    civic    problems    of    street 
cleaning  and  paving  and  general  problems  of  municipal  administration. 
A  little  over  a  month  ago  I  was  sent  here  on  short  notice.     Kansas 
City  is  my  parental  home,  and  the  change  was  very  welcome.     The 
work  here  is  unremitting  and  important.     I  enjoy  it.     News  from  the 
adjacent  territory  is  collected  here,  edited,  and  sent  east,  and  news  from 
the  rest  of  the  world  comes,  in  a  ceaseless  stream,  and  is  distributed 
to  clients  of  the  association  who  are  not  on  a  leased  wire. 

I  have  met  college  men,  in  numbers,  but  twice  in  the  past  year. 
Last  Washington's  birthday  I  was  at  the  dinner  of  the  Princeton 
Club  of  the  southwest,  and  about  a  year  ago  was  at  the  dinner  of  the 
Chicago  Princeton  Club.  Both  occasions  will  linger  long  in  my  memory 
as  affairs  of  the  pleasantest  kind. 

Townley,  '97,  is  expected  to  become  the  sheet-iron  magnate  of  this 
section  of  the  country,  and  Allen,  '98,  is  hustling  in  the  halls  of  the 
Live  Stock  Exchange.  Ned  Wetzel,  '98,  by  the  way,  gathered  about 
him,  in  and  around  Chicago,  several  times  during  my  stay  there,  ?. 
group  of  Princeton  men,  and  we  had  several  informal  reunions.  Wetz. 
is  as  much  a  college  boy  as  ever,  so  you  can  easily  judge  how  well  we 
enjoyed  his  society. 

In  conclusion,  dear  Pop,  allow  me  to  compliment  you  by  saying  that 
while  I  have  run  across  a  good  many  noticeable  things  in  the  past 
few  years,  none  impressed  me  quite  as  much  as  did  your  pleasant 
persistency  in  getting  me  to  write  this.  It  was  a  pleasure  to  me  to  do 
so,  but  I  feel  with  regret  that  you  will  have  to  admit  now  that  it  was 
hardly  worth  your  while.     With  kindest  regards. 

Your  friend, 
Kansas  City,  Mo.,  March  11,  1901.  Alfred  O.  Andersson. 


WALTER  HASKELL  ANDRUS. 

IVell,  Boys,  My  history  written  in  its  most  attractive  form,  even 
allowing  illustrations  by  Sam  Palmer,  would  yet  cause  no  such  excite- 
ment as  Fred  Jessup's  "Annual  Football  Regatta"  announcement,  or 
Bob  Wilkins'  attempt  thro'  "The  Daily"  to  rush  "a  physioc  of  the  Gar- 
rick  Theatre"  upon  us.  Deserted,  too,  in  a  time  of  dire  need  by  one 
always  willing  to  lend  me  his  counsel,  sad  must  be  the  result. 

But,  speaking  of  "Pop,"  you  will  all  agree,  I  think,  that  his  letters 
to  us  are  a  most  fitting  memorial  to  his  years  of  effort  in  literary  lines. 
To  point  the  moral  I  must  add  that  our  secretary  once  told  me  his 
practice  for  some  years  had  been  to  correspond  with  a  girl  or  two — 
a  very  non-committal  statement — in  order  to  cultivate  an  easy  style — 
and  behold  the  result. 

As  I  appreciated  letter  writing  was  one  of  my  weak  points,  and  im- 
agined sex  in  no  wise  altered  the  educational  benefits,  upon  the  receipt 
of  our  secretary's  last  effort,  the  single  line  P.  D.  Q.  (Plane,  Dulce, 
Quiesce),  I  said  to  myself,  if  such  restful,  sweet,  and  exalted  thoughts 
be  the  fruits  of  literary  correspondence,  go  thou,  young  man,  and  do 
likewise !     So  here  goes  : 

My  position  as  Athletic  Treasurer  in  Princeton  for  the  period  of  two 
and  a  half  years  after  the  never-to-be-forgotten  spring  of  '97,  brought 
me  into  such  close  touch,  by  letter  at  any  event,  with  many  of  you 
that  upon  that  part  of  my  life  you  need  little  information.  That, 
however,  was  a  time  of  much  revelation  to  me,  regarding  the  family 
and  friends  of  many  of  the  boys.  It  was  then  for  the  first  time  that  I 
learned  of  the  many  "best  girls  who  would  be  present  at  the  game," 
of  others  of  our  number,  unfortunate  indeed,  whose  lives  were  sad- 
dened by  invalid  mothers,  for  whose  especial  benefit  the  "front  row, 
middle  section  of  the  Princeton  Stand"  had  been  especially  erected. 
However  much  my  store  of  sympathy  may  have  been  drawn  upon  in 
the  fall  of  '97  for  the  above  unlucky  members  of  our  loyal  band,  I 
found  when  the  baseball  season  came  on,  but  half  the  tale  had  been 
told.  I  verily  believe  "Jerry"  would  have  lost  count,  for  an  instant, 
of  the  number  of  fouls  made  during  the  season,  had  he  realized  how 
many  of  our  number  had  families  whose  nearsightedness  prevented 
them  from  witnessing  any  of  the  game  unless  "first  row,  outside  the 
net"   fell  to  their  lot. 

Thus  passed  the  first  year,  with  often  a  feeling  of  sadness  by  reason 
of  the  association  with  scenes  and  places  ever  reminding  me  of  those 
who  had  made  them  dear,  and  who  now  were  scattered  o'er  the  wide, 
wide  world.  Then,  too,  depressing  events,  not  recorded  on  any 
trophies  in  the  Princeton  Club  House,  made  me  often  wish  that  year 
for  a  stirring  revival,  with  a  few  omnipresent  "churches"  thrown  in. 

But  to  rush  along  over  the  next  year  and  a  half,  filled  with  frequent 
'97  reunions,  made  possible  by  our  increasing  faculty  representation — 
well,  all  I  can  say,  is  you  ought  to  have  been  in  Princeton.  "Palms  of 
Victory"  grew  on  every  corner.  Yet,  with  Gus  Hopper,  I  found  it 
too  large  a  task  to  satisfactorily  run  the  college  longer.     But  "what 

16 


next?"  That  was  the  question.  The  "invalid  families"  of  the  class 
acted  as  my  guiding  star  since  Father  Spencer,  I  felt  sure,  would  not 
last  long  were  he  alone  to  stem  the  tide  of  these  increasing  epidemics, 
which  took  place  each  November  and  June.  I  resolved  to  do  my 
worst  and  landed  in  "Penn." 

Since  January  ist,  1900,  mine  has  been — prepare  to  faint — the  "poler 
life."  Perhaps,  stranger  still,  may  be  the  added  statement  that  I  both 
enjoy  and  thrive  under  this,  I  am  forced  to  grant,  most  remarkable 
change.  To  my  knowledge,  I  alone  represent  '97  here,  a  large  re- 
sponsibility, but  hope  to  do  her  justice  by  finishing  within  the  time  limit, 
beyond  which  I  make  no  statements. 

I  was  going  to  tell  how  much  I  enjoyed  the  meeting  with  you  all 
again  at  that  "bang-up"  time  "Pop"  gave  us  last  June,  but  I  believe 
the  secretary  announced  The  Record  was  to  be  complete  in  one  volume, 
so  shall  stop  before  I  get  started,  and  close  with  the  heartfelt  wish  that 
you  may  all  be  blessed  and  prospered,  "an  honor  to  your  country  and 
to  all  your  native  land." 

Yours,  till  we  meet  next  year  at  "The  Laager  Fontein," 

Andy. 

Germantown,  Pa.,  6339  Greene  Street. 

CHARLES  HORTON  ANGLEMAN. 

Dear  Keener: — After  leaving  Princeton  I  entered  a  law  office  and 
attended  lectures  at  the  University  Law  School,  New  York  City. 
From  this  institution  I  was  graduated  with  the  class  of  '95.  I  was  ad- 
mitted to  the  New  Jersey  Bar  in  June,  '96,  and  have  since  been  prac- 
ticing law  in  Newark,  N.  J.,  I  was  married  June  11,  1899,  and  am  the 
proud  father  of  a  son,  whose  Princeton  experience  I  hope  M'ill  be 
longer  than  mine. 

With  best  wishes  for  all  members  of  the  class,  I  am. 

Yours  very  truly, 

Chas.  H.  Angleman. 

Newark,  N.  J.,  May  13,  1901. 

PERCY  HAGUE  ARMITAGE. 

For  some  time  the  secretary  had  lost  all  track  of  Armitage,  but 
in  the  general  canvas  he  was  located.  The  only  information  elicited, 
however,  was  to  the  effect  that  he  is  engaged  in  the  manufacturing 
business  with  J.  H.  Armitage's  Sons,  Newark,  N.  J. 

EDWARD  WILLIAM  AXSON. 

My  Dear  Pop: — You  can't  expect  anything  very  highly  edifying  or 
exciting  from  a  fellow  situated  as  I  am,  beyond  the  farthest  outpost 
of  civilization.  But  it  is  beyond  my  power  to  resist  the  touching  appeal 
which  I  received  day  before  yesterday  from  our  long-suffering  secre- 
tary, so  I  gladly  contribute  my  mite  to  the  good  cause;  and  may  the 
Triennial  Record  be  as  great  a  success  as  its  predecessor. 

17 


My  life  story,  on  the  whole,  is  an  uneventful  one,  and  is  soon  tolci 
A  few  days  after  that  final  breaking  up  of  '97 — the  one  on  Manhattan 
Field  when  "Jerry"  caught  that  last  fly  that  did  the  business  for  Yale, 
and  we  all  formed  in  line  and  marched  round  the  field,  singing  paeans 
of  victory,  and  touching  with  reverent  toe  the  hole  which  Lady  Jayne's 
foot  had  made  in  the  pitcher's  box — a  few  days  after  that  I  was  lucky 
enough  to  strike  one  of  those  private  tutoring  bonanzas,  and  spent 
the  summer  at  Lake  George,  instilling  what  little  Latin  and  Greek  1 
hadn't  already  forgotten  into  the  head  of  a  youth  whose  face  was 
turned  towards  Princeton,  and  after  the  daily  tasks  were  over  having 
a  good  time  generally.  It  was  then  that  my  latent  baseball  ability  at 
last  found  recognition — it  had  been  somewhat  frowned  upon  (to 
put  it  mildly)  when  I  tried  for  our  class  team  in  Freshman  year.  Any- 
way, we  had  the  champion  hotel  team  of  the  lakp  that  year.  My  as- 
pirations for  aquatic  glory  were  not  quite  so  successful.  Dr.  Bradley, 
a  '93  man,  and  I  entered  in  the  doubles  in  the  Lake  Regatta,  and  as 
luck  would  have  it,  we  each  broke  an  oar  before  we  had  covered  a 
third  of  the  course,  and  came  in  as  tail-enders,  among  the  "also 
rans."  However  we  weren't  really  as  heartbroken  as  some  thought, 
for  rowing  was  not  the  strong  point  of  either  of  us,  and  we  got  all 
the  credit  among  our  fellow  boarders  for  what  might  have  been. 

The  next  fall  I  returned  to  Princeton  and  spent  the  year  taking  a 
P.  G.  course  in  Chemistry,  and  wandering  about  with  the  few  other 
'97  waifs,  like  disembodied  ghosts.  We  felt  very  keenly  that  in  truth 
we  were  "has  beens,"  men  without  a  country,  and  our  only  consolation 
was  criticising  things  in  general,  and  contrasting  them  with  the  way 
they  had  been  "when  we  were  in  college."  Nevertheless  it  was  good 
to  be  back,  for  just  to  be  around  the  old  place  is  a  pleasure,  and  then 
very  often  some  '97  pilgrim  would  return  for  a  few  days,  because  h 
couldn't  help  it,  and  it  was  good  to  see  him.  The  year  finally  came  to 
a  close,  and  most  of  us  received  our  A.  M.'s  and  left — except  the  Scm- 
inoles  and  Henry  Norris  Russell,  who  had  his  eye  on  higher  things 
and  stayed  on  to  become  the  Doctor  Russell  we  now  point  to  with 
pride. 

The  following  summer  ('98)  I  secured  a  position  in  the  Chemical  Lab- 
oratory of  the  Baldwin  Locomotive  Works  in  Philadelphia,  and  spent  my 
vacation  testing  steel  and  iron  and  various  other  things  from  ten  to 
twelve  hours  a  day.  Arthur  Kennedy  was  the  good  Samaritan  who  made 
that  summer  tolerable  for  me  by  his  kindness — our  evening  trolley  rides 
were  our  form  of  dissipation,  and  right  pleasant  they  were  too  after 
a  long,  hot  day's  work. 

The  next  fall  I  went  to  Boston  and  became  a  "Tech"  student.  I 
knew  we  had  never  seriously  injured  ourselves  by  over-work  in  col- 
lege, but  just  how  far  we  had  kept  on  the  safe  side  I  never  realized  until 
I  got  up  against  some  of  those  M.  L  T.  exams.  I  missed  the  old 
college  life  at  Princeton,  but  the  year  in  Boston  was  a  great  thing  for 
me,  and  taught  me  a  good  deal  I  had  never  known  before.  I  was  the 
only  '97  man  at  the  Institute  of  Technology,  but  there  were  four  or  five 

18 


from  lower  classes  there,  and  over  in  Cambridge  there  was  quite  a 
colony  of  Princetonians.  The  Princeton  Club  held  several  meetings 
that  year,  and  we  whooped  things  up  for  Old  Nassau  in  Johnny  Har- 
vard's stronghold.  Speaking  of  stiff  exams.,  Jack  Frame  used  to  tell 
weird  tales  of  the  way  they  did  things  at  the  Law  School— men 
carried  out  on  stretchers,  etc.— but  I  will  refer  you  to  Jack  for  details 
and  proofs. 

The  next  fall  found  me  back  at  Princeton,  vainly  endeavoring  to 
fill  Doc  Jamison's  shoes  as  Assistant  in  Mineralogy— a  position  which 
'97  seems  to  have  appropriated  for  all  time,  by  the  way,  for  Scobe  Van 
Nest  now  occupies  it  with  credit  to  himself  and  '97.  However,  my 
ambition  was  not  for  a  professorial  career,  so  when  an  offer  came  of 
a  position  as  Chemist  to  the  Buffalo  Iron  Company,  a  Tennessee  con- 
cern, with  two  blast  furnaces  at  this  place,  I  decided  to  forego  the  joy 
of  being  styled  "professor"  by  the  Sophomores,  and  accept.  I  have  been 
here  for  a  year  now,  and  although  we  are  situated  a  hundred  miles  from 
anywhere  in  particular,  and  it  is  a  rare  thing  to  see  any  but  "Hill  Bill- 
ies" and  "niggers,"  nevertheless  my  work  is  interesting,  and  as  there 
is  no  dearth  of  it,  I  manage  to  get  along  fairly  well. 

There  is  good  trout  fishing  and  excellent  hunting  in  season,  and  the 
"season"  in  this  part  of  the  state  is  not  very  clearly  defined,  so  that  my 
dog  "Princeton"  and  I  have  some  good  times  when  we  can  lock  up  the 
Lab.  and  get  away. 

Well,  "Pop,"  I  believe  that  is  about  all— except  to  say  that  if  you  or 
any  other  of  the  old  '97  crowd  should  get  lost  and  find  yourself  in  this 
part  of  the  world,  don't  forget  that  I  am  here,  and  it  will  be 
something  more  than  a  pleasure  to  me  to  take  you  in  and  extend  to 
you  the  privileges  of  "The  Club"  for  as  long  a  time  as  I  can  prevail 
on  you  to  accept  them. 

I  might  add  that  I  have  foresworn  the  razor,  and  now  the  breezes 
of  Tennessee,  moving  gently  through  my  whiskers,  make  a  sound  like 
that  of  many  waters— or,  perhaps,  still  more  resembling  the  dulcet  tones 
of  Burt  Miller's  cat-call,  as  oft  upon  the  stilly  night  it  floated  across 
the  campus  and  woke  us  from  deep  dreams  of  peace  and  morning 
chapel.  With  best  wishes  for  yourself  and  any  others  of  the  faithful 
who  may  be  basking  in  the  light  of  your  countenance,  I  remain,  as  ever, 

Yours, 

Edward  W.  Axson. 
Mannie,  Tenn.,  Nov.  26.  1901. 


HARRY  VANDERBURGH  BABCOCK. 

My  Dear  Secretary:— In  response  to  your  letter,  asking  for  an  account 
of  what  has  been  happening  during  the  three  years  since  graduation, 
I  would  say  that  in  my  case  the  routine  of  daily  life  has  been  so  un- 
varied that  it  is  pretty  hard  to  pick  out  anything  which  would  prove 
interesting  for  a  letter,  so  I  can  just  state  a  few  facts. 

After  spending  the  summer  succeeding  graduation  at  Martha's  Vine- 

19 


yard,  I  entered  a  bank  in  New  York,  in  the  fall  of  '97,  where  the 
Fates  still  keep  me.  As  to  what  I  have  learned  since  then,  I  would 
say,  first  and  foremost,  that  banking  hours  (supposed  by  some  to  be 
from  nine  to  three)  are  not  what  they  are  cracked  up  to  be,  and  if  any- 
one enters  a  bank  with  the  idea  of  having  a  cinch,  he  will  be  sadly 
disappointed,  and  it  does  not  take  three  years  to  find  this  out  by  any 
means. 

It  has  been  my  good  fortune  to  be  able  to  be  at  all  of  our  three  re 
unions,  and  to  stay  through  Commencement  Week  at  the  great  time 
we  had  last  June.  These  three  trips  to  Princeton,  with  the  addition 
of  a  short  one  to  Old  Point  Comfort  and  Washington,  include  all 
the  traveling  I  have  done,  so  you  can  easily  see  that  I  have  little  or  no 
material  with  which  to  prolong  this  dull  statement  of  facts.  I  will 
close,  therefore,  before  your  patience  gives  out  entirely.  With  best 
wishes, 

Harry  V.  Babcock. 

2083  Fifth  Avenue,  N.  Y.,  March  2,  1901. 

CHARLES  MERCER  BAILEY. 

My  Dear  Secretary: — Your  numerous  notices,  postals,  letters,  etc., 
ending  up  with  your  telegram  of  the  nth  inst.,  duly  received.  Owing 
to  the  fact  that  I  have  changed  my  address  some  five  or  six  times 
your  messages  were  often  considerably  delayed.  My  seeming  in- 
difference is  not  without  explanation.  Primarily,  I  am  a  poor  hand 
to  write  a  letter,  and  it  is,  consequently,  quite  an  effort  for  me  to 
write.  So,  my  dear  "Pop,"  I  know  you'll  appreciate  this  effort  to 
respond  to  your  much-respected  requests.  Secondly,  I  was  a  Prince- 
ton man  for  the  first  term,  freshman  year — September,  '93,  to  Feb- 
ruary, '94 — and  I  fear  I  was  not  thoroughly  "filled  with  the  spirit" 
I  have  since  learned  to  respect.  My  recollections  of  Princeton  are 
of  the  pleasantest,  and  the  fine  men  I  met  there  I  shall  always  recall 
with  much  pleasure.  Yours   truly, 

C.  Mercer  Bailey. 

823  North  24TH  St.^  Philadelphia,  Pa.,  May  13,  1901. 

THOMAS  EVANS  BAIRD,  JR. 

My  Dear  Keener: — On  December  i8th,  you  were  good  enough  to 
write  me,  requesting  a  letter  from  me  for  the  Class  Record.  Christmas 
came  on  shortly  after,  and  then,  in  a  business  way,  the  first  of  the  year, 
and  I  was  kept  very  busy.  Shortly  after  that  I  had  a  serious  attack  of 
the  grip,  and  since  then  have  been  kept  busy  preparing  to  close  out 
our  business  at  my  city  address.  That  has  entailed  some  worry,  and  a 
bit  of  work.  So  I've  put  off  writing  you.  I  quite  believe  in  my  own 
ability  in  most  things,  but  not  in  writing,  as  you  so  kindly  request. 

If  my  talents  ran  in  that  direction,  I  could  write  you  an  interesting 
letter,  as  I  have  had  two  months  of  Europe  and  the  Paris  Exposition 
this  summer.     Speaking  of  that,  it  was  very  hot,  "not  warm,"  when 


I  was  there,  and,  as  they  charged  over  $io  per  at  the  hotel,  and  6  cents 
for  the  show,  I  did  not  stay  long.     I'm  not  fond  enough  of  hotels. 

Later  I  had  a  very  delightful  trip  through  England  and  Scotland, 
parts  of  both,  and  wish  I  might  put  my  experience  in  writing  for  the 
benefit  of  my  classmates,  though  Paris  would,  perhaps,  be  more  in  line. 

As  I've  never  appeared  in  print,  you  may  be  sure  that  I  regret  this 
lost  opportunity.     But  for  the  honor  of  the  Record,  I  forbear. 

I  trust  you  will  keep  me  informed  of  the  movements  of  the  class, 
as  a  whole,  and  believe  in  my  very  lively  interest  in  all  things  pertaining 
to  its  welfare.    Believe  me, 

Very  sincerely, 

Thos.  E.  Baird,  Jr. 

Haverford,  Pa.,  Feb.  4,  1901. 

FRANK  LOVE  BALDWIN. 

My  Dear  "Pop": — A  well-merited  rebuke  is  that  which  you  admin- 
ister to  all  delinquents  in  this  matter  of  letter  writing,  even  though  it 
is  a  set  form,  which  addresses  itself  in  identical  terms  to  every  one 
of  us.  As  for  me,  I  cannot  explain  how  or  why,  but  the  fact  of  the 
matter  is,  I  never,  until  the  receipt  of  your  latest  prod,  had  the  faint- 
est idea  that  you  wanted  a  letter  from  me  for  the  Class  Record.  Some- 
how I  must  have  overlooked  that  interesting  circular  of  yours  in  the 
great  volume  of  correspondence  which  you  have  hurled  at  me  from 
time  to  time — to  my  great  delight,  I  assure  you. 

I  do  humbly  beg  pardon  for  remissness,  and  shall  try  to  do  my  duty 
now,  though  at  the  eleventh  hour.  It  will  be  of  scant  interest,  for 
my  life  since  leaving  the  classic  shades,  and  all  that,  has  been  crowded 
full  of  uneventfulness.  I  might  leave  this  page  entirely  blank  and  tell 
them  full  as  much  as  I  am  about  to  confide  to  it.  Let  me  say  here 
though,  before  I  embark  upon  my  tale,  that  I  feel  deeply  honored,  as 
being  an  "X,"  to  be  permitted  to  contribute  to  this  triennial  record, 
which,  I  have  no  doubt  will  fully  prove  your  rosy  predictions,  even 
were  this  "gem  of  purest  ray  serene"  omitted. 

In  the  year  '95  then,  I  left  Princeton,  being  at  that  time  just  entered 
upon  my  Junior  year,  and  set  forth  into  the  world  to  seek  my  for- 
tune. During  the  summer  I  confined  my  search  within  the  geographical 
limits  of  Orange,  N.  J.,  playing  baseball,  dawdling  about,  and  reading 
novels,  perhaps.  In  October  it  was  my  good  luck  to  hear  of  a  vacancy 
in  a  New  York  commercial  house,  where  an  earnest  and  industrious 
youth  of  my  temperament  would  find  a  royal  road  to  wealth  and 
power,  albeit  the  length  of  that  road  was  not  mentioned,  to  the  great 
enhancement  of  my  peace  of  mind  and  comfort.  For  a  year  and  a 
half  I  was  employed  as  office  boy  and  general  factotum  in  this  situa- 
tion, at  the  end  of  which  time  I  was  filled  with  a  degree  of  disgust  for 
the  whole  thing,  equalled  only  by  that  of  my  employer  for  me,  which 
ended  with  my  taking  a  graceful  departure  therefrom.  I  blush  to  think 
of  the  salary  I  received  there,  and,  therefore,  will  not  speak  of  it  here. 

I  then  attached  myself  to  the  staff  of  the  Orange  Chronicle,  which 


staff  indeed  probably  looked  upon  me  as  some  rude  parasite,  without 
due  claim  to  existence.  But  I  flatter  myself  that  I  soon  proved  my 
right  to  live  and  my  right  to  a  place  within  the  charmed  circle  of  the 
"Fourth  Estate,"  for  from  being  a  cub  reporter  I  have  since  risen  to  that 
station  where  they  speak  of  me  as  the  "city  editor,"  though  why,  and 
with  what  justification  in  fact,  is  beyond  me.  I  handle,  it  is  true, 
the  matter  which  once  a  week  is  foisted  on  the  long-suffering  public 
of  my  native  hamlet  as  news,  and  perhaps  the  keen  and  analytical  mind 
can  therein  find  the  wherefore.  I  leave  the  task  to  him.  Since  June  a 
year  ago  I  have  been  doing  this,  and  nothing  more,  except  occasionally 
writing  fiction  for  magazines  to  reject.  Nothing  I  have  ever  written 
has  yet  been  published  except  in  the  columns  of  this  Chronicle,  or  a 
supplement  to  it.     So  much  for  my  literary  attainments. 

I  have  traveled  little.  Once,  nearly  two  years  ago,  I  took  a  flying 
trip  to  the  South — not  through  it,  but  to  it.  That  is,  I  went  to  Nor- 
fold,  thence  penetrated  clear  to  Atlanta,  then  withdrew,  just  as  you 
would  drive  a  broom  wisp  into  a  half  baked  cake  to  test  its  cooking, 
then  remove  it  whilst  guarding  carefully,  lest  it  make  too  large  a 
wound  or  explore  too  fully  into  dough  that  does  not  concern  it.  So 
did  I  explore  the  South.  The  Adirondacks  have  rung  with  my  ex- 
plorer's ax  (the  one  we  used  to  chop  the  wood  with  in  camp),  and  I 
have  even  visited  Niagara  Falls;  in  which  few  sentences  you  have  the 
substance  of  my  travels. 

I  have  set  no  river  on  fire.  I  have  eschewed  politics — not  on  prin- 
ciple— for  I  have  none — but  because  I  have  found  politics  a  fearful  and 
wonderful  thing  which  is  not  to  be  comprehended  by  the  first  gay  fool 
that  essays  it.  The  one  classmate  whom  I  see  nowadays  is  Edward  G. 
Kent,  who  dwells  in  our  sister  city,  and  who  has  bartered  his  soul  for 
a  position  with  an  electric  lighting  and  power  furnishing  corporation. 
We  get  along  very  well,  however,  for  I  never  allude  to  his  terrible 
position,  and  besides  I  tickle  his  vanity  once  in  a  while  by  publishing 
his  name  in  the  paper,  which  is  here  the  very  blue  book  weekly  of 
Orange  society,  and  therefore  makes  something  of  the  lad  in  mention- 
ing him. 

Sad  to  relate,  I  have  not  yet  marched  or  been  m.arched  to  the  altar. 
Or  is  it,  tell  me,  a  cause  for  gratulation?  Some  say  it  is,  though  they 
deal  in  generalities,  and  give  no  clue  to  the  real  truth  of  the  thing. 
But  I  fear  I  have  talked  much  too  long  already.  My  space  limit  must  be 
far  over-run.  Yet  I  call  you  to  witness  the  truth  of  what  I  said  at 
first — that  I  might  as  well  have  not  written  this  letter  for  all  the  good 
it  has  done.  However,  if  as  you  say,  '97  is  still  interested  in  me,  I  say 
in  return  that  I  am  still  more  interested  in  '97. 

"Here's  to  '97,  drink  her  down,  down,  down,  etc., 

Yours  fraternally  forever, 

Frank  L.  Baldwin. 
West  Orange,  N.  J.,  Jan.  4,  '01. 


EDWARD  DUFF  BALKEN. 

My  Dear  "Pop" : — Bill  Trainer  and  I  took  dinner  together  the  other 
evening,  and  during  the  course  of  conversation  it  came  out  that 
neither  one  had  written  you.  Bill  had  a  good  excuse,  I  had  a  better 
one.  If  Bill  doesn't  write  you  soon  let  me  know,  and  I'll  send  him  a 
Class  Secretary  Letter — I  have  three  or  four  I  really  don't  need.  Con- 
fidentially, "Pop,"  this  is  the  first  thing  I  have  ever  written  which  is 
guaranteed  to  appear  in  print,  and  even  the  advice  given  me  by  "Sleepy" 
Graver,  "don't  try  to  be  funny,  just  talk  natural,"  scarcely  serves  to  take 
away  that  self-conscious  feeling.     Now  for  it ! 

In  the  autumn  of  '97  I  was  fortunate  to  have  a  position  waiting  for 
me  with  Messrs.  Weyman  &  Brother,  of  Pittsburg,  manufacturers  of 
smoking  tobacco,  and  my  affairs  went  along  undisturbed  until  the  sum- 
mer of  1899,  when  Luke  Miller  came  out  to  see  me  prior  to  his  de- 
parture for  Syria.  Then  and  there  Luke  proceeded  to  tell  me  it  was 
essential  to  my  health  and  well  being  that  I  pack  my  grip  and  go  with 
him,  and  the  first  of  September  saw  us  both  with  our  faces  turned  to- 
ward the  Levant.  After  a  month's  pleasant  travel  we  landed  safely 
at  Bey  rout.  In  the  meantime  we  had  been  joined  on  our  way  across 
France  and  down  the  Mediterranean  by  Bob  Garrett,  who,  as  you  know, 
was  mixed  up  in  a  hunt  after  things  archaeological.  Leaving  Luke  and 
Bob  in  Syria  I  went  on  to  Cairo  and  stayed  there  until  January.  During 
the  latter  part  of  my  stay  in  Egypt  I  was  with  Bob  Garrett  again,  and 
from  there  we  went  to  Italy  together,  and  stayed  until  it  was  time  for 
him  to  return  to  his  archaeological  work  in  Syria.  I  came  home  in  the 
spring  and  resumed  business  in  Pittsburg.  Now  let  me  say  right  here 
that  my  latch-string  hangs  way  out,  you  can't  miss  it,  and  I  shall  take 
it  as  a  personal  grievance  if  any  of  the  faithful  come  this  way  and  fail 
to  give  it  a  vigorous  pull. 

With  kind  and  affectionate  regard  for  you  and  the  Class,  individually 
and  collectively,  believe  me, 

Always  sincerely  yours, 

Edward  Duff  Balken. 

Pittsburg,  Pa.,  Feb.  18,  1901. 


HENDERSON  BARKLEY. 

Beset  with  the  languor  of  a  tropical  climate,  ever  threatened  by  the 
nerve-destroying  bacillus  of  "Yellow  Jack,"  and  busied  with  the  cares 
of  a  "pater-familias,"  Earkley  is  unable  to  find  time  for  letter-writing. 
From  various  sources  the  following  meager  facts  have  been  gleaned: 
The  first  year  out  of  college  he  spent  in  the  cotton  business  in  New 
Orleans.  He  is  now  a  sugar  planter  at  Luling,  La.,  and  is,  there- 
fore, doubtful  of  the  wisdom  of  reciprocal  trade  relations  with  our 
colonial  acquisitions.  That  he  still  has  his  nerve  with  him  is  proved 
by  his  persistent  support  of  Republicanism  in  such  a  discouraging 
atmosphere. 


23 


HENRY  MILTON  BEAM. 

Dear  Pop: — I  object  to  being  put  lower  down  than  the  fourth  group, 
so  will  surrender  before  the  fifth  call  comes. 

My  existence  since  I  left  Old  Princeton  in  '97  has  been  a  very  peace- 
ful one,  for  contrary  to  my  expectations  I  haven't  stirred  the  world 
very  much,  but  have  simply  been  trying  to  give  as  good  imitations  of 
Harry  Fine  as  I  could  during  the  last  three  years.  "In  other  words, 
gentlemen,"  I  have  been  teaching  mathematics,  for  one  year  in  the 
State  Normal  School  at  Indiana,  Pa.,  a  good  old  Princeton  town,  and 
since  then  at  Flushing,  N.  Y.,  where  I  am  at  present,  leading  a  pleasant 
existence  near  to  Croker's  town,  where  I  frequently  see  members  of  the 
old  class.  Of  course  I  am  a  member  of  the  Princeton  Club  of  New 
York,  and  in  this  way  see  and  hear  more  about  Princeton  than  I 
should  otherwise.  I  have  been  back  to  Princeton  on  all  the  festive 
occasions,  except  the  first  reunion,  and  cannot  praise  too  highly  our 
triennial,  which  every  one  enjoyed  so  much.  I  am  neither  married  nor 
engaged  at  the  present  writing. 

With  this  brief  recital  of  commonplace  facts,  which  I  hope  will  be 
more  pleasant  to  read  than  they  were  to  write,  I  will  desist. 

Wishing  you,  "Pop,"  many  happy  years  and  less  trouble  from  your 
wayward  wards ;  and  honor  and  glory  to  '97. 

Sincerely  yours, 

Henry  M.  Beam. 

Flushing,  N.  Y.,  March  9,  'ci. 

VICTOR  SHAEFFER  BEAM. 

My  Dear  "Pop" : — Your  extremely  personal  postal  cards  have  brought 
me  to  it  at  last.  I  have  not  much  to  say  for  myself,  as  I  am  not  married 
and  was  prevented  from  going  to  war  by  a  very  opportune  attack  of 
that  simple  disease  called  "mumps."  I  spent  the  two  years  subsequent 
to  our  graduation  studying  under  the  direction  of  Dr.  Brackett  in  the 
Princeton  School  of  Electrical  Engineering.  Dr.  Brackett  and  I  never 
entirely  agreed  on  the  subject  of  football  playing;  but,  when  the  two 
years  were  up,  he  kindly  consented  to  give  me  the  coveted  degree  of  E.E. 
Soon  after  leaving  Princeton  I  entered  the  factory  of  the  Westing- 
house  Electric  &  Mfg.  Co.,  at  Pittsburg,  Pa.,  and  immediately  became 
dead  to  the  world. 

The  experience  gained  there  was  very  good,  and  well  worth  the 
trouble,  even  though  starvation  wages  were  paid,  and  that  in  spite  of 
the  fact  that  for  many  months  I  had  to  work  at  night.  It  took  me 
just  three  months  to  find  out  that  I  did  not  know  anything  in  the 
electrical  line.  After  that  I  began  to  learn  many  things.  For  several 
months  I  was  night  foreman  of  the  testing  department,  and  took  par- 
ticular delight  in  making  the  Cornell  men  do  their  duty. 

Last  November  it  was  decided  that  I  had  acquired  enough  shop 
experience,  and  I  was  transferred  to  the  N.  Y.  office  of  the  company, 
and  since  that  time  I  have  been  engaged  in  digging  up  old  and  musty 
patents,  passing  judgment  upon  them  and  posing  as  an  expert  whenever 

24 


it  is  deemed  advisable  to  make  a  raid  upon  any  of  the  enemy  whom 
we  believe  to  be  infringing  our  patents.  On  direct  examination  I  al- 
ways talk  freely.  On  cross-examination  I  always  close  up  like  an 
oyster. 

My  place  of  business  is  120  Broadway,  and  I  live  in  Flushing,  N.  Y. 
It  is  not  necessary  to  state  that  I  think  that  there  is  no  institution 
equal  to  Princeton  University,  and  no  class  of  men  equal  to  those  in 
the  class  of  '97. 

Your  classmate, 

Victor  S.  Beam. 

Flushing,  N.  Y.,  March  9,  '01. 

HOWARD  BEATTIE. 

Beattie  is  singularly  uncommunicative.  He  vouchsafes  the  infor- 
mation that  he  is  superintendent  of  a  carpet  factory  at  Little  Falls, 
N.  J.  This  is  the  warp  and  the  woof  of  his  story — a  web  upon  which 
a  fair  pattern  might  be  wrought  were  the  details  only  available. 

ALFRED  CHESTER  BEATTY. 

My  Dear  Pop: — I  have  been  receiving  a  number  of  notes  from  you, 
and  I  have  tried  to  find  the  blank  you  sent  me,  but  I  suppose  it  is 
among  some  of  my  old  mining  clothes.  My  history  is  a  brief  one  since 
leaving  Princeton.  I  took  the  degree  of  E.  M.  at  Columbia  School  of 
Mines,  class  of  '98,  and  started  West  after  graduation,  and  began  to 
work  in  the  mining  camps  and  in  examination  work. 

Was  married  April  i8th,  igoo,  to  Ninette  Rickard,  and  am  at  present 
engaged  in  general  practice  of  mining  engineering,  and  am  acting  as 
assistant  to  John  Hays  Hammond  at  the  Stratton's  Independence  mine, 
Victor,  Colo.  He  is  advisory  engineer,  and  I  am  assistant  engineer. 
Am  also  connected  with  the  Colorado  Zinc  Co.,  as  general  manager  and 
vice-president. 

I  hope  that  I  may  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you  out  here  some 
time.     Apologizing  for  my  carelessness,   which   will   not  occur  again, 

I  am,  sincerely  yours, 

A.  Chester  Beatty. 

Denver,  Colo.,  May  i,  '01. 


PAUL  BEDFORD. 

Dear  Classmates : — My  career  since  Ninety-seven  went  out  into  "the 
wide,  wide  world"  has  been  uneventful,  and  uncheckered  with  stirring 
experiences ;  only  a  continuation  of  that  sober,  industrious  life  which  I 
cultivated  while  we  were  at  the  "old  burg."  So  to  anyone  looking  for 
heart-pulsations  in  perusing  this  autobiography  of  three  years,  I  say 
at  the  outset,  go  away,  go  far  away. 

The  fall  after  leaving  college  I  entered  the  Law  School  of  the  Uni- 
versity of  Pennsylvania.     There,  casting  his  lot  in  with  mine,  I  found 

25 


"Eddie"  Stanton,  ex-Harvard,  '97,  Princeton  A.  B.,  A.  M.,  University 
of  Pennsylvania,  L.L.B.,  and  member  of  the  Pittsburg  Bar.  "Eddie" 
induced  me  to  join  his  boarding-house,  which  he  enthusiastically  repre- 
sented as  offering  the  unusual  allurements  of  a  go-as-you-please  rising 
hour,  and  twenty  odd  females,  mostly  elderly  and  affectionate.  Tidings 
of  this  attractive  spot  reached  the  ears  of  "Bandy"  Derr,  and  as  soon 
as  he  could  arrange  it,  we  were  gladdened  by  the  addition  of  the  afore- 
said "Bandy."  His  excuse  for  being  there  was  his  pursuit  of  the  ship- 
building business  on  that  most  majestic  and  historical  stream — no,  I 
do  not  mean  the  Hudson — but  the  Delaware  river. 

Life  at  University  of  Pennsylvania  is  quite  enjoyable,  inasmuch  as 
that  institution  is  very  partial  towards  Princeton  men  in  offering  them 
the  advantage  of  easy  access  to  their  Alma  Mater;  and  this  opportunity 
was  little  neglected.  After  all,  you  know  there's  nothing  like  getting 
"in  touch"  with  the  undergraduates.  The  Princeton  Club  of  Phila- 
delphia is  another  boon  to  our  alumni  at  U.  of  P. ;  you  go  to  the  club 
feeling  that  everyone  you  see  there  has  a  most  important  common  in- 
terest with  you ;  there's  no  standing  on  ceremony.  The  personal  ad- 
vantages of  membership  in  this  club  are  only  exceeded  by  the  good  done 
in  keeping  the  Princeton  men  closely  united  in  all  matters  pertaining  to 
"Old  Nassau."  After  a  three  years'  course  at  the  Law  School,  I  was 
graduated,  returned  to  my  home  at  Wilkes-Barre,  and  began  the  prac- 
tice of  law  in  Room  67,  Coal  Exchange  Building.  ("Pop,"  Keener  told 
me  this  "ad"  could  go  in  free  of  charge.)  It  is  a  small  room,  but  has 
a  large  vestibule  and  the  latest  comic  papers,  also  a  spittoon.  And  by 
the  way.  Ninety-seven  is  well  represented  at  this  Bar  (in  numbers)  ; 
the  list  comprises  MacCartney,  "Ed."  Shortz,  "Lady"  Jayne,  "Bill" 
Reynolds,  and  yours  truly.  We  all  belong  to  that  numerous  class  of 
lawyers  known  as  "rising."  Among  us  we  will  try  to  defend  any  con- 
troversy that  may  arise  involving  the  validity  of  Ninety-seven's  claim 
to  the  title  of  the  most  glorious  class  ever  sent  out  from  Princeton 
University. 

In  conclusion  I  want  to  record  my  unbounded  and  never-to-be-for- 
gotten pleasure  in  attending  our  triennial  reunion  last  June,  and  my 
expectation  of  another  such  time  in  1902. 

Hoping  to  see  you  all  then. 

Yours,  as  ever, 

Paul  Bedford. 

Wilkes-Barre,  Pa.,  Jan.  23,  '01.  * 


HENRY  CONKLIN  BISSELL. 

Dear  Pop: — I  have  just  recovered  from  an  attack  of  smallpox  or 
I  would  have  answered  your  letter  before. 

I  am  at  present  a  bookkeeper  for  a  manufacturing  concern  in  Pen- 
nington, N.  J.  For  some  time  after  leaving  college  I  spent  my  time 
tutoring  and  looking  for  a  permanent  job.  I  prefer  the  present  em- 
ployment. 


26 


My  experience  has  been  void  of  excitement.  The  only  part  I  took 
in  the  war  was  to  go  to  the  hospital,  once  in  a  while,  and  look  at  the 
wounded  men. 

I  am  not  married  and  have  no  particular  hankering  after  that  ex- 
perience. 

I  spent  last  winter  in  Cuba,  investigating  ( ?)  political  conditions 
there.     This  is  the  extent  of  my  wanderings. 

With  kindest  regards  to  all,  I  remain, 

Very  truly  yours, 

Henry  C.  Bissell. 

GEORGE  GOODWIN  BLISS. 

Even  the  twenty-fifth  communication  failed  to  elicit  any  reply  from 
Bliss.  It  is  known  that  he  is  married,  was  once  in  the  electrical  and 
photographic  supply  business  at  East  Orange,  N.  J.,  and  is  now  liv- 
ing at  Newark  Valley,  N.  Y.    Further  information  gratefully  received. 

FENIMORE  LEWIS  BODMAN. 

Dear  Classmates: — After  sleepless  nights  and  muttered  curses,  I 
have  decided  that  the  dreaded  moment  can  no  longer  be  postponed; 
and  I  must  now  pour  into  your  listening  ears  the  story  of  my  life. 

Do  not  mistake,  in  the  above  allusion  to  restless  nights  and  shameless 
profanity,  any  disinclination  or  disrespect  to  our  beloved  secretary. 
I  realize  what  a  thankless  task  is  his.  It  is  only  my  natural  modesty, 
my  hesitancy  to  speak  of  myself,  that  makes  this  task  a  weary  one. 
Had  I  climbed  to  a  higher  pinnacle  of  fame,  accumulated  millions,  or 
raised  an  illustrious  family,  how  easily  I  could  have  held  your  atten- 
tion! As  it  is,  I  have  shut  myself  up  and  fearfully  faced  the  questions: 
"What  am  I?     What  have  I?" 

This  latter  I  will  tackle  first,  as  it  is  more  easily  disposed  of.  I  have 
no  wife,  no  millions,  no  literary  efforts  and  no  political  aspirations — 
only  a  fair  position  and  a  bald  head — two  promising  possessions  which 
I  mention  with  much  pride. 

Upon  leaving  college  in  1895,  I  first  became  connected  with  the  whole- 
sale drygoods  establishment  of  Marshall  Field  &  Co.,  Chicago,  Illinois. 
I  filled  this  position  for  a  few  months  only,  however,  and  in  the  spring 
of  1S96  accepted  an  offer  from  the  Milford  Shoe  Company,  of  Milford, 
Massachusetts,  to  cover  the  largest  cities  of  the  Middle  West  as  their 
traveling  salesman.  In  the  summer  of  1900  I  made  a  second  change 
and  became  identified  with  Parke,  Davis  &  Co.,  importers  of  crude 
drugs,  of  New  York  City. 

After  five  years'  residence  in  New  York,  I  am  now  located  perma- 
nently in  Boston,  representing  the  last  mentioned  concern ;  and  my  old 
friends  and  classmates  v/ill  find  me  ever  at  home  to  them  at  the  Parker 
House,  my  present  address. 

As  to  other  circumstances  and  experiences  that  would  interest  the 
class,  I  am  sorry  to  deny  you;  but  here  you  must  be  patient.     To  the 

27 


extremely  curious  I  might  state  that  these  will  appear  later  in  book  form, 
with  a  photogravure  of  the  author  as  he  now  is. 

I  regret  that  circumstances  have  kept  me  apart  from  the  fellows, 
that  I  have  met  only  a  few  of  them  occasionally  for  a  handshake  or 
a  few  words.  I  hope  for  better  things  in  the  future — yea,  verily,  to  get 
back  to  old  Princeton  before  long. 

I  am  closing.  Let  me  join  you  in  forgiveness  to  our  secretary,  who 
has  so  mercilessly  turned  this  searchlight  upon  us,  and  add  my  best 
wishes  for  the  eternal  prosperity  of  us  all. 

Truly  yours, 


Fenimore  Lewis  Bodman. 


Boston,  Mass.,  May  3,  '01. 


ARTHUR  HOYT  BOGUE. 

Dear  Pop: — Your  pleadings  have  at  last  touched  a  heart  of  stone. 
I  wish  that  was  the  only  touch  I've  got.  And  so  you  want  the  sad, 
sad  story  of  my  life. 

Well,  after  leaving  Princeton  I  embarked  in  various  ventures — real 
estate,  which  left  me  poorer  than  when  I  began  (if  possible).  I  tackled 
law  (which  I  wish  I'd  stuck  to)  and  managed  to  turn  an  honest  penny 
now  and  then,  and  sometimes  even  to  pick  it  up,  and  once  or  twice  it 
even  got  as  far  as  my  pocket,  but  generally  it  slid  from  my  palm  to  the 
palm  of  the  next  man.  However,  nothing  suited  me  until  I  got  into  the 
coal  business.     Even  politics  did  not  do  so  as  much  as  coal. 

Then  I  got  married,  and  everybody  congratulated  me  and  said :  "So 
you're  going  to  settle  down  and  marry,"  and  I  said,  "No,  I'm  going 
to  settle  up  and  marry !" 

Then  we  left  Chicago  and  came  to  New  York  to  live.  We  first  went 
to  housekeeping  in  the  apartment  of  Mrs.  Custer,  afterwards  leased  to 
us  by  Mrs.  Ruth  McEnery  Stuart.  There  we  spent  our  honeymoon, 
while  I  learned  to  read  proof.  My  wife  thinks  a  Princeton  education^ 
is  long  on  beer  and  short  on  spelling  and  punctuation.  But  in  defense 
of  Old  Nassau,  I  tell  her  I  am  not  a  fair  sample,  and  if  she  thinks  my 
spelling  is  bad  she  ought  to  see  some  of  the  other  fellows.  She  thinks 
that  is  a  compliment  to  the  other  fellows. 

In  return  for  teaching  me  to  read  proof,  I  am  teaching  her  base- 
ball. She  saw  her  first  game  of  baseball  at  Princeton  at  the  triennial, 
and  she  is  now  getting  so  that  she  knows  the  pitcher  from  the  batter, 
but  for  a  long  time  she  didn't.  She  says  that  as  soon  as  she  can  tell 
which  side  is  ahead,  she  is  going  to  offer  a  cup  to  the  Princeton  team. 
I  said  nothing  when  she  suggested  it,  I  only  ran  over  in  my  mind  as 
to  which  college  would  get  it  away  from  us. 

Mrs.  Bogue  has  adopted  Princeton  as  her  own,  and  in  all  her  stories 
she  makes  Princeton  win — a  thing  all  our  betting  will  not  do  sometimes. 
The  orange  and  the  black  are  her  colors  as  well  as  mine,  and  "Old 
Nassau"  her  song.  It  is  her  own  suggestion  to  dedicate  her  next  book 
—a  book  of  travel  sketches  from  Europe,  in  one  of  which  Princeton 

28 


figures,  entitled  "The  Second  Time"  to  Princeton.     There's  loyalty  for 
you! 

After  living  three  months  in  a  furnished  apartment,  we  looked  at 
every  other  apartment  house  in  process  of  construction  in  the  city  of 
New  York,  for  we  wanted  a  new  one,  and  as  there  were  a  few  less  than 
a  thousand,  we  are  walking  encyclopaedias  of  New  York  apartments. 
We  can  tell  you  just  by  the  look  in  a  man's  eye  or  by  passing  a  careless 
hand  over  his  hair  (after  learning  his  address)  just  what  rent  he  pays, 
the  style  of  his  fire-escape,  the  cut  of  the  hall-boy's  uniform;  how 
much  his  ice  bill  is,  the  state  of  his  gas  metre,  and  after  adding  these 
together  and  subtracting  his  salary  from  the  sum  total,  we  can  tell 
you  just  how  much  he  is  out  each  year. 

Finally  we  found  an  apartment  overlooking  the  Park,  which  my 
wife  took  for  "the  view,"  and  I  took  for  the  fire-escape.  Here  we 
have  settled  upon  the  sixth  floor,  and  the  narrative  stops,  for  this 
is  as  far  as  we've  got. 

With  congratulations  and  a  "Here's  how"  to  '97,  I  am, 

Very   sincerely  yours, 

Arthur  Hoyt  Bogue. 

348  Central  Park  West,  N.  Y.  City,  March  30,  1901. 

PARKER  JOHNSON  BOICE. 

My  Dear  Keener: — I  don't  know  of  anything  worth  writing  so  I  have 
kept  quiet  until  your  last  urgent  message.  I  graduated  from  the 
Indiana  Law  School  last  spring,  and  since  that  time  have  been  travel- 
ing in  Colorado,  New  Mexico  and  Arizona  for  my  health.  Most  of  the 
time  I  have  been  camping  and  hunting.  Last  fall  I  got  a  number  of 
deer  and  antelope  in  Colorado,  but  down  here  I  have  not  succeeded  in 
getting  anything  larger  than  ducks.  I  returned  yesterday  from  a  month's 
hunting  trip  to  the  southern  part  of  the  Territory,  where  I  had  good 
sport,  but  did  not  get  much  game.  I  saw  Johnny  Graham  and  Shi. 
Thompson  in  Denver  last  summer,  but  have  not  seen  any  other  Prince- 
ton men  since  then. 

Yours  sincerely, 

Parker  J.  Boice, 

Prescott,  Arizona,  Feb.  21,  1901. 

DUDLEY  PHELPS  BONNELL. 

Dear  Keener: — Your  letter  of  March  i6th  received.  I  supposed 
letters  v/ere  wanted  from  those  only  who  had  done  something  unusual, 
either  brilliant  or  otherwise,  so  I  thought  I  had  no  need  to  bother  you 
as  I  consider  my  career,  since  leaving  college,  most  ordinary.  After 
leaving  Princeton  I  went  to  the  University  of  Michigan  for  a  year, 
where  I  was  a  member  of  the  D.  K.  E.  Fraternity.  Had  a  fine  year 
there,  but  my  health  gave  out  and  I  had  to  go  South  for  a  year.  When 
I  got  back  to  Grand  Rapids  I  went  into  the  electrical  business,  then 
into  the  commission  business,  and  now  I  am  out  here  for  my  health 
again.    I  guess  this  will  either  make  me  or  break  me,  but  I  hope,  and  in 

29 


fact  am  assured,  that  six  months  out  here  will  put  me  in  shape  so  I 
can  return  home  and  attend  to  business. 

My  thoughts  are  very  often  of  Princeton  and  the  happy  days  I  spent 
while  there.     I  will  try  my  best  to  be  with  you  all  at  the  next  reunion. 

I  hope  the  other  fellows  write  their  "letters"  more  promptly  than  I 
have  written  mine. 

Wishing  you  every  success  in  the  publication  of  the  "Record,"  I  am, 

Sincerely  yours, 

Dudley  P.   Bonnell. 

Silver  City,  N.  M.,  P.  O.  Box  57,  March  20,  1901. 


BURDETTE  LEON  BOWNE. 

Dear  Pop: — If  I  have  cussed  you  once,  it  has  been  a  hundred  times. 
Such  a  persistent  devil  I  have  not  come  in  contact  with  since  I  left 
Princeton,  four  years  ago.  I  cannot  for  the  life  of  me  see  how  my 
existence  since  I  left  you  all  will  in  any  way  benefit  my  fellow  class- 
mates. Your  postals  have  made  all  kinds  of  trouble  for  me,  and  i 
would  have  been  a  great  relief  if  the  blooming  postal  authorities  had 
prosecuted  you  long  ago.  I  know,  old  man,  just  how  much  trouble 
you  are  put  to  in  order  to  keep  up  the  records  of  glorious  '97,  and  am 
very  sorry  that  I  have  been  so  negligent  in  my  duties. 

Since  I  left  Princeton  nothing  worthy  of  note  has  happened  to  your 
old  friend  "Doc."  After  loafing  around  nearly  a  year  I  at  last  received 
a  position  with  the  Detroit  City  Gas  Co.  My  position  is  anything  but 
enviable,  for  it  falls  to  my  lot  to  be  the  "Hot  Air  Machine"  of  the 
company.  I  have  to  explain  what  the  "Funny  Papers"  have  made 
ridiculous,  i.e.,  that  according  to  Prof.  Loomis,  whom  you  undoubtedly 
became  acquainted  with  during  your  existence  at  Princeton,  it  is  a 
physical  impossibility  for  a  gas  metre  to  run  fast.  Of  course,  after 
my  convincing  "spiel"  everyone  is  satisfied  that  the  Gas  Co.  is  not 
a  highway  robber.  You  would  enjoy  a  highly  amusing  time  if  you 
could  spend  but  one  hour  with  me  when  the  chronic  kickers  have  their 
inning  near  the  end  of  the  month  when  it  is  time  to  pay  gas  bills. 

I  have  not  fought  for  my  country  in  Cuba  nor  in  the  Philippines, 
but  have  devoted  my  time  exclusively  to  business  since  I  secured 
my  job.  A  quiet  little  game  of  poker  has  become  a  lost  art  with 
me,  and  as  for  society  I  have  neither  the  time  nor  money  to  devote 
to  such.  If,  like  some  of  my  fortunate  friends,  I  had  experienced 
anything  exciting  it  would  be  dead  easy  to  satisfy  you  with  a  letter,  for 
every  one  likes  the  exciting,  but  it  has  been,  perhaps  to  my  misfortune, 
my  luck  to  drive  along  the  best  I  could,  and  try  to  make  both  ends 
meet.  Not  being  a  hoopsnake  it  is  harder  than  one  might  think.  We 
all  look  back  upon  our  days  at  Princeton  and  see,  when  it  is  too  late, 
that  we  did  not  make  the  best  of  our  opportunities,  and  it  is  with  sad 
regret  that  we  were  like  those  girls  who  didn't  get  enough  oil  for 
their  lamps  when  such  a  thing  was  possible.  In  speaking  of  oil  for 
illuminating  purposes  I  refer  to  years  gone  past,  for  now  we  all  know 

30 


that  gas  is  the  all-powerful  illuminant.  I  have  had  to  drive  this  fact 
into  so  many  heads  that  it  is  second  nature  now  for  to  sell  gold 
bricks.  If  our  dear  old  friend  Prof.  Libbey  wants  a  hot-air  machine 
down  at  Princeton  let  me  know,  for  I  am  just  the  man  he  is  looking 
for.  A  man  would  have  to  be  good  to  make  any  one  believe  that  the 
Princeton  gas  could  be  used  for  lighting  to  better  advantage  than 
fireflies.     No  doubt  you  had  some  experience  with  it  yourself. 

If  you  will  send  me  a  letter  with  everything  written  but  the  date 
I  will  gladly  insert  it  at  your  request.  So  long,  old  man,  I  may  see 
you  soon.  Give  my  best  to  all  my  old  instructors  at  Lawrenceville, 
but  don't  let  on  that  Dud  Bonnell  and  I  used  to  run  a  gambling  joint 
in  the  Kennedy.     Success  to  you. 

Yours   sincerely. 

Doc    BOWNE. 

Detroit,  Mich.,  April   lo,   1901. 


JEROME   BRADLEY. 

Dear  Pop: — I  am  afraid  my  letter  will  be  a  rather  short  one,  as  my 
career  since  graduation  has  not  been  very  eventful. 

I  put  in  the  first  eighteen  months  in  the  Tarrytown  National  Bank 
at  "hard  labor,"  and  finding  that  such  a  confined  life  did  not  agree 
with  me  I  began  a  series  of  vacations,  which  have  lasted  more  or  less 
ever  since.  These  idle  hours  I  have  divided  between  coaching  base- 
ball and  hunting. 

So  there  you  are.  You  can  judge  for  yourself  that  I  am  still  living 
and  making  the  best  of  it. 

Your  classmate, 

Jerome  Bradley. 

DoBBS   Ferry,   N.   Y.,  January  24,  '01. 


NELSON  BRADLEY. 

Bradley  is  nominally  a  banker  at  Tarrytown,  N.  Y.,  but  actually 
he  is  a  globe  trotter  and  works  at  the  business  so  steadily  that  the 
secretary  can  never  reach  him.  Indirectly  it  is  learned  that  he  has 
graced  with  his  presence  various  portions  of  the  United  States  and 
Canada,  the  West  Indies,  Mexico,  the  Spanish  Republics  of  South 
America,  Spain,  Italy,  Palestine,  Persia,  Egypt,  France,  Germany  and 
England.  It  is  expected  that  by  the  time  of  the  Quinquennial  he  will 
have  explored  the  rest  of  the  earth  and  will  be  projecting  a  journey 
to  one  of  the  remote  planets. 


FRANCIS  SOLOMON  BRENNEMAN. 

Dear  Pop  and  Brothers: — Well,  here  I  am  at  last.  After  about 
seven  requests,  two  or  three  personal  letters,  and  as  many  postal 
cards  from  our  esteemed  Secretary,  I  am  finally  brought  into  line  to 

31 


tune  my  pipe  for  the  honor  of  '97,  and  to  the  edification  (  ?)  of  my 
brethren. 

You  want  to  know  my  history  since  we  passed  the  loving-cup  on  that 
eventful  night,  drinking  each  other's  health,  and  wishing  each  other 
joy.  It  is  short,  but  not  all  the  proverbial  "sweet."  Life  is  not  all 
a  path  of  roses,  so  I  find.  However,  the  briars  by  the  way  are  in  no 
sense  a  disappointment  to  me,  nor  do  I  wish  them  gone.  On  the  con- 
trary I  believe  they  are  keeping  me  on  "the  straight  and  narrow  road" 
which   leads   to   victory. 

But  now  for  the  short  part.  I  remained  three  years  longer  in 
Princeton  than  some  of  you,  under  the  tutelage  of  "Brintie  Greene." 
And  you  don't  know  what  you  missed.  Why  we  had  everything. 
Just  to  give  you  an  instance,  he  took  us  from  A  to  Z  one  day,  and 
that  wasn't  all — then  he  started  to  count.  Then  the  bell  rang,  and 
that  relieved  him. 

I  took  in  the  games,  as  we  went  along.  We  won  some,  too,  but  we 
had  to  send  "Jerry"  and  "Broke"  back  to  teach  them  "ye"  games. 
Do  you  know  that  it  used  to  be  the  pride  of  my  life — it  is  yet  for  that 
matter — that  I  sat  between  those  two  stars.  And  the  way  they,  with 
all  the  rest,  won  those  games  from  Yale,  is  the  very  way  now  I  am 
trying  to  win  the  game  of  life. 

I  have  not  traveled  any  to  speak  of,  nor  have  I  taken  any  degrees. 
I  was  lucky  in  getting  a  position  at  once  after  Seminary  closed ;  and 
now  I  am  just  a  plain,  everyday  country  preacher,  with  all  the 
accompaniments.  I  am  not  getting  rich.  Illustration.  The  first  couple 
I  married,  the  groom  was  a  D.D.S.  A  few  weeks  before  the  event 
took  place  I  went  to  him  to  have  an  old  molar  extracted,  which  did 
not  carry  with  it  the  most  savory  odor.  He  did  the  job,  but  took 
no  fee.  Later  I  married  them  on  the  strength  of  that.  But  imagine 
"the  sweet  thing"  being  traded  off  for  an  old  tooth. 

I  was  married  the  20th  of  June  last  to  the  best  girl  that  was  ever 
in  Princeton,  "one  of  the  natives."  And  this  is  the  only  alliance  or 
secret  organization  I  have  entered  into  since  graduation.  Indeed  it 
is  quite  enough,  for  I  have  all  I  can  do  to  keep  door  and  run  errands 
for  our  present  company.  My  wife  is  president,  secretary  and  treasurer 
of  the  firm.     All  communications  should  be  addressed  to  her. 

Addresses  delivered.  Man  alive,  Pop.  Every  Sabbath  twice  a  day. 
Prayer  meeting  talks  and  Sabbath  School  dissertations  galore.  Funeral 
orations,   patriotic  addresses,   curtain  lectures. 

But  I  have  already  said  too  much  for  a  modest  man.  Let  me  hear 
from  the  fellows  though,  and  I'll  tell  you  more;   if  you  want  it. 

Very  sincerely  yours, 

"Dutch"  Brenneman. 

Greenwich,  N.  J.,  March  4,  '01. 


32 


HOWARD  CROSBY  BROKAW. 

Dear  Pop: — On  my  return,  yesterday,  I  found  several  letters  of 
yours  in  which  you  called  me  all  sorts  of  delinquents.  I  am  sorry, 
but,  as  usual,  I  have  an  excuse.  As  you  know,  I  was  laid  up  last  fall 
and  was  compelled  to  have  quite  a  serious  operation  performed  When 
I  finally  came  around  I  decided  to  take  a  trip  for  my  health.  So,  my 
father  and  I  sailed  on  the  Hamburg-American  ship  "Prinzessin  Victoria 
Louise,"  for  the  West  Indies,  stopping  at  most  of  the  islands,  and 
touching  South  America  at  several  places.  I  left  the  ship  at  Nassau 
and  went  to  Palm  Beach,  Florida.  Spent  several  weeks  there.  I 
reached  home  only  yesterday.  So  you  see,  I  am  not  as  bad  as  you 
think.  I  did  not  have  my  mail  forwarded  to  me  because  I  did  not 
wish  to  be  bothered.  This  is  the  second  voyage  to  the  West  Indies 
I  have  had  since  graduation.  On  the  former  visit,  there  were  others 
of  "the  great  and  glorious"  with  me,  and,  ye  gods,  what  a  time  we  had ! 
These  together  with  a  voyage  to  Japan  in  the  fall  of  '97,  comprise  the 
extent  of  my  journeyings  in  distant  lands.  I  am  not  married,  but  am 
very  much  in  love — with  old  Nassau. 

With  best  wishes   for  the   entire  class,   I   remain, 

Yours  as  ever, 

Howard   C.    Brokaw. 

AsTOR  Place,  N.  Y.  City,  March  21,  '01. 

FREDERICK  WALWORTH  BROWN. 

Dear  Pop: — So  you're  having  spasms  because  "tempus  fugit"  and 
the  ship  doesn't  move.  Well,  my  history  won't  detain  you  long.  The 
summer  after  graduation  I  pretended  to  read  law,  and  actually  did 
everything  on  earth  but  work.  Blackstone  is  pretty  blame'  poor  read- 
ing for  summer  anyway.  That  winter  I  was  back  at  the  Old  University 
as  Fellow  in  History,  as  you  may  recall.  That  was  one  of  the  softest 
snaps  I'm  liable  to  encounter  in  this  incarnation.  Billy  Sloane  had 
descended  to  Columbia  and  Paul  Van  Dyke  hadn't  yet  arrived.  I 
worked  when  I  chose,  loafed  when  I  chose,  and  read  what  I  chose, 
and  while  a  generous  slab  of  the  last  was  history  there  were  several 
generous  slabs  which  were  not.  In  the  spring  I  wrote  a  thesis  which 
I  trust  Professor  Coney  consigned  to  his  waste  basket,  and  received 
my  Master's  degree. 

The  following  summer  I  worked  in  a  bank — worked.  Lord  yes ! 
Footing  columns  isn't  my  strong  suit. 

That  winter  I  spent  in  a  law  office,  working  for  nothing  and  board- 
ing myself.  Was  almost  reduced  to  my  pajamas  by  spring.  In  August 
I  came  out  to  Chicago,  where  for  six  months  I  held  down  a  position 
in  a  salvation  factory,  otherwise  known  as  a  Sunday  School  Associa- 
tion. At  the  end  of  the  six  months  I  received  a  distinct  intimation 
from  the  head  that  the  Lord  had  not  called  me  to  the  work,  a  fact 
with  which  I  was  already  acquainted.  So  I  paddled  around  the  city 
till  I  secured  a  position  with  a  firm  of  lawyers,  which  place  I  am  still 
filling. 

33 


Recently  I  have  been  doing  some  writing,  and  find  that  the  net 
proceeds  after  paying  postage,  stationery  bills  and  stenographers'  fees 
will  about  keep  me  supplied  with  Bull  Durham. 

Yours   sincerely, 

F.    Walworth    Brown. 
Chicago,  III.,  Dec.  21,  igoo. 


THOMAS  BEAVER  BROWNE. 

Dear  Pop: — Nothing  so  interesting  nor  eventful  has  happened  in  my 
career  since  leaving  college  that  you  should  so  persistently  solicit  a 
letter  from  me  concerning  the  same. 

It  won't  do  you  any  good  to  learn  that  for  some  time  I  did  nothing 
in  particular;  then  later  with  my  brother  and  Kilpatrick — both  of  '96 — 
took  a  2,000  mile  bicycle  ride  through  England,  Holland,  Belgium, 
Germany,  Switzerland  and  France,  after  which  I  "rested"  for  some 
months,  and  finally  went  to  work  in  the  employ  of  various  electrical 
companies  for  a  few  years,  and  eventually  got  into  and  then  out  of 
the  Electrical  Trust  (the  so-called  Philadelphia  Electric  Co.)  in  a  con- 
dition rather  the  worse  for  wear,  physically.  Last  summer  the  same 
trio,  being  advised  favorably  of  the  trip  on  the  Great  Lakes,  took  a 
week  off,  and  started  out  to  look  them  over — which  we  did — making  the 
run  from  Philadelphia  to  Buffalo,  thence  by  steamer  to  Duluth  and 
from  there  through  St.  Paul,  Chicago,  and  back  home.  Last  fall, 
my  brother  and  I  chased  out  west  for  a  short  outing,  touching  up 
several  of  the  western  states,  the  Pacific  coast  and  Mexico,  and  home 
via  New  Orleans.     We  had  a  fine  trip. 

Save  for  a  few  quiet  visits  to  Princeton  and  other  places  of  interest 
there  is  at  present  nothing  doing. 

Yours  sincerely, 

T.   B.   Browne. 

Philadelphia,   Pa.,   March  28,  '01. 


CARL  EMERSON  BUCKINGHAM. 

Dear  Pop: — Judging  by  communications  of  various  sorts  which  have 
composed  the  bulk  of  my  mail  of  late,  I  have  concluded  that  some- 
thing in  the  form  of  a  letter  is  about  the  proper  thing.  So,  after 
graduation  I  remained  in  Princeton  until  November  following,  en- 
gaged in  tutoring  most  of  the  time.  From  there  I  came  to  New 
York  and  studied  music.  Two  months  of  the  summer  spent  at  Lake- 
hurst,  N.  J.,  and  then  I  resumed  study  here.  In  the  spring  of  '99  my 
domicile  was  changed  to  Los  Angeles,  California.  Collette  went  there 
about  the  same  time,  having  been  married  a  short  time  before,  and  we 
spent  much  time  together   during  that   summer. 

I  entered  the  New  York  Law  School  in  October,  '99.  Spent  the 
following  summer  in  Los  Angeles  also.  In  the  fall,  Gulick  and  I  took 
up  our  abode  together  in  New  York  and  lived  in  peace  and  happiness 

34 


for  several  months,  when  I  had  to  go  to  Los  Angeles  in  January,  after 
remaining  there  a  couple  of  months  I  continued  my  course  here,  and 
that  brings  it  to  date. 

Yours  sincerely, 

C.  E.  Buckingham, 
New  York  City,  April  23,  1901. 

ROBERT  STUART  CAMPBELL. 
To  the  Class  of  '97, 

Large  and  Square, 

Greeting: — Well,  "Pop"  has  won,  he  has  fought  it  out  along  this 
line,  and  it  is  due  to  his  pertinacity  in  coaxing  and  threatening  that 
I  am  now  in  deep  travail,  endeavoring  to  give  birth  to  an  epistolary 
production  worthy  a  place  in  the  Triennial  Record  of  the  class  of  '97. 
It  will  perhaps  be  better  to  preface  my  remarks  by  asking  the  "dear 
reader"  to  pardon  the  unseemly  intrusion  of  the  "L"  but,  as  this 
letter  concerns  me,  my  past  history,  my  present  condition  of  servitude, 
and  my  future  prospects,  it  must  of  necessity  contain  a  superfluous 
amount  of  the  "Ego." 

And  now  what?  I  almost  wish  I  had  never  commenced,  but  I 
have  gone  too  far  to  retreat.  This  autobiography  has  its  beginning 
in  June,  '97,  when  \,  in  company  with  other  benighted  spirits  was 
thrown  out  of  a  job  at  Princeton  University.  During  the  six  months 
succeeding  that  sad  event  I  enjoyed  a  precarious  existence  living  off 
of  what  I  spent,  and,  incidentally,  my  "Dad."  For  the  past  three 
years  I  have  been  located  in  North  Carolina,  in  the  employ  of  the 
Seaboard  Air  Line  Railway.  My  life  in  Dixie  has  been  very  pleasant 
as  my  connection  with  the  railroad  has  enabled  me  to  become  ac- 
quainted with  a  large  part  of  North  and  South  Carolina  and  Georgia. 
But  I  have  made  no  material  advancement,  in  fact,  my  career  has  been 
one  of  retrogression  and  for  that  reason  I  am  thinking  seriously  of 
becoming  a  nomad  and  of  seeking  for  new  pasture. 

As  for  my  future  I  can  only  say  that 

"He  either  fears  his  fate  too  much, 
Or,  his  deserts  are  small. 
Who  dare  not  put  it  to  the  touch 
To  win  or  lose  it  all." 

And  being  in  that  condition  of  mind  I  would  not  be  surprised  to  find 
myself  in  the  abode  of  the  Aztec,  or  in  the  bungalow  of  a  Tagalog,  in 
love  with  a  Supiy-aw-Lot.  For,  up  to  the  present  time  I  have  not 
been  able  to  ensnare  nor  to  be  ensnared. 

Thanking  my  readers  for  their  kind  attention,  I  shall  close  with  the 
toast,  to  the  members  of  the  class  of  '97,  one  and  all, 
"A  health  to  our  future,  a  sigh  for  our  past, 
We  love,  we  remember,  we  hope  to  the  last." 

Robert  S.  Campbell. 
PiNEBLUFF,  N.  C,  April  17,  '01. 

35 


ARTHUR  FLETCHER  CASSELS. 

Cassels  is  very  ill  with  typhoid  fever  and  hence  could  not  reply  to 
any  of  the  secretary's  "final"  appeals.  He  is  second  lieutenant  of 
artillery  in  the  United  States  Army  and  is  located  in  the  Artillery 
School  at  Fortress  Monroe.  During  the  Spanish  war  he  was  with 
the  army  in  Cuba  and  during  the  Philippine  insurrection  he  saw 
service  about  Manila.  Prior  to  1899  he  had  been  connected  with  the 
Interstate  Commerce  Commission  and  the  State  Department. 


WILLIAM  WELLS  CHURCH. 

Dear  Classmates: — After  graduation  I  spent  the  summer  with  my 
family  in  the  Berkshire  Hills.  In  early  September  I  left  for  Lafayette, 
Ind.,  to  coach  the  Perdue  University  football  team.  I  was  sorry  to 
miss  our  first  reunion,  but  I  remembered  all  the  old  boys,  and  was 
there    at    least    in    spirit. 

In  December  my  contract  with  Perdue  having  been  fulfilled,  I  came 
East.  On  the  16th  of  December,  '97,  I  started  in  to  work  for  the 
Murphy  Varnish  Co.,  of  Newark,  N.  J.,  as  salesman.  My  work  was 
in  Brooklyn  and  surrounding  territory.  While  with  the  Murphy 
Varnish  Co.  I  lived  with  my  brother  in  Newark.  I  was  lucky  enough 
to  attend  both  the  Washington  Birthday  and  Commencement  reunions 
of  '98,  and  it  is  needless  to  say  that  under  the  guidance  of  Henry 
Russell  I  had  a  splendid  time. 

In  October,  '98,  I  came  to  Pittsburg,  and  went  into  the  sales  depart- 
ment of  the  Cahill  Water  Tube  Boiler  Co.  The  same  fall  I  played 
on  the  Duquesne  County  and  Athletic  Club  football  team  of  that  city. 
This  was  a  strong  professional  team,  gotten  together  by  several  rich 
men  for  the  sport  of  the  thing.  I  remained  in  this  position  until  Octo- 
ber, '99,  when  I  went  to  Washington,  D.  C,  to  coach  the  Georgetown 
University  football  team.  I  returned  in  December  of  the  same  year, 
and  went  to  work  with  the  Carnegie  Steel  Co.,  in  their  Homestead 
Plant,  at  Munhall,  Pa.  I  am  still  there,  and  if  I  can  keep  on  the 
right  side  of  Mr.  Morgan,  Carnegie,  or  Frick,  or  whoever  may  own 
the  plant,  I  hope  to  stay  a  while.  This  last  fall  I  was  business  man- 
ager, and  also  played  on  the  Homestead  Library  and  Athletic  Club  foot- 
ball team.  This  was  also  a  professional  team,  and  Princeton  was 
represented  by  Arthur  Poe  and  myself.     We  licked  everything  in  sight. 

Cupid  has  thus  far  left  me  whole-hearted,  and  some  girl  is  making 
a  big  mistake  and  will  sooner  or  later  realize  what  she  is  missing.  A 
liberal  reward  will  be  paid  to  the  person  finding  said  girl.  I  neglected 
to  say  that  I  was  there  with  both  feet  at  our  great  reunion  in  June, 
and  shall  long  remember  what  a  happy  time  I  had  swapping  lies  with 
Bill  Reynolds,  Scoby  Van  Nest,  and  other  liars  of  their  standing.  I 
am  already  looking  forward  to  our  reunion  in  1902. 

After  the  ist  of  March,  I  shall  be  living  at  Munhall,  Pa.,  which  is 
just  outside  of  Pittsburg,  about  forty  minutes  ride  on  the  street  car. 
I  hope  that  any  '97  man  that  strikes  Pittsburg  will  let  me  know,  and  it 


36 


is  unnecessary  for  me  to  say  that  my  latch  key  is  always  out  and  ready 
to  be  used  by  any  of  my  classmates.  For  those  of  learning,  I  have  the 
Carnegie  Library  close  at  hand.  For  those  of  a  mechanical  turn  of 
mind,  there  is  the  largest  steel  plant  in  the  U.  S.  right  across  the  road; 
while  those  of  a  sportive  nature  will  also  be  taken  care  of  as  Mrs. 
Nation  has  thus  far  not  honored  us  with  a  visit.  "Come  one,  come  all," 
and  stay  just  as  long  as  you  can  and  will. 


Wm.  W.  Church. 


Pittsburg,  Pa.,  March  28,  '01. 


PAUL  DAVID  CLARK. 

Dear  Old,  Persistent  Pop: — I  haven't  set  the  world  on  fire  since 
leaving  Princeton,  though  I  have  been  all  over  the  country — even 
way  up  into  Alaska — looking  for  something  combustible.  Am  now 
back  in  Dayton,  Ohio,  and  will  be  glad  to  see  any  of  old  '97  who 
may  wander  that  way.  Paul  D.   Clark. 

Dayton,  Ohio,  May  13,  1901. 


JAMES  KING  CLARKE. 

My  dear  Pop: — I  received  your  notice  some  few  days  ago  as  being 
one  of  the  delinquents,  which  surprised  me  very  much,  as  it  seems  to 
me  that  a  month  or  two  ago  I  both  filled  out  your  blank  and  wrote 
a  short  note. 

I  know.  Pop,  it's  only  fair  for  me  to  write  you  a  letter  for  the  book, 
since  you  have  been  to  all  the  trouble  of  getting  the  fellows  together 
and  keeping  them  there,  as  you  have  always  done,  most  admirably,  and 
because  of  the  bully  time  you  gave  us  last  Commencement.  I  am 
simply  too  busy  here  making  automobiles,  which,  by  the  way,  are  the 
best  built  in  the  U.  S.,  to  even  take  in  my  usual  trip  to  Florida.  Since 
leaving  college  in  December,  '95,  I  have  had  a  varied  and  more  or  less 
exciting  experience.  My  travels  have  not  been  extensive,  but  have 
proved  to  be  both  interesting  and  beneficial.  Have  been  over  into  the 
Rocky  Mountains  of  Idaho  and  Montana  three  times  since  leaving 
college,  and  have  spent  part  of  every  winter  in  Florida.  Had  a 
rather  interesting  experience  in  Key  West  just  previous  to  the 
Spanish  war,  which  would  scarcely  bear  repeating  here.  Some  of  it 
would  not  look  well  in  print,  but  if  you  want  to  know  about  it,  some 
of  the  fellows  will  tell  you  of  a  few  startling  occurrences. 

So  you  see,  Pop,  I  have  just  drifted  about  till  I  had  a  couple  of  sad 
experiences,  then  I  got  down  to  work  like  all  the  rest,  and  here  I  am. 
I  picked  out  the  automobile  business  as  a  good,  new  and  modern  thing, 
and  believe  there  is  money  to  be  made  in  it,  so  I  will  stay  by  the  ship 
till  I  make  some  money,  then  pull  my  freight  to  a  more  congenial  and 
soothing  climate,  such  as  that  which  is  found  in  the  islands  of  the 
South   Pacific. 

I   manage  to  get  up   to  the  good  old  burg  about  once  every  two 

37 


months,  but  the  oftener  I  go  the  lonelier  I  get,  so  I  am  going  to  re- 
serve my  visits  hereafter  till  spring  (June)   and  fall. 
As  ever,  your  classmate, 

James  King  Clarke. 
Ardmore,  Pa.,  Feb.  26,  '01. 


SAMUEL  CLAY. 

The  warlike  conditions  which  have  recently  obtained  in  the  State 
of  Kentucky  suggested  to  Clay's  friends  several  hypotheses  to  account 
for  his  long  silence.  The  well-known  aggressiveness  of  his  nature, 
coupled  with  his  physical  fitness  to  serve  as  a  target,  caused  a  great 
fear  that  he  had  been  the  "innocent  bystander"  in  some  one  of  the  nu- 
merous interchanges  of  social  amenities  that  are  wont  to  amuse  the  in- 
habitants of  Kentucky  shire-towns  on  festive  occasions.  The  secretary 
put  his  Sherlock-Holmes  system  to  work  and  finally  succeeded  in  re- 
lieving this  fear.  Communication  was  established  with  the  farm  by 
means  of  John  Reilly's  improvement  on  Marconi's  wireless  telegraphy, 
and  the  message  was  received :  "Am  raising  live  stock."  At  this 
juncture,  owing  to  Colonel's  explosive  volubility,  the  coherer  became 
tangled  and  the  rest  of  the  despatch  is  shrouded  in  the  oblivion  of  the 
waving  Blue  Grass.  So  much  of  the  message  as  was  received,  how- 
ever, is  still  redolent  of  the  fragrance  of  that  Bourbon  which  is  dis- 
tilled by  moonlight. 


HENRY  STEINER  CLEMENT,  JR. 

Dear  Secretary: — A  letter  from  me  will  be  of  but  little  or  no  in- 
terest, still  I  shall  write  one  if  for  no  other  reason  but  defense  from 
those  suggestive  postals  of  profanity  (implied).  Since  leaving  col- 
lege I  have  had  a  most  uneventful  career,  studying  law  for  about  a 
year,  in  General  B.  F.  Tracy's  New  York  office,  and  at  the  same  time 
attending  the  New  York  Law  School.  Late  in  1898  I  gave  up  the 
law  and  since  that  time  I  have  been  engaged  in  the  hotel  business 
with  my  father  at  his  house,  Congress  Hall,  Saratoga.  N.  Y.,  during 
the  season,  from  June  to  October  of  each  year,  the  balance  of  the 
time  being  passed  in  New  York  and  Saratoga,  with  an  occasional 
trip  to  other  points. 

I  have  missed  only  one  football  game  with  Yale  since  leaving 
college,  that  being  at  New  Haven,  in  '97,  and  have  seen  all  the  base- 
ball games  with  Old  Eli  in  New  York.  I  deeply  regret  having 
missed  last  June's  reunion,  and  I  shall  expend  every  effort  to  be  on 
hand  in  1902.  I  saw  a  number  of  the  fellows  in  Princeton  on  Nov. 
17  last,  but  naturally  for  a  short  time  only.  Hoping  to  see  that 
book  soon,  I  am.  As  ever,  sincerely  yours, 

Henry  S.  Clement,  Jr. 

Saratoga  Springs,  N.  Y.,  April  4,   1901. 


38 


PERCY  ROBERT  COLWELL. 

^  Dear  Pop:— It  hardly  seems  necessary  for  a  man  who  has  lived 
"the  quiet  life"  ever  since  Princeton  University  gave  him  an  A.  B., 
to  write  a  letter  telling  you  about  it.  "The  quiet  life"  does  not 
furnish  much  material  for  exciting  narrative,  and,  even  though  one 
be  very  lazy,  he  wearies,  sometimes,  of  its  calm,  and  longs  for  a  fling, 
feels  the  surge  of  red  blood  and  the  eagerness  to  do  something 
"strenuous"— this  particularly  when  news  comes  that  Teddy  Roose- 
velt is  on  the  warpath,  as  has  happened  so  frequently  in  these  lacter 
days.  But  my  strenuous  impulses  have  generally  been  compelled  to 
find  an  outlet  in  tramping  about  the  country  or  in  some  other  such 
inoffensive  pastime.  Even  ths  afternoon  I've  been  workng  off  one 
of  them  upon  a  football,  in  company  with  certain  other  staid  mem- 
bers of  the  University  Faculty. 

That's  almost  enough  of  an  introduction.  Now  for  autobiography— 
from  the  day  when  Arthur  Leonard  took  particular  care  of  my 
sprained  ankle  while  the  rest  of  the  fellows  put  me  in  through  the 
car  windov/.  I  spent  the  next  five  months  at  home,  recovering  from 
that  same  sprained  ankle,  and  wondering  if,  upon  the  face  of  the 
earth,  there  was  any  lucrative  employment  for  which  I  was  fit.  Then 
I  "got  a  job"  and  went  to  Plainfield  to  live.  About  this  same  time 
I  did  a  rapid  sprint  down  West  street,  New  York,  to  catch  a  train, 
and  thereby  discovered  that  my  ankle  was  well.  So  I  threw  away 
my  cane  and  once  more  walked  on  two  legs  as  other  men  do. 

In  Plainfield  I  was  general  assistant  in  "The  New  Jersey  Military 
Academy,"  a  private  day  school  for  boys  which  had  an  ephemeral 
existence.  I  taught  eleven  branches,  ranging  from  spelling  to  geome- 
try and  Virgil,  and  I  also  exercised  a  disciplinary  jurisdiction  over 
some  twenty  interesting  infants  of  various  ages.  My  one  achieve- 
ment was  to  beat  some  sense  and  a  little  knowledge  of  spelling  into 
the  head  of  a  small  boy  who,  when  first  I  knew  him,  solemnly  spelled 
pig  "p-i-g-u-e."  That  hoy  was  fourteen  years  old  and  came  from 
Chicago. 

In  the  following  April  "The  New  Jersey  Military  Academy"  passed 
away.  Its  death  was  very  sudden— due  to  some  curious  transactions 
of  its  principal — and  I  was  left  once  more  wondering  what  use  the 
world  had  for  me.  The  suspense  was  not,  however,  of  long  duration, 
and  in  June  I  went  to  live  as  private  tutor  at  a  cottage  in  the  Ramapo 
Valley,  near  Ramseys,  N.  J. 

Here  I  stayed  for  over  a  year,  endeavoring  to  teach  two  boys  cer- 
tain rudiments  of  knowledge  which  are  considered  proper  to  the 
juvenile  education.  When  the  strenuous  impulses  came  I  took  to  the 
fields  with  dog  and  gun— and  the  pheasants  would  rise  and  fly  away  in 
derision.  I  did,  however,  shoot  two  clay-pigeons.  Also  I  became 
a  constant  pedestrian  and  explored  the  hills  and  the  Ramapo  Valley 
with  much  zest.  "Light  Horse  Harry"  Leigh  was  supposed  to  be 
living  in  Suffern,  only  four  miles  away — in  reality  he  spent  all  his 
days    at    Tuxedo — and    about    once    a    week    I    would    tramp    over    to 


39 


Suffern  to  see  him.  Now,  Suffern  is  a  town  of  perhaps  fifteen 
hundred  people  and  twice  as  many  dogs.  I  had  seven  canine  friends 
who  were  wont  to  follow  at  my  heels  when  I  was  pursuing  my 
perambulations  about  the  country,  and  when  I  appeared  in  Suffern 
with  this  escort,  there  invariably  began  a  celebration  which  "made 
Rome  howl."     Curiously  enough  I  never  found  Harry  at  home. 

In  the  summer  of  '99  I  was  appointed  to  an  instructorship  in  the 
Greek  Department  here,  and  I  have  since  been  leading  a  pleasant 
but  eventful  life,  insinuating  "circumstantial  participles"  into  the 
Irains  of  anxious  freshmen,  endeavoring  to  energize  lazy  sophomores 
and  to  discover  to  them  the  beauties  of  Homer  and  Euripides,  trying 
to  refrain  from  calling  Seward  Erdman's  kid  brother  "Spud"  in  the 
classroom,  really  learning  some  Greek,  and  working  in  a  desultory 
fashion  in  the  English  Department  for  a  dim  and  distant  A.  M.  I 
have  not  yet  been  mobbed  by  the  students  nor  had  my  windows 
broken,  though  I  inhabit  the  room  once  occupied  by  Professor 
Hoskins.  Neither  have  I  been  treated  to  firecrackers  and  alarm 
clocks  in  the  fashion  in  which  we  were  wont  to  make  life  merry  for 
our  aged  guide  in  the  intricacies  of  Homeric  Greek,  though  I  hold 
forth  in  a  part  of  the  room  out  of  which  he  chased  us  on  one  memo- 
rable morning — with  fire  in  his  eye  and  an  umbrella  in  his  hand. 
From  such  misfortunes  may  I  be  preserved ! 

Many  younger  brothers  of  '97  enter  the  classes  each  year.  May  the 
privilege  be  mine  to  see  the  sons  of  '97  one  day  sit  in  my  lecture  room ! 
Scoby  Van  Nest  and  Mrs.  Scoby  are  here,  and  Davy  Magie,  and  for 
the  sake  of  the  old  class  we  try  to  see  that  the  University  does  not  go 
too  far  wrong. 

There  is  always  a  welcome  for  '97  men  at  33  Blair  Hall,  and  with  that 
trite  information  I'll  turn  off  the  gas  and  go  to  dinner.  Success  to  you. 
Pop,  and  to  every  classmate.     Faithfully  yours, 

Percy  Robert  Colwell. 

S3  Blair  Hall,  Princeton,  N.  J.,  Dec.  8,  1900. 

ROBERT   COMIN. 

Ady  Dear  Keener: — I  thought  I  had  contributed  all  the  information 
you  desired,  when  I  filled  out  the  blank  question  sheet  you  forwarded. 
As  I  arn  anxious  to  see  a  Triennial  Record  of  '97  come  out  soon, 
though,  and  as  you  are  looking  for  something  more,  I  will  send  these 
few  additional  details  of  my  career : 

After  being  stationed  for  two  years  at  Bloomfield,  N.  J.,  as  a  kind 
of  general  utility  man  in  the  High  School,  I  received  an  appointment 
as  instructor  in  History  in  a  new  high  school,  opening  in  Brooklyn, 
called  the  Eastern  District  High  School.  I  came  here  in  February, 
1900,  and  am  growing  up  with  the  school. 

The  only  experience  in  my  career  since  leaving  college,  in  the  way 
of  an  adventure,  was  a  pleasant  little  trip  abroad  during  the  summer 
of  1900.  I  went  with  no  special  object  in  view,  but  to  see  a  little  of 
the  Old  World  and  get  a  glimpse  of  the  Exposition.     I  landed  in  Eng- 

40  _ 


land  in  the  early  part  of  July  and  after  taking  a  hurried  trip  through 
central  England  and  spending  a  week  in  London,  I  went  direct  to 
Cologne  and  Bonn.  I  spent  about  a  month  in  Bonn.  There  were 
about  2,000  students  in  the  university  at  the  time.  So  far  as  I  could 
see  they  have  none  of  the  delightful  outdoor  life  that  is  worth  a  college 
course  to  an  American  student.  From  Bonn  I  went  on  up  the  Rhine, 
visiting  Heidelberg,  Frankfurt,  Nuremberg  and  Miunich.  Then  I  spent 
a  few  days  in  Switzerland,  ascending  the  Rigi,  and  ended  my  sight- 
seeing by  spending  a  week  at  Paris. 

As  might  be  expected  of  one  who  was  a  "poler"  in  college,  I  am 
doing  a  little  graduate  work  in  history  and  economics.  I  am  not  yet 
aiming  at  any  more  degrees.  I  feel  that  I  have  all  I  can  do  to  carry 
my  A.  B.  at  present. 

Here's  one  man  that  is  praying  for  a  rattling  good  baseball  team  for 
1901  and  a  football  team  that  will  make  Yale  sorry  she  ever  saw  it, 
and  will  bury  such  little  incidents  as  Cornell  and  Columbia. 

Awaiting  anxiously  the  Triennial  Record  of  '97  and  with  best  wishes 
for  the  secretary,  and  every  classmate,  I  am, 

Ever  faithfully, 

Robert  Comin. 

Brooklyn,  N.  Y.,  Feb.  26,  1901. 


LE  ROY  CLARK  COOLEY,  JR. 

Dear  Pop: — After  leaving  college  I  took  up  the  study  of  Theology 
at  New  College,  Edinburgh,  Scotland.  The  students  in  Edinburgh 
number  about  five  thousand.  They  have  very  little  of  what  we  would 
call  college  life,  because  there  are  no  dormitories.  Most  of  the  stu- 
dents live  in  "digs,"  as  they  call  their  lodgings,  in  a  students'  quarter, 
in  the  old  town  across  the  Meadows.  I  had  the  pleasure  one  afternoon 
of  searching  out  the  autograph  of  our  James  McCosh  in  the  Registrar's 
book  of  the  University.  The  professors  are  attended  by  an  usher,  who 
wears  a  silk  hat  and  usually  has  a  red  nose  and  is  fat,  with  brass 
buttons — quite  imposing.  This  usher  is  supposed  to  keep  order  and 
answer  various  questions.  At  the  beginning  of  the  term  nearly  every 
student  attends  nearly  every  class  to  see  how  he  might  like  it,  to  sample 
it,  so  to  speak.  After  the  electives  are  handed  in,  the  attendance  falls 
off  wonderfully.  Instead  of  paying  a  single  tuition  fee  as  with  us,  the 
student  paj's  £3  for  each  lecture  course  he  takes.  As  a  result  the  canny 
Scot  student  often  has  only  two  subjects  instead  of  six  or  seven. 

The  Professor  of  English  holds  the  conspicuous  position  among  the 
Edinburgh  students  which  dear  old  Cam  did  with  us.  In  fact,  I  at- 
tended one  or  two  demonstrations  which  made  it  seem  like  home. 
Singing  plays  a  very  important  part  in  the  Scotch  system  of  horsing. 
On  one  occasion  the  English  professor  entered  his  class  room  to  the 
hymn,  "See  the  hosts  of  Hell  advancing,  Satan  leading  on." 

I  attended  the  Easter  term  at  Oxford.  The  many  dififerent  colleges 
gathered  together   in   one  town   offer  many  advantages,   especially   in 

41 


athletics,  from  the  fact  that  the  University  is  represented  by  virtually 
an  intercollegiate  team.  Each  College  dines  together  in  its  common 
hall  at  night.  The  other  three  meals  the  students  have  in  their  rooms. 
Four  meals  a  day  are  very  conducive  to  hospitality.  Oxford  is  sur- 
rounded by  water  very  suitable  for  boating  of  every  description.  When 
the  examination  time  came  I  was  surprised  to  see  most  of  the  stu- 
dents of  my  acquaintance  decamp  into  nearby  villages  to  study  in  peace 
and  quiet. 

The  last  two  years  I  have  been  studyng  at  Union  Theological  Semi- 
nary. Things  have  been  uneventful  except  that  I  was  on  the  Steamship 
Hamilton  which  sank  the  Steamship  Macedonia,  in  a  fog,  off  Sea- 
bright,  June  13,  1899.  Another  adventure  was  that  I  was  thrown  out 
of  a  carriage  and  the  horse  and  carriage  rolled  on  top  of  me  down  an 
embankment.     No  bones  broken. 

At  present  I  am  serving  as  Associate  Chaplain  in  Hampton  Institute. 
The  congregation  has  averaged  about  eight  hundred  so  far,  made  up 
of  three  races — red,  black,  and  white. 

I  am  trying  to  develop  the  Princeton  spirit  among  the  students  here 
at  Hampton. 

With  good  wishes  and  greetings  to  all  the  members  of  the  Great  and 
Glorious  Class.  Sincerely, 

Le  Roy  C.  Cooley,  Jr. 

Hampton,  Va.,  Feb.  23,  1901. 


FRANK  BERTINE  COWAN. 

My  Dear  Classmates: — Having  just  received  notice  that  my  delin- 
quency has  caused  our  Secretary  to  wander  from  "the  narrow  way,"  I 
feel  that  I  must  perform  my  duty  in  this  respect  at  once,  and  so  re- 
lieve myself  from  any  farther  responsibility  for  his  wanderings. 

The  story  of  my  life  since  graduation  can  be  summed  up  in  few 
words.  Immediately  after  leaving  the  "Classic  shades"  I  returned  to 
my  Country  Seat  (?)  and  spent  three  months  renewing  my  acquaint- 
ance with  those  who  know  what  it  means  "to  earn  their  bread  by  the 
sweat  of  their  brow." 

In  the  autumn  of  that  year  I  entered  Auburn  (not  the  penitentiary) 
and  pursued  a  course  of  theological  study.  The  following  summer  I 
practiced  on  some  meek  and  long-sufifering  people  among  the  hills,  and 
succeeded  in  organizing  a  church  (good,  old  orthodox  Presbyterian, 
too),  with  fifty-six  charter  members. 

Then  occurred  the  "great  event"  of  my  life.  I  was  married  Sept. 
14,  1898,  and  WE  sailed  immediately  for  "the  land  o'  cakes." 

I  spent  six  months  in  Edinburgh  studying  theology,  and  then  we 
traveled  for  two  months  in  England,  France,  Switzerland  and  Italy. 

We  returned  to  our  native  heath  in  May  and  for  ten  weeks  I  ex- 
pounded the  Scriptures  to  "Old  Duff,"  Anthony  Comstock,  and  other 
notables,  at  Stamford,  N.  Y.  In  the  fall  I  entered  Auburn  Seminary 
for  my  third  and  last  year  of  theological  study,  and  graduated  from 

42 


that  instituion  in  May.  I  was  ordained  May  i6,  and  ever  since  I  have 
been  trying  to  lead  men  into  "the  narrow  way,"  hence  my  haste  in 
responding  to  the  Secretary's  second  appeal. 

By  the  way,  I  almost  forgot  to  mention  that  I  am  a  happy  pater  and 
claim  the  distinction  of  possessing  one  of  the  "Jewels." 

I  think  I  have  recorded  everything  (and  possibly  more)  that  would 
be  of  interest  to  those  who  will  have  the  privilege  of  perusing  these 
lines. 

With  best  wishes  for  the  success  of  "Our  Glorious  Class," 

Faithfully  yours, 


Frank  B.  Cowan. 


MoRRisviLLE,  N.  Y.,  Feb.  i8,  1901. 


JOHN  HAMILTON  COWAN. 

A  course  of  theology,  first  at  Princeton  and  later  at  Auburn,  drove 
"the  father"  into  such  a  depth  of  philosophic  misanthropy  that  he  re- 
fuses to  yield  to  the  blandishments  of  the  secretary.  To  those  who 
were  wont  to  be  the  auditors  of  his  impassioned  eloquence,  and  who 
have  heard  from  his  lips  many  an  outburst  of  Ciceronian  invective 
against  the  theological  heresies  which  becloud  the  thinking  of  the 
present  day,  it  may  seem  strange  that  a  man  so  evidently  destined  to 
sway  multitudes  by  the  power  of  his  rhetoric  should  so  voluntarily 
relegate  himself  to  the  realms  of  un-Princetonian  desuetude. 

Habitat — Pittston,  Pa, 


EARL  WALKER   COX. 

Dear  "Pop": — If  I  tried,  I  think  it  would  be  possible  to  condense 
all  the  information  you  would  like  to  have  into  the  space  required  for 
a  telegram,  which  would  be  a  poor  return  for  the  numerous  communi- 
cations forwarded  to  me  by  the  secretary. 

Since  leaving  college,  I  have  been  in  the  wholesale  coal  business 
right  along,  except  for  six  or  eight  months,  when  I  kept  the  books 
for  a  New  York  manufactory's  local  branch,  which  I  left  about  a  year 
and  a  half  ago,  when  we  enlarged  by  opening  a  retail  yard.  There  are 
no  '97  men  and  very  few  Princeton  men  at  all  in  this  business,  either 
buying  or  selling,  in  this  territory,  so  that  I  do  not  often  run  across  any 
of  the  fellows. 

With  the  exception  of  a  week  spent  along  the  Hudson  on  a  wheel, 
several  years  ago,  when  I  was  lucky  enough  to  meet  a  number  of  the 
class,  my  vacation  has  taken  me  every  year  to  Lake  Keuka,  N.  Y. 
Townley  has  missed  being  there  only  one  summer,  and  some  of  the  other 
fellows  have  been  with  us  at  times. 

At.  the  meetings  of  the  local  Alumni,  '97  continues  to  be  better  repre- 
sented than  any  other  class,  which  is  an  advantage,  as  you  can  get  up 
a  private  reunion  if  things  get  at  all  tiresome.  I'm  thankful  that  I 
have  been  at  all  the  commencements  and  two  football  games  since  we 

43 


graduated.  It  has  been  a  great  satisfaction  to  have  a  good  time  with 
so  many  of  the  fellows,  and  has  been  always  worth  while ;  but  I  hope 
some  one  has  written  you  a  full  and  complete  history  of  the  Triennial 
for  the  special  benefit  of  those  who  were  unable  to  come.  That  reunion 
certainly  deserves  the  prize,  as  the  attendance  records  will  show,  and 
as  all  who  were  there  will  bear  witness,  and  the  promoters  should  re- 
ceive the  blessings  of  their  thankful  classmates. 

The  next  big  event,  I  suppose,  will  be  1902,  and  we  ought  to  prepare 
for  that,  while  some  of  the  more  foresighted,  with  whom  we  are  ac- 
quainted, will  be  laying  plans  for  the  time  when  '97  will  be  represented 
among  the  Alumni  Trustees. 

Yours  truly. 

Earl  W.  Cox. 

Harrisburg,  Pa.,  March  29,  '01. 

ROY  GALBRAITH  COX. 

My  Dear  Patriarch: — In  response  to  the  promptings  of  a  few  atoms 
of  conscience  which  occasionally  rub  together,  especially  when  urged 
by  the  excitment  incident  to  the  deciphering  of  your  periodic  hiero- 
glyphics, which  have  been  conveying  increasingly  violent  denuncia- 
tions, threats  and  imprecations,  my  pen  is  at  last  at  your  disposal. 

After  enjoying  an  ornamental  summer,  subsequent  to  graduation, 
my  idleness  was  suddenly  terminated  by  the  opportunity  to  secure  a 
bottom  position  with  the  Harrisburg  Trust  Company;  and  on  Septem- 
ber 8th,  1897,  I  started  to  settle  down.  The  work  was  agreeable,  and 
by  sticking  to  it  I  have  been  moderately  successful.  Indeed,  fortune 
has  so  favored  me  that  matrimony  became  possible  and  attractive.  My 
marriage  took  place  November  28,  1900,  under  the  auspices  of  Hitzrot, 
Buck  Thompson  and  Earl. 

We  do  not  have  many  opportunities  of  meeting  with  the  good  old 
class,  but  bring  on  your  fifth  annual  reunion,  and  don't  judge  our  class 
spirit  by  our  literary  disinclination  or  procrastination. 

Yours  truly, 

Roy  G.  Cox. 

Harrisburg,  Pa.,  March  25,  *oi. 

Assistant  treasurer  Harrisburg  Trust  Co. ;  treasurer  Eastmere  Water 
Co. ;  secretary  Harrisburg  Mfg  &  Boiler  Co. ;  auditor  Harrisburg 
Board  of  Trade ;  director  Greensburg  &  Hempfield  E.  St.  Ry.  Co. ; 
treasurer  Spring  Lake  Poultry  Co. ;  member  of  The  Country  Club  of 
Harrisburg,  Harrisburg  Athletic  Club. 


DAVID  MAHON  CRAIG. 

My  Dear  Fellozvs :—l  would  hate  to  tell  just  how  many  times  Pop 
Keener  has  written  to  say  that  it  was  "up  to  me" — it  was  more  than 
once  however,  as  he  will  testify,  and  not  wishing  to  use  up  the  entire 
class  fund  in  postal  cards,  I  have  finally  decided  to  dispute  his  word 
no  longer. 

44 


I  have  been  in  so  many  different  places  since  graduation  that  I  can't 
quite  recall  the  full  list,  but  if  you  will  consult  the  map  of  western 
Pennsylvania  and  eastern  Ohio  you  will  find  them  all,  and  thereby 
save  Pop  the  trouble  of  getting  the  record  out  in  two  volumes. 

I  might  add  that  I  have  been  "working  on  the  railroad"  ever  since 
the  summer  of  '97,  and  to  my  fellow  Big  Mackites  this  tells  the  whole 
story,  but  as  there  are  a  few  in  the  class  who  missed  this  superior 
training,  a  few  details  are  necessary.  Railroading  consists  principally 
in  moving  from  one  small  town  to  another,  and  when  one  gets  it  down 
to  a  science,  he  makes  his  moves  just  before  his  board  bill  becomes 
due,  and  thereby  is  enabled  to  live  on  his  salary.  Now  this  is  strictly 
a  professional  secret,  so  please  don't  give  it  away,  but  if  any  of  you 
fellows  aren't  making  a  hit,  here's  your  chance  for  a  home  run.  Another 
fine  point  about  railroading  is  this  private  car  racket,  and  there's  where 
you  sing,  "Palms  of  Victory."  I  used  to  travel  exclusively  on  mine, 
but  one  of  the  handles  broke  and  since  then  I've  done  most  of  my 
traveling  afoot.  If  William  Moore  only  inhabited  these  parts,  I  be- 
lieve I  could  work  that  car  off  on  him,  for  it  has  many  fine  points. 

I  am  at  present  busily  engaged  on  a  literary  production  in  the  nature 
of  a  black-list.  It  is  compiled  from  a  strictly  personal  experience,  and 
contains  the  surnames  of  all  the  bad  hotels  in  this  section,  truly  a 
boon  for  all  travelers.  It  will  cost  only  four  bones  per,  so  send  along 
your  checks,  but  don't  stick  the  stamps  on  as  I  may  want  to  use  them. 

Yours  sincerely, 

David  M.  Craig. 

Bedford,  Ohio,  May  2,  '01. 

FRANK  GRENVILLE  CURTIS. 

Dear  Pop: — Your  last  urgent  appeal  received,  and  as  I  am  the  prin- 
cipal factor  in  m.aintaining  a  domestic  establishment  I  don't  think  I 
shall  wait  for  your  C.  O.  D.  telegrams  with  which  you  threaten  me. 
To  tell  you  the  truth,  I  do  feel  a  little  ashamed  for  not  responding  be- 
fore, but  procrastination  is  the  source  of  all  evil,  and  I  really  think 
those  who  have  failed  to  answer  have  not  done  it  out  of  lack  of  spirit 
for  our  great  and  glorious  class,  but  rather  because  they  keep  putting 
it  off  until  the  morrow,  which  in  some  cases,  never  comes.  Then  you 
must  remember  that  it  is  a  very  difficult  thing  to  write  a  history  of 
your  own  life,  especially  an  uneventful  and  prosaic  one,  which  is  the 
lot  of  most  of  us.  Autobiographies  are  always  difficult  even  among 
those  who  know  how  to  write  and  really  have  something  to  say.  You 
speak  of  me  as  a  literary  man,  and  that  in  my  case  lack  of  ability  can- 
not be  pleaded  as  an  excuse,  but  let  me  assure  you  that  any  such 
ambition  is  of  the  past,  for  I  have  taken  upon  myself  the  responsibilities 
of  life  and  am  fighting  earnestly  in  the  struggle  for  existence,  and 
hoping  fondly  to  survive  among  the  fittest.  Circumstances  make  our 
futures,  and  although  upon  graduation  we  may  tell  our  class  secretary 
what  we  are  going  to  be,  let  me  ask  you.  Pop,  how  many  of  us  have 
carried  out  our  intentions.     I  should  really  like  to  know. 

45 


Now,  as  to  what  I  have  done  since  leaving  the  dear  old  place.  After 
spending  a  restful  summer  at  the  sea-shore,  I  packed  up  my  things 
and  sailed  abroad  instead  of  taking  a  P.  G.  course  as  originally  in- 
tended. I  visited  England,  France,  Austria  and  Italy,  Turkey,  Greece, 
Palestine,  Syria  and  Egypt.  I  mention  Egj^pt  last  because  in  impor- 
tance to  me  it  was  anything  but  least.  Not  because  I  viewed  the  mum- 
mied remains  of  old  Rameses  the  Great  with  so  much  interest,  nor 
because  I  looked  upon  the  towering  columns  of  Karnak  with  such 
veneration  (they  are  even  more  imposing  than  those  of  Whig  or  Clio 
Hall,  which  as  a  loyal  Princetonian  you  may  dispute).  No,  it  was  not 
mummies  or  ruins  which  interested  me  particularly,  but  a  little  lady 
who  since  then  has  become  my  wife.  And  right  here  I  want  to  avow 
before  all  my  classmates  that  the  song  I  used  to  sing  in  college  was  not 
for  the  purpose  of  advertising  any  of  my  future  family-in-law.  I 
knew  none  of  them  then,  and  to  my  knowledge  there  is  no  Dr.  Herrick 
in  the  family. 

Upon  returning  from  abroad  my  literary  plans  were  abandoned. 
War  had  been  declared,  and  I  enlisted  in  the  171st  N.  Y.,  but  saw  no 
active  service.  The  following  December  (1898)  I  was  married.  Harold 
Chatfield  was  best  man,  Ed.  Davis  and  Dean  Elliott  ushers.  Two 
months  afterwards  I  went  into  the  brokerage  business  in  the  firm  of 
Nicoll,  Herrick  and  Berg,  of  which  I  am  now  cashier.  But,  perhaps, 
the  greatest  happiness  of  all.  Pop,  came  to  me  last  January,  when  my 
little  girl  was  born;  the  dearest  baby  that  ever  lived  (at  least  we  think 
so).  She  will  be  a  true  daughter  of  Princeton,  and  in  time  to  come 
will  wave  the  orange  and  the  black  at  all  our  victories,  for  the  time  is 
coming  when  everything  will  be  a  victory  for  Princeton,  and  all  her 
rivals  will  be  rivals  no  longer.  Old  Nassau  will  rule  supreme,  the  one 
great  American  university,  and  the  class  of  ninety-seven  will  shine 
forth  the  brightest  star  in  our  great  constellation  of  success. 

Most  sincerely  yours, 

Frank  G.  Curtis. 

New  York  City,  N.  Y.,  May  3,  1901. 


GERALD  SCHOOLEY  CURTIS. 

Curtis  is  the  guest  who  "has  married  a  wife  and  cannot  come !"  The 
cares  of  pater-familias  have  put  letter-writing  entirely  beyond  his 
powers.  He  is  engaged  in  the  wood-fire-proofing  business,  and  solicits 
the  patronage  of  all  members  of  the  class  who  are  anxious  to  have 
permanent  abodes  in  the  hereafter.  The  secretary  humbly  bespeaks  for 
this  advertisement  the  serious  and  immediate  attention  of  those  who 
have  thus  far  failed  to  respond  to  his  mild  requests. 


GEORGE  KNOWLES  CROZER,  JR. 

Dear  Pop: — During  the  first  two  months  I  have  been  sick  with  the 
grippe,  and  away  from  home  repeatedly,  otherwise  your  frequent  re- 


46 


quests  and  appeals  for  a  letter  would  certainly  have  been  answered 
long  ere  it  were  necessary  for  them  to  have  become  faithfully  frequent 
and  justly  vehement.     So  here  goes! 

I  have  done  nothing  to  startle  myself  or  anyone  else,  by  its  inherent 
merit,  in  the  last  four  years,  except  one  thing,  and  of  that  I  am  duly 
proud — the  fact  that  I  returned  to  college  and  secured  my  "Dip." 
My  one  regret,  however,  is  that  it  was  not  with  the  "great  and  glorious." 

The  fall  following  graduation  I  began  to  study  law  in  Philadelphia, 
but  six  months'  time  proved  to  me  that  it  was  a  mistake  to  continue, 
with  a  view  to  practice — that  it  was  not  in  my  line.  From  then  on 
till  last  fall  found  me  busy  rolling  up  considerable  mileage,  and  keeping 
my  address  on  the  move.  The  latter  wandered  at  odd  and  irregular 
intervals  to  points  intermediate  betv/een  San  Francisco  and  Cairo ! 
Early  last  October  I  went  into  business  in  Philadelphia,  and  am  hard 
at  it  as  one  of    the  "day  workers." 

V/ell,  I  feel  sure  that  when  many  of  us  gather  for  our  fifth  reunion 
in  '02,  we  will  have  the  proud  but  usual  satisfaction  of  eclipsing  the 
records  of  all  previous  classes  in  numbers  and  enthusiasm  and  in  every- 
thing else.    I  guess  by  this  time  I  have  said  about  enough,  if  not  more. 

Sincerely  yours, 

George  K.  Crozer,  Jr. 

Philadelphia,  Pa.,  April  10,  1901. 


EDWARD  PARSON  DAVIS. 

Davis  evidently  desires  to  be  forgotten,  for  he  consistently  refrains 
from  responding  to  the  overtures  of  the  secretary.  It  cannot  be  learned 
whether  he  is  still  only  a  cornet  or  has  developed  into  a  full  orchestra. 
It  is  rumored  he  is  practising  law,  and  that  instead  of  emitting  notes 
he  is  now  protesting  them. 


WILLIAM  POTTER  DAVIS,  JR. 

My  Dear  Pop: — Your  letters  and  postals  are  always  welcome,  and 
when  they  come  five  in  succession — well,  I  must  come  out  of  my  shell 
and  respond.  Don't  think  for  an  instant  that  my  silence  has  been 
caused  by  lack  of  interest  in  the  class  or  lack  of  appreciation  of  the 
labor  involved  in  the  compilation  of  such  an  addition  to  American 
literature  as  the  '97  Triennial  Record,  but  attribute  it  to  a  natural  re- 
luctance to  send  a  letter  saturated,  like  this,  with  so  many  references 
to  the  ego.  A  man  who  writes  an  autobiography  must  have  done 
something  worthy  of  mention  or  he  is  classed  among  the  conceited 
and  foolish.     Here  goes  for  the  second  class ! 

Wars  have  troubled  me  not.  I  did  not  leave  my  Dolly  Gray  "to 
go  to  fight  the  foe."  My  paths  have  been  paths  of  peace,  except,  per- 
haps, occasionally  there  was  a  little  internal  dissension  just  for  sweet 
variety's  sake.     Nor  have  I  been  in  the  "wild  and  woolly"  hunting  for 

47 


or  being  hunted  by  big  game.  My  locus  in  quo  for  the  last  four  years 
has  been  the  Quaker  City,  and  my  object  has  been,  for  the  most  part 
hunting  after  big  game  of  the  biped  variety.  I  am  a  lawyer,  and — 
but  to  retrospect. 

After  leaving  the  dearest  place  on  earth,  I  matriculated  at  the  Uni- 
versity of  Pennsylvania  Law  School.  How  did  I  like  it?  How  did 
Adam  enjoy  himself  after  he  left  Eden?  His  only  trouble  was  that 
he  had  been  in  paradise  and  he  must  have  realized  in  the  words  of 
Josh  Billings,  "it  is  only  a  step  from  hoe  caik  to  plum  puddin',  but  to 
go  back  again  is  a  mile  and  a  half  by  the  shortest  road."  Well,  after 
spending  three  years  hunting  antiquated  cases,  I  was  at  last  permitted 
by  a  kind  Providence  and  lenient  faculty  to  bag  one  LL.  B.  A  more 
appropriate  degree  would  have  been  M.  T.  Then  I  hung  out  my  shingle 
with  the  firm  I  had  been  with  since  leaving  Princeton.  My  office  is 
in  the  Betz  Building,  and  the  latch  string  is  always  out  to  any  '97 
man.  If  any  inducements  are  necessary  I  might  suggest  that  the  Raths- 
keller is  in  the  same  building. 

With  best  wishes  to  each  and  all  until  we  meet  in  June,  I  am, 

Yours  truly, 

William  Potter  Davis,  Jr. 

Philadelphia,  Pa.,  April  18,  '01. 


MURRAY  GREENE  DAY. 

My  Dear  Classmates: — Pop  has  been  sending  me  letters  in  bunches, 
asking  for  my  class  letter,  so  in  self-defense  and  for  the  fear  that  he 
will  begin  to  telegraph  me,  C.  O.  D.,  I  take  my  pen  in  hand,  etc.,  etc. 
I  left  college  the  19th  of  June,  '97,  and  I  had  a  picture  of  myself 
having  a  nice  loaf  all  summer  and  then  going  to  work  in  the  fall,  but 
the  Powers  that  Be  decided  otherwise,  and  I  was  told  to  go  to  Kansas 
City,  and  thither  I  went  and  stayed  until  after  Christmas  in  '98.  In 
Kansas  City  I  had  a  sub-laboratory  for  the  Paving  Company,  and 
when  I  was  sent  East  in  the  winter  of  '98,  I  went  to  the  head  laboratory 
in  Long  Island  City.  I  was  at  the  head  laboratory  until  the  28th  of 
April,  when  I  was  ordered  to  St.  Louis  to  the  sub-laboratory  there. 
I  got  there  the  first  of  May,  and  stayed  there  until  the  first  part  of 
July,  when  I  was  ordered  back  to  the  Kansas  City  sub-laboratory.  I 
stayed  in  Kansas  City,  this  time,  until  the  winter  of  '99,  when  I  went 
East  on  my  own  account.  Shortly  after  arriving  East  I  was  sent  to 
Santiago  de  Cuba,  where  the  company  had  large  contracts  for  paving, 
as  well  as  a  water  and  sewer  system. 

Cuba  was  interesting  until  yellow  fever  broke  out  in  June,  and  then 
it  was  somewhat  trying.  In  the  meantime  I  had  a  trip  on  business  to 
Kingston,  Jamaica,  which  was  very  pleasant,  as  it  broke  the  monotony 
of  a  routine  life  in  Santigao. 

In  the  early  part  of  July  I  began  to  feel  miserable  and  thought,  of 
course,  I  had  yellow  fever,  but  when  I  went  to  the  doctor  he  assured 
me  that  I  was  so  full  of  malaria  that  there  wasn't  any  room  for  yellow 

48 


Jack.  This  was,  of  course,  comforting,  but  I  think  I  would  rather 
have  "yellow,"  as  with  it,  it  is  all  over  one  way  or  the  other,  in  a  few 
days,  and  with  malaria  you  are  over  it  when  you  are  dead — which  is 
also  comforting. 

By  the  latter  part  of  July  I  was  so  sick  that  I  was  sent  to  the 
States.  Before  going,  we  were  fumigated  and  put  in  quarantine  for 
five  days.  They  quarantined  us  by  putting  us  on  an  old  ship  out  in 
the  harbor  for  five  of  the  longest  days  that  I  have  ever  spent  or  ever 
hope  to.  Every  morning  that  ship  would  be  pointing  at  the  yellow  fever 
hospital.  The  doctor  came  aboard  each  day  and  looked  us  over  for 
symptoms  of  yellow,  but  none  appeared,  and  on  the  22nd  of  July  the 
Ward  Liner  came  in  and  we  were  taken  over  and  put  out  for  the  States 
shortly  after.  The  trip  up  was  uneventful.  We  got  to  New  York  on 
the  29th  of  July,  and  I  was  more  dead  than  alive,  but  glad  to  get  back. 
I  got  a  month's  vacation,  and  went  to  Maine,  where  I  recovered  very 
rapidly,  and  in  September  I  had  a  position  offered  me  at  Highland 
Park,  a  suburb  of  Detroit.  I  stayed  there  until  the  17th  of  December, 
when  the  work  that  I  had  charge  of  being  finished,  I  went  back  to 
New  York  and  got  back  my  position  with  the  company,  and  was 
ordered  to  sail  on  the  20th  of  that  month  for  the  City  of  Mexico,  via 
Vera  Cruz.  Arrived  there,  after  stopping  at  Progresso  and  Campeche, 
on  the  first  of  January,  1900. 

I  was  sent  to  Mexico  for  six  weeks,  but  got  back  from  there  the 
first  of  July,  which  is  a  little  more  than  six  weeks,  but  that  seems  to 
be  my  luck.  After  getting  back  from  Mexico  I  took  a  month's  vacation, 
as  I  had  a  touch  of  malaria.  After  my  vacation  I  went  to  Chicago  and 
was  there  from  August  till  October,  when  I  was  ordered  to  Kansas  City, 
Kansas,  to  take  charge  of  a  plant.  This  work  lasted  until  December 
of  1900.  Since  then  I  have  had  a  trip,  lasting  some  six  weeks,  to  Dallas, 
Texas,  but  most  of  the  time  have  had  little  or  nothing  to  do.  In  a  few 
days  I  expect  to  go  to  Chicago  and  make  my  headquarters  there,  and 
travel  from  there.  I  hope,  if  any  of  the  fellows  come  through,  they  will 
let  me  know. 

Besides  these  long  trips  I  have  had  several  short  ones.  One  in  '98 
was  especially  interesting,  in  the  Indian  Territory.  My  tale  is  told. 
I  admit  this  is  somewhat  long-winded,  but  hope  you  fellows  will  for- 
give me. 

Good  luck  to  you  all  wherever  you  are,  and  believe  me, 

Faithfully  yours, 

Murray  G.  Day. 

Kansas  City,  Mo.,  April  25,  '01. 


WALTER  MOORE  DEAR. 

My  Dear  Pop: — After  carefully  perusing  the  sample  letters  you  have 
kindly  provided  as  a  model  which  you  expect  me  to  strive  to  equal,  it 
is  with  much  trepidation  that  your  humble  servant  narrates  the  fol- 
lowing account  of  his  uneventful  life  since  leaving  the  elms  of  Old 

49 


Nassau.  As  this  letter  must  be  somewhat  personal  in  its  character, 
due  to  the  writer  being  the  subject  of  it,  I  trust  that  any  charge  of 
egotism  may  be  withheld;  for  I  class  myself  with  those  unassuming 
members  of  '97,  who  have  neither  achieved  greatness  nor  had  it  thrust 
upon  them,  and  who,  having  no  one  to  sing  their  praises,  nor  any  his- 
torian to  write  their  obituary  for  the  emulation  of  future  generations, 
must  narrate  their  own  exploits. 

All  histories  having  a  beginning,  and  brevity,  besides  being  the 
soul  of  wit,  will  also  add  in  this  case  to  the  interest  of  this  letter  for 
you,  unfortunate  devil,  who  have  to  wade  through  it,  I  will  come  to 
the  point  and  launch  forth  upon  the  dark  paths  of  the  last  three  years. 

Safely  tucking  my  prized  sheepskin  in  my  trunk  in  June  of  '97, 
I  hied  myself  to  the  seashore  to  seek  the  solution  of  the  question, 
"What  are  the  wild  waves  saying?"  Nothing  of  importance  occurred 
which  would  be  worth  narrating,  though  I  can  assure  you  it  was  the 
most  momentous  two  months  of  my  life,  as  I  illustrated  loafing  as  a 
fine  art  and  bade  good-bye  to  what  is  probably  my  last  vacation  of  any 
extent. 

Thanks  to  Squirt  Daniels,  who  had  imbued  me  with  the  taste  for 
finance  by  kindly  requesting  that  I  pass  two  examinations  in  "Poly- 
Con,"  my  steps  turned  towards  Wall  Street,  as  I  strove  merrily  to 
whistle,  "Two  more  months  and  I'll  be  looking  for  a  job."  Fortune 
favored  me  after  a  short  search,  and  I  landed  in  a  broker's  office,  where 
my  certificate  as  a  member  of  '97,  readily  secured  me  positions  of 
head  of  the  copying  department,  messenger  service,  deposit  and  trans- 
fer clerk  and  general  sweep ;  the  salary  was  sufficient  to  provide  course 
dinners  at  Dennett's,  where  I've  seen  other  rich  (?)  '97  men.  It  is 
a  fact  that  I  saw  Lugs  Mason  eating  crullers  at  that  hostelry,  so  that 
you  can  perceive  Lugs  was  making  money  from  the  start.  Two  months 
of  brokerage  found  me  with  such  an  accumulation  of  worldly  funds, 
that  I  decided  to  retire,  and  accordingly  gave  up  my  job  and  took  a 
•week's  vacation,  during  which  time  Mac.  Wilson  assisted  me  in  en- 
joying myself. 

With  the  advent  of  1898,  I  turned  my  hand  to  the  reportorial  end 
of  newspaper  work.  I  will  slide  over  the  first  six  months  of  my 
introduction  to  what  was  really  WORK,  as  it  was  the  most  trying 
and  discouraging  period  of  my  struggle  to  earn  a  livelihood.  Then,  my 
work  lightened  as  I  became  familiar  with  my  task,  and  murders,  sui- 
cides, railroad  slaughters,  divorces  and  all  those  other  essentials  which 
make  up  life  on  this  mundane  sphere  and  furnish  an  excuse  for  the 
power  of  the  press,  followed  in  rapid  succession.  After  a  year  and  a 
quarter  of  reporting  on  my  hom.e  paper,  I  then  essayed  advertisement 
soliciting.  After  three  months'  trial,  appreciating  the  fact  that  my 
forte,  if  I  had  any,  was  not  in  this  direction,  I  returned  to  reporting, 
and  had  the  decidedly  easy  work  of  writing  a  daily  letter  from  the 
seashore  resorts  along  the  Jersey  coast.  While  it  was  not  strictly  a 
vacation,  yet  I  must  confess  that  it  was  hard  to  distinguish  between 
actual  work  and  time  for  pleasure.     In  the  fall  of  that  year  I  entered 

SO 


the  business  department  of  the  newspaper,  and  still  occupy  the  same 
position,  with  more  or  less  responsibility,  and  with  fair  prospects. 

Like  others,  I  have  had  my  disappointments  and  occasional  successes, 
but  on  the  whole,  life  has  dealt  well  with  me.  I  have  made  two  un- 
eventful trips,  one  to  New  Haven  in  '97,  and  the  other  to  Princeton 
last  November.  Certain  memories  connected  with  these  travels  bring 
sad  recollection,  so  we  will  hurriedly  pass  over  the  subject.  I  might 
state  that  I  visited  the  two  previously  mentioned  places  in  '98  and  '99, 
of  which  Poe's  run  and  six-to-nothing  at  Princeton,  and  Poe's  kick 
and  eleven-to-ten  at  New  Haven,  are  my  most  distinct  recollections. 
I  have  also  attended  our  three  reunions  at  Princeton.  I  have  had  no 
books  published,  though  I  believe  some  of  my  writing  has  appeared  in 
print;  still  it  was  hard  to  distinguish  the  same  after  the  blue  pencil 
had  waded  through  it.  My  dabbling  in  politics  has  been  of  a  limited 
nature.  I  attempted  to  buck  the  organization  on  the  election  for  county 
committeemen,  and  I  am  now  among  the  "has-beens."  Since  then  I 
have  retired  from  the  political  arena. 

I  have  joined  the  First  Signal  Corps,  N.  G.  N.  J.,  which  has  been 
organized  recently,  with  headquarters  in  Jersey  City.  It  is  a  mounted 
organization  and  our  mounted  drills  are  very  similar  to  a  wild  west 
show. 

This,  my  dear  respected  father-of-his-class,  is  the  history  of  an  un- 
eventful life;  that  is,  as  much  as  can  be  told.  Did  I  think  it  wise  to 
reveal  all,  you,  no  doubt,  would  admit  that  I  have  not  "told  the  half," 
but  we  will  let  well  enough  alone,  so — 'nough  said. 

Yours  for  '97, 

Walter  M.  Dear. 

Jersey  City,  N.  J.,  Dec.  5,  '00. 


JOHN  BARCLAY  DE  COURSEY. 

Shortly  after  graduation  Jack  went  into  the  paper  manufacturing 
business,  but  was  obliged  to  give  it  up  on  account  of  continued  ill- 
health,  which  reached  such  an  acute  stage  recently  that  a  serious  oper- 
ation was  necessary.  He  is  now  at  Atlantic  City  recovering  from  the 
effects  of  the  operation,  which  was  entirely  successful. 


JOHN  DE  GRAY. 

De  Gray  is  not  a  rolling  stone.  He  has  been  employed  with  the 
Pencoyd  Iron  Works,  Philadelphia,  Pa.,  ever  since  graduation.  He  has 
evidently  absorbed  some  of  the  exclusive  tendencies  of  the  Quaker 
City,  and  refuses  to  recognize  any  person  living  north  of  the  Schuylkill. 
This  explains  his  evident  disinclination  to  hold  further  correspondence 
wth  the  m.eek  and  lowly  secretary. 


SI 


EVARISTO  VICENTE  DE  MONTALVO. 

Cuba  freed,  the  Count  has  returned  to  his  ancestral  estates,  and  is 
now  basking  in  the  sunshine  of  the  tropics,  surrounded  by  a  score  of 
obsequious  attendants,  who  fan  his  fevered  brow  and  press  to  his 
parched  lips  costly  goblets  wherein  is  the  clink  o£  ice  and  the  sparkle 
of  nectar.  The  enervating  influences  of  such  a  life  have  destroyed 
all  his  epistolary  energy.  Countless  appeals  have  failed  to  rouse  him 
from  his  lethargy,  and  the  secretary  regrets  that  a  pen  once  so  prolific  of 
graphic  description  should  now  rest  idle.  His  mission  in  life  accom- 
plished, his  sword  has  been  beaten  into  a  plow-share  and  his  spear  into 
a  sugar-hook.  The  raising  of  cane  (sic)  once  more  engrosses  his  entire 
attention. 


CHESTER  BURGER  DERR. 

Chet's  modesty  prevents  him  from  writing  any  but  personal  letters 
to  the  secretary.  He  is  too  modest  by  far.  The  various  notes  received 
give  ample  proof  that  he  is  hiding  his  light  under  a  bushel,  and  that  the 
class  has  reason  to  regret  his  refusal  to  contribute  to  the  Record.  He 
is  in  the  general  insurance  business  in  Wilkes-Barre,  Pa.,  and  for  a 
small  remuneration  will  insure  you  against  anything  from  mosquitoes 
to  matrimony. 


RALPH  DERR. 

My  Dear  "Pop": — After  five  or  six  notices  and  as  many  unsuccessful 
attempts  to  get  together  enough  words  and  sentences  to  make  up  a 
letter,  a  guilty  conscience  tells  me  "something  must  be  did," — and  now 
or  never.  To  some  it  may  not  be  hard,  but  yours  most  truly  finds  it 
about  the  toughest  proposition  he  has  yet  tackled  to  get  out  a  letter 
of  this  kind,  and  all  other  attempts  have  been  failures,  complete  and 
absolute,  but,  perhaps,  telling  about  them  in  this  one  will  help  to  fill 
it  out. 

After  the  Triennial  of  the  "Great  and  Glorious"  last  June  the  writer 
returned  to  the  "City  of  Brotherly  Love"  (after  overstaying  his  time 
leave  not  more  than  three  to  four  days),  and  took  up  again  the 
arduous  labor  of  "pen  pushing"  and  earning  a  living.  (Between  you 
and  me,  "Pop,"  about  enough  for  carfare  six  days  in  the  week  and  to- 
bacco for  a  consoling  smoke  after  dinner  those  six  days.)  You  per- 
haps know  or  have  heard  how  refreshing  and  invigorating  is  the  atmos- 
phere about  the  Quaker's  home  on  a  warm  summer's  day,  and  so  it 
was  last  June  or  July,  but  almost  too  much  so  for  this  party,  so 
about  the  middle  of  July  he  "pulled  his  freight"  to  Atlantic  City,  for 
a  rest  after  the  gay  and  exciting  time  Philadelphia  afforded ;  stayed  there 
a  week,  returned  to  the  daily  Turkish  bath,  and  again  about  the  first  of 
August  pulled  out,  in  answer  to  a  very  urgent  call  from  the  moun- 
tains, which  proved  one  of  the  finest,  if  not  the  finest,  summer  vacation 
ever    experienced.      Since    then,    about    October    tenth,    he    has    been 

52 


making  a  living  in  the  draughting  rooms  of  the  New  York  Ship- 
building Company,  along  with  another  former  member  of  the  "Great 
and  Glorious,"  endeavoring,  a  great  deal  of  the  time,  to  get  a  letter 
off  to  yourself,  with  results  as  above. 

News  of  members  of  the  class  is  scarce  in  this  section,  so  much  so 
that  there  is  none  to  send— Camden  being  too  far  from  the  centers  of 
civilization— but  you  have  probably  heard  from,  or  of,  everyone  long 
ere  this.     I  am,  "Pop," 

Yours  most  sincerely, 

Ralph  Derr. 
Camden,  N.  J.,  March  ii,  1901. 


WALTER  MEREDITH  DICKINSON. 

My  Dear  Pop:— You  must  pardon  me  for  not  writing  you  before, 
and  you  must  lay  part  of  it  to  negligence  and  part  to  having  a  great 
deal  to  do.  Things  have  been  going  along  in  the  usual  humdrum  way, 
as  Trenton  is  not  very  lively  at  the  best  since  the  "Princetonese"  don't 
have  as  free  a  foot  in  the  town,  owing  to  the  coppers  shutting  down 
on  them  instanter  and  bottling  up  their  overflowing  spirits. 

The  most  momentous  thing  that  has  happened  in  my  family  during 
the  last  year  was  the  arrival,  on  January  24th,  this  year,  of  Miss  Rox- 
alene  Howell  Dickinson,  and  now  you  are  not  the  only  "Pop"  in  this 
part  of  the  country.  My  only  regret  is  that  she  cannot  go  to  Princeton 
and  get  a  true  collegiate  education,  but  maybe  I  will  be  able  to  instill 
into  her  some  of  the  "spirit."  However,  she  can  go  to  Princeton  very 
often  and  breathe  the  fine  malt  air  for  which  the  town  is  noted. 

As  you  can  see  by  the  letterhead,  I  am  still  in  the  real  estate  and 
insurance  business,  and  am  holding  my  own  in  "nailing  an  easy  thing" 
now  and  then.  I  wish  the  easy  ones  would  only  come  a  little  oftener. 
I  wish  you  the  greatest  success  in  getting  up  the  book,  and  trust  that 
I  am  better  late  than  never. 

Your  sincere  friend, 

W.  M.  Dickinson. 
Trenton,  N.  J.,  Dec.  15,  '01. 

JOHN  TRUMBLE  DOWNING. 

My  Dear  "Pop":~l  suppose  about  this  time  you  are  receiving 
numerous  epistles  which  begin— "pardon  me  for  being  so  dilatory  in  re- 
gard to  your  communication  of  the  17th  ult,  but"— excuses  ad  nauseam. 
And  I  must  beg  to  "join  the  push."  My  only  plea  is,  frequent  calls 
and  interruptions  by  Mr.  Procrastination,  the  lad,  you  know  who  stole 
Papa  Time's  watch  and  lawn  mower  some  time  since. 

As  soon  as  I  could  shake  the  thief  and  break  away  from  his  baneful 
influence  I  did  so,  and  now  it  gives  me  unalloyed  pleasure  to  comply 
with  your  request  and  tell  you  where  I've  been  "at"  and  what  and 
whom  I've  been  doing  for  the  past  three  years.     It  is  briefly  told: 

53 


Immediately  after  graduation  I  went  West,  where  I  spent  the  sum- 
mer traveling  for  a  New  York  house,  through  Western  Missouri,  part 
of  Oklahoma  and  the  Territory,  Eastern  Kansas,  Nebraska  and  West- 
ern Iowa. 

In  the  fall  I  matriculated  in  the  National  School  of  Osteopathy  in 
Kansas  City,  Mo.,  where  I  edited  the  "Osteopathic  Magazine"  the  last 
two  years,  and  graduated  there  last  spring — June,  1900.  In  July  I  at- 
tended the  National  Convention  of  Osteopathic  physicians  at  Chatta- 
nooga, Tenn. ;  then  came  East,  and  have  been  practicing  here  ever 
since.  Am  enjoying  good  practice,  good  health,  and  good  things  gen- 
erally, and  am  now  permanently  located  at  above  address. 

Yours  forever, 

J.  T.  Downing. 
•^ScRA'NTON,  Pa.,  Dec.  6,  1900. 

WILLIAM  WILSON  DRAKE. 

Dear  Pop: — Your  telegram  has  been  forwarded  to  me  and  I  am 
forced  by  your  persistence  to  make  some  kind  of  an  answer,  although 
I  am  quite  convinced  it  will  be  of  interest  to  no  one. 

I  am  a  farmer  now;  in  fact,  just  getting  settled,  which  means  lots 
to  do,  but  not  exactly  the  things  that  make  interesting  reading.  I 
hope  this  will  count  for  a  letter  and  so  answer  your  purpose. 

Yours  truly, 

W.  Wilson  Drake. 

Warrenton,  Va.,  May  12,  1901. 

CHARLES  JOHNSON  DUNLAP. 

Dear  Pop: — Really  when  I  sent  back  the  statement  that  I  was  not 
holding  public  office,  had  not  written  for  the  public  press,  was  not 
married,  had  no  children,  had  only  taught  school,  studied  law  a  little 
and  practiced  it  less,  this  should  have  been  proof  enough  that  nothing 
more  could,  or  at  least  ought,  to  be  said  about  an  uninteresting  career. 

What  more  can  you  want?  Details  of  the  teaching?  There  is  more 
than  one  of  the  boys  who  have  seen  and  heard  enough  of  that  in  their 
own  experience.  For  me  it  lasted  for  three  years  in  a  suburb  of  New 
York  City,  and  there  was  proper  gratitude  when  the  season  was  over. 
Of  the  law  study?  It  was  carried  on  while  teaching,  for  a  short  period 
in  a  law  office  and  for  a  year  and  a  half  at  the  New  York  Law  School. 
There  are  two  or  three  things  left  to  learn  on  the  subject.  Still  in 
July  of  1900,  the  State  of  New  York  admitted  me  to  prey  upon  the 
public,  and  I  have  devoted  myself  to  that  occupation  ever  since.  I 
secured  desk  room  in  a  busy  office  in  New  Rochelle  and  have  been 
practicing  for  myself,  with  all  the  varied  experience  of  a  country  of- 
fice, from  chasing  bad  debts  and  debtors,  and  running  down  titles,  to 
the  practice  in  the  court  room.  Very  truly, 

Charles  J.  Dunlap. 

New  Rochelle,  N.  Y.,  Feb.  27,  1901. 

54 


CHARLES  FRANCIS  DUNN. 

Dear  Pop: — Those  irreproachable,  anonymous  letters  which  you  send 
as  a  guide  on  the  road  to  elegant  epistolary  composition,  I  have  un- 
fortunately lost  and  remember  nothing  about  them,  save  that  your  taste 
in  selection  was  unquestionable.  So  I'll  have  to  give  you  the  skeleton 
outline,  the  plain  crude  facts  of  my  career  since  leaving  college,  with- 
out an  attempt  at  elaboration. 

For  the  first  fifteen  months  after  graduation  I  presided  over  the  in- 
tellectual destinies  of  two  youths,  one  of  whom  found  love  with  its 
natural  sequence  more  to  be  desired  than  erudition,  while  the  other  is 
now  a  member  of  the  class  of  '03. 

In  October  of  '98  I  came  to  New  York  to  look  for  a  place,  which 
I  found  after  a  month  or  so,  with  Harper  &  Bros.  On  the  failure  of 
this  house  a  year  later  another  opening  offered,  with  Charles  Scrib- 
ler's  Sons,  where  I  am  at  present,  in  the  advertising  end  of  the  busi- 
ness. It's  a  business  which  suits  me  to  perfection,  but  whether  I  suit 
it  so  well  is  still  an  open  question.  I  am  neither  married  nor  engaged, 
ind  the  only  mark  of  distinction  I  have  received  is  a  call  by  the  City 
cf  Greater  New  York  to  ascertain  my  qualifications  as  a  juror.  I 
cidn't  qualify  (Sweet  are  the  uses  of  adversity),  but  the  honor  con- 
ferred I  may  presume  is  none  the  less. 

Charles  F.  Dunn. 

New  York  City,  N.  Y.,  April  17,  1901. 


RICHARD  EVERETT  DWIGHT. 

Dear  Pop: — I  can't  stand  your  last  heart-breaking  appeal,  and  will 
hive  to  try  and  write  you  one  even  though  it  is  the  worst  letter  in  the 
bunch.  I  had  always  intended  to  write  one,  but,  as  you  know,  I  was 
slways  about  the  last  man  in  the  class  to  start  anything,  especially  at 
examination  time.  I  didn't  want  to  startle  you  by  trying  to  make  it 
appear  that  I  had  changed  my  habits  any  since  leaving  college.  Be- 
sides I  have  had  hard  luck  with  my  epistolary  efforts.  I  intended  to 
write  you  on  the  first  call  for  information,  but  when  I  thought  it  over, 
knowing  all  the  calls  upon  your  strength  which  this  job  involves,  it 
occurred  to  me  that  it  would  be  too  much  of  a  shock  and  surprise 
to  you  in  your  delicate  (?)  state  of  health  to  have  one  whom  you 
would  put  down  for  at  least  two  or  three  extra  urgent  appeals,  show 
up  on  the  very  first  call,  so  I  wrote  you,  or  thought  I  did,  somewhere 
between  the  sixth  and  twelfth  request.  Unfortunately,  however,  as  I 
was  in  court  at  the  time,  I  wrote  you  on  the  same  blank  on  which  I 
spread  out  my  magnificent  (  ?)  record,  and  was  very  much  pained  to 
receive,  not  long  afterwards,  a  communication  from  you  saying  tnat 
you  would  like  to  have  me  hurry  up  with  my  letter,  and  then  when 
I  wrote  you  I  had  written  it  on  my  information  blank,  you  added 
insult  to  injury  by  writing  me  "you  had  noticed  some  writing  on  the 
back,  but  couldn't  read  it,  and  would  I  please  write  something  that 
was  legible."     That  is  really  the  reason  I  am  so  terribly  late.     How- 

55 


ever,  it  is  just  as  well  for  me  to  write  now  as  earlier,  for  I  had  noth- 
ing to  tell  then  and  have  nothing  now.  I  have  been  "goating"  it  ever 
since  I  was  admitted  to  the  bar,  two  years  ago,  in  the  above-named 
office,  and  doing  as  little  business  as  possible  on  account  of  my  deli- 
cate (  ?)  health.  As  I  am  writing  this  letter  to  try  and  help  you  break 
the  record  if  possible  and  have  really  nothing  to  say,  I  will  stop  wasting 
paper.  Very  truly  yours, 

Dick  Dwight. 
New  York  City,  N.  Y.,  April  21,  1901. 


EDWARD  GRAHAM  ELLIOTT.  j 

My  Dear  "Pop":- — Had  the  past  three  years  and  five  months  of  my 
life  been  filled  with  such  stirring  and  thrilling  events  as  military  serv-| 
ice  in  Cuba  or  the  Philippines,  or  such  a  momentous  occasion  as  taking 
unto  myself  a  helpmeet  and  better  half,  as  has  been  the  case  with  so 
many  of  my  distinguished  classmates,  I  think  it  would  be  a  very  easj 
matter  to  "spin  a  yarn"  that  would  be  interesting.  I  could  write  of  tht 
hum  of  the  bullets  and  the  terror  they  brought;  of  the  hair-breadtl 
escapes  from  shot  and  shell ;  of  hand-to-hand  conflicts  with  the  foe; 
or  perhaps  of  capture  and  imprisonment  with  its  untold  hardships;  cr 
again  of  the  wounds  received,  my  suffering  and  agony  till  help  and 
rescue  came  in  the  person  of  a  beautiful  "angel  of  mercy,"  who  tel- 
derly  cared  for  me  and  watched  over  me  as  I  hovered,  weeks  long, 
'twixt  life  and  death — at  last  restored  to  health  as  much  through  h;r 
untiring  watchfulness  as  through  any  surgeon's  skill.  Let  us  not  thirk 
that  "the  Romance  ends  right  there,"  rather  that  she  consented  to  le 
the  "angel"  of  my  life.  Oh,  those  happy  days,  when  Young  Love  first 
awakes !  What  rapture !  What  bliss !  What  volumes  could  be  writ- 
ten about  them,  that  would  fill  with  envy  the  breasts  of  all  those  les5 
fortunate  fellows ! 

But  alas  (?)!  I  cannot;  such  has  not  been  my  fortune;  but  I  try 
to  console  myself  with  the  thought  that  perhaps  some  of  those  fellows 
who  can,  will  "spin  the  yarn"  for  the  rest  of  us  poor  unfortunates. 

Since  we  stood  together  for  the  last  time,  under  the  classic  elms  of 
Old  Nassau — it  seems  to  me  I  have  heard  that  expression  before,  but 
no  matter — since  we  stood,  I  say,  and  witnessed  the  destruction  of  East 
College  and  the  terror  of  certain  instructors  who  dwelt  therein,  the 
story  of  my  life  has  been  simple,  and  I  might  almost  say  uneventful. 

In  the  late  summer  or  early  autumn  of  '97  I  was  installed  in  the 
chair  of  Latin  Language  and  Literature  in  Bolton  College,  Bolton, 
Shelby  County,  Tenn. — these  last  details  of  location  are  for  the  bene- 
fit of  those  benighted  ones  who  have  not  the  pleasure  of  a  previous 
acquaintance  with  the  above-named  institution;  further  I  would  add 
that  it  lies  within  hearing  distance  of  the  steamboat  whistles  on  the 
Mississippi,  in  the  land  of  cotton  and  malaria,  to  say  nothing  of  yellow 
fever  which  raged  fiercely  that  fall.  For  a  month  or  more  I  suffered 
from  the  slight  inconveniences  occasioned  by  a  "shotgun"  quarantine, 

56 


which  were  more  mental  than  physical.  Also  I  had  the  pleasure  of 
boarding  in  the  same  house  with  a  young  lady  who  had  "spells" — fel- 
lows, I  warn  you,  beware  of  a  woman  who  has  "spells." 

In  June,  '98,  I  received  the  news  that  I  could  be  an  instructor  in 
Latin  in  the  John  C.  Green  School  of  Science  for  the  year  'gS-'gp,  but 
could  I  afford  to  give  up  a  professorship  for  an  instructorship?  Ah, 
yes,  that  longing  for  the  old  place  was  so  strong  that  I  was  willing  to 
make  the  sacrifice.  You  see,  I  had  been  compelled  to  miss  the  First  Re- 
union, and  I  didn't  propose  to  miss  another.  What  mattered  the  result 
anyway?    I  had  been  a  professor  once,  if  I  should  never  be  again. 

The  summer  of  '98  I  spent  in  the  mountains  of  East  Tennessee,  try- 
ing to  rid  myself  of  the  malaria  of  West  Tennessee,  and  at  home  pre- 
paring for  my  new  duties.  I  must  confess  I  entered  upon  them  with 
fear  and  trembling.  I  remembered  so  well  our  own  conduct  as  Fresh- 
men, and  I  didn't  feel  a  bit  older  in  '98  than  in  '93,  and  feared  that  my 
youthful  appearance  would  serve  as  an  incentive  for  similar  outbreaks. 
But  the  Fates  were  with  me,  and  I  passed  through  the  ordeal  without 
having  to  flee  for  my  life  or  summon  a  procter  to  my  assistance. 

Can  it  be  that  the  "good  old  days"  of  thoughtless  "horse-play"  are 
passing  away  and  a  riper  maturity  coming  in  its  place?  If  so,  I  be- 
lieve the  future  mental  growth  of  our  beloved  Princeton  is  assured, 
without  in  the  slightest  particular  lessening  that  manly  spirit  of  which 
we  boast,  but  rather  increasing  it. 

For  two  years  I  enjoyed  the  pleasures  and  experienced  the  trials  of 
an  instructor;  happy  years  for  the  most  part,  and  made  so  largely  by 
the  number  of  '97  fellows  who  lived  in  Princeton  during  that  time.  I 
can  never  forget,  Pop,  those  "Sunday-night-seminars"  in  your  room 
that  first  year;  the  initiation  into  the  freedom  of  Edwards,  so  cordially 
and  frequently  bestowed  upon  Henry  Russell ;  the  debates  on  every 
conceivable  subject,  sensible  and  nonsensical,  indulged  in  by  us  all; 
the  honor  of  champions  easily  resting  with  Arthur  Leonard  and  Henry. 
The  first  year,  too,  witnessed  the  wonder  of  the  age,  that  brought  joy 
to  Old  Nassau,  "Poe's  run" — "Poe's  kick"  a  year  later  it  was  not  my 
good  fortune  to  see. 

The  year  '99-1900  was  not  so  happy  for  me,  being  darkened  by  sor- 
rowful circumstances,  with  which  I  will  not  trouble  you;  rather  let  me 
pass  hastily  over  it  to  that  glorious  event  that  came  at  its  close,  our 
Triennial,  the  finest  that  any  class  has  ever  had.  Those  were  happy 
days,  gladdened  by  the  presence  of  many;  tinged  with  sadness  by  the 
absence  of  a  few. 

Shortly  after  commencement  it  was  my  privilege  to  lay  aside  my 
duties  as  instructor  in  Latin  and  become  again  a  student,  pleasant 
as  had  been  my  experience  as  an  instructor  in  Latin,  and  agreeable 
to  my  tastes  as  was  the  study  of  the  classics.  I  believe  my  present 
studies,  viz..  Jurisprudence,  Politics,  etc.,  will  be  even  more  in  accord- 
ance with  my  inclinations. 

On  August  16  I  sailed  from  New  York  for  Bremen.  George  Howe 
sailed  at  the  same  time,  and  we  were  together  till  October  15;  first  in 

57 


Wernigerode,  in  the  Harz  Mountains,  and  then  in  Halle,  where  I  left 
him,  just  entering  upon  a  three  years'  course  of  study  in  the  classics, 
while  I  came  here.  It  is  my  present  intention  to  remain  here  the  first 
semester,  then  go  to  Heidelberg  for  a  semester,  then  back  to  Berlin  for 
two  semesters,  and  then  America  and  Princeton ;  but  too  late,  I  fear, 
for  the  "Quinquennial." 

There  are  three  other  Princeton  men  here — MacElroy,  '96,  Phil  Rob- 
inson, '98  and  Kellogg,  '99,  but  alas !  no  '97  man.  The  university  stu- 
dents number  nearly  ten  thousand ;  there  are  men  and  women  of  almost 
ever  age  and  nationality,  but  predominating,  of  course,  is  the  German 
student,  very  many  of  whom  bear  upon  their  faces  the  scars  of  the 
"field  of  honor."  Although  forbidden  by  law,  the  practice  of  duelling 
continues  even  in  Berlin,  and  every  day  one  sees  men  with  their  heads 
bandaged  up  to  such  an  extent  that  one  might  easily  suppose  them  to 
have  been  in  a  railroad  wreck. 

For  my  part,  I  can  see  no  beauty  in  this,  but  I  have  heard  German 
ladies  say  that  they  thought  it  was  charming.  As  yet  it  has  not  been 
my  good  fortune  to  witness  a  duel  or  take  part  in  a  "kneipe." 

Here,  Pop,  you  have  my  autobiography — save  that  I  have  not 
enumerated  the  "positions  of  trust"  I've  held,  nor  the  "honors"  that 
have  been  bestowed  upon  me.  I  can't  recall  any  just  now  and  should 
any  be  suddenly  thrust  upon  me  I  will  cable  you  at  once.  To  be  sure, 
I  am  an  M.  A.  Princeton,  1900,  but  I  am  not  married,  have  no  chil- 
dren and  am  not  even  engaged.  I  do  not  think  I  am  in  danger  for 
two  years  at  least,  as  I  do  not  find  the  German  maidens  all-entrancing. 

So  my  story  ends  and  with  a  heartfelt  "God  bless  you"  and  "auf 
Wiedersehen,"  believe  me,  As  ever  most  sincerely  yours, 

Edward  G.  Elliott. 

Behren   Strasse  57  III,  Berlin,  Germany,  Nov.   16,   1901. 


JOHN  DEAN  ELLIOTT. 

My  Dear  Pop: — Here  goes  to  save  you  from  the  bother  of  sending 
me  the  second  notice,  third  notice,  etc.  Since  leaving  college  my  life 
has  not  been  very  eventful.  I  started  working,  but  not  finding  it  very 
much  to  my  taste,  I  entered  medical  college  in  the  fall  of  '97,  and  have 
been  at  that  ever  since.  By  good  luck  and  much  work  I  am  now  on 
the  homestretch  and  expect  to  become  a  doctor  next  spring.  I  am 
neither  engaged  nor  married  and  am  in  no  imminent  danger  from  those 
sources.  I  was  at  our  Triennial  and  had  a  grand  time  and  I  have 
been  very  fortunate  in  getting  to  the  Burg  on  most  of  the  large  occa- 
sions and  thus  keeping  in  touch  with  many  of  the  boys.  I  have  been 
to  all  the  big  football  games  and  many  of  the  baseball  games,  and  have 
enjoyed  most  of  them,  although  occasionallly  they  didn't  go  our  way. 
I  guess  this  is  about  all  I  know  to  tell  you,  so  will  close. 

Sincerely  yours, 

Dean  Elliott. 

Philadelphia,  Pa.,  Dec.  3,  1900. 


S8 


WALTER  SHIPMAN  ELY. 

Ely  engaged  in  various  enterprises  after  leaving  college,  and  even 
tackled  Alaska.  He  received  such  a  frost  that  he  returned  to  Nev^r  York 
City,  and  went  into  the  stove  business  with  the  purpose  of  thawing  out. 
He  soon  became  such  a  warm  article  that  his  services  were  demanded 
by  the  Metropolitan  Street  Railway  Company,  and  he  is  now  in  the 
employ  of  that  soulless  corporation.  His  connection  with  the  rapid 
transit  system  does  not  seem  to  have  facilitated  his  appreciation  of  the 
obligation  to  his  classmates.     May  it  come  with  years. 


FRANK  WARNER  EMMONS. 

Emmons  believes  in  the  annexation  of  Cuba  politically  and  in- 
dividually, as  indicated  by  his  marriage  to  one  of  the  belles  of  Ha- 
vana, where  he  now  is  serving  the  Government  in  the  Quartermaster's 
Department. 


SEWARD    ERDMAN. 

Dear  Pop: — I  hasten  to  reply  to  your  third  communication;  for, 
knowing  that  you  would  keep  on  sending  me  notices,  I  have  waited, 
in  order  to  answer  them  all  at  once. 

Since  leaving  Princeton  my  career  has  been  as  follows: 

My  first  year  was  spent  in  private  tutoring  in  Asheville,  N.  C. 

In  October,  1898,  I  entered  the  College  of  Physicians  and  Surgeons 
of  New  York  City,  and  am  now  in  my  third  year,  with  one  more  to  go. 

My  summers  have  found  me  a  quasi  private  tutor  to  three  small 
boys,  with  whom  I  spent  this  last  summer  in  Paris  and  Scotland. 

The  splendid  work  of  the  '97  men  who  are  in  the  fourth  year  medical 
work  acts  as  a  spur  to  others  of  us  who  are  plodding  along. 

The  mystery  of  prescription  writing  is  overcome,  for  after  my  pig- 
Latin  drugs,  shall  read  "To  be  taken  with  one  grain  of  salt." 

Very  sincerely, 

Seward  Erdman. 

New  York  City,  N.  Y.,  Feb.  26,  1901. 


FRANK  EVANS. 

Dear  Pop: — Your  frantic  appeals  for  a  letter  have  finally  aroused 
me  to  this  effort;  but  you  must  know  that  in  a  mining  camp,  where 
one  works  thirteen  hours  a  day,  sleeps  eight  and  a  half,  and  has  the 
rest  of  the  day  to  one's  self,  that  remaining  half-hour  is  very  precious. 
However,  under  skies  that  rival  sunny  Italy's,  with  pure  air  to  breathe 
and  pure  water  to  drink,  and  the  beauty  of  snow-clad  peaks  to  the 
east  and  to  the  west,  ever  in  sight,  life  is  very  pleasant.  Our  camp 
is  about  two-thirds  Mexican,  one-third  American.  The  latter — those 
who  succeed  in  holding  their  positions — are  a  splendid  lot. 

I  think  often  of  the  fellows  in  my  class,  but  I  fear  that  it  will  not 

59 


be  soon  that  I  may  see  any  of  them.     May  '97's  sons  ever  be  brave, 
true  and  good,  is  my  final  wish.  Yours, 

Frank  Evans. 
MoRENci^  Ariz.,  April  27,  1901. 


THOMAS  ST.  CLAIR  EVANS. 

Dear  Classmate: — I  cannot  but  feel  that  because  of  my  narrowness 
very  few  of  you  will  care  to  know  what  has  become  of  me,  for  I  fear 
that  I  did  not  show  myself  friendly  while  in  college. 

Following  graduation,  I  became  general  secretary  of  the  Young 
Men's  Christian  Associaton  of  the  University  of  Pennsylvania,  in 
which  position  I  remained  two  years  as  one  of  our  class  missionaries 
to  the  heathen. 

The  following  year  found  me  back  at  Princeton  as  general  secretary 
of  the  "Philadelphia  Society,"  to  succeed  our  own  "Lucius,"  who  did 
so  much  for  the  highest  good  of  Princeton  during  his  two  years  in 
this  position.  This  year  finds  me  back  at  "Dear  (?)  Old  Penn"  as  so- 
called  "permanent  secretary"  of  a  new  and  unique  organization,  having 
entire  charge  of  the  religious  interests  of  the  university. 

Oh,  yes,  I  was  married  July  12,  1900,  at  East  Northfield,  Mass..  to 
Miss  Edith  Muir  Pierson,  and  we  have  our  happy  little  home  down 
among  the  descendents  of  the  "Schuylkill  Rangers,"  in  the  so-called 
slums  of  Philadelphia.  We  wish  that  some  of  you  might  don  your 
working  clothes  some  dark  night,  sneak  out  the  back  gate  of  your 
"four-hundred"  mansion,  and  drop  in  on  us  at  the  "Settlement,"  where 
the  sights  and  noises  would  far  excel  the  Freshman-Sophomore  game. 

With  most  grateful  remembrance  of  you  all.  Affectionately, 

Tom  Evans. 

Philadelphia,  Pa.,  March  13,  1901. 


WILLIAM    FULLER    EVANS. 

Dear  Old  Pop: — I  am  much  in  fear  that  a  recital  of  my  doings  since 
I  was  graduated  would  be  neither  interesting  nor  instructive.  Of  course 
there  are  many  things  of  which  I  could  tell  you  that  would  make 
mighty  entertaining  reading,  but  unfortunately  those  things  are  not 
made  of  the  stuff  that  bears  the  light  of  public  opinion.  And,  anyway, 
half  the  zest  in  them  would  be  gone  in  the  telling!  Secrecy,  you 
■know,  like  inhibition,  adds  relish.  It  may  be  selfish,  this,  but  I  fancy  all 
the  other  fellows  feel  as  I  do.  All  that  one  can  tell  is  what  one  has 
done  in  the  world,  and  that  may  be  told  easily  and  cheerfully.  But 
even  so,  if  it  were  not  that  I  deem  it  my  duty  to  '97  to  do  my  little 
share  toward  making  this  Record  another  "record-breaker"  by  adding 
my  "little  page  or  two,"  I  think  I  should  cry  quits  right  here.  But 
as  we  learned  in  those  wonderful  days  when  we  had  ethics  that  "ought- 
ness"  should  be  our  strongest  incentive  toward  doing  the  right,  I  bow 
to  this  sublime  force,  acknowledge  the  sovereignty  of  class  .spirit,  take 

60 


off  my  coat,  and  proceed  to  set  down  here,  for  the  edification  of  my 
classmates,  my  sins  of  commission  and  omission;  and  since  the  sins  of 
omission  seem  to  be  far  the  larger  category,  I'll  arrange  them  first. 

Up  to  date  I  have  not  been  caught  in  the  dreadful  snare  of  matri- 
mony. (I  put  this  first  because  it  appears  to  be  the  commonest  and 
the  greatest  of  "all  the  ills  that  flesh  is  heir  to.")  As  a  natural  con- 
sequence my  children  are  yet  unnamed. 

I  have  not  held  any  position  of  profit,  honor  or  trust,  for  I  hold 
that  school-teaching  comes  under  none  of  these  heads. 

I  have  not  obtained  a  degree  from  any  institution,  unless  it  be  the 
honorary  degree  of  A.  D.  F.  from  the  University  of  the  World,  the 
Flesh  and  the  Devil. 

I  have  entered  into  no  business,  except  the  degenerate  one  of  getting 
all  the  fun  out  of  life  that  I  can. 

I  have  no  profession,  except  that  of  teaching  young,  innocent  minds 
that  s=:^  g  (2t — i),  and  how  beatific  it  is  to  know  that  Rameses  II. 
wore  a  wig. 

I  have  taken  no  part  in  the  various  fracases  that  have  of  late  dis- 
turbed our  national  equilibrium,  unless  one  mentions  the  rather  mod- 
est role  of  urging  pupils,  if  they  ever  by  any  mischance  become  a 
nation's  hero,  not  to  allow  themselves  to  be  pushed  off  their  pedestals 
by  old  maids  bent  on  osculation,  nor  by  women  desirous  of  basking  in 
the  glory  of  the  brazen  halo  that  surmounts  our  Presidential  man- 
sion. 

I  have  written  no  books.  At  least  I  have  published  none.  My  cor- 
respondents sometimes  complain  at  being  forced  to  wade  through  four- 
cent  volumes. 

I  have  taken  no  journeys  abroad,  nor  have  I  strayed  farther  from 
the  home-fold  than  the  distance  to  be  covered  in  a  long  day's  journey. 
And  "thereby  hangs  a  tale  1"  But  I  shan't  tell  it  to  you,  for  I  should 
be  afraid  of  hearing  you  say,  "Skip  the  bad  words,  old  man !"  Ah, 
Pop,  how  that  phrase  brings  back  many  a  good  day  when  you  played 
ball  with  the  fellows  in  front  of  Old  Nassau's  steps,  before  we  began 
our  evening  singing. 

My,  my!  but  it  makes  a  fellow  long  for  the  times  "o'  auld  lang  syne" 
to  bring  out  of  Memory's  depths  the  days  and  nights  of. college  life! 
Never  again  shall  any  of  us  be  so  free,  so  untrammeled,  so  irresponsi- 
ble as  we  were  in  those  blessed,  glorious  years  when  '97  owned  Prince- 
ton. Didn't  '97  simply  cover  herself  with  all  sorts  of  glory?  Well, 
Well!  And  isn't  she  still  keeping  it  up?  Well,  yes!  It  is  so  good  to 
hear  one's  classmates  grappling  hard  with  the  old  sullen,  selfish  world, 
and  taking  falls  out  of  it,  time  without  number.  Some  of  us  have  dis- 
covered that  more  things  than  "laissez  faire"  are  needful,  if  we  are  to 
amount  to  anything,  but  I  think — and,  am  glad  to  think — that  deuced 
few  of  us  are  discouraged;  and  that  we  are  no  more  afraid  of  work 
than  we  were  of  catching  pensums! 

But  I  digress.  You  didn't  ask  for  sentimentalizing.  Let  us  get 
back  to  my  little  day's  work.     As  you  have  seen,  my  life  since  June, 

61 


*97.  has  been  largely  one  of  negation;  a  sort  of  "supernaturalistic  uni- 
formitarianism,"  to  quote  our  verbose  Prexy.  Little  have  I  done,  and 
this  is  it:  For  a  year  after  graduation  I  was  lost  to  the  world  in  the 
loneliness  of  my  native  hamlet.  Then  a  hole  opened  in  the  Greenville 
High  School  and  I  just  naturally  fell  into  it.  I  couldn't  climb  out  for 
two  years.  And  then,  while  I  was  in  New  York  last  June,  just  before 
going  down  to  Princeton  for  our  Triennial,  I  met  there  Mr.  Gregory, 
the  principal  of  the  Long  Branch  schools,  who,  in  his  greatness  of 
heart,  looked  upon  me,  was  moved  with  compassion,  and  offered  me  a 
place  in  his  domain.  I  took  a  rvmning  jump!  So  here  I  am  teaching 
science  and  history  in  the  Chattle  High  School,  and  here  I  shall  re- 
main until  June,  1901,  unless  the  Board  of  Education  sooner  recognizes 
the  glov/  of  intellect  and  ambition  in  me,  and  presses  me  to  move  to 
higher  spheres. 

— Et  hie  omnia. 

I  am  always  most  heartily,   yours  and  '97's, 

WitLiAM  Fuller  Evans. 

Long  Branch,  N.  J.,  Dec.  18,  1900. 


GRANT  HENRY  FAIRBANKS. 

The  excitement  of  getting  married  completely  bowled  over  Fair- 
banks, but  with  the  assistance  of  some  classmates  he  was  safely 
launched  upon  the  uncertain  sea  of  matrimony.  After  leaving  college 
he  v,ent  into  the  wheel  business,  but  the  business  went  to  his  head. 
He  slipped  a  cog  and  landed  in  a  paper-mill.  He  evidently  possesses 
such  a  reverence  for  the  virgin  surface  of  his  shining  sheets  that  he 
cannot  endure  to  sully  their  spotlessness  with  any  of  the  lines  and 
marks  which  would  convey  to  the  secretary  a  graphic  idea  of  his  career. 
It  is  learned  from  other  sources  that  he  is  fulsome,  fearless  and 
fio'.irishing. 


GEORGE  OSTRUM  FORBES. 

Dear  "Pop": — Your  bright,  newsy  letter,  headed  "Third  Request," 
has  finally  aroused  me  from  the  trance  brought  on  by  over-indulgence 
in  the  good  things  contained  in  the  sample  letters  enclosed  in  your  pre- 
vo'^s  epistles  to  me.  I  would  that  I  could  tell  you  of  some  wonderful 
discovery,  or  a  great  success  in  politics,  or  of  my  experience  while 
lying  in  a  fever-striken  camp  in  far-off  Manilla,  but  I  cannot.  I  can 
only  say  with  the  immortal  Croker,  "I  done  my  duty  where  I  seen  it," 
or   rather  I   tried  to. 

After  spending  four  years  at  old  Princeton,  and  finding  there  nothing 
more  to  learn  (?),  I  started  out  to  explain  to  the  wide  world  a  few 
th-ngs  hitherto  unknown  to  it.  It  is  unnecessary  to  add  that  the  fall 
was  great,  and  the  realization  of  lack  of  practical  experience  was  pain- 
ivX.     I  began  my  "Business  Career"  at  "three-fifteen"  a  week,  learning 

62 


the  iron  trade  as  it  pertains  to  that  especial  branch  called  "malleable 
cast  iron."  I  find  there  are  a  few  things  in  the  business  which  cannot 
be  learned  in  the  laboratory. 

Some  two  years  ago  I  joined  the  ranks  of  the  benedicts  (I  notice 
several  other  members  of  the  "Great  and  Glorious"  have  been  equally 
fortunate),  and  have  been  blessed  with  a  son,  whom  I  hope  will  be  duly 
enrolled  at  Princeton  in  the  class  of  1924,  or  thereabouts. 

You  see,  my  story  is  soon  told  and  in  few  words.  If  it  will  add 
any  to  the  success  of  the  Record  (which  I  very  much  doubt),  you  are 
at  liberty  to  use  it. 

Hoping  my  tardiness  has  not  drained  too  much  of  your  abundant 
stock  of  good  nature,  and  promising  never  again  to  pass  by  a  first 
request,  I  am. 

Very  sincerely  yours, 

Geo.  O.  Forbes. 

RocKFORD,  III.,  Feb.  8,  '01. 


JOHN  MUSSER  FRAME. 

My  Dear  Classmates: — "Happy  is  the  nation  whose  annals  are  brief." 
If  the  same  test  can  be  applied  to  individuals  then  my  post-college  life 
must,  up  to  the  present  time,  have  been  perforce,  a  happy  existence. 
To  those  of  you  who  have  been  engaged  in  business  or  in  professional 
labors,  the  simple  narrative  of  my  deeds  and  misdeeds  will  seem  very 
commonplace.  The  three  years  after  graduation  were  spent  in  the 
Harvard  Law  School — there  is  the  whole  story  in  a  nutshell.  The 
course  in  a  law  school  is  best  described  by  the  word  "thorough."  A 
premium  is  placed  not  so  much  on  brilliancy  as  on  steadiness.  Some 
one.  Justice  Gray,  I  believe,  once  said,  "The  Law  School  is  the  only 
place  I  know  where  working  is  considered  fashionable."  At  any  rate 
I  soon  learned  that  one  cannot  live  always  in  Arden  Forest,  and  for  the 
first  time  I  settled  down  to  hard  work. 

The  monotony  of  student  life  was  relieved  by  occasional  pilgrimages 
to  the  literary  shrines  of  New  England — the  Longfellow  House,  Con- 
cord, Salem,  Brook  Farm — and  by  numerous  excursions  to  the  thousand 
and  one  historic  spots  in  and  around  Boston.  Of  course  I  treated  my- 
self to  a  trip  to  the  Maine  woods,  where  there  is  no  end  of  sport,  and, 
better  still,  spent  several  weeks  sailing  along  the  coast  of  Maine. 
In  the  fishing  villages  we  encountered  not  a  few  amusing  "originals," 
who  would  prove  to  be,  for  those  of  you  who  contemplate  literary  pro- 
duction, very  fine  stuffing  for  novels. 

My  absence  from  class  reunions  can  be  accounted  for  by  the  fact 
that  the  law  examinations  at  Harvard  and  Commencement  at  Princeton 
are  contemporaneous.  In  the  winter  of  '98  I  spent  a  few  days  in 
Princeton,  but  I  was  oppressed  with  the  conviction  that  I  was  a  "has 
been,"  and  I  was  so  lonely  without  the  old  faces  that  I  felt  like  a  fish 
out  of  water. 

^3 


My  summers  have  been  spent  in  offices,  and  by  that  means  I  have 
acquired  considerate  experience  on  the  practical  side  of  law.  Last 
November,  the  day  after  the  Presidential  election,  when  everybody  was 
sleepy  and  stupid,  I  wriggled  through  a  ten  horn  oral  exam.,  and  was 
admitted  to  the  Bar.  Now  I  pay  rent  and  smoke  and  wonder  how  and 
why  it  is  that  nobody  needs  a  lawyer. 

Hoping  to  see  as  many  of  you  as  possible  at  Princeton  next  June, 
I  remain,  Yours  fraternally, 

Jno.  M.  Frame. 

Reading,  Pa.,  Feb.  26,  '01. 


HARVEY  THOMPSON  FRAZER. 

My  Dear  Pop: — I  am  sorry  you  weren't  pleased  with  the  letter  I 
wrote  you,  and  that  it  took  three  postal  cards  and  a  personal  letter  from 
you  to  make  me  write  again,  and  I  hope  I  am  not  the  last  one  to  get 
my  letter  in.  I  am  still  studying  medicine  at  the  P.  &  S.,  New  York 
City,  and  hope  to  graduate  in  June. 

Yours  sincerely, 

T.  Frazer. 
New  York  City,  N.  Y.,  Feb.  13,  '01. 


CHARLES  LAMB  FURBAY. 

My  Dear  Pop: — Your  persistent  energy  deserves  its  reward.  Do 
not  understand  me,  however,  to  attempt  the  inference  that  this  letter, 
or,  in  fact,  any  letter  which  I  might  write,  would  constitute  a  re- 
ward for  your  unexcelled  and  unparalleled  efforts  in  behalf  of  the 
glory  of  '97.  There  is  very  little  to  be  said  concerning  myself — per- 
haps nothing  that  would  be  of  interest  to  my  classmates.  I  have 
spent  the  time,  since  leaving  college,  profitably  and  otherwise,  but  I 
have  always  been  proud  that  I  am  a  Princeton  man  and  particularly 
proud  of  being  a  member  of  the  great  and  glorious  class  of  '97. 

Fraternally, 

Chas.  L.  Furbay. 

Pomeroy,  Ohio,  May  11,  1901. 


PERCY  LEE  GALLAGHER. 

Gallagher,  after  leaving  college,  undertook  a  mercantile  life,  but 
found  it  little  to  his  taste.  He  then  entered  the  legal  profession,  and 
is  now  an  ornament  to  the  New  Jersey  Bar.  The  writing  of  briefs 
evidently  accounts  for  the  secretary's  failure  to  secure  from  him  more 
than  a  bare  answer  to  his  questions. 


64 


MV     STURDY    LITTLE     MOUNT. 

ROBERT  GARRETT. 

My  Dear  Classmates: — "Pop"  is  a  distressingly  busy  "Master"  at 
Lawrenceville,  and  now  that  he  has  favored  us  with  that  character- 
istically enthusiastic  appeal,  and  deluged  the  laggards  with  profane 
postals, — in  behalf  of  ourselves,  as  usual, — I  want  to  uphold  my  share 
of  the  class  burden  by  sending  a  letter  that  will  not  magnetize  his 
falue  pencil.  Its  length  is  unfortunate,  but  I  trust  you  will  bear  with 
me. 

Before  turning  to  the  story  of  my  few  adventures  in  the  busy  world, 
I  am  going  to  take  some  liberties  with  you  and  grasp  this  unique 
opportunity  to  press  upon  your  attention  in  a  few  very  brief  words 
some  class  matters, — of  importance  both  to  us  and  to  our  beloved  Alma 
Mater. 

There  are  various  cardinal  points  towards  which  our  attention  should 
be  constantly  turned,  and  in  which  that  zealous  love  for  Princeton 
and  all  her  concerns,  for  which  we  as  a  class  have  been,  and  desire 
to  be  noted,  should  find  adequate  outlet.  Much  success  has  been 
achieved  by  many  of  you,  whether  in  professional  study,  as  teachers, 
or  in  business ;  but  how  can  we  measure  that  success, — what  can  we 


65 


lay  our  hands  upon  that  will  indicate  how  much  has  been  accom- 
plished? A  few, — and  they  are  notable  because  of  their  isolation, — 
have  shown  what  they  are  capable  of  doing,  and  what  their  oppor- 
tunities have  meant  to  them;  but  the  output  from  our  factory  has  not 
been  at  all  commensurate  with  the  amount  of  energy  expended, — the 
finished  product  has  hardly  ever  been  placed  upon  the  open  market. 
Perhaps  you  say  "give  us  time  so  that  we  may  first  get  our  bearings," — 
but  what  of  those  that  have  already  set  the  pace?  Are  they  so  far 
above  us  in  ability  and  general  excellence  that  we  can  afford  to  let 
them  get  such  an  insurmountable  lead  over  us  in  the  race?  I  do 
not  urge  that  we  should  have  set  up,  in  type,  anything  that  comes 
to  our  heads  or  hands,  but  there  certainly  should  be  some  worthy 
results    from    our    specialization    and   original    investigations. 

Then  again,  we  are  far  behindhand  in  the  most  important  field  for 
which  our  education  in  a  measure  fits  us, — we  are  taking  little  or  no 
part  in  public  life,  in  active  politics.  It  is  a  crying  shame  that  the 
university  men  of  our  country  care  so  little  to  turn  their  attention  to- 
wards the  task  of  bettering  the  existing  conditions  about  us.  Why 
is  politics,  both  local  and  national,  in  its  present  state?  Why  does 
corruption  run  its  extravagant  course  unchecked?  Is  it  not  largely 
due  to  the  fact  that  most  of  the  educated  men  of  the  country, — those 
educated  both  mentally  and  morally,  those  who  have  been  best  fitted 
to  direct  public  affairs, — have  stood  aloof  and  have  let  the  unscrupulous 
take  over  the  government  and  all  its  concerns?  We  need  honesty, 
we  need  energy,  and  we  need  efficiency  in  politics  to-day,  and  although 
we  may  feel  helpless  in  the  rushing  tide  if  we  strike  out  alone,  yet  it 
is  plainly  our  bounden  duty  to  assume  the  Besponsibilities  of  citizen- 
ship, to  throw  in  our  mite  towards  the  improvement  of  our  surround- 
ings, and,  in  so  doing,  to  fulfill  our  share  in  regaining  that  eminent 
position  so  illustriously  occupied  by  the  Princetonians  of  a  century  and 
more  ago.  We  cannot  all  at  once  step  into  high  posts  of  honor  and 
gain  a  leadership  that  only  years  of  training  will  fit  one  for,  but  there 
are  many  lesser  offices  that  we  might  fill.  We  must  turn  towards  these, 
and  no  matter  how  unimportant  they  may  seem,  they  should  be  re- 
garded as  public  trusts,  and  used  for  the  improvement  of  present  con- 
ditions. You  see,  this  is  my  hobby  now,  and  I  must  "crack  it  up" 
whenever  there  is  the  shadow  of  an  excuse !  So  I  hope  many  of  you 
will  soon  become  aldermen,  councilmen,  ward-heelers,  police  commis- 
sioners, "any  old  thing,"  so  long  as  you  choose  the  best  elements  and 
eschew  the  evil  ways  of  our  Machiavellian  bosses.  I  for  one  am 
heading  towards  some  such  post,  though  whether  or  not  my  cranium 
will  drive  itself  into  a  mud  wall  in  the  shape  of  a  Gorman  or  a  Quay, 
remains  to  be  seen, — I'll  let  you  know  later, — or  my  executor  will ! 

There  are  one  or  two  other  little  things, — excuse  the  mark,  "Pop" ! — 
of  which  I  must  speak  before  closing  this  sermon,  and  first  of  all  let 
me  ask  why  do  all  you  blamed  bashful  youths  continue  to  withhold 
from  our  wearied  secretary  those  newspaper  clippings  that  he  asks 
for  so  often?     Don't  inquire  too  closely  into  my  own  conduct  on  this 

66 


point,  but,  seriously,  let's  make  some  good  New  Century  resolutions, 
and  deluge  "Pop"  and  his  album  with  endless  tales  of  '97's  doings. 
How  can  he  keep  us  informed  of  each  other's  successes  unless  we 
furnish  data, — something  about  "the  other  fellow,"  at  least?  Haven't 
you  noticed  the  unfortunate  paucity  of  news  about  the  class  in  the 
Alumni  Weekly?  We  are  each  and  all  to  blame  for  that.  So  do  let 
your  good  resolutions  go  so  far  that  you  will  constantly  furnish  the 
much  desired  information  about  yourself  and  your  adventures, — and, 
incidentally,  don't  forget  that  bully  paper  that  is  such  a  comfort  to 
the  lovelorn   Princetonian ! 

Then,  too,  there  is  that  struggling  memorial  fund, — have  you  pon- 
dered often  and  long  upon  those  suggestions  concerning  the  object 
for  which  we  are  to  spend  the  slowly  accumulating  thousands  of 
dollars?  That  Biological  Laboratory  of  the  worthy  class  of  'yy, — 
you  note  the  significantly  close  resemblarice  of  those  numerals  to  our 
own,  don't  you? — that  little,  useful  brick  building  is  glued  fast  in  my 
mind  as  the  foundation  on  which  we  should  build, — for  remember, 
we  cannot  model  our  gift  after  any  other,  we  must  rise  head  and 
shoulders  above  them  all  and  establish  something, — though  it  need 
not  be  necessarily  of  brick  and  mortar, — that  will  endure  at  least 
through  the  coming  millennium. 

Now  that  I  have  preached  long  and  loud  I  will  bore  you  with  as 
rapid  as  possible  an  account  of  my  successive  wanderings  over  the  face 
of  the  earth. 

During  the  early  part  of  the  summer  after  our  dismal  parting,  I 
had  a  good,  quiet  time  at  Quebec  and  afterwards  at  Pointe-a-pic,  on 
Murray  Bay  of  the  St.  Lawrence.  The  natives  of  the  locality  are 
not  remarkable  beings  to  look  upon,  but  they  have  managed  during  the 
few  generations  of  their  family  history  to  retain  names  such  as  Black- 
burn and  Mackintosh,  and  to  practice  a  sort  of  modified  sword  dance, 
while  they  speak  a  patois  of  French,  and  know  little  or  no  English  or 
Gaelic. 

When  I  left  this  interesting  spot,  Ted  McAlpin  took  me  in  at  his 
summer  home  in  the  Adirondacks,  and  was  generous  and  considerate 
enough  to  allow  me  to  bag  the  only  deer  we  killed  during  a  hunting 
excursion  of  forty-eight  hours  in  which  we  saw  eighteen  of  them. 

In  the  early  autumn  I  came  back  once  more  to  the  borderland  of 
the  South,  intending  to  take  a  law  course  at  the  University  of  Mary- 
land and  dabble  a  little  in  business.  So  far  as  the  law  is  concerned 
I  went  off  on  a  wild  "tack,"  landing  in  the  middle  of  the  Johns  Hop- 
kins historical  department,  beside  a  fifteen-foot  table,  bound  for 
Ph.D.-dom — it  is  hard  to  say  how  I  got  there,  but  there  I  was  and 
there  I  stuck.  Business  has  succeeded  in  keeping  just  within  sight, 
but  just  out  of  reach. 

In  December,  I  was  mustered  into  a  new  cavalry  organization.  Troop 
"A,"  of  the  Maryland  National  Guard, — foreseeing,  as  you  will  note, 
the  blowing  up  of  the  "Maine"  and  the  outbreak  of  the  war.  But 
somehow  my  foresight  did  not  go  far  enough  to  enable  me  to  choose 

67 


the  organization  that  the  President  desired  from  our  State,  so  after 
a  few  days  in  camp,  in  April,  we  were  sent  back  to  our  homes  labelled 
"not  wanted,"  and  had  to  content  ourselves  with  looking  from  our 
cupboard-shelf  at  the  troops  going  south  to  the  great  camps,  or  to 
Cuba  and  Porto  Rico.  General  Lee  threw  me  down,  too,  when  a  staff 
position  was  sought,  and  the  nearest  I  got  to  campaign  scenes  was  to 
visit  Newport  News  when  the  troops  were  walking  the  streets  in  lovely 
pink  and  blue  striped  pajamas,  or  were  hurriedly  crowding  themselves, 
a  la  sardine,  into  the  transports  destined  for  our  new  island  possession 

The  academic  year  of  '98- '99  was  spent  grinding  slowly  at  history 
and  economics  at  Hopkins,  with  the  monotony  occasionally  disturbed 
by  a  shy  entrance  into  the  gay  world,  where  entanglements  were 
carefully  avoided,  simply  because  "Pop"  has  too  much  difficulty  now 
keeping  up  with  the  many  alliances  effected  with  the  other  sex,  and 
I  do  not  want  to  add  to  hi^  troubles. 

In  the  spring  and  summer  of  '99,  I  was  making  strenuous,  Roosevelt- 
ian  efforts  in  preparation  for  an  extended  journey  into  the  Near  East, 
on  an  expedition  organized  for  the  purpose  of  pursuing  archaeological 
research  in  a  part  of  Syria  that,  curiously  enough,  has  been  very  little 
visited  by  scientific  explorers  or  even  by  mere  "globe  trotters."  We 
sailed  in  August  for  England  and,  arriving  in  London,  set  to  work 
gathering  together  the  many  things,  necessary  and  unnecessary,  that 
we  then  considered  should  make  up  an  explorer's  kit.  I  drove  down 
to  Fenchurch  Street  Station  one  night  and  welcomed  "Luke"  Miller 
and  "Puss"  Balken  to  the  sad,  smoky  metropolis, — for  they,  also,  had 
taken  upon  themselves  the  feverish  desire  to  conquer  worlds  unknown 
and  were  heading  for  the  same  land  in  which  the  great  American 
Expedition   of    1899   was   to   work. 

After  a  few  more  day  of  hurry,  we  joined  forces  in  Paris,  and  went 
to  Marseilles  to  take  ship  for  Beiriit.  After  ten  days,  filled  with  the 
rare  delight  of  a  contintious  living  panorama  in  which  we  caught 
gliiUpses  of  Corsica,  Sardinia,  Italy,  Sicily,  Greece,  the  Dardanelles. 
Constantinople,  Asia  Minor  and  Cyprus,  we  landed  in  Syria. 

Then, — the  custom-house.  Our  twenty-eight  pieces  of  baggage,  large 
and  small,  were  hauled  and  carried  in  by  the  jabbering  native  boatmen, 
and  were  strewn  about  in  all  directions  to  await  the  pleasure  of  the 
small  official  with  red  "tarbush,"  who  was  urged  to  allow  us  to  hurry 
through,  since  we  were  harmless  American  travelers,  bent  upon  no 
revolutionary  mission  against  the  suzerainty  of  his  Imperial  Majesty 
the  Sultan.  All  went  on  well  and  speedily,  until  the  last  of  the  many 
trunks  was  pounced  upon.  Here  a  halt  was  called,  while  the  great 
black  colossus  was  opened  for  inspection, — blank  astonishment  and 
consternation,  —  impossible  !  —  four  dangerous  rifles  !  —  contraband  ! 
"These  cannot  pass, — bring  back  all  the  twenty-seven  pieces  for  minute 
examination."  Chagrined,  but  powerless,  we  stood  aside,  mutely 
watching  the  official  go  carefully  over  everything,  extracting  here  a 
revolver,  there  a  box  of  cartridges, — finally  allowing  us  to  go  to  our 
hotel  with  only  one  revolver  to  protect  us  on  the  long  journey  east- 

68 


ward  into  the  desert ;  and  this  was  ours  only  because  it  was  overlooked 
in  the  search.  A  good  part  of  the  time  left  for  final  preparation  in 
Beirut  was  spent  in  devising  ways  and  means  to  release  the  captured 
arms,  and  in  making  repeated  visits  to  the  Custom-House,  personally, 
or  through  our  backers  furnished  by  the  American  and  German  Con- 
sulates, to  ask  the  officials  to  mitigate  their  sentence  of  confiscation. 
Success  was  finally  attained  for  the  larger  arms  by  persistent  urging 
that  they  were  not  dangerous  weapons,  to  be  used  against  the  Empire, 
—they  were  too  small  to  be  employed  in  military  operations,— therefore 
they  must  be  merely  sporting  guns.  And  "armes  de  chasse,"  they 
were  called,  although  at  home  we  style  them  "Winchester  carbines." 
The    revolvers   were    secured    liy   a   common    oriental    method    of   pro- 


A     PRIVATE     HOUSE,     Nqrth      SYRIA,     EARLY     CHRISTIAN     ERA. 

cedure,— our  representatives  were  allowed,  in  their  discretion,  to  give 
to  the  chief  of  the  Beirut  Customs  one  of  our  32-calibre  Colts,  on 
the  surrender  of  the  others  and  the  cartridges,— for  was  not  this  a 
most  modern  type  of  American  fire-arm,  never  seen  in  the  Orient, 
that  would  be  a  nice  little  toy   for  our  wise   Turk? 

Two  weeks  after  our  arrival,  we  were  again  on  the  way,  this  time 
going  northward  by  way  of  Larnaka,  in  Cyprus,  and  Mersina,— the 
Port  of  Tarsus,— to  Alexandretta,  our  point  of  departure  for  the  in- 
terior of  Syria.  Nine  hours  riding  on  little  horses  of  Arab  stock 
brought  us  to  Antioch,  the  scene  of  our  first  encampment,  happy  that 


69 


we  were  at  last  well  on  our  way,  but  rejoicing  rather  more  that  there 
was  something  to  repose  our  weary  bodies  upon,  other  than  those 
miserable  English   saddles,  brought  for  our  especial  benefit. 

The  desolation  of  ancient  Antioch  is  profound.  Little  remains  to 
indicate  that  it  was  once  a  center  of  civilization,  hardly  less  superb 
and  powerful  than  Rome  herself.  The  modern  town  is  squalid  and 
miserable  to  the  western  mind,  and  we  were  not  sorry  to  strike  on  to- 
wards the  east,  after  a  stay  of  ample  length  to  allow  us  to  learn  of 
the  almost  total  absence  of  valuable  historical  remains. 


"the  workers"   in   "the  east." 

Beyond  the  river  Orontes  we  came  into  the  district  that  proved  to 
contain  a  marvellous  group  of  ruined  towns,  standing,  as  it  were, 
high  and  dry,  and  founded  on  a  rock, — a  sight  that  almost  took  our 
breath  away  when  we  had  had  time  to  realize  their  number,  their 
splendid  state  of  preservation  and  the  fact  that  the  very  names  of 
the  majority  of  them  are  unknown  to  archaeology  and  perhaps  to  his- 
tory. It  is  true  that  some  of  them  were  visited,  forty  years  ago,  by 
the  Comte  de  Vogue,  and  were  described  by  him  a  few  years  later, 


70 


and  it  is  true  that  he  told  of  other  ruined  villages  in  the  neighborhood 
which  he  was  not  able  to  visit;  again,  it  is  true  that  a  few  philologists 
have  ventured  into  the  region,  and  have  copied  many  inscriptions  found 
on  the  houses  and  on  tombs.  But  strangely  enough,  no  one  has  had 
the  energy  or  the  foresight  to  go  over  the  country  thoroughly,  in  order 
to  collect  the  data  that  stands  so  readily  at  hand,  to  bring  it  back, 
and  to  publish  it  for  the  benefit  of  American  and  European  students. 

It  remained  for  the  chief  of  our  party, — Butler,  '92,  one  of  our  lec- 
turers in  the  art  room  of  Old  North, — to  conceive  the  plan  of  visiting 
the  country  of  our  research  and  to  carry  it  to  a  successful  conclusion, 
— a  result  that  I  trust  you  will  perceive  for  yourselves  when  the  pro- 
posed publication  is  brought  to  light. 

After  a  few  weeks  of  steady  work  in  this  district,  and  when  we 
seemed  to  have  accomplished  about  all  there  was  to  do,  we  turned  our 
faces  again  eastward,  and  soon  pitched  camp  in  the  great  desert  city 
of  Aleppo, — the  city  that  grew  and  thrived  by  acting  the  part  of  "middle- 
man" in  the  caravan  transportation  system  of  the  desert,  until  the 
Suez  Canal  came  and  changed  the  route  followed  by  the  merchandise 
of  India  and  Persia  to  Europe.  But  we  were  not  mere  tourists  hunt 
ing  for  the  amusements  and  distractions  of  a  city,  so  our  party  was 
soon  away,  rapidly  marching  towards  the  mighty  river  of  antiquity, 
the  Euphrates,  which  until  now  seemed  more  like  a  tradition,  a  myth, 
than  a  fact,  a  natural  phenomenon.  On  the  third  day  we  came  to  th. 
edge  of  the  river  valley,  and — oh!  the  wonder  of  it! — there  lay  th' 
broad  white  ribbon  winding  southward  until  lost  in  the  hazy  distance, 
and  here,  across  the  broad  valley,  rose  the  hills  of  Mesopotamia,  the 
cradle  of  civilization. 

It  was  only  a  rapid  survey  that  we  took,  and  then,  turning  north- 
ward, our  path  brought  us  down  the  slopes  into  the  valley,  along  which 
we  •  wandered  slowly  towards  the  site  of  Karkhemish,  the  northern 
capital  of  the  Hittites.  Little  now  remains  above  ground  of  the 
original  city,  or  of  the  Alexandrine  and  Roman  ones  built  upon  its 
ruins,  but  probably  a  thorough  attempt  at  excavation  would  net  the 
energetic  explorer  very  rich  results.  Indeed,  the  little  that  has  already 
been  done  there  has  proved  more  than  well  worth  while,  for  most 
of  the  Hittite  sculptures  now  in  the  British  Museum  were  brought 
from  this  site  some  twenty  years  ago,  and  there  are  a  few  more  in- 
teresting specimens  still  standing  in  the  rough  trenches  cut  by  the 
English  excavators. 

We  then  made  a  hurried  visit  to  the  interesting  town  of  Biredjik, 
towards  the  north, — the  town  in  which  the  Armenian  massacres  of 
five  years  ago  originated,  and  one  that  saw  a  host  of  that  unfortunate 
people  ruthlessly  slaughtered  by  the  fanatical  Mohammedans,  under 
the  eyes  of  the  abetting  Turkish  officials,  until  not  one  was  left  alive 
who  openly  professed  Christianity.  The  Moslems  did  not  look  upon 
us  with  genial  smiles  as  we  strolled  through  their  bazaars,  but  we 
were  in  the  care  of  a  uniformed  policeman,  so  they  thought  it  best 
not  to  indicate  their  ill-will  more  strongly  than  by  surly  scowls. 

71 


Our  tour  of  the  place  over,  we  recrossed  the  Euphrates,  and,  after 
a  night  in  the  tents,  pitched  just  beside  the  river,  we  turned  our 
faces  westward  and  hurried  to  headquarters  as  well  as  was  possible 
with  the  slow  caravan,  the  unfavorable  elements  and  the  increasing 
mud  along  the  way.  Passing  through  Aleppo  again,  and  southward 
through  Hama,  Horns  and  Tripoli,  taking  refuge  at  times  in  the  houses 
of  village   Shekhs,   we  landed  in   Beirijt   shortly  before   Christmas. 

The  party  then  broke  up,  to  spend  the  two  months  of  the  rainy 
season  according  to  the  individual  inclination  of  each  of  its  members. 
I  rushed  away  to  join  "Puss"  Balken  in  Cairo,  where  he  had  already 
learned  all  there  is  to  know,  old  and  new.  of  one  of  the  most  fascinat- 


THE   QUEEN   OF   THE   MULES, — READY   FOR   THE    MARCH. 


ing  cities  of  the  world.  He  was  familiar  with  every  nook  and  corner 
of  the  place,  and  found  me  an  amenable  pupil  and  a  ready  attendant 
during  all  his  vagaries.  We  finally  decided  to  tear  ourselves  away  from 
the  merry  streets  of  Cairo,  and  venture  up  the  Nile  to  take  a  glimpse 
of  the  majestic  temples  and  the  tombs  of  the  Pharaohs.  The  beauties 
on  the  tourist  steamer,  however,  pleased  "Puss"  beyond  measure,  and 
the  wonderful  relics  of  antiquity  were  unfortunately  of  minor  im- 
portance ! 

It  was  not  long  before  we  had  reached  the  first  cataract,  had  inspected 
the  colossal  dam  across  the  Nile,  that  is  to  multiply  the  agricultural 
wealth  of  Egypt  so  marvellously,  had  returned  to  Cairo  and  had  taken 
ship  for  Italy.  The  four  days  out  on  the  Mediterranean  wearied 
"Puss"  sadly,  but  finally  we  came  into  the  Bay  of  Naples  and  landed 


safely,   only  a  little   the   worse   for   wear.     Next  came    Pompeii,   with 
a  somewhat  closer  view  of  smoking  Vesuvius,  and  at  last,  Rome. 

My  three  weeks  in  the  Eternal  City  were  very  quickly  ended,  and 
with  our  chief  explorer,  who  had  come  by  a  more  direct  route  to 
Italy,  I  left  "Puss"  and  the  gaieties  of  the  American  colony  of  Rome, 
and  in  less  than  no  time  we  had  passed  through  Brindisi,  Patras, 
Athens  and  Smyrna,  and  found  ourselves  again  in  Beirut.  In  ten 
short  days  more  we  were  in  the  saddle,  climbing  laboriously  up  and 
over  the  Lebanons  in  the  direction  of  Damascus.     A  light  rain  dampened 


A     MONUMENTAL    TOMB,     NORTH     SYRIA,    EARLY    CHRISTIAN    ERA. 

somewhat  our  enthusiasm  over  the  delight  of  renewing  the  varied  ex- 
periences of  camp  life,  but,  well  bundled  up  in  the  Arab  cloaks  that 
served  as  protection  against  both  cold  and  wet,  we  dismounted  at  the 
first  camping  place  contentedly  tired,  and  ready  for  the  three  long 
months  of  toilsome  travel  then  before  us. 

Turning  northward  in  Coelesyria,  between  the  Lebanons  and  the 
Anti-Lebanons,  we  arrived  soon  at  Ba'albek,  to  view  those  marvellous 
ruins  whose  foundations  date  back  to  early  Phoenician  times.  The  vast 
dimensions  of  the  blocks  of  limestone  in  the  lower  courses  of  the  outer 


7^ 


wall  make  one  feel  that  the  science  of  engineering  of  to-day  is  far 
behind  that  of  the  ancients  in  handling  large  masses.  It  is  conceded 
by  all,  I  believe,  that  no  machine  can  be  constructed  on  known  mechan- 
ical principles  which  could  lift  one  of  those  Cyclopean  hewn  stones. 
The  largest  one  in  the  wall  measures  sixty-five  feet  in  length,  and  it 
is  about  thirteen  feet  square  on  the  end. 

On  and  on  the  caravan  travelled,  always  in  a  northerly  direction, 
until,  at  the  end  of  five  weeks  we  approached  the  region  of  our 
autumn's  efforts.  A  thorough  study  of  its  southern  extremity  was 
accomplished,  and,  before  striking  out  for  the  desert  once  more,  we 
paid  a  hurried  visit  to  the  northern  border  of  our  working  field,  touch- 
ing up,  as  it  were,  some  of  the  earlier  investigations.  Here  our  party 
was  augmented  by  the  arrival  from  Aleppo  of  Dr.  George  E.  Post, 
"Wolf"  Post's  father,  and  a  distinguished  member  of  the  faculty  o 
the  Syrian  Protestant  College, — in  fact  a  colleague  of  "Luke"  Miller 
and  Fred.  Jessup. 

Leaving  the  old  haunts,  a  few  hours'  ride  brought  the  party  a  second 
time  to  a  marvellous  stretch  of  Roman  road  that  stands  almost  in  its 
original  perfection,  defying  all  time,  and  yet  used  daily  by  the  solitary 
wayfarer  or  by  long  strings  of  camels  passing  to  and  fro.  It  must  have 
been  a  masterpiece  of  its  period,  and  its  preservation  is  such  that  it 
is  probably  a  finer  example  of  Roman  road  building  than  exists  in  any 
part  of  Europe. 

In  the  second  journey  eastward  we  did  not  go  quite  as  far  as  the 
Eirphrates,  but  turned  south  while  still  a  good  day's  ride  away,  after 
having  visited  a  few  remarkable  ruined  sites  of  towns  dating  from  the 
early  Christian   centuries. 

We  now  headed  straight  as  possible  for  Palmyra,  the  great  Tadmor 
in  the  wilderness,  built  by  King  Solomon.  But  the  unexpected  diffi- 
culties of  the  way  made  our  goal  seem  a  long  distance  off.  At  Isriyeh, 
one  of  the  places  selected  for  a  night's  repose,  we  threw  ourselves  into 
the  arms  of  a  portion  of  the  great  confederation  of  tribes  called  th' 
Anazeh  Bedawin,  a  people  that  does  not  own  allegiance  to  Ottoman 
rule,  and  that  hovers  on  the  border  of  Mohammedan  civilization  in 
order  to  claim  as  its  just  due  a  part  of  the  spring  crop  raised  by  the 
settled  inhabitants  of  the  edge  of  the  desert.  It  so  happened,  however, 
that  only  a  few  months  earlier,  it  had  been  somewhat  subdued  by  an 
attack  of  a  body  of  Turkish  mounted  muleteers,  and  had  been  forced 
to  pay  tribute  to  the  government.  When  the  Anazeh  at  Isriyeh  saw 
that  we  were  accompanied  by  four  of  these  muleteer  soldiers,  and  that 
the  party  was  fairly  well  armed,  they  evidently  thought  that  discretion 
was  the  better  part  of  valor,  and  contented  themselves  with  sinister 
scowls  and  threats  to  some  of  our  men,  that  this  was  a  rare  oppor- 
tunity for  them  to  gather  in  great  plunder.  Putting  on  an  extra  guard 
in  the  camp,  we  retired  to  our  beds,  and — never  spent  a  quieter  night. 
We  were  amused  next  morning  to  learn  that  the  sub-chief  of  the 
Bedawin  announced  that  no  water  should  be  given  to  our  animals 
from   the   common   well    unless   the    dragoman, — whom   he   considered 

74 


the  head  of  the  party,-would  partake  of  his  hospitality,  in  the  shape 
of  the  usual  cup  of  coffee. 

We  mounted  our  horses  and  rode  away  from  this  supposedly  danger- 
ous spot  at  an  early  hour,  and  began  the  last  stage  of  the  journey  to 
far-off  Palmyra,  over  an  almost  pathless,  hilly  region,  hardly  known 
even  to  the  camel-drivers  who  were  acting  the  part  of  guides.  During 
a  long  stretch  of  two  and  a  half  days,  we  did  not  lay  eyes  upon  a 
human  bemg,— nor  even  an  animal  or  other  living  creature,  save  a  few 
lizards  and  some  small  birds.     On  and  on  we  trudged,  hour  after  hour 


COMMANDANT    OF    OUR    BODY-GUARD. 

m  a  most  monotonous,  snail-like  manner,  and  as  evening  of  the  first 
day  approached,  some  anxiety  was  shown  in  regard  to  the  absence 
of  water.  We  had  brought  some  skins  full  for  the  animals,  but  it 
was  a  mere  nothing  for  our  seventy  beasts  of  burden,  not  counting  the 
fifteen  camels  that  served  as  feed  and  water  carriers.  And  what  about 
the  thirty-five  men?  There  was  a  little  water  for  the  use  of  the 
kitchen  m  the  two  small  barrels  brought  for  the  purpose,  and  we  "out- 
landers"  had  enough  to  drink,— but  what  of  the  Arabs  of  the  party? 
"To-morrow,  to-morrow,"  said  the  guides,  "there  is  water  only  a  little 
way  off,  just  over  there."  We  had  settled  down  for  the  night,  making 
the  best  of  things,  when  an  exasperating  thunder-shower  came  up,- 
think  of  it,  off  in  the  desert,  the  second  of  May,  rain !— who  ever 
imagined  such  a  thing?  But  the  worst  of  it  was  that  we  were  only 
on  the  edge  of  the  downpour,  and  besides,  we  had  little  or  nothing  to 


75 


catch  the  rain  in.  No  help  for  it! — so  to  bed.  At  half  past  three 
the  next  morning  we  were  hurried  out  of  a  deep  sleep,  and  were  soon 
on  the  march  again.  One  horse  had  died  during  the  night,  though  not 
because  of  the  lack  of  water;  and  another  was  evidently  suffering  from 
tetanus,  traceable  to  the  cruelty  and  ignorance  of  the  native  who  had  him 
in  charge.  All  our  troubles  seemed  to  come  at  one  time,  but  suddenly, 
while  on  the  march,  anxiety  was  turned  into  joy  at  the  discovery  of 
a  large  pool  of  rain  water  in  the  bed  of  a  dried  up  stream.  The  storm 
had  indeed  stood  us  in  good  stead,  especially  in  that  its  circumscribed 
area  had  included  this  rare  spot,  which  was  capable  of  holding  the 
water  for  .some  little  time.  If  it  had  not  been  for  this  "find,"  after 
three  or  four  hours  or  so  in  the  saddle,  there  is  no  telling  what  mig 
have  come  of  the  heavily  laden  animals,  as  the  long-sought-for  well 
was  only  rediscovered  after  some  five  hours  more  of  steady  progress. 
The  next  afternoon  we  came  to  the  glorious  remains  of  ancient 
Palmyra, — the   beautiful    temples   and   the   great   colonnade,   now   of   an 


^Pi 

W^^^^^^^^ '■^'-  ' 

W^Lmif^/.:.-A. 

OUR    C.\MP    .\T    P.\LMYR.\. 

ivory  and  gold  color,  built  by  Queen  Zenobia  and  her  Roman  con- 
querors. Ba'albek  and  Palmyra  together  are  two  of  the  most  awe- 
inspiring  remains  of  antiquity  to  be  seen  to-day.  They  rival  the 
Parthenon  in  sumptuous  splendor,  though  not  in  architectural  accuracy 
of  detail,  and  they  are  more  magnificent  than  the  temples  of  Egypt, 
though  not  so  colossal.  Before  we  had  had  time  to  see  the  full  extent 
of  the  ruins,  we  felt  it  necessary  to  hurry  westward,  and  a  few 
days  more  brought  the  caravan  to  a  village  called  Dumer,  a  five  hours' 
ride  east  of  Damascus.  Here  Dr.  Post  and  I  left  the  camp,  he  to  take 
up  his  duties  at  the  College  in  Beirut,  I  to  leave  for  home  and  our 
triennial  reunion.  The  other  members  of  the  party  went  southward 
into  the  country  called  the  Hauran,  for  three  more  weeks  of  archaeo- 
logical research. 

Thus  endeth  a   most   ideal   journey,   one  of  the   sort  that,   in   spite 
of  necessary  difficulties  and  ordinary  obstacles,  is  of  inestimable  value 

76 


to  the  individual  who  is  fortunate  enough  to  experience  it.  The  main 
evil  evolved  from  it  is  that  somehow  there  is  created  a  restless  desire 
to  try  one's  fortune  a  second  time,  and  to  accomplish  more  of  the 
work  that  has,  through  many  causes,  been  left  for  our  generation  to 
do.  Speaking  from  the  standpoint  of  history,  an  untold  number  of 
priceless  monuments  are  scattered  throughout  Syria,  Mesopotamia  and 
the  neighboring  countries, — buried  for  the  most  part,  it  is  true,  but  still 
obtainable  if  energetically  sought, — and  it  only  remains  for  those  of 
our  time  to  throw  themselves  into  the  work  with  the  proper  zeal, 
in  order  that  the  world  may  be  vastly  enriched  by  material  that  lies 
uselessly  hidden  away  in  the  wastes  of  semi-civilized  lands.  Much 
has  been  done  and  more  is  now  being  done,  but  probably  a  vast  dea; 
more  still  will  be  accomplisaed  during  this  century. 

Since  leaving  Syria  and  since  our  reunion,  I  have  had  only  the 
ordinary  experiences  of  a  latter-day  individual.  I  went  over  to  Paris 
for  the  second  revival  of  the  Olympic  Games,  but  did  little  or  nothing 
creditable  in  my  several  efforts.  Princeton  won  a  few  points,  but 
we  did  not  have  the  sinecure  that  was  evidently  ours  in  Athens  in 
'96.  Nevertheless,  together  with  several  other  institutions,  I  think  we 
were  victorious  on  the  Sunday  question,  and  I  for  one  am  very  glad 
we  were  represented  in  this  second  series  of  events  held  under  the 
misnomer  of  "Olympic"  Games. 

After  a  quiet  summer  in  Europe,  I  came  home  to  take  up  again  my 
studies  at  Hopkins,  and  the  various  tasks  of  an  ordinary  American 
citizen, — including  the  casting  of  a  second  ballot  against  Bryanism. 
The  doctorate  is  still  a  long  way  off,  but  I  somehow  have  a  vague  hope 
of  landing  the  prize  on  a  red-letter  day  of  the  distant  future.  At 
any  rate : 

" All  things  declare 

Struggle  hath  deeper  peace  than  sleep  can  bring." 

And  so  I  struggle  on. 
A  hearty  grip  of  the  hand  to  you  all,  and  a  joyful  "God-speed." 

Faithfully  yours, 

Robert  Garrett. 
Baltimore,   Md.,   April  24,   '01. 

GEORGE  JARVIS  GEER,  JR. 

Dear  Pop: — Since  leaving  college  my  career  has  been  one  of  few 
events,  and  of  little  interest  to  anyone.  As  I  have,  in  previous  letters, 
told  you,  I  started  to  work  for  my  "daily  bread"  as  a  day  laborer  in 
the  blast  furnaces  and  steel  mills  at  McKeesport,  near  Pittsburg,  on 
the  same  day  that  McKinley  started  on  his  "job"  in  the  White  House, 
March  4th,  1897,  only  I  worked  during  the  night  instead  of  the  day. 
After  such  an  auspicious  beginning,  I  continued  in  the  same  business 
for  two  years,  learning  and  working  at  all  the  different  "jobs"  in  a 
Bessemer  steel  mill. 

77 


I  did  not  get  married  there,  nor  have  I  since,  notwithstanding  the 
fact  that  one  of  my  fellow-workmen  offered  "to  make  me  acquainted" 
with  some  of  his  "lady  friends,"  with  matrimonial  intent,  but  as  a  day 
laborer  I  withstood  the  temptation.  Since  leaving  the  mill  I  have  been 
in  a  banker  and  broker's  ofhce  in  Pittsburg.  Since  last  December  (1900) 
I  have  done  nothing,  owing  to  a  little  difficulty  I  have  had  with  our 
common  enemy,  typhoid  fever,  but  am  about  recovered  now. 

In  your  letter  to  me  you  seemed  concerned  as  to  my  behavior  or 
doings.  I  can  only  say  that  my  life  so  far  has  been  very  quiet,  and,  in 
fact,  always  has  been,  since  the  time  "way  back  in  Freshman  Year," 
when  Teddy  McAlpin  used  his  good  inHuence  over  me.  Poor  old 
Teddy;  I'm  afraid  he  has  "gone  to  the  dogs,"  for  I  saw  him  in  the 
Waldorf  "smoking  a  cigarette"  a  short  time  ago. 

Howard  Brokaw  and  Ario  Pardee  have,  at  intervals,  been  seen 
around,  and  in  Pittsburg,  which  seems  to  have  some  peculiar  attrac- 
tion for  them. 

Fearing  that  Charlie  Speer  has  been  delinquent  in  writing  you,  I 
will  tell  you  that  he  is  now  driving  a  coach  and  four,  making  weekly 
trips  (in  his  mind)  down  the  "Shenandoah  valley."  If  ever  in  that 
vicinity,  don't  fail  to  look  him  up  and  make  a  trip  with  him. 

Vic.  King  has  been  studying  medicine  for  the  past  four  years,  and 
is  now  a  full-fledged  M.  D.  He  would  have  been  down  to  the  triennial 
last  year  had  he  not  stumbled  on  a  patient  with  a  case  of  small  pox. 
He  was,  consequently,  locked  up  and  quarantined  for  three  weeks  at 
that  time. 

I  shall  see  you  all  at  Princeton  in  June,  and  trusting  now  that  you 
are  well  and  prosperous,  I  remain  always  yours,  in  dear  old  '97 — the 
class  of  good  times,  good  spirits  and  good  fellowship. 

Geo.  Jarvis  Geer,  Jr. 

Pittsburg,  Pa.,  April  17,  '01. 

CHARLES  ALBERT  GEORGE. 

My  Dear  Classmates : — I  have  always  felt  I  was  only  half  graduated, 
because,  as  I  remained  in  Princeton  after  you  all  left,  I  did  not  receive 
the  finishing  touches  of  the  "car  window." 

As  soon  as  it  was  all  over,  I  went  into  camp  in  Old  North,  and 
started  to  scratch  "bones"  for  Professor  Scott — and  incidentally  to 
study  the  osteology  of  antiquity.  A  big  bone-hunting  trip  was  pro- 
posed, and  in  January,  1898,  I  composed  an  expedition  to  the  West. 
(The  "bones"  are  still  to  be  found.)  But  I  did  get  some  ranch  life, 
and  the  experience  started  in  a  quite  conventional  way.  The  best 
hearted  fellows  that  can  be  found,  teaching  me  to  ride,  put  me  astride 
a  mild  pony  that  could  not  be  clubbed  into  a  trot,  going  away  from  the 
ranch,  but  which  lost  no  time  getting  back  when  her  head  was  turned 
toward  the  ranch.  I  hung  on  to  the  "horn,"  but  not  tight  enough, 
for  when  the  pony  stopped  at  the  gate  of  the  corral,  I  didn't.  I  kept 
on — over  it — and  refused  to  be  comforted.  One  thing  I  learned  on 
that  ranch,  that  is  common  to  all  ranches,  the  owner  delights  to  have 

78 


a  tenderfoot  around,  for  the  regular  hands  always  strive  to  do  so  much 
more  than  the  "greeny"  that  the  result  is  very  gratifying  to  the  owner. 

Long,  lonely  days  of  riding  in  the  blinding,  burning  sun,  watching 
cattle  in  the  herding  season  (over  thirty  miles  is  often  ridden  in  one 
day,  turning  back  groups  of  "strayers"  from  the  herd,  and  all  the  time 
in  plain  sight  of  the  starting  point),  haying  later  on  occasionally,  or 
hauling  trip  to  "town"  (forty  miles  each  way  behind  walking  teams!), 
a  few  weeks  handling  hay  in  a  seventy-mile  wind  (the  wind  blows  only 
one  direction  in  Nebraska — in  your  face),  lots  of  snow  and  fifteen 
degrees  below  zero,  with  all  the  while  a  horizon  of  low  sand  dunes  and 
no  trees,  created  a  longing  for  the  old  campus.  So,  after  ten  months' 
absence  the  "bone"  expedition  landed  back  in  the  "Old  Burg,"  and  once 
more  took  possession  of  Old  North.  The  finances  of  the  "bone"  de- 
partment were  low,  so  I  fooled  one  of  the  professors  into  believing 
I  was  cut  out  for  a  literary  career,  and  he  kindly  invested  his  confidence 
and  influence,  with  the  result  that  I've  been  "hanging  around"  the 
library  ever  since. 

At  Commencement  of  '99,  the  University  was,  as  usual,  big-hearted, 
and  presented  me  with  an  A.  M.  Putting  up  a  bluff  of  hard  work  for 
another  year  made  me  desire  to  try  a  new  camp,  so  after  the  Triennial 
I  persuaded  a  loyal  Princeton  girl,  with  a  Princetonian  ancestry,  to 
leave  New  York  and  go  into  partnership  with  me;  so,  on  August  9, 
1900,  articles  were  signed,  the  old  camp  deserted,  and  a  new  one  set 
up  in  sight  of  the  big  elms,  where  we  shall  be  glad  to  welcome  any  of 
the  "Faithful"   when  they  visit  Alma  Mater. 

Yours  in  '97, 

C.  A.  George. 

Princeton,  N.  J.,  Jan.  23,  '01. 

SELDEN  ELY  GILL. 

Seldom  Sober  Gill  has  failed  to  respond.  The  "cannon-orator"  is 
speechless.  The  "sounding  rafters"  no  longer  reverberate  with  the 
thunder  of  his  stentorian  eloquence.  Every  head  is  bowed  and  sad- 
ness reigns  in  every  heart.  A  tragic  stillness  fills  the  air  heavy  with 
foreboding.  The  silence  is  ominous  of  impending  evil.  With  "baited" 
breath  the  multitude  awaits  its  leader's  words.  Wrapped  in  melancholy 
he  stands,  with  chin  sunk  upon  his  breast,  his  brow  all  furrowed  with 
untimely  care,  his  hair  disheveled  and  with  eyes  downcast,  his  face 
distraught,  a  very  picture  of  despair.  Why  the  silent  throng !  Why 
the  sorrowing  chief !  See,  in  his  hand  the  cause  of  all  his  grief — an 
empty  stein.  The  keg  is  dry;  the  beer  is  ausgespieldt,  and  Gill  is  si- 
lent as  the  tomb 

Immediately  after  leaving  college  he  entered  the  employ  of  the 
Gill  Boiler  Company,  where  his  experience  with  tanks  stood  him  in 
good  stead.  After  making  for  himself  an  acid-proof,  non-corrosible,  ab- 
sorbent lining,  he  magnanimously  tendered  his  invaluable  services  to 
Mr.  Bell,  who  manufactures  telephones  on  a  small  scale,  who,  know- 
ing his  proclivity  for  a  rapid  life,  makes  of  him  daily,  a  human,  dec- 


trie  shuttle-cock  between  Trenton  and  Philadelphia.  His  rapid  oscil- 
lations are  said  to  have  inspired  Tesla  with  his  idea  of  interplanetary 
communication.     What  next? 

What  Gill  will  do 
No  man  can  tell. 
Let's  draw  the  vail, 

—     !  M 

NELSON  WILLIAM  GILLESPIE. 

Gillespie,  after  graduation,  was  associated  with  the  Balcheler  Syn- 
dicate of  New  York  City — an  organization  which  furnished  stories 
and  patent  insides  for  country  newspapers,  and  supplied  desirable  ad- 
vertisements. A  year  later  the  syndicate  changed  hands  and  Gillespie 
accepted  a  position  with  the  Cosmopolitan  Magazine.  He  held  this 
about  a  year  and  a  half,  when  he  joined  the  staff  of  the  New  York 
World  in  the  capacity  of  a  reporter.  As  to  his  present  whereabouts 
the  secretary  is  in  complete  ignorance,  the  frequent  urgent  appeals 
failing  to  elicit  even  a  reply.  Dame  Rumor  has  it  that  he  has  aban- 
doned his  journalistic  work  for  a  sphere  more  congenial  to  his  aristo- 
cratic proclivities.  When  last  heard  of  he  was  "doing"  large  cities 
in  company  with  the  English  nobility. 

WALTER  BEATTY  GILMORE. 

My  Dear  Keener: — Your  latest  threat,  to  bombard  me  with  tele- 
grams, C.  O.  D.,  has  succeeded  where  your  horse  postals  and  numer- 
ous other  communications  failed,  and  I  surrender.  Here  is  your 
letter. 

After  graduation  I  read  law  in  an  office  and  was  admitted  to  prac- 
tice in  1899.  Since  then  my  life  has  been  that  of  a  country  lawyer, 
for  this  town,  although  the  county  seat,  has  a  population  of  less  than 
ten  thousand.  Any  classmates  who  are  in  the  same  walk  of  life, 
under  similar  conditions,  will  understand  the  routine  of  my  exist- 
ence without  further  description. 

I  am  still  a  Republican  in  politics,  but  there  are  no  offices  of  profit 
or  distinction  coming  to  me  on  that  account,  since  everybody  within 
a  radius  of  twenty  miles  is  a  Republican. 

The  Cumberland  Valley  is  the  garden  spot  of  Pennsylvania,  and 
Chambersburg  is  the  Queen  City  of  the  Cumberland  Valley,  but  just 
a  trifle  secluded  from  the  rest  of  the  world,  it  lies  fifty-two  miles 
from  Harrisburg  and  the  Pennsylvania  Railroad,  consequently  my 
trips  have  not  been  numerous.  My  visits  to  Princeton,  in  the  capacity 
of  an  alumnus,  have  been  limited  to  two — a  football  game  each  time. 
That  of  Nov.  17th,  1898,  was  a  salubrious  occasion,  the  other  was  not. 
Good  football  in  this  neighborhood  is  confined  to  Mercersburg 
Academy,  a  few  miles  south  of  us,  and  the  Carlisle  Indians,  a  few 
miles  to  the  north.  My  own  athletic  recreations  have  been  confined 
to  a  good  deal  of  golf  and  a  very  little  baseball. 

80 


With  one  exception  there  are  none  of  '97  located  nearer  than  Har- 
risburg,  so  I  see  almost  nothing  of  the  rest  of  the  class.  I  can  think 
of  nothing  else  that  might  be  of  interest  at  this  time.  Regretting 
the  trouble  I  have  given  you  to  secure  this,  and  hoping  it  may  not  be 
too  late  to  be  of  service,  I  am, 

Very  sincerely, 

Walter  B.  Gilmore, 
Chambersburg^  Pa.,  May  10,  1901. 

HENRY  JAMES  GRAHAM. 

My  Dear  Pop: — As  you  insist  upon  having  a  letter  for  the  Triennial, 
let  me  explain  that  I  have  delayed  answering  your  request  for  one, 
because  it  appeared  to  me  that  my  life  since  leaving  college,  in  so  far 
as  it  might  be  of  any  interest  to  the  members  of  the  class,  has  been  a 
blank. 

As  many  members  of  the  class  while  in  college  were  rather  expert 
at  drawing  blanks,  I  cannot  hope  to  describe  mine  in  a  manner  suffi- 
ciently vivid  to  suit  their  tastes,  especially  as  it  consists  of  four  years  of 
examining  titles  to  real  estate  and  two  years  of  settling  estates  of  the 
dead.  All  the  members  of  the  class  will  realize  that  anything  relating 
to  the  latter  would  appeal  only  to  those  of  the  "Dutch  Gregory  Type," 
of  whom  I  believe  there  is  but  one,  and  any  of  those  unfortunate  indi- 
viduals who  are  Pennsylvania  attorneys,  I  am  sure,  will  certify  that  I 
am  doing  my  classmates  a  favor  when  I  do  not  mention  the  many  trials 
of  the  former  occupation. 

With  best  wishes   to  the  class,  and  especially  its   secretary,   I   am. 

Yours  truly, 

Harry  J.  Graham. 

Pittsburg,  Pa.,  April  20,  '01. 

JOHN  WILLIAM  GRAHAM. 

My  Dear  "Pop": — The  postmaster  of  Denver,  here,  has  requested 
me,  in  very  strong  language,  to  write  you  a  letter  so  as  to  stop  those 
scathing  postal  cards  you  have  been  sending  me  lately,  as  he  said 
that  he  didn't  want  the  morals  of  the  community  corrupted.  So  I  guess 
that  I  had  better  drop  you  a  few  lines  to  preserve  the  peace  of  the  town. 

You  have  him  pretty  well  frightened,  and  I  imagine  he  thinks  you  are 
a  very  fierce  sort  of  customer.  I  would  have  written  you  sooner  only 
I  thought  you  would  receive  so  many  interesting  letters  that  you  would 
not  want  to  be  bored  with  any  from  me,  as  you  know  I  am  not  much 
in  the  writing  line.  Living  so  far  West,  I  did  not  know  but  that  you 
would  forget  that  there  ever  was  such  a  person  in  the  class  of  '97, 
and  that  I  would  escape  imobserved,  but  to  my  sorrow  I  see  that  you 
are  still  as  watchful  and  wide  awake  as  ever.  I  don't  believe  they  are 
working  you  hard  enough  at  "Lawrence,"  or  else  you  wouldn't  have 
any  time  to  think  up  so  much  trouble. 

Nothing  has  happened  in  my  brief  career  since  I  left  college  which 
is  worth  writing  about,   so  I  scarcely  see  any  use  for  this   letter.     I 

81 


graduated  from  the  New  York  Law  School  in  '99,  along  with  several 
other  loafers  of  '97,  and  have  been  practicing  law  here,  in  Denver,  ever 
since,  with  varying  success. 

So  far  I  have  been  able  to  attend  to  all  my  business  without  any 
assistants,  but  I  have  no  doubt  that  as  soon  as  the  people  here  realize 
that  I  graduated  with  the  "great  and  glorious"  class,  I  will  be  overrun 
with  work. 

I  think  probably  the  pleasantest  times  I  have  spent  since  I  left  Prince- 
ton were  when  I  got  back  to  the  reunions  and  saw  the  old  place  and 
the  boys  once  more.  It  is  a  thing  which  we  Westerners  appreciate 
very  much,  since  we  have  so  few  opportunities  of  returning.  I  have 
been  fortunate  enough  to  attend  all  the  reunions  so  far,  and  I  hope  to 
be  on  hand  every  year  for  several  years  to  come. 

Now  that  I  have  told  you  all  about  myself  I  suppose  you  think  it 
time  for  me  to  close,  and  I  will,  although  it  is  a  great  temptation  to 
keep  on  writing  to  you — you  know  how  hard  it  is  to  tear  yourself  away 
from  old  friends. 

Here's  good  luck  to  you.  Hoping  to  see  all  the  boys  back  at  our 
next  reunion,  I  am, 

Very  sincerely  yours, 

John  W.  Graham,  Jr. 

Denver,  Colo.,  March  11,  '01. 


ALBERT  BROOKS  GRAVER. 

My  Dear  Classmates: — It  ought  to  be  a  great  pleasure  to  write  this 
letter,  but  I  am  sorry  to  say  I  write  it  with  much  reluctance.  For  my 
life  since  graduation  has  been  so  uneventful  that  I  know  that  anything 
I  shall  write  in  regard  to  it  v/ill  prove  most  uninteresting.  Nor  have 
I  the  ability  to  write  a  humorous  letter,  and  so  make  it  attractive.  In 
fact  my  only  excuse  for  the  existence  of  this  letter  is  that  I  was  prac- 
tically coerced  into  writing  it  bj''  your  secretary. 

The  study  of  law  has  occupied  my  time  entirely  since  leaving  Prince- 
ton. Entering  the  Harvard  Law  School  in  the  fall  of  1897,  I  spent  three 
most  enjoyable  j-^ears  there.  I  roomed  in  a  dormitory  named  Winthrop 
Hall,  and  the  life  reminded  me  much  of  our  life  at  Princeton.  The 
dormitory  was  filled  with  Princeton  and  Yale  graduates,  who  were 
studing  law  at  Harvard,  and  the  boys  were  always  very  congenial, 
and  the  life  a  jolly  one. 

Graduating  from  the  law  school  last  June,  I  spent  last  fall  pre- 
paring for  the  bar  examinations,  which  I  took  in  December,  at  Pitts- 
burg, along  with  three  other  Princeton  '97  men,  and  we  were  all 
successful. 

At  present  I  am  at  Las  Vegas,  New  Mexico,  where  I  expect  to  stay 
until  next  September,  getting  as  much  enjoyment  as  possible  out  of 
an  outdoor  life.  In  the  fall  I  shall  return  to  Pittsburg,  where  I 
shall  hang  out  my  shingle  with  as  much  hope  and  courage  as  I  can 
muster.     How  heartily  I  wish  some  of  the  '97  men  were  out  here,  to 

82 


go  with  me  on  some  of  the  trips  into  the  mountains,  which  I  am  plan- 
ning. 
With  very  best  wishes  for  success  to  you  all,  I  am. 

Sincerely  yours, 

Albert  B.  Graver. 
Las  Vegas,  N.  M.,  March  28,  '01. 

JOHN  LEIGH  GREEN. 

Dear  Pop: — I  have  received  two  letters  from  you  requesting  a  letter 
from  me.  I  must  be  very  thick,  but  I  cannot  imagine  what  sort  of  a 
letter  you  want.  If  it  is  a  history  of  my  life  since  leaving  college,  I 
am  very  much  afraid  you  and  the  rest  of  the  fellows  would  not  con- 
sider it  worth  reading,  and  it  really  is  not.  I  have  not  been  to  the  wars 
or  done  anything  great.  The  only  thing  of  note  that  has  happened 
to  me  is  that  I  have  been  married,  and  that  fact  I  believe  you  and  my 
friends  in  the  class  are  aware  of. 

Beyond  that  my  time  has  been  spent  in  traveling  and  working, 
about  evenly  divided.  So  you  see  there  is  nothing  of  interest  I  can 
give  you  for  the  Triennial  Record. 

Hoping  you  are  in  good  health,  and  that  you  will  have  better  success 
with  some  of  the  other  fellows,  I  remain. 

Yours  sincerely, 

St.  Louis,  Mo.,  Feb.  28,  '01.  J.  S.  Green.     , 

JULIAN  ARTHUR  GREGORY. 

Dear  Pop: — Dispensing  with  all  preliminary  remarks,  such  as  assur- 
ances of  my  love  and  affection,  both  of  which,  you  know,  have  long 
been  yours,  I  gladly  hasten  to  comply  with  your  last  request  for  a  letter, 
as  compliance  in  such  a  case  is  much  more  in  my  power  (though  not 
more  to  my  taste)  than  in  at  least  one  instance  that  I  might  mention. 

In  the  fall  immediately  succeeding  my  graduation  I  began  to  study 
law  in  the  New  York  Law  School.  After  a  two  years'  course  I  re- 
ceived the  degree  of  LL.B.,  and  in  June,  1899,  was  admitted  to  practice 
in  New  York  State.  I  had,  during  the  summer  of  1898,  taken  a  trip 
West,  among  other  things  spending  a  few  weeks  with  some  sheep 
herders  in  Colorado,  not  to  mention  staying  a  month  or  so  in  the  towi 
of  Bryan. 

Since  October,  1900,  have  been  practising  law  in  the  city  and  am  at 
present  at  155  Broadway.  Have  not  started  out  for  myself,  but  am 
acting  as  managing  clerk. 

My  say  is  said.  Further  particulars  may  be  had  from  me  in  person, 
now  and  then  at  Princeton,  but  at  the  Quinquennial  the  recital  will  be 
colored.     May   we   all    be   there. 

With  regards  to  all  the  fellows  at  Lawrenceville,  or  any  others 
you  may  run  across,  I  am, 

Most  sincerely, 

Julian  Arthur  Gregory. 

New  York  City,  N.  Y.,  Nov.  30,  1900. 

83 


ARCHIBALD  ALEXANDER  GULICK. 

Dear  Pop: — After  receiving  your  ultimatum  I  make  this  effort  to 
comply  with  your  request  and  tell  what  has  happened  to  me  since 
graduation.  My  experience  has  not  been  particularly  exciting  or  in- 
teresting. 

In  the  fall  of  '97  I  came  back  to  Princeton  and  spent  the  year 
there  tutoring,  studying  some  myself,  and  doing  some  research  work 
for  the  New  Jersey  Historical  Society.  In  summer  of  '98  was  at 
Long  Branch  tutoring;  when  college  opened  I  returned  to  Princeton 
and  took  a  post  graduate  course  in  history,  also  tutored  and  worked 
in  the  University  Library.  Received  the  degree  of  A.M.  in  the  spring. 
No  loafing  that  year! 

In  the  fall  of  '99  I  entered  the  New  York  Law  School  where  I  have 
been  ever  since,  and  whence  I  hope  to  be  graduated  and  be  admitted 
to  the  New  York  bar  this  spring. 

Sincerely  yours, 

A.  A.  GuLicK. 

New  York  City,  Feb.  20,  '01. 

HOWARD  LANGLEY  GUSS. 

The  nervous  strain  incident  to  the  serious  undertaking  of  the  en- 
trance into  the  "holy  bonds  of  matrimony"  evidently  unfitted  Guss 
for  letter-writing.  The  following  information  was  taken  from  a 
newspaper  clipping  sent  the  secretary: 

"Rev.  Howard  Langley  Guss,  of  Mifflinburg,  Pa.,  and  Miss  Mabel 
Collison,  of  Rantoul,  111.,  were  united  in  marriage  at  the  bride's  home, 
on  Belle  avenue,  yesterday  (April  18,  1901),  at  7  o'clock  A.  M.  A 
very  impressive  ceremony  was  pronounced  by  Rev.  Andrew  C.  Lenox, 
D.  D.,  professor  of  biblical  theologj''  in  the  McCormick  Theological 
Seminary,  assisted  by  Rev.  F.  A.  Hosmer,  of  Freeport,  111.,  and  Dr. 
Thomas  J.  Wheat,  of  Rantoul,  111." 

Rev.  Guss  was  graduated  with  the  degree  of  Bachelor  of  Arts  from 
Princeton  University  in  1897.  Last  year  he  spent  as  private  tutor  in 
the  home  of  Charles  W.  Deering  (Deering  Harvester  Company),  and 
is  now  in  the  junior  year  of  the  McCormick  Theological  Seminary. 
On  April  24  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Guss  sailed  for  Antwerp,  and  their  itinerary 
includes  Belgium,  England  and  Scotland.  Mr.  Guss  expects  to  take  a 
biblical  course  of  study  in  the  Presbyterian  Theological  Seminary  of 
Edinburgh.  After  completing  this  course,  he  will  return  to  this  coun- 
try to  resume  his  ministerial  work  in  the  Presbyterian  Church. 

ARTHUR  HERBERT  HAGEMEYER. 

Dear  Pop: — As  I  wrote  you  some  time  ago  I  would  gladly  write  a 
letter  for  the  book,  and  especially  so,  if  by  doing  it  I  could  help  to 
defeat  again  our  rivals,  but  really.  Pop,  my  attempt  in  that  line  would 
be  a  farce,  as  I  have  done  nothing  but  work  since  last  I  saw  you. 

I  could  more  easily  tell  you  about  the  things  I  have  not  done.  I 
have  not  been  married,  the  nearest  I  ever  came  to  getting  myself  in 

84 


such  trouble  was  when  I  helped  "one  battle  Bogue"  get  tied  up.  I 
have  not  enlisted  and  gone  to  the  Philippines;  I  did  not  attend  the 
"White  Rats  Ball,"  in  fact  there  are  so  many  things  that  I  have  not 
done  that  you  would  soon  tire  of  hearing  about  them,  so  I  will  go 
no  further. 

Yours  very  truly, 

A.  H.  Hagemeyer. 
New  York  City,  N.  Y.,  April  30,  '01. 

JOHN  PORTER  HALL. 

Dear  Classmates : — I  wonder  if  the  rest  of  you  can  claim  to  have 
received  as  much  attention  from  Pop  of  late  as  I  have.  I  dare  not 
tell  how  many  postals,  circulars  and  "Last  Appeals"  have  fallen  to 
my  lot.  It  is  too  bad  Pop's  patience  has  been  so  sorely  tried,  and  I 
wonder  that  he  has  had  the  courage  to  wrestle  so  persistently  with 
some  of  the  backsliders. 

There  is  really  not  much  to  tell  of  my  life  since  leaving  college. 
Since  graduation  I  have  been  engaged  in  teaching  Greek  at  Macalester 
College,  in  St.  Paul,  Minn.  I  am  very  pleasantly  located  and  enjoy 
my  work  a  great  deal,  but,  of  course,  nothing  startling  or  remark- 
able is  supposed  to  interrupt  the  uneventful  current  of  the  pedagogue's 
existence. 

I  am,  therefore,  unmarried  as  yet,  and  the  chances  lessen  as  the 
months  go  by. 

What  a  glorious  time  we  had  at  the  Triennial  last  June !  We  fel- 
lows out  West,  who  had  not  been  back  in  the  meantime,  enjoyed  to 
the  full  every  moment  of  our  stay.  Can  we  ever  forget  that  Yale 
game  and  its  appropriate  finish? 

But  that  is  all  a  matter  of  history  now,  and,  no  doubt,  a  digression 
from  the  main  subject  of  this  letter,  which  is  myself,  but  as  this  sub- 
ject is  short  on  autobiographical  material  I  shall  close  with  a  "Long 
life  to  Old  Nassau"  and  a  "Three  times  three  for  '97." 

John  P.  Hall. 

Minneapolis,  Minn.^  May  13,  1901. 

ROBERT  LEE  HALLETT. 

My  Dear  Keener: — Am  sorry  you  are  having  so  much  trouble  in 
calling  in  your  letters,  but  really  it  is  a  difficult  matter  to  sit  down 
and  write  when  you  have  no  personal  object  at  stake.  Since  last 
October  I  have  been  sort  of  a  cosmopolitan,  no  certain  dwelling  place, 
but  like  many  other  "dominies"  looking  for  some  place  to  settle  down 
and  take  up  my  chosen  work. 

Since  leaving  the  Seminary  last  May,  I  have  seen  but  few  of  the 
boys ;  saw  Doggie  Trenchard  a  great  deal  during  the  summer.  Am 
waiting  patiently  now  for  something  to  come  my  way,  and  shall  feel 
more  contented  when  I  am  once  located.     Wishing  you  all  success,  I  am. 

Very  truly  yours, 

R.  L.  Hallett. 

MiLFORD,  Del.,  March  8,  '01. 

85 


ALFRED  HAMBURGER. 

Dear  Pop: — Agreeable  to  your  several  requests  to  write  you  a  letter 
regarding  myself,  here  goes !  Never  was  much  in  the  witty  line, 
so  think  that  a  short  statement  of  my  life  since  I  was  graduated  from 
college  would  be  more  interesting  to  my  classmates  than  anything  else. 

After  leaving  college,  instead  of  spending  the  summer  at  the  sea- 
shore as  usual,  I  had  the  dignified  honor  of  going  to  Commercial 
School,  and  upon  finishing  my  course  there,  in  the  fall,  I  entered  upon 
my  commercial  career  with  The  Ph.  Hamburger  Co.,  Distillers,  whose 
main  office  is  at  Pittsburg,  Pa.  I  have  since  devoted  my  time  and 
attention  to  the  business,  having  started  at  the  bottom  and  since 
filled  every  position,  including  salesman  on  the  road  to  head  office- 
man.  During  that  time  I  have  had  the  customary  vacations  which 
a  business  man  usually  takes,  and  no  special  incidents  have  occurred 
outside  of  business  that  would  be  of  interest  to  my  classmates,  except- 
ing perhaps  the  loss  of  my  devoted  mother,  which  loss  occurred  last 
November. 

I  am  happy  to  state  that  I  am  enjoying  good  health.  Am  as  yet 
not  married,  and  there  is  no  telling  if  I  ever  will  be. 

Otherwise  there  is  nothing  for  me  to  let  you  know,  and  with  kindest 
regards  to  you  and  my  classmates,  I   remain, 

Yours  very  truly, 

Alfred  Hamburger. 

Pittsburg,  Pa.,  March  13,  '01. 

ALFRED  PATTEN  HAMILTON. 

My  Dear  Keener: — When  your  "3d  Notice"  appeared  I  had  to  give 
up,  and  I  can  only  trust  that,  when  this  reaches  you,  it  vi'ill  find  you 
fully  recovered  from  the  effects  of  Washington's  Birthday,  as  you 
will  have  need  of  all  your  reserve  strength  when  you  get  through  with 
this. 

I  have  always  wanted  to  write  things  and  see  my  work  in  print, 
and  now  that  you  have  placed  temptation  before  me  I  simply  cannot 
resist  it.     You  must  take  the  blame  for  this  upon  yourself. 

"What  have  I  done  since  leaving  Princeton?"  It  would  not  bear 
publication,  and  I  am  afraid  you  would  return  this  letter  were  I  to 
tell  all.  I  have  tried  my  hand  at  coal  mining,  engineering  and  rail- 
road work  since  I  left  Princeton,  and  unluckily  managed  to  accumulate 
enough  of  the  filthy  lucre  to  buy  a  few  trees  in  this  wilderness  and 
go  into  the  lumber  business.  The  Forestry  Laws  of  this  state  are 
not  what  they  should  be: — they  should  prohibit  any  one  from  cutting 
timber  for  a  period  of  at  least  fifty  years,  how  much  longer  I  do  not 
care,  and  they  should  have  been  in  force  three  years  ago.  Then  I 
would  have  been  in  some  other  business  than  sawing  wood.  Keener, 
always  respect  the  oak.  You  have  no  idea  how  much  trouble  a  few 
of  them  can  get  you  into  sometimes. 

I  made  a  slight  mistake  in  answering  one  of  the  questions  in  the 
blank  which  you  sent  and  omitted  answering  another  one.     I  did  make 


a  public  address — to  a  baseball  team  that  I  was  manager  of  last  summer, 
in  the  midst  of  a  game,  that  was  not  intended  for  the  public  to  hear. 
It  was  very  short  and  very  much  to  the  point,  and  greatly  appreciated 
by  the  grand  stand.  Ad  Kelley  spent  a  few  weeks  in  Elkins  last 
summer  and  played  on  the  team,  while  here,  and  my  remarks  were 
chiefly  directed  to  him.  If  you  see  him  this  spring  he  can  tell  you 
what  they  were.     They  wouldn't  look  well  on  paper. 

As  for  ideas  for  the  Triennial  Record,  I  must  confess  that  I  was 
never  fortunate  enough  to  have  any  about  anything  and  I  am  afraid 
that  if  you  follow  any  that  I  might  offer  the  government  would  have 
the  book  placed  in  the  National  Museum.  I  thought  that  I  had  a 
few  ideas  on  the  football  situation  last  fall — before  the  Cornell 
game — but  after  giving  odds  on  that  game  decided  I  was  mistaken. 

I  only  wish  I  knew  of  some  other  '97  fellows  near  me  that  I  could 
inveigle  into  this  letter  scheme  of  yours.  Don't  fail  to  put  me  down 
for  a  copy  of  the  Record.  Sincerely, 

A.  P.  Hamilton. 

Elkins,  W.  Va.,  Feb.  8,  'ci. 

JOHN  LINTON  HARKNESS. 

Dear  Pop: — I  have  your  last  before  me  now,  and  I  must  acknowl- 
edge that  I  have  been  slow  in  writing  to  you ;  but  even  the  snail  may 
get  there,  so  here  I  am  at  last. 

Since  I  left  old  Princeton,  I  have  been  always  wanting  to  be  back 
there,  but  as  that  could  not  be,  I  have  tried  to  make  my  life  here  a 
"round  of  pleasure"  by  eternally  grinding  over  medical  books.  In  fact 
I  almost  think  that  Edwards  would  blush  (if  it  could)  with  shame  and 
take  a  back  seat  if  it  could  see  me  noiv.  You  notice  that  I  emphasize 
the  word  now,  since  I  Icnow  it  will  be  hard  for  you  to  believe  it,  but 
you  see  I  expect  to  inflict  myself  on  a  long  suffering  public,  though  I 
doubt  if  they  suffer  long  v/hen  I  get  hold  of  any  of  them  (please  do 
not  misconstrue  that),  so  I  want  an  excuse  for  so  doing.  Pop,  I  do  not 
like  that  last  letter  of  yours  dated  Feb.  12,  '01,  because  it  looks  to  me 
as  though  you  had  departed  from  the  ways  of  a  true  philosopher  and 
had  measured  out  some  "good  old  English,"  commonly  knovv^n  in  this 
now-a-days  world  of  ours  as  swearing,  evidenced  especially  in  the 
large  black  letters  which  stare  me  in  the  face,  and  I'll  bet  my  last  nickel 
you  jumped  all  over  us  Delinquents  with  both  feet  (in  spirit  of  course) 
including  that  large  part  of  your  anatomy  above  your  hips  and  below 
your  head.  My  life  here  has  always  been  the  same,  striving  after  medi- 
cal knowledge  during  the  winter,  hospital  work  part  of  the  summer  and 
the  rest  in  the  mountains,  with  every  once  in  a  while  a  wild  plunge 
into  the  gay  world  of  folly,  with  its  usual  result  next  day — very  sleepy 
and  mayhap  a  headache.  If  you  repeat  that  about  1,400  times,  you  will 
Icnow  what  I  have  been  doing  since  I  left  Princeton. 

Your  sincere  friend, 

J.  L.  Harkness. 

Philadelphia,  Pa.,  Feb.  15,  '01. 

87 


HENRY  ALEXANDER  HARRIS. 

My  dear  "Pop"  Keener: — Since  you  have  urged  me  so  relentlessly  for 
this  confession,  I  have  finally  saved  up  money  enough  for  paper  and 
postage,  and  mustered  energy  enough  to  fill  my  fountain-pen,  under 
the  horrible  and  night-mare-ing  impression,  that  if  I  fail  to  cough-up, 
you  will  go  away  mad,  under  the  impression  that  I  have  fallen  below 
even  the  standard  of  mine  ancient  enemy !     Heaven    forbid  it ! 

In  the  summer  and  fall  after  graduation.  I  spent  most  of  the  timq 
in  (non  salaried)  recuperation,  doing  a  little  work  during  September 
and  October,  along  the  New  Jersey  coast,  just  to  keep  my  hand  in. 
In  November,  I  struck  a  Civil  Service  job  with  the  city  of  New  York, 
which  I  held  until  March,  '98,  when  my  mingled  joys  and  sorrows 
began.  Having  taken  an  exam.,  some  time  before,  I  was  appointed  to 
a  position  in  one  of  the  departments  of  New  York  City,  at  an  increase 
of  salary.  When  I  was  about  to  start  in  at  the  new  stand,  I  was  asked 
by  the  head  of  the  department,  if  I  knew  any  "prominent  men"  in  the 
City,  to  whom  I  could  refer.  I  told  him  I  would  try  and  look  some 
up,  and  he  said  I  had  better  get  a  letter  from  some  "prominent  man." 
As  I  went  out  looking  for  "prominent  men,"  and  letters,  I  commenced 
to  get  a  hunch  on  what  he  was  after.  Well,  I  went  to  see  a  prominent 
Princeton  grad  of  my  acquaintance,  who  assured  me  he  pulled  just  as 
strong  an  oar  with  one  party  as  the  other,  and  it  was  no  time  before 
I  had  presented  my  little  old  letter  to  one  of  the  "powers"  behind  the 
(Tammany)  throne.  The  outcome  of  it  was,  that  I  went  to  work  in 
my  position  with  a  merry  heart,  being  a  full  fledged  mem.ber  of  a 
West  Side  Tammany  Club,  receiving  all  invitations  to  funerals  and 
card  parties,  and  assurances  that  my  chances  for  promotion  (in  Tam- 
many, of  course)  were  brighter  than  the  four  stars  in  the  southern 
cross ! 

During  the  spring,  I  tried  to  get  in  the  Volunteer  Engineers,  but 
being  told  that  I  was  a  physical  wreck,  and  should  never  go  to  a 
tropical  climate,  I  got  disgusted  and  went  to  Mexico  in  June,  resolved 
to  try  on  this  tropics  business.  I  worked  on  railroad  construction  and 
location,  down  there,  till  Maj%  '99,  when  I  got  a  leave  of  absence  and 
came  north.  The  primary  reason  for  this  being  that  our  preliminary 
line  had  reached  such  rough  country,  in  the  Sierra  Madres,  that  I, 
(not  having  the  wings  of  a  dove  nor  the  feet  of  a  fly)  got  exceedingly 
frigid  in  my  creepers  and  quit  the  camp ;  later  being  given  a  two 
months'  leave  of  absence  to  go  north  and  warm  my  feet  and  attend 
the  second  reunion  of  the  one  great  and  only,  than  whom  there  is 
none  such. 

During  the  summer,  autumn  and  winter,  '99  and  1900,  I  worked  for 
a  silver  mining  company  in  Mapimi,  Mexico.  It  was  a  delightful 
place,  and  when  we  did  not  have  amateur  bull-fights  on  Sundays,  we 
thought  our  holiday  had  been  poorly  spent,  if  we  did  not  have  at  least 
two  stabbings  and  a  shooting! 

In  the  early  spring  of  1900,  I  went  south  to  the  Isthmus  of  Tehaun- 
tepec,  to  work  for  a  firm  of  English  contractors  down  there.     On  my 

88 


way  from  the  north  to  the  south  of  Mexico,  I  stopped  off  for  about 
three  days  in  the  City  of  Mexico.  One  day,  returning  to  the  Iturbide 
Hotel,  where  I  was  stopping,  I  met  Murray  Day,  picturesquely  doing 
nothing  as  usual,  under  the  beautiful  hallucination  that  he  was  work- 
ing for  the  Barber  Asphalt  Company,  who  had  large  contracts  there.  I 
spent  two  interesting  months  on  the  Isthmus,  and  then,  the  yellow 
fever,  having  started  to  get  a  little  too  pressing  in  its  demands,  the  his- 
torical frigidity  once  more  sought  my  feet,  and  I  left,  ostensibly  to  be 
present  at  the  Triennial. 

Last  August,  I  came  down  here  to  Porto  Rico,  and  have  been  work- 
ing since  then  on  the  new  macadam  road  construction,  under  the  War 
Department.  The  climate  here  is  magnificent,  with  pretty  girls  galore. 
Yes,  Pop,  I  am  still  susceptible,  and  you  know  that  I  can  talk  far 
more  Spanish  now  than  I  could  in  Mexico,  so  look  out ! 

I  have  been  something  of  a  wanderer.  Pop,  but  as  my  chief  down 
here  used  to  say:  "A  rolling  stone  gathers  no  moss,  but  gets  lots  of 
polish."  I  have  so  far  fulfilled  the  first  part  of  the  proverb,  and  am 
still  striving  for  the  latter,  with  poor  results, 

Well,  here's  to  you  always,  for  the  "Great  and  Glorious." 
Ever  yours  sincerely, 

Henry  A.  Harris. 

JuNCos,  Porto  Rico,  April  21,  '01. 


HERBERT  STALEY  HARRIS. 

Dear  "Pop": — I  appreciate  the  fact  that  your  labors  have  been  very 
arduous  in  your  efforts  to  present  to  the  world  the  doings  and  un- 
doings of  "our  great  and  glorious," — undoings,  doubtless,  when  one 
considers  the  effect  that  negligence  such  as  mine  must  have  had  on  the 
nerves  of  our  much  enduring  secretary.  The  postal  card  with  its  notice 
to  hustle  up  was  the  last  straw,  and  my  haughty  spirit  of  indifference 
has  at  last  been  broken  beneath  its  superimposed  load. 

But  what  next? — three  years  in  a  Divinity  School,  digging  up 
Hebrew  roots  and  cracking  theological  nuts — the  kind  with  much  shell 
and  little  meat — may  have  served  to  sharpen  one's  teeth  at  the  expense 
of  one's  wits,  as  may  readily  be  seen  by  a  perusal  of  this  epistle,  "full 
of  sound  and  fury,  signifying  nothing." 

Just  at  present  I  am  trying  to  get  into  marketable  shape  some  of 
the  uncut  gems  laid  away  in  academic  and  post-graduate  days.  But 
the  teachers  in  the  great  school  of  experience  are  so  unappreciative  of 
the  lustre  and  brilliancy  that  lie  hidden  beneath  the  accumulated  dust  of 
the  ages  since  Alma  Mater  forced  her  offspring  out  into  the  cold  world, 
that  I  have  long  since  despaired  of  attaining  to  the  height  of  the  ideal 
to  which  our  beloved  President  pointed  on  that  last  great  day  when  we 
were  all  dubbed  Knights  of  the  Realm  of  Learning. 

Now  I  know  you  must  all  be  getting  deathly  tired  of  this  nonsense, 
so  I'm  going  to  tell  you  very  simply  that  I'm  pegging  away  with  ideas 
and  books  and  human  beings  as  my  stock  in  trade,  with  the  hope  that. 


in  some  way,  the  proper  ingredients  may  be  so  mixed  together  in  the 
crucible  of  life  that  the  result  may  be  to  the  glory  of  God  and  the 
benefit  of  human  kind. 

Such  is  the  story  of  the  best  part  of  four  years.  The  only  inci- 
dent besides  was  six  months  of  service  for  Uncle  Sam  (June — Nov,, 
1898)  as  a  nurse  in  the  Hospital  Corps,  U.  S.  A. 

I  have  never  been  married.  I  had  one  vacation  that  furnished  fish 
stories  enough  to  last  a  decade.  I  received  my  training  in  theology 
at  Union  Seminary,  New  York  City.  I  was  ordained  a  Presbyterian 
minister,  April  loth,  1900,  by  the  Presbytery  of  Rochester,  N.  Y.,  and 
since  February,  1900,  have  been  assistant  to  the  Rev.  J.  Wilbur  Chap- 
man, D.D.,  Fourth  Presbyterian  Church,  New  York  City. 

With  kindest  regards  to  anyone  who  may  be  interested  enough  to 
read  this  letter,  I  am, 

Yours  in  the  same  old  spirit, 

Herbert  S.  Harris. 

New  York  City,  N.  Y.,  April  18,  '01, 


WALTER  STEWART  HARRIS. 

To  the  Most  Persistent  Ever: — Believing  that  further  delay  on  my 
part  would  result  in  your  billing  yourself,  C.  O.  D.,  to  my  ad- 
dress, and  hoping  that  Lawrenceville  fare  has  so  increased  your  ton- 
nage that  my  pleasure  at  seeing  you  would  be  the  immediate  precur- 
sor of  my  bankruptcy,  I  hasten  to  assure  you  that  the  office  boy  has 
instructions  to  return  all  further  collect  messages  unopened.  I  may 
add  further  that  this  is  a  cat  which  does  come  back,  and  that  in  all 
probability  you  will  burn  Minnesota  coal  next  winter — plus  express 
charges. 

Your  strictures  on  my  apathy  are  excused  by  distance — but  a  long- 
distance telescope  would  teach  wisdom.  I  hope  I  am  not  an  apostate 
son — at  least,  I  have  always  paid  my  tax  on  numerous  brotherly 
epistles  from  Kennedy  and  others,  but  when  one  has  gone  from  under 
the  teaching  of  the  Alma  Mater,  whom  we  all  cherish  and  remember, 
it  is  time,  at  least,  to  try  to  do  something  which  will  talk  for  itself — 
to  justify  our  Princeton  days  before  the  v/orld.  Perhaps  some  of  your 
difficulty  with  apathetic  brothers  has  come  not  because  they  forgot, 
but  because  all  their  time  and  energy  were  directed  toward  remember- 
ing. 

However,  I  should  be  ill  repaying  Titanic  effort  v/ere  I  to  use  this 
letter  in  explaining  what  is  doubtless  true  of  us  all.  As  I  under- 
stand it,  the  object  of  your  stupendous  and  admirable  persistency,  is 
that  of  getting  me  to  tell  all  I  know  about  myself — permitting  me 
the  right  to  expurgate  the  text  where  advisable. 

After  leaving  the  historic  shades  I  was,  as  you  know,  for  some 
time  in  New  York  City,  studying  at  the  feet  of  one  Keener — -may  his 
family  live  forever — and  imbibing  that  legal  knowledge  which  en- 
ables  me   to   know   that,    should   another   of   his   name    continue   his 

90 


persecutions  too  far,  I  might  recover  damages  to  the  extent  of  the 
charges  on  one  collect  telegram,  sent  without  authority.  However, 
trusting  in  Hibben's  maxim,  of  the  line  of  least  resistance,  and  feeling 
sure  that  if  a  man  has  just  the  right  brains  for  the  law  he  may  feed 
off  the  fat  of  the  land,  but  that  if  he  has  not,  he  might  as  well  re- 
sign himself  to  ham  sandwiches  and  patched  breeches  for  the  rest  of 
his  life,  I  decided  that  I  already  knew  all  of  the  law  that  was  worth 
knowing,  and,  consequently,  left  New  York  for  Duluth — there  to  go 
into  the  grain  business.  I  stayed  in  the  Zenith  City  for  four  or  five 
months,  and  was  then  recalled  to  the  Minneapolis  office  of  the  firm 
for  which  I  had  been  working.  I  was  employed  by  them  several 
months  longer,  but  finally  left  them  for  the  bank,  where  I  am  still 
employed.  In  December,  1899,  the  bank  gave  me  a  v/edding  present 
in  the  shape  of  an  appointment  as  assistant  cashier,  which  oftice  I  still 
hold. 

Princeton  men  are  fewer  here  than  I  intend  they  shall  be  some 
day,  and  I  have  seen  few  classmates,  or  others,  with  the  exception 
of  those  I  saw  in  Princeton  while  on  my  wedding  trip.  One  thing 
we  all  must  sincerely  regret  in  our  Princeton  experience  is  that  the 
friends  we  made  there  have,  in  so  many  instances,  passed  into  other 
places  of  living,  so  that  though  we  may  be  the  same  old  pals  on  meet- 
ing, there  is  always  the  sorrow  that  they  cannot  be  with  us  as  in 
the  good  old  days. 

We  have  a  Princeton  Association  here — mostly  composed  of  older 
graduates  than  '97.  Hall  and  I  are,  I  think,  the  sole  representatives 
of  the  "most  glorious."  Jenkins,  '94,  sometimes  visits  me  here,  and  I 
also  see  him  in  Kansas  City,  where  he  has  a  church.  With  those  excep- 
tions, I  can  give  you  little  history  other  than  my  own. 

There  are  two  reasons,  particularly,  which  perhaps  will  excuse  me 
for  not  writing  you  before.  The  first  and  most  important  is  that  an- 
other Princetonian  has  been  born  to  Old  Nassau.  February  10  is 
the  day,  and  he  is  just  about  large  enough  to  absorb  most  of  the 
pater's  attention  in  the  homing  hours.  I  might  here  add  a  paragraph 
which  I  suppose  the  censor  will  expurgate — "go  thou  and  do  like- 
wise." I  hope  some  day  that  "son"  (nomen  Stewart  Brewer  Harris) 
will  enjoy  the  memory  and  inspiration  of  Princeton  days  as  I  do, 
but  he  will  never  know  what  real  education  means  till  he  has  another 
Princetonian  of  the  third  generation  on  the  carpet. 

The  second  reason,  spoken  of  above,  is  that  I  am  serving  on  the 
Hennepin  County  Grand  Jury.  We  are  investigating  a  corrupt  city 
government,  and,  between  delving  in  filth  and  revelling  in  banking, 
I  am  fairly  forced  to  the  wall  in  the  matter  of  time  for  my  own  con- 
cerns. 

I  am  sorry,  Mr.  BuU-Dog-on-a  Root,  that  I  cannot  find  much  more 
to  say.  Though  there  are  many  things  I  might  say  to  fill  in  the  his- 
tory I  have  briefly  sketched,  I  cannot  see  that  the  details  would  in- 
terest any  one  half  so  much  as  they  would  interest  me,  and  that  is  less 
than  a  chapel  sermon   (which  remark  you  may  also  expurgate).     You 

91 


all  know  how  it  is.  We  are  all  busy  using  the  tools  given  us  under 
the  elms,  and  in  the  rush  of  many  things  it  is  only  the  few  that  are 
worth  the  telling. 

Only  one  of  these  is  left — my  assurance  of  interest  in,  and  friend- 
ship for,  all  the  brethren.  Yours  most  sincerely, 

Walter  S.  Harris. 

Minneapolis^  Minn.,  May  13,  1901. 


WILLIAM  ELLIOTT  HARROLD. 

My  Dear  Pop: — Your  different  commimications  have  reached  me 
in  due  time,  and  my  conscience  has  troubled  me  until  in  desperation 
I  sit  down  to  write  you  a  Triennial  letter.  I  enclose  the  sheet  properly 
filled  out.  It  presents  an  appalling  list  of  negatives,  but  you,  scholar 
that  you  are,  have  not  put  forward  the  commercial  idea  in  your 
synopsis,  Pop.  Not  that  I  am  finding  fault.  Understand  that  if  it 
were  otherwise,  and  searching  questions  were  made  on  a  commercial 
basis,  my  answers  v>rould  still  be  of  a  negative  nature. 

The  three  years  since  graduation  have  passed  by  in  a  flash  for  me. 
Hard  work  has  been  the  order  of  the  day,  most  of  the  time.  I  went 
to  Eastman  Business  College,  Poughkeepsie,  N.  Y.,  in  September,  '97, 
where  I  tried  to  cultivate  the  commercial  idea.  Was  partially  success- 
ful, and  in  January  went  to  work  for  a  firm  in  Macon,  Ga.  My  sheet 
will  furnish  you  with  those  business  details. 

I  came  east  last  May,  and,  I  can  assure  you,  New  England  is  quite 
different  from  Georgia.  To  its  factories  and  bustle,  and  its  seemingly 
cold-hearted  formality,  the  Southerner  has  to  become  accustomed. 
And  the  entire  factory  idea  of  specialization  is  new  to  him.  In  the 
South,  with  the  negro  as  the  labor  unit,  skilled  labor  is  a  rarity. 
Your  Yankee,  however,  is  different,  and  can  run  a  machine,  make 
shoes  or  argue  politics,  with  equal  aptitutde. 

The  rubber  business  is  a  very  interesting  one,  and  I  would  gladly 
give  you  a  description  of  it,  but  I  know  my  space  is  limited.  There 
is  always  an  element  of  excitement  in  rubber  manufacture,  on  account 
of  the  inflammability  of  the  materials.  Naphtha  is  used  as  a  solvent 
for  the  rubber  gum,  and  you  know  a  spark  (electric  or  otherwise) 
in  naphtha,  means  a  fire  in  short  order,  and  then  it  is  a  case  of  hustle 
or  the  whole  plant  will  go.  We  have  only  had  three  since  I  have  been 
here,  and  we  easily  extinguished  those  with  our  fire  hose.  Live  stream 
is  used  entirely,  instead  of  water,  as  it  smothers  the  flame. 

Well,  Pop,  I  have  spun  out  a  letter  some  way  or  other  and  hope 
it  will  be  acceptable  to  you.  I  am  patiently  waiting  for  some  '97  man 
to  launch  forth  a  literary  production.  Encourage  the  idea.  From 
a  cold-hearted  business  point  of  view,  times  were  never  more  propitious 
for  the  young  writer  than  at  present.  All  kinds  of  fiction  are  having 
tremendous  sales.  Other  young  Princeton  men  are  making  names  for 
themselves  and  their  Alma  Mater,  and  '97  must  not  shrink.  Well, 
"Light  thickens  and  the  crow  makes  wing  for  the  rooky  wood,"   (re- 

92 


member  our  Macbeth  class  with  the  dear  old  Dean)    so  I  will  close 
this  rambling  epistle. 

I  had  the  pleasure  of  meeting  several  Lawrenceville  boys,  Christmas 
time,  on  their  wa}^  South  for  the  holidays.  They  knew  Adr.  Keener 
very  well,  and  were  rather  awe-struck  when  I  told  them  what  an  old 
reprobate  "Pop"  Keener  was  in  college,  but  they  all  had  a  wholesome 
respect  and  reverence  for  Princeton,  which  was  very  good.  Teaching 
the  young  idea  is  great  work.  Pop,  in  which  connection  you  should 
read  Meredith's  "Lord  Ormont  and  his  Aminta." 

Well,  good  bye,  and  "Long  life,  long  health  and  '97  associates  to  you 
forever."    Man  can  want  no  more. 

Yours  sincerely, 

William  E.  Harrold. 

Hudson,  Mass.,  Feb.    18,  '01. 


TURLINGTON  WALKER  HARVEY,  JR. 
J.  H.  Keener, 

Lawrenceville,  N.  J. 

Dear  Sir: — In  reply  to  yoiir  request  that  I  send  you  a  letter  ad- 
vising you  of  my  doings  and  whereabouts  since  I  left  college,  would 
state  that,  after  leaving  college,  in  March,  1894,  I  was  engaged  in 
the  steel  car  business,  in  the  capacity  of  Secretary  and  General  Man- 
ager of  the  Harvey  Steel  Car  Works,  located  at  Harvey,  111.  In 
March,  1896,  I  moved  to  Marietta,  Ohio,  spending  the  time  at  that 
point  until  September,  98,  drilling  oil  wells,  and  was  fortunate  in  this 
time  in  building  up  a  very  nice  business.  From  Marietta  I  returned 
to  Chicago  and  went  into  the  railroad  supply  business,  representing 
concerns  outside  of  Chicago,  in  the  sale  of  various  railroad  specialities. 
In  November,  1898,  I  purchased  the  plant  of  the  Belle  City  Malleable 
Iron  Co.,  in  connection  with  some  of  my  friends,  and  am  now  acting 
-as  President  and  General  Manager  of  that  company.  We  are  doing 
a  verj'-  nice  business,  employing  about  three  hundred  "men. 

I  was  married  on  December  31st,  1896,  to  Mary  Dwight.  We  live 
in  Lake  Forest,  111.,  and  have  two  children,  one  a  girl,  born  August 
26th,  1898,  and  the  other  a  boy,  born  January  6th,  1901. 

I   trust  this   information   will   be   satisfactory  and   complete. 
Yours  truly, 


Racine,  Wis.,  May  7,  '01. 


T.  W.  Harvey,  Jr. 


FRANCIS  REYNOLDS  HAUSSLING. 

My  Dear  Pop: — Your  very  cordial  "13th  communication"  was  re- 
ceived last  evening.  I  should  have  written  long  ago  but  have  been 
waiting  for  something  to  happen  which  would  interest  the  class.  The 
story  of  my  life  for  the  past  four  years  can  be  summed  up  in  the  two 

93 


words  "medical  student."  That  means  no  time  to  get  engaged  or 
married  or  into  trouble  of  any  kind.  Trusting  that  this  letter  will 
again  put  me  back  into  good  standing  in  the  class  of  '97,  I  am, 

Sincerely  yours, 

Frank  R.  Haussling. 
New  York  City,  N.  Y.,  April  7,  '01. 


WILLIAM  BURTIS  HAVENS. 

My  Dear  Class  Secretary: — In  answer  to  your  request  I  gladly  give 
a  brief  account  of  the  things  that  I  have  done  since  leaving  the  greatest 
of  all  great  Universities,  where,  for  a  brief  time  I  was  a  member  of 
its  most  illustrious  class,  of  which  fact  I  shall  always  be  especially 
proud. 

Fate  decreed  that  I  should  terminate  my  college  course  at  the  end  of 
my  first  year,  and  after  a  summer  of  pleasure  with  some  of  the  friends, 
that  I  had  the  good  fortune  to  know  and  appreciate  while  at  school, 
I  settled  down  here  in  Toms  River,  as  a  clerk  in  the  office  of  my 
father,  who  I  might  say  had  been  highly  honored  in  having  been 
chosen  to  fill  the  responsible  office  of  Clerk  of  the  County  in  which  he 
has  lived  from  the  time  of  his  birth;  and  I  considered  that  I  was  favored 
in  being  placed  here  with  him,  with  the  advantages  and  opportunities 
that  one  can  readily  see  are  at  one's  command  in  such  a  position. 

In  the  spring  of  1897  I  met  a  young  lady,  a  native  of  the  State  of 
Ohio,  who,  not  having  heard  of  me  before  she  met  me,  and,  therefore 
knowing  little  if  anything  of  my  previous  history,  was,  much  to  my 
surprise,  willing  to  say  "yes"  when  I  asked  her  the  old  question, — that 
people  of  experience  say  is  ever  new,  and  since  I  never  had  dared 
to  ask  it  before  I  cannot  dispute  it.  As  the  stories  go,  after  drawing 
down  the  curtain  over  the  scene  for  a  while  in  November  of  1897, 
we  were  married,  and  I  hope  we  will  live  happily  ever  after. 

In  September  of  1897,  which  year  was  a  very  eventful  one  for  me, 
I  was  appointed,  by  my  father,  Deputy  Clerk  of  Ocean  County,  which 
position  I  still  hold,  I  hope  to  my  father's  satisfaction. 

February  7th,  1899,  I  was  surely  made  happy  by  the  coming  to 
my  home  of  a  son,  who  bids  fair  to  become  President  of  the  great 
and  glorious  United  States  some  day,  and  perhaps  may  attain  the 
signal  honor  of  the  Presidency  of  our  great  and  glorious  University. 
Do  the  members  of  the  illustrious  class  of  '97  agree  with  me  as  to 
my  last  statement?     I  am  sure  that  they  do. 

On  the  23d  day  of  March  of  this  year,  a  little  girl  came  to  take 
her  place  with  us,  and  at  the  Junior  Prom,  of  the  Class  of  1920,  of  which 
my  boy,  I  hope,  is  to  be  an  honored  member,  I  could  wish  her  no 
higher  honor  than  that  she  might  be  a  favored  one  in  the  dance. 

This  letter  is  already  long  enough,  especially  in  view  of  the  fact  that 
I  have  said  so  little  that  would  indicate  any  achievements  worthy  of 
mention,  for  as  you,  my  dear  Class  Secretary,  will  remember,  in  a 
recent  letter  I  said  that  my  achievements  were  almost  wholly  a  matter 

94 


of  the  future   and  :f  I  can  accomplish  ever  so  little  of  what  I  have  in 
mmd,  Princeton  University  will  not  consider  me  a  discredit  to  it 

I   would   say  briefly  in   closing  that  I   have  in   the  town  of  Toms 
River  a  nice  home  and  a  wife  who  is  as  ardent  a  Princetonian  as  I 

T;  TZ  n  ':  '"'"  '°°  '''^  *°  "^'  ^"^  ^°  ^"^-^-"'  --y  -em- 

ber of  the  Class  who  may  ever  have  the  good  fortune  to  get  to  this 

town   (I  know  that  I  said  "good  fortune"  and  I  won't  take  it  back 

and  It  you  don  t  believe  I  would  be  glad  to  see  you  ask  Mr.  StockwelV 

one  of   97's  stars,  and  a  rising  young  lawyer  of  Camden.     I  am  sure 

1   can   risk  my  reputation   for  hospitality  in  his  hands. 

To  you.  my  dear  Class  Secretary,  I  wish  to  express  my  sincere 
appreciation  for  your  untiring  work  to  make  the  Triennial  Class  Book 
a  success,  and  I  hope  that  you  may  have  the  fullest  measure  of  the 
success  that  your  splendid  efforts  deserve 

To  the  members  of  the  only  class,  the  glorious  class  of  '97,  I  wish 
individually  and  collectively,  that  success  that  eventually  will  make  each 
member  as  successful  as  his  fondest  hope  has  ever  pictured,  and  he 
Class-Princeton's  greatest  pride  and  benefactor.  .       a  me 

Very  truly  yours, 

T^       r>  XT    ,  W.  BuRTis  Havens 

Toms  River,  N.  J.,  April  29,  '01.  havens,. 

WILLIAM  HENRY. 

My  Dear  Secretary :-The  Record  of  which  this  unimportant  letter 
forms  a  part  is  a  volume  replete  with  the  Princeton  sp  rit  and  v^  th 
reports  of  the  effects  of  that  force,  in  unadulterated  foL,  upon  "he 
wide,  wide  world."  All  "the  cares  of  life"  cannot  overtak^  a  man  in 
ime  to  down  him  if  he  has  got  as  much  of  that  virile  tuff  fn  him 
as  most  '97  men  have.  ™ 

greater    han  the  desire  to  write  my  own  account-for  the  time  since 
I  left  college  is  a  wasted  interval. 
I  was  completely  broken  down  when  I  left  Princeton  in  the  spring 

tie  h  V^r  '  '^^^  '^^"  '"  P^^^-^  «f  reconstruction.  'Th? 
ime  has  passed  pleasantly  enough.  I  shifted  around,  from  time  to 
time  according  to  the  weather,  from  the  Adirondack,  to  Florida 
stopping  for  whiles  at  intermediate  places.  I  was  at  Princeton  during' 
last  winter  and  attended  several  lecture  courses  for  a  while  I  am  now 
strong  enough  to  stand  life  in  my  native  town,  where  I  continue  to 

:rr  ouir  ^o^ii"  -  ^^°-  --^  ^°  --^  ^^  -  ^  ^^^^ 

The  Triennial  Reunion  gave  me  the  greatest  pleasure.     It  was  like 

su^ssf^r^'^'^"  '''• '  '°^^  '^''  '^'  ''^'  ^— ^^-"  -"  bet: 

I  am  grateful  to  the  Secretary  and  the  class  for  welcoming  a  mere 
ex-member  back  to  the  common  joys  of  '97. 

Sincerely  faithful,     ~ 

Princeton,  N.  J.,  Jan.  g,  '01.  "  ^^"^^  ^^^^^' 

95 


-GEORGE  THORNE  HILL,  JR. 

Dear  Keener: — I  have  not  before  responded  to  your  appeals  for  a 
letter,  as  my  "career"  since  leaving  college  has  been  so  conventional 
and  uneventful  that  I  didn't  consider  it  worth  while.  However,  such 
energy  and  stick-to-it-ive-ness  as  yours  deserves  to  be  rewarded. 
Hence  this. 

After  a  brief  essay  at  "mercantile  pursuits"  I  came  to  the  conclu- 
sion that  this  was  not  my  line,  and  obtained  a  position  as  reporter 
for  a  monthly  trade  magazine.  Subsequently  became  assistant  editor 
of  the  same  publication.  A  little  over  a  year  ago  I  was  offered  the 
associate  editorship  of  a  weekly  trade  paper,  and  accepted  it.  Am 
still   holding  the   job. 

I  haven't  been  to  war,  nor  been  married,  nor  saved  anybody's  life, 
nor  have  I  even  made  a  speech.  So  you  see  the  material  is  poor 
for  a  good  letter.  Of  course  I  might  romance,  but  as  your  book  is, 
I  suppose,  a  veracious  chronicle,  will  refrain. 

Complimenting  you  upon  the  admirable  work  you  are  doing  as  class 
secretary,  and  wishing  you  all  success,  I  am. 

Yours  faithfully, 

George  Thorne  Hill,  Jr. 

New  York  City,  N.  Y.,  May  5,  '01. 


WALTON  CRAIG  HILL. 

Greetings: — In  the  language  of  the  immortal  Gill.  "Te  Saluto." 
At  last  I  am  about  to  lift  part  of  the  burden  from  the  shoulders  of 
-our  good  "Pop"  and  write  him  the  story  of  my  past  life,  or  rather  of 
my  life  since  leaving  our  beloved  Alma  Mater.  To  begin  with,  "soon 
after  we  were  married  I  found  her  father  had  more  money  than  we 
had  thought.  I  took  the  $13,000  and  she  took  the  child.  I  last  saw  the 
■child  in  Kingston,"  (no,  I  have  quit  hitting  the  pipe).  Since  then 
I  have  led  an  uneventful  life  trying  to  disconnect  myself  from  the 
mazuma  I  dreamed  I  had  gotten  from  her  father,  but  I  did  not  want 
to  beat  out  "Jude"  Taylor,  for  you  know,  our  elongated  Prophet 
"Eddie"  Shortz,  said  that  soon  after  graduation  "Jude"  married  an 
heiress,  and  ever  after  that  was  too  strong  to  work,  but  as  work  was 
always  one  of  my  strong  points,  I  cut  out  the  heiress  and  went  to 
work. 

I  have  really  had  such  a  hard  time  finding  my  vocation  that  my  frienda 
finally  told  me  that  a  business  life  mixed  with  a  homeopathic  dose  of 
professional  life  would  about  suit  me.  So  I  followed  their  advice,  and 
am  now  filling  the  office  of  Treasurer  of  the  Inter-State  Life  Assur- 
ance Co.,  and  by  the  way,  I  take  this  means  of  telling  all  the  class, 
that  about  next  j^ear  I  expect  to  have  them  all  under  the  banner  of 
the  Inter-State,  so  beware  and  don't  get  your  hammers  out  against 
assurance. 

I  found  it  very  hard  getting  a  line  on  things,  after  basking  in  the 
shade,  under  the    banyan  trees  for  so  long.     I    tried  to  get    serious, 


96 


but  I  found  people  thought  I  was  a  preacher — (not  that  I  was  not  highly 
honored  at  being  classed  amongst  the  gentlemen  of  the  cloth),  but 
I  feared  the  cloth  might  get  some  places  some  time  that  were  unused 
to  seeing  it.  Then  I  struck  out  again ;  this  time  I  was  put  out  in  one 
round  as  a  bum  politician,  so  I  really  did  not  know  what  tack  to 
take.  I  quit  being  a  politician,  for  we  were  having  troublous  times 
in  our  old  commonwealth  at  that  time,  and  discretion  being  the  better 
part  of  valor,  I   withdrew  into  more  peaceful  pursuits. 

I  thought  then  of  falling  back  upon  the  musician's  life,  and  started 
out  on  that  trial.  Someone  said  something  about  being  a  pocket-edition 
of  Paderewski,  and  I  came  to  again.  Nothing  remaining  for  me  to  do 
I  stuck  to  the  law,  and  am  now  with  the  Assurance  Co.  I  am  placed 
in  a  very  peculiar  position  here  in  this  portion  of  the  country.  As 
I  am  the  only  living  representative  of  the  great  and  glorious  class 
of  '97,  I  have  to  be  satisfied  with  going  over  the  sandy  desert  of  life 
and  counting  myself  very  fortunate,  when  I  hit  an  oasis  in  the  form 
of  a  Reunion,  and  there  partaking  of  the  camel's  milk  at  the  well  of 
Shem.  Then  I  move  onward  over  the  weary  track  again,  until  the 
next  oasis  is  struck,  and  may  it  be  all  of  our  good  fortunes  to  get 
on  the  fleetest  of  the  camels,  and,  hastening  on,  partake  full  and  well  of 
good-fellowship  and  love  and  affection  toward  all  of  our  fellows 
and  classmates,  in  that  greatest  and  dearest  oasis  in  the  lives  of  all 
of  us — dear  old  Princeton.  And  in  finishing  such  a  letter  what  better 
words  could  we  find  than  those  of  Kipling: 

"When  earth's  last  picture  is  painted, 
And  the  tubes  are  twisted  and  dried, 
When  the  oldest  colors  have  faded, 
And  the  youngest  critic  has  died. 
We  shall  rest,  and,  faith,  we  shall  need  it — 
Lie  down  for  an  seon  or  two, 
Till  the  master  of  all  good  workmen 
Shall  set  us  to  work  anew. 

And  those  that  were  good  shall  be  happy : 

They  shall  sit  in  a  golden  chair; 

They  shall  splash  at  a  ten-league  canvas 

With  brushes  of  camel's  hair ; 

They  shall  find  real  saints  to  draw  from — 

Magdalene,    Peter,   and   Paul ; 

They  shall  work  for  an  age  at  a  sitting 

And  never  be  tired  at  all ! 

And  only  the  Master  shall  praise  us. 
And  only  the  Master  shall  blame; 
And  no  one  shall  work  for  money. 
And  no  one  shall  work  for  fame; 

97 


But  each  for  the  joy  of  the  working, 
And  each,  in  his  separate  star, 
Shall  paint  the  thing  as  he  see's  it 
For  the  God  of  Things  as  They  Are !" 

For  continued  success  to  all  of  you,  I  remain. 
Sincerely  yours, 

Walter  C.  Hill. 
Covington,  Ky.,  March  20,  '01. 

JAMES  MORLEY  HITZROT. 

My  Dear  Pop: — Frightened  by  the  large  print  of  "Notis — 2,"  urging 
a  prompt  reply,  P.  D.  Q. — or  quicker,  I  hasten  to  offer  up  the  history 
of  the  four  years  away  from  old  Princeton  and  the  glorious  fellowship 
of  '97. 

Now,  Mr.  Secretary,  letter  writing  was  never  my  strong  point — 
and  an  amusing  and  interesting  letter  written  by  me  would  be  a  curi- 
osity well  worth  preserving,  but  since  you  persist,  here  goes  for  my 
contribution,  a  mite  costing  a  mighty  effort  even  in  the  face  of  ex- 
communicatory  postal   cards. 

In  the  fall  of  '97  I  entered  the  Johns  Hopkins  Medical  School,  a 
lonely  member  from  Old  Nassau.  Never  having  over-trained  my  mind 
at  Princeton,  it  was  fresh  for  the  struggle  here,  and  I  rapidly  began  to 
learn  how  curiously  and  wonderfully  man  is  made.  Getting  a  good 
running  start,  at  the  end  of  the  first  year  I  felt  very  much  like  the 
chick  just  out  of  its  shell — "It's  a  dickens  of  a  big  place  I've  landed 
in."  Nil  desperandum, — I  have  plodded  on  and  in  June  hope  to  join 
that  great  fraternity — the  M.D.'s. 

So  few  of  the  fellows  have  crossed  my  path  that  information  gleaned 
from  this  source  must  necessarily  be  meagre.  Nat  Poe  I  see  occasion- 
ally and  have  wondered  why  we  didn't  appreciate  his  ability  as  a  ball 
player  in  Princeton.  Nat  is  centre  fielder  on  the  L'Hirondelle  Boat 
Club  team,  and  it  is  a  sight  worth  going  miles  to  see,  him  with  stock-, 
ing  down  over  his  shoe-tops,  chasing  the  ball  and  making  catches 
which  open  the  eyes  of  the  opposing  team  and  gladden  the  hearts  of  the 
Boat  Club  sympathizers. 

Buck  Thompson  and  I  helped  Roy  Cox  get  married  in  November, 
and  we  gave  Roy  a  send-off  fit  for  the  occasion. 

Al.  Graver  is  in  Las  Vegas,  New  Mexico,  recuperating,  and  inci- 
dentally satisfying  his  craving  for  more  of  the  West. 

Bob  Garrett  I  see  continually,  but  as  I  know  he  is  writing  tomes  to 
you,  I  can  add  nothing  to  what  he  will  communicate. 

Lastly,  Pop,  I  apologize  for  my  seeming  neglect,  but  the  life  of  a 
medical  student,  teeming  with  interest  for  him,  has  but  little  which 
would  or  could  interest  the  "great  and  glorious," — therefore  the  delay. 
Wishing  you  all  sorts  of  success,  and  God-speed  to  every  member  of 
our  class.      Believe  me, 

Most  sincerely, 
Baltimore,  Md.,  Feb.  23,  '01.  Jas.  Morley  Hitzrot. 

98 


DWIGHT  ELLINWOOD  HOLLISTER. 

My  Dear  "Pop":~B.tre  I  am  writing  my  triennial  letter  within  a 
few  days  of  my  receipt  of  your  first  request.     Such  unheard-of  prompt- 
ness I,  myself,  can  hardly  explain ;  for  on  previous  occasions  you  have 
urged  and  prodded  me   even  unto  the  fifth  and  sixth   degree.     May 
this  make  partial  amends  for  past  remissness.     But  why  write  at  all  > 
It's  the  same  old  story— nothing  new— only  a  few  statistics  thrown  in. 
In  the  fall  of  '97  about  a  dozen  of  our  glorious  class,  after  summers 
of  various  occupations  and  amusements,   drifted  into  the  New   York 
Law  School.     I  was  among  them.     Some  dropped  by  the  wayside  of 
their  own  volition,  some  were  dropped  in  similar  places  by  the  volition 
of  others,   and   still   others  remained   faithful    for   two  years,   and   in 
June,  '99,  took  the  proud  and  dignified  degree  of  LL.B.     Fortunately 
I   was    m  the    last    class.    This   was   immediately   followed    by   Bar 
Exams.,  most  of  us  thinking  it  an  excellent  idea  to  dispose  of  that 
difficulty  before  we  could  have  time  to  forget  what  we  had  been  trying 
so  hard  to  learn.     The  plan  worked  admirably  and  yours  truly,  amongst 
the  others,  became  the  real  thing  in  the  legal  line.    Then  came  the 
scuffle;  but  after  a  while,  about  July  ist,  1899,  I  found  an  unsuspecting 
soul  of  a  lawyer,  Morris  P.  Ferris  by  name,  a  man  of  standing  and 
established  practice   and   many  years   my   senior.     Yes,   he   wanted   a 
clerk-one  of  some  experience  of  course— and  after  some  little  talk 
on  both  sides,  it  was  decided  that  I  might  do.     Well,  I  learned  one  or 
two  things  before  long,  one  being  that  a  law  school  graduate  is  not 
necessarily  a  lawyer,  and  for  a  long  time  I  could  never  free  myself 
from  the  fear  that  I  might  lose  my  position.     However,  along  about  the 
following  February,  the  inscription  on  the  office  door  was  changed  to 
Ferris  &  Hollister,"  and  under  the  new  regime,  which  still  continues 
1  leel  tolerably  sure  of  my  place. 

As  to  the  other  information  requested  :-I  am  still  unmarried  and 
hope  to  remain  so;  am  a  member  of  no  clubs  or  societies  except  the 
Yountakah  Country  Club,  near  Nutley,  N.  J.,  where  I  take  occasional 
recreations  on  the  links.  My  part  in  politics  this  campaign  was  a  vain 
endeavor  to  reconcile  with  himself  a  red-hot  sound-money  anti-expan- 
sionist  a  frequenter  of  the  office,  and  bring  him  around  to  vote  for 
McKinley.  He  refused  to  vote  either  way,  and  I  am  much  discouraged 
The  only  articles"  I  have  "published"  are  a  few  "summonses"  and 
other  legal  notices  in  connection  with  my  practice-exact  titles,  dates 
etc.,  may  be  had  on  application. 

Journeys-have  taken  a  few  short  vacation  trips  in  various  directions 
and  four  visits  to  the  good  old  town  and  college.  One  of  the  latter 
was  in  the  fall  of  '97  to  obtain  recruits  for  a  certain  athletic  club  foot 
ball  team  m  which  I  was  interested,  another  a  year  later  when  the 
score  against  "Old  Eli"  was  5-0,  and  still  another  last  June  when  "the 
great  and  glorious"  reunited  itself  in  such  a  great  and  glorious  manner- 
the  fourth  I  had  almost  forgotten— I  chanced  to  be  in  Princeton  Satur' 
day    (Nov.    17th)    and   went   down   to   the   regular   "varsity  practice." 

99 


The  "varsity"  had  an  off  day,  and  I  believe  the  Scrub  beat  them.     I 
did  not  remain  over  Sunday. 

My  house-address,  where  I  still  reside,  is  Rutherford,  N.  J.,  and  my 
office  is  at  32  Broadway,  New  York  City. 

This,  I  believe,  covers  all  the  ground  asked  for,  and  were  it  not  for 
the  fact  that  you  have  brought  it  all  upon  yourself,  I  would  apologize 
for  thus  imposing  upon  you. 

Yours  very  truly, 

DVVIGHT    E.    HOLLISTER. 

New  York  City,  N.  Y.,  Dec.  i,  '00. 


WILLIAM  SHERLOCK  HOLMES. 

Dear  Pop: — That  you  may  not  be  compelled  to  need  all  the  postals 
in  the  Post  Office  Department,  I  at  last  write  to  tell  you  that  I  am 
alive.  After  an  attempt  at  medicine  in  the  College  of  Physicians  and 
Surgeons  I  found  that  my  brain  could  not  stand  the  strain,  and  I 
have  since  been  living  the  quiet  life  of  a  country  merchant.  That's  all. 
Believe  me,  Very  sincerely. 


William  Sherlock  Holmes. 


Freehold,  N.  J.,  March  21,  '01. 


WILLIAM  HENRY  HOOLE. 

Dear  Keener: — Your  letter  was  received,  a  day  or  so  ago,  and  re- 
minded me  of  the  fact  that  I  had  neglected  to  do  what  I  had  long 
ago  intended  to  do.  I  hope  that  my  neglect  will  not  delay  the  good 
work. 

I  left  college  at  the  close  of  my  Junior  year  and  spent  the  summer 
traveling  through  Europe  on  a  bicycle  with  my  brother.  We  covered 
some  2,400  miles  on  our  wheels,  visiting  France,  Switzerland,  Germany, 
Holland  and  Great  Britain,  with  a  side  trip  by  train  into  Italy.  We 
averaged  about  fifty  miles  a  day,  and  during  the  whole  trip  we  only 
expended  twenty-five  cents  for  repairs  to  the  bicycles,  though  we  had 
no  duplicate  parts  with  us. 

I  spent  the  next  three  years  at  Union  Theological  Seminary  in  New 
York  City,  where  I  was  graduated  in  the  spring  of  1899.  During 
three  months  of  the  last  year  I  was  very  sick  with  a  nervous  disease, 
but  I  was  able  to  complete  the  course.  During  the  summer  I  was 
imable  to  do  any  work,  and  remained  quietly  at  home.  In  the  fall 
I  was  enough  better  to  take  up  work  in  some  Mission  Churches  in 
the  Adirondack  Woods  of  Northern  New  York.  I  was  located  at 
Stark,  St.  Lawrence  County,  somewhat  over  twenty  miles  from  the 
nearest  railroad.  It  was  well  into  the  woods,  for  one  could  go  for  ten 
or  fifteen  miles  either  east  or  west  through  the  solid  forest  before 
coming  to  a  road.  The  people  were  good-hearted  and  pleasant  people, 
but  rather  widely  scattered.  I  was  called  to  attend  a  funeral,  as  the 
nearest  minister,  and  I  had  to  drive  about  thirteen  miles.     My  churches 


were  ten  miles  apart,  and  the  roads  were  not  noted  for  their  smooth- 
ness. I  was  expected  to  preach  at  both  places  each  Sunday,  rain  or 
shine,  snow  or  blizzard,  and  to  attend  the  prayer-meeting  at  both 
places  each  week.  During  the  year  I  missed  only  five  Sundays,  two 
while  away  on  vacation,  three  on  account  of  blocked  roads.  In  one 
community  there  had  never  been  any  religious  services  until  five 
years  before  I  came,  and  the  transformation  was  truly  remarkable. 
Of  course  all  the  evil  has  not  been  eradicated,  but  the  tide  was  turned 
from  immorality  to  righteousness. 

During  the  spring  of  1900  I  was  ordained  a  minister  by  the  Presby- 
tery of  St.  Lawrence.  At  the  completion  of  my  year  in  the  woods  it 
was  decided  that  the  work  was  too  severe  for  me  and  I  gave  it  up. 
I  then  took  up  my  present  work.  I  have  two  churches  now,  situated 
about  five  miles  apart.  The  churches  are  not  large,  but  are  growing. 
The  South  Wales  Presbyterian  Church  has  about  twenty-five  members, 
and  the  Griffin's  Mills  Congregational  Church  about  thirty-five. 

Yours  very  truly, 

Wm.  H.  Hoole. 
South  Wales,  N.  Y.,  Feb.  19,  '01. 

AUGUSTINE  MINSHALL  HOPPER. 

Dear  Pop:— Your  "reminder"  has  come  to  let  me  know  that  I  am 
one  of  the  "delinquents,"  and  from  what  I  hear  I  am  by  no  means 
alone. 

I  haven't  meant  to  neglect  the  letter,  but  I  have  done  very  little 
out  of  the  ordinary  the  last  four  years,  and  it  seems  to  me  that  the 
space  in  the  Record  ought  to  be  used  by  the  fellows  who  have. 

I  went  into  business  in  my  father's  office  on  July  ist,  1897,  and  the 
following  year  I  was  admitted  to  the  firm  of  S.  W.  T.  Hopper  &  Sons. 

As  you  know  from  the  printed  questions  which  I  have  already  an- 
swered I  was  married  in  May,  1898. 

The  arrival  in  Baltimore,  on  October  8th,  1890,  of  a  little  girl  who 
is  "just  for  Princeton,"  you  have  been  told  of,  and  in  June,  1902,  her 
mother  and  I  hope  to  bring  her  up  to  her  first  commencement,  and 
then  you  can  all  judge  what  a  force  she  will  be  in  influencing  wavering 
"stujents"  to  go  to  college. 

I  realize,  "Pop,"  that  this  is  not  an  interesting  letter,  but,  as  I  said 
when  I  began,  I  have  had  no  startling  experiences,  and  I  am  sure 
you  don't  want  more  of  this  sort  of  thing. 

With  my  best  wishes  for  you,  for  all  time,  I  am. 

Sincerely  yours, 

A.  M.  Hopper. 
Baltimore,  Md.,  March  2,  '01. 

GEORGE  HOWE. 

Dear  Classmates: — Si  valctis,  bene  est,  ego  valeo. 
With  that  as  a  text  what  a  letter  might  be  written !     But  neither 
as  text  nor  as  pedantry  do  I  make  use  of  it,  but  chiefly  to  kill  two 


birds  with  one  stone,  if  you  will  pardon  the  mixed  metaphor — that  is,  to 
wish  you  well  and  at  the  same  time  to  tell  my  history  in  as  short 
a  space  as  possible. 

Our  honored  secretary  seems  to  think  that  each  one  of  us  will  have 
books  to  write  on  our  individual  histories  of  the  past  three  years. 
He  seems  to  forget  that  we  are  not  so  learned  as  he,  nor  so  precocious 
as  Hector  Cowan,  nor  so  adventurous  as  "Sherlock"  Holmes,  nor 
gifted  with  so  many  hearts  as  is — or  was,  if  it  is  all  the  same  to  you — 
my  best  of  roommates,  Eddie  Axson.  As  for  battles,  public  honors, 
positions  of  trust,  we  have  forgotten  what  they  were  like,  so  long  ago 
was  it  that  we  lived  in  that  other  world.  Count  Montalvo  may  tell 
us  of  fights,  Dr.  Russell  of  honors,  Andy  Andrus  of  position  of  trust, 
and  Mr.  Harold,  from  Georgia,  of  shoes;  but  the  rest  of  us  must  con- 
tent ourselves  with  almost  a  single  sentence  or  else  drift  away  into 
that  ever-pleasant  land  of  dreams.  To  be  perfectly  frank,  I  have  already 
done  that  once — drifted  back  into  that  happy  land,  and  lived  it  all 
over  again — but  it  wasn't  published.  You  see,  the  world  was  a  little 
stronger  than  I  was — and  that  is  the  story  that  the  most  of  us  have  to 
tell  so  far,  though  we  mean  to  tell  a  very  different  one  later  on. 

To  begin  at  the  beginning,  I  was  put  through  the  car-window  by  some 
of  you  who  read  this — or  don't  read  it — and  whirled  away  to  things 
untried,  accompanied  by  the  same  black  care  that  Horace  said  so 
much  about.  I  wanted  to  write — you  have  already  perceived  my  mis- 
take— and  so  I  managed  to  get  a  temporary  position  on  a  paper  in  New 
York,  and  slaved  away  for — well,  it  was,  as  I  said,  only  a  temporary 
position.  I  did  not  find  it  much  to  my  taste  to  have  doors  slammed 
in  my  face,  and  the  city  editor  tell  me  I  was  a  fool.  So  one  day  I 
sat  down  in  my  garret  room,  folded  my  hands,  and  said  to  myself : 
"Cheer  up,  old  man.  To-morrow  the  post  will  bring  you  something 
good.  Don't  you  worry,  and  don't  do  anything  but  wait."  I  waited 
and  the  post  brought  me  something  good.  I  became  a  governor — a 
tutor,  I  mean.  For  nine  months  I  lived  in  the  lap  of  luxury,  and 
travelled  in  far  lands.  In  France  I  learned  to  say :  "Je  suis  fatigue :" 
in  Italy,  "odis  lo  studiare;"  in  Germany,  "es  thut  mir  leid;"  and  in 
England,  "his  my  'at  hon  straight."  On  the  steamer  I  learned  a  little 
Russian  too,  which,  while  I  cannot  spell  it,  sounded  like  this :  "ya  wass 
la  blue."  I  am  not  quite  sure  what  it  means,  but  I  learned  it  from  a 
pretty  girl  and  it  didn't  matter.  There  was  a  Frenchman  on  that  ship 
who  for  politeness'  sake  spoke  American :  "Say,  shove  along  de  potatoes, 
will  yer?"     He  had  learned  his  English  from  my  protege. 

Paris  appeared  to  me  to  be  a  rather  wicked  city,  but  our  little  trouble 
with  Spain  was  at  its  highest  development  then,  and  I,  being  American, 
should  not  pass  judgment.  Monte  Carlo  was  very  attractive,  but  I 
couldn't  find  any  positions  of  trust  there,  so  I  didn't  lose  anything. 
I  remember  how  in  college  we  used  to  struggle  over  those  Seven  Hills 
of  Rome,  but  when  I  was  there  I  did  not  find  them  particularly  steep. 
Venice — ah,  Venice ! — get  John  Hall  to  tell  you  about  that  "beautiful 
city."     There  were  a  few  other  cities  in  Europe  at  that  time,  but  I 


haven't  space  enough  to  write  of  all  that  I  saw.  There  was  a  pretty 
little  San  Francisco  girl  in  Florence,  and  one  day — I  went  home  very 
soon  after  that. 

Then  once  more  I  was  thrown  on  the  wide,  wide  world.  I  knew 
that  Florida  was  narrow,  so  I  started  South.  I  didn't  get  any  further 
than  Virginia — the  State,  I  mean— and  then  I  came  back  again.  My 
reputation  had  already  been  made,  and  on  my  return  to  New  York 
I  found  six  men  wildly  fighting  as  to  which  should  have  me.  I  walked 
into  their  midst  quietly,  with  perfect  self-possession,  and  stilled  the 
uproar  with  the  announcement  that  I  would  make  my  own  choice. 
I  made  it,  but  it  didn't  go,  somehow,  and  I  chose  again.  On  my  sixth 
choice  I  hit  it.  For  the  next  two  years,  with  the  exception  of  vaca- 
tions, I  remained  in  the  great  metropolis  attending  the  grand  opera. 
Thompson  Frazer  used  to  play  the  piano  for  me  in  those  days,  and 
Billy  Jessup  to  instruct  me  in  philosophy  and  poetics.  Once  in  a  while 
Charley  Dunn  would  talk  about  authors,  and  Aleck  Alexander  about 
girls.  One  day  even  old  Abbie  sidled  in  and  began  on  socialism,  but 
he  did  not  stay  quite  long  enough  for  me  to  make  out  what  he  was 
driving  at.  You  can  imagine  what  happy  days  those  were  when  I  tell 
you  that  every  morning  I  met  Hagemeyer  on  Fifth  Avenue,  and  once 
had  Net  Poe  say  to  me :    "I  tell  you,  we  Poe's  are  pretty  fine." 

But  a  good  thing  could  not  last  forever,  and  one  day  I  decided  that 
I  was  not  working  hard  enough.  That  was  after  an  article  had  been 
rejected  and  I  had  failed  to  get  a  position  I  had  applied  for.  I  went 
down  to  Princeton  and  talked  it  over  with  the  Faculty.  Of  course 
they  had  only  one  thing  to  say,  and  they  said  it.  I  told  our  great 
and  noble  class  good  bye  at  reunion,  and  then  told  other  friends  good 
bye.  On  the  steamer  I  discovered  Eddie  Elliott  with  a  girl  at  the  ex- 
treme end  of  the  boat,  watching  the  phosphorescence,  the  moonlight 
and  other  sentimental  illuminations.  I  don't  think  he  succeeded,  how- 
ever. He  talked  too  much  Latin  to  her.  I  was  afraid  he  might  be  ill 
after  that,  so  I  brought  him  to  Halle  with  me  and  watched  over  him 
till  the  semester  began.     He  went  of?  to  Berlin  smoking  horribly. 

Now  I  have  come  round  again  to  my  first  sentence.  I  am  studying 
Latin  and  Greek  in  the  University  of  Halle,  and  shall  probably  keep 
on  at  it  for  three  years,  if  I  can  ever  learn  any  German.  If  I  were 
only  a  Pennsylvania  Dutchman  like  Bob  Sterling,  I  shouldn't  have  much 
difficulty.  But  if  I  were  Bob  Sterling  I  should  have  to  be  preaching, 
studying,  hunting,  fishing,  riding  a  bicycle  and  attending  afternoon 
teas  all  at  the  same  time,  and  I  could  not  do  that.  Anyhow,  the  beer 
over  here  is  better  than  that  which — I  might  hurt  somebody's  feel- 
ings. 

That's  my  story.  It  was  very  uninteresting  to  write — as  you  will 
find  it  to  read — and  has  filled  up  so  much  space  that  I  haven't  paper 
to  tell  about  Ed.  Axson.  Arthur  Kennedy  might  be  a  good  man  to 
write  about,  too,  but  if  I  say  anything  he  will  ask  me  for  some  more 
money.  In  fact  there  is  no  member  of  the  whole  class  who  isn't  worthy 
of  all  that  can  be  said,  and  there  isn't  one  of  us  who  would  not  like 

103 


to  say  it  all  if  we  could.  It  would  be  much  more  satisfactory  to  write 
about  the  others  than  about  ourselves,  because  we  are  not  ashamed  of 
our  love  for  our  classmates,  but  we  cannot  harp  on  our  self-love. 
Pop  is  very  strict,  however. 

Fellows,  did  you  notice  that  Pop  did  not  ask  us  this  time  whether 
we  were  engaged  or  not?  How  many  of  us  will  volunteer  that  in- 
formation ? 

Well,  I  am  rather  glad  I  was  not  in  Princeton  last  November. 
Things  were  a  little  different  when  we  were  in  college.  But  all  the 
same  I  would  give  a  great  deal  to  be  back  at  the  beloved  old  place. 
I  am  quite  sure  that  there  never  was  a  class  like  the  class  of  '97,  and 
that  there  never  will  be  again.  Some  of  us  are  4,000  miles  away,  but 
in  heart  we  are  very  near  each  other  and  Old  Nassau.  I  don't  think 
that  either  distance  or  time  can  ever  take  us  very  far  away  from  Prince- 
ton. Pop  could  tell  us  all  about  time  and  space  metaphysically,  but  none 
of  us  needs  to  go  to  him  or  to  anyone,  to  find  out  that  there  is  some 
thing  that  can  overcome  even  time  and  space.  All  of  us  have  that 
deeply  rooted  in  our  hearts. 

Wouldn't  it  be  glorious  to  be  back  in  Princeton?  It  would  be  fine 
even  to  go  through  the  car-window  again,  and  yet  we  found  that  pretty 
sad  three  years  ago.     And  the  loving-cup ! 

May  God  bless  and  prosper  you. 

Your  classmate, 

George  Howe. 

Halle,  Germany,  Louisen  St.,  15  I.,  Dec.  10,  1900. 


ARCHER  STANFORD  HUBBARD. 

It  is  presumed  that  the  catastrophe  which  has  lately  overwhelmed 
Jacksonville  has  so  occupied  the  attention  of  Hubbard  that  he  has 
been  prevented  from  responding  to  the  frequent  advances  of  the  sec- 
retary. That  he  is  distinguishing  himself  in  the  financial  world 
is  evident  from  the  number  of  responsible  positions  he  now  holds.  He 
is  assistant  cashier  of  the  Mercantile  Exchange  Bank,  vice  president 
of  the  Citizens'  Gas  Company  and  director  of  four  other  corporations. 
It  seems  a  foregone  conclusion  that  Morgan's  claim  to  the  title  of 
Bonaparte  of  the  financial  world  must  soon  be  relinquished.  A  new 
star  is  appearing  on  the  horizon. 


PAUL  HURST. 

The  secretary  is  still  very  sanguine  that  some  report  may  be  had 
from  Hurst,  but  judging  from  his  innate  aversion  to  a  rapid  exist- 
ence, fostered  doubtless  by  his  present  sojourn  in  a  tropical  clime, 
this  information  will  be  forthcoming  when  the  Record  has  become 
ancient  history. 

After  leaving  college  the  field  of  his  activity  was  the  cotton  in- 
dustry.    He  was  associated  with  the   American   Cotton   Company,   a 

104 


St.  Louis  firm,  which  made  a  new  kind  of  cotton  bale.  Last  summer 
the  President,  in  quest  of  sturdy  and  courageous  youths  to  hunt  the 
wily  Filipino,  hit  upon  Hurst  as  a  person  possessing  qualifications 
necessary  to  circumvent  the  machinations  of  the  dusky  islanders.  In 
appreciation  of  his  extraordinary  ability  the  President  forthwith  ap- 
pointed him  to  a  second  lieutenancy  in  the  regular  army.  He  is  now 
bravely  fighting  his  country's  battles  in  that  far-off  land,  and  it  is 
generally  believed  that  had  he  arrived  earlier  on  the  scene  of  action 
the  laurels  which  now  adorn  the  temples  of  Funston  would  have 
found  an  equally  appropriate  resting-place  on  the  illustrious  brow  of 
our  valiant  and  distinguished  classmate. 

JOHN  HARRISON  HUTCHINSON. 

My  Dear  Pop: — I  certainly  feel  honored  in  being  asked  to  contribute 
to  such  a  noble  cause.  I  trust  this  letter  will  find  you  very  well  and 
not  over-worked,  for  I  have  a  few  ideas  of  the  constant  strain,  you 
must  have  upon  you  at  Lawrenceville. 

There  is  nothing  like  it,  I  am  sure,  having  one's  first,  last  and  only 
original  article  published  in  such  an  important  volume  as  the 
Triennial  Record  of  the  Class  of  '97  of  Princeton  Uuniversity;  but  I 
am  afraid  it  will  take  a  much  better  writer  than  myself,  to  even  merit 
a  place  in  such  a  popular  volume. 

Since  leaving  college,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  I  have  had  no  singular  ex- 
perience, such  as  Spanish  Wars,  and  even  China  had  no  charms  suffi- 
ciently enticing,  due  entirely  to  my  "shortness."  I  have  been  spending 
most  of  my  time  at  my  home,  Georgetown,  and  when  not  engaged  in 
civil  engineering  duties  have  been  spending  my  time  among  the  laws 
of  my  native  state.  I  think  the  law  and  the  air  in  this  vicinity  are 
agreeing  with  my  duties  and  myself  very  well. 

As  to  the  honors  some  of  my  classmates  have  achieved,  and  the 
great  deeds  they  have  accomplished,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  although  I  feel 
it  my  duty  to  tell  the  class  about  them,  yet  on  account  of  my  seclusion 
in  the  wilds  of  New  Jersey,  it  will  be  simply  impossible  for  me  to 
furnish  any  information  at  all. 

In  fact,  when  I  want  to  hear  anything  about  any  one  of  my  friends, 
I  go  to  dear  old  Princeton  for  the  day  and  while  there  I  find  out 
all  about  them,  for  their  Alma  Mater  seems  to  keep  a  much  better  watch 
over  them  than  I  can. 

In  closing  I  would  say.  that  although  I  do  not  often  have  the  pleas- 
ure of  a  visit  from  any  of  my  distinguished  classmates,  yet  I  can  assure 
them  all  that  they  are  not  forgotten,  and  should  they  at  any  time  hap- 
pen to  visit  Bordentown,  I  will  be  only  too  glad  to  have  them  drop  in 
and  drive  the  cares  of  life  away,  cheer  the  hours  and  fill  the  office 
with  their  presence.  So  with  good  wishes  for  you  all,  and  a  special 
blessing  for  our  esteemed  and  honored  Secretary,  I  am  as  ever, 
Very  sincerely  yours, 

John  H.  Hutchinson. 

Bordentown,  N.  J.,  Dec.  24,  '00. 

105 


THOMAS  HALL  INGHAM. 

My  Dear  Pop: — The  pathos  of  your  last  communication  has  brought 
me  to  the  determination  to  show  you  that  this  is  not  altogether  a 
thankless  world.  I  trust  the  other  delinquents  will  feel  the  same  way 
and  help  to  restore  the  balance  to  your  tottering  intellect. 

Briefly,  then,  I  entered  the  service  of  the  Pennsylvania  Railroad 
Company  as  rodman  in  the  "Maintenance  of  Way"  department  im- 
mediately after  graduation,  and  am  now  assistant  supervisor  at  York. 
My  career  has  been  uneventful  and  not  in  the  least  checkered,  and 
although  I  might  make  a  few  remarks  anent  the  habits  of  the  Jersey 
wildmen  and  the  Pennsylvania  Dutch  I  think  they  will  keep  for  my 
autobiography.    I  am, 

Very  sincerely  yours, 

Thomas  H.  Ingham. 

York,  Pa.,  Feb.  17,  '01. 

ALBERT  WOODWARD  JAMISON. 

My  Dear  "Old  Man": — Please  forgive  me  for  causing  you  to  send 
a  second  copy  of  your  masterly  letter  of  which  I  am  so  glad  to  re- 
ceive a  second  copy  that  I  am  not  wholly  sorry  I  failed  to  answer 
sooner.  I  have  been  nearly  over  head  in  work  all  this  fall ;  how  busy, 
you  may  judge  from  the  following:  this  ranch  is  on  the  Platte  bottom, 
25  miles  from  Lincoln  and  the  State  University.  Yesterday  a  party 
of  students  of  Agriculture  came  out  to  see  things.  I  took  them  down 
into  the  pastures,  and  we  started  up  at  least  five  different  bunches  of 
wild  geese,  probably  two  hundred  or  more  in  all.  The  students  were 
very  much  excited,  and  asked  all  about  hunting  them,  and  seemed  very 
much  surprised  when  I  said  I  had  not  been  out  after  them  at  all. 
One  morning  (just  to  show  you  how  numerous  they  are)  three  flocks 
passed  over  my  head  within  gunshot,  while  I  was  working  in  a  single 
corral. 

I  suppose  this  letter  is  to  cover  the  entire  period  since  Jimmy — 
"I  believe  you  prefer  the  good  old  Anglo-Saxon — 'stench' " — et  al 
suffered  their  greatest  loss. 

The  first  two  years  after  commencement  I  remained  in  Princeton 
as  a  laboratory  assistant  under  Professors  Cornwall  and  Phillips, 
doing  as  far  as  possible,  what  I  was  told,  and  incidentally  having  a 
royal  good  time,  living  on  lower  University  Place  first, — the  abode  of 
Freshmen,  for  one  of  whom  I  was  frequently  taken,  especially  at  night, — 
then  in  S.  Edwards  Hall,  long  known  as  the  abode  of  polers,  but 
also  known  as  the  abode  of  one  of  the  finest  of  the  finest,  who  used 
to  run  gadding  about  nights  with  a  huge  police  lantern  looking  for  dis- 
turbers of  the  peace  of  the  "incoming  class" — to  use  the  chaste  and  lofty 
diction  of  "Prexy"  Miller. 

After  leaving  Princeton,  I  put  in  a  season,  or  as  it  is  technically  called 
"a  campaign"  with  the  Illinois  Sugar  Refining  Co.,  of  Pekin,  111.,  as 
assistant  chemist.  During  this  time  the  hotel  where  I  lived  caught  fire, 
and  I  escaped  with  a  scant  suit  of  clothes  and  an  umbrella.     (It  was 

106 


3  A.M.,  and  I  had  a  firmly  fixed  idea  that  I  should  have  the  hose 
turned  on  me).  It  was  very  exciting,  as  the  stairs  were  in  flames  be- 
fore I  got  to  them,  and  I  had  to  do  stunts  over  roofs,  gutters  and  fire 
escapes  before  reaching  the  ground,  to  find  some  one  had  vamoosed 
with  my  unbrella — the  only  thing  I  had  saved  (  I  had  held  to  it  until 
I  reached  the  fire-escape  and  then  dropped  it). 

After  the  campaign  was  over  I  went  on  a  stock  farm  of  my  father's 
at  Hamlet,  Ind.,  (the  Ft.  Wayne  R.R.  runs  through  it,  and  I  had  been 
over  the  road  a  number  of  times,  never  dreaming  I  should  be  in- 
terested in  that  part  of  the  world).  Here  I  stayed  until  the  end  of 
August,  doing  pretty  nearly  everything,  first  and  last,  that  can  be  done 
during  this  season  of  the  year.  The  main  business  there  is  raising 
pure-blooded  Hereford  cattle,  but  the  other  work  of  a  farm  is  also 
carried  on.  Then  I  spent  about  a  month  travelling  around  to  different 
places,  all  more  or  less  connected  with  the  cattle  business,  winding  up 
with  a  bunch  of  fine  stock  bought  at  the  Minnesota  State  Fair.  I 
brought  them  through  to  this  place  after  a  number  of  delays  due  to 
several  different  causes.  Travelling  with  the  cattle  was  a  very  novel 
way,  to  me,  of  getting  over  the  ground;  disagreeable  in  many  ways 
but  still  decidedly  interesting. 

Out  here  my  work  has  been  less  varied  but  still  there  has  been  enough 
variety  to  keep  the  monotony  broken  to  small  fragments.  Until  to- 
day the  weather  has  been  almost  perfect,  in  fact,  if  we  had  had  the 
making  of  it,  it  could  not  have  suited  us  better.  To-day,  however, 
we  are  having  a  taste  of  winter,  with  a  limp  cloth  edition  of  the  high 
winds  the  Platte  Valley  is  famous  for. 

We  all  are  very  proud  out  here,  for  by  common  consent  this  is  the 
largest  and  best  herd  of  registered  cattle  in  the  world,  none  excepted. 
This  property  consists  of  about  3,300  acres,  extending  for  five  miles 
along  the  river,  and  it  is  mighty  fine  land,  and  raises  mighty  fine 
cattle,  as  I  shall  be  most  happy  to  demonstrate  to  any  one  of  the 
class  who  can  come  as  far  West  as  this.  We  are  always  open  to 
receive  visitors,  and  they  are  always  most  welcome,  whether  they 
come  to  buy  five  carloads  of  bulls  or  simply  to  note  the  difference 
between  a  horse  and  a  cow. 

I  believe  this  is  all  I  have  to  say,  except  that  you  mustn't  work  too 
hard,  for  we  need  you.     Good  bye,  old  man. 

Faithfully  yours, 

A.   W.  Jamison. 

Ashland,  Neb.,  Dec.  22,  '00. 

HERBERT  BROTHERSON  JAMISON. 

My  Dear  Pop: — Ever  since  August  in  1897,  I  have  been  at  work  in 
the  office  with  my  father,  and  during  that  time  have  had  a  very  un- 
eventful sort  of  a  life.  There  are  very  few  fellows  from  the  great 
and  glorious  class  that  are  near  here,  so  I  have  missed  the  good 
fellowship  very  much  indeed.  I  was  present  at  the  first  annual  reunion, 
and  of  course  had  a  great  time  renewing  my  youth,  etc.     I  made  all 

107 


my  plan;<  to  attend  the  Triennial,  but  was  taken  sick  during  the  early- 
part  of  May,  and  was  laid  up  for  six  weeks,  which  of  course  knocked 
me  out  of  the  trip,  and  I  may  say  that  I  was  never  more  disap- 
pointed than  when  I  knew  that  I  could  not  be  present  with  you  all. 

As  stated  to  you  before,  the  most  important  event  during  the  last 
few  years  for  me,  is  my  engagement  to  Miss  Grier,  of  Peoria,  a  graduate 
of  Smith,  in  the  class  of  1900. 

I  hardly  think  I  shall  be  with  you  all  in  June  of  this  year  much  as 
I  would  like  to  be  there,  but  I  hope  to  be  able  to  come  down  for  the 
fifth   reunion. 

With  best  wishes  for  yourselves  and  all  of  the  fellows,  I  remain, 

Very  truly  yours, 

H.  B.  Jamison. 

Peokia,  III.,  March  g,  '01. 

JOHN  GERE  JAYNE. 

Dear  Classmates: — It  is  with  difficulty  that  I  can  withhold  the  ex- 
pression "Dear  Children" — not  that  I  am  as  old  as  our  honorable 
Secretary,  or  as  wise  as  our  faculty  members — but  (and  this  is  a  but 
which  brings  tears  to  my  eyes)  I  can  conceal  the  fact  no  longer, — I 
am  nearly  bald  headed.  One  by  one  the  flowing  locks  have  unlocked, 
one  by  one  each  curling  ringlet  has  unrung,  and  by  our  next  triennial 
"there'll  be  no  parting  there."  So,  "Dear  Children,"  if  you  ever  see 
a  man  with  lots  of  hair  at  your  back  door  begging  for  a  square  meal, 
don't  feed  him, — it  isn't  "Lady"  Jayne.  And  right  here  I  want  to 
apologize  to  those  members  of  our  "ne  plus  ultra"  organization  at  whom, 
in  my  thoughtlessness,  I  cried :  "Go  up,  thou  bald  heads."  My  retri- 
bution is  just, — you  have  been  avenged.  (Scobe  Van  Nest  take  notice.) 
(I  hope  this  apology  will  help  my  hair, — nothing  else  has  done  any 
good.)  But  perhaps  my  personal  beauty  is  no  longer  a  thing  dear  to 
the  class ;  well,  if  not,  try  to  remember  me  as  of  the  "hairy  days," 
and  forget  that  the  hand  that  wields  this  pen  is  bald  headed.  Did 
any  of  you  ever  notice  how  few  girls  there  are  who  care  for  fellows 
with  bald  heads?     Well,  since  I — but  that  is  another  story. 

Fellows  (as  Gillie  used  to  say),  this  is  the  first  time  I  have  been 
able  to  address  the  class  since  I  undressed  you  all  on  Class  Day  in 
1897.  I  could  tell  you  lots  of  things  that  have  happened  to  me  since 
then,  but  I  would  be  arrested  by  the  U.  S.  Government  for  improper 
use  of  the  mails.  Still  as  these  letters  are  supposed  to  be  heart  to 
heart  talks  of  a  personal  nature  I  will  endeavor  to  give  you  an  ex- 
purgated remark  or  so,  on  myself  and  him  you  used  to  know  as  "Bill 
Reynolds."  Most  all  of  you  are  adepts  enough  in  expression  to  supply 
the  strong  words  where  you  think  necessary. 

My  own  career  has  been  checkered  and  chessed.  I  have  taught  school, 
coached  baseball  and  football  teams,  worked  in  a  bank,  sung  in  a 
choir,  played  professional  ball,  chopped  wood,  preached  a  sermon  and 
tended  bar. 

You  know  after  a  fellow  gets  over  the  idea  that  Greater  New  York 

io8 


is  just  panting  for  him,  he  begins  to  answer  want  ads.  in  the  Sunday 
Herald,  regardless  of  his  college  diploma.  I  even  went  so  far  as  to 
inquire  after  these  three  one  afternoon : 

(i)  WANTED. — A    bright    young    man    as    dishwasher.     (No    go— 
they  wanted  a  man  from  U.  of  P.) 

(2)  WANTED. — A  man  with  a  wooden  leg  to  mash  potatoes  for  a 

hotel.     (Didn't  think  I  could  mash  potatoes.) 

(3)  WANTED. — An   old   woman   with  one  tooth    to    bite    holes    in 

Schweizer  cheese.  ("Already  filled" — the  position,  I 
mean.) 

All  these  failures  were  exceedingly  disheartening,  and  as  failure  fol- 
lowed failure  I  resolved  to  get  even  with  this  old  fool  world,  so  I 
took  up  that  boon  to  all  broken  down  athletes  and  unsuccessful  business 
men — the  Law. 

I  graduated  from  an  office,  and  was  admitted,  with  "other  members 
of  the  class"  to  the  bar  (both  before  and  behind  it)  one  sweet  day 
in  June,  igoo, — a  day  long  to  be  remembered  in  the  annals  of  Luzerne 
County,  Penn. 

"Bill  Reynolds,"  aforesaid,  during  this  same  month,  passed  the  best 
examination  that  has  ever  been  passed  in  Lackawanna  County,  and  we 
are  now  in  partnership  as  the  firm  of  Jayne  &  Reynolds,  Room  47. 
Bennett  Building,  Wilkes-Barre,  Pa.  Collections  promptly  made. 
Divorces  painlessly  secured.  Conveyancing  a  specialty.  All  sorts  of 
legal  work  undertaken.  Loans  negotiated  and  satisfaction  guaranteed 
in  general  practice  (and  no  extra  charge  for  the  advertisement — thanks, 
"Pop.") 

Our  meals  are  much  the  same  every  day.  It's  a  continuous  case  of 
"Beans,  bean-soup  and  beans."  We  have  purchased  large  roll-top  desks 
(on  the  installment  plan)  and  they  are  pretty  fair  quarters  to  sleep  in. 
On  a  cold  night  we  pull  down  the  shutting-up  part  and  the  junior  un- 
locks us  at  seven  a.m.  We  decided  to  accumulate  a  library  (by 
"borrowing"  books  from  our  friends),  so  we  are  handicapped  for  law 
books,  although  we  are  pretty  well  supplied  with  patent  office  reports 
and  copies  of  the  American  Agriculturialist. 

We  had  one  case  (see  Hook  vs.  Crook,  199  Pa.,  305)  with  money  in 
it.  We  got  thirty-five  dollars  in  cash,  and  it  took  just  three  hundred 
dollars  for  us  to  celebrate  properly  and  spend  our  first  fee.  Bill  is 
still  figuring  how  much  we  will  owe  in  seven  years,  if  we  have  a  few 
more  cases.  We  purchased  a  real  iron  safe  the  other  day,  and  it  makes 
a  grand  thing  to  keep  beer  cool.  We  have  hung  up  our  diplomas  over 
our  respective  desks,  and  when  we  get  a  case  we  know  nothing  about, 
we  read  the  Latin  to  our  client  and  ask  him  to  call  again.  I  am  busy 
learning  to  speak  Hungarian,  as  we  have  to  get  a  license  for  one  of  that 
nationality,  and  I  suddenly  realized  I  didn't  even  know  how  to  ask 
him  for  a  glass  of  beer.  Bill  is  studying  Chinese  for  there  is  no  tell- 
ing when  he  will  need  it,  as  our  board  bills  will  be  due  soon,  and 
they  say  that  meals  are  cheap  in  China.  We  defended  an  Italian  some 
time  ago  and  he  got  the  limit.     We  bade  him  a  tearful  good  bye  for 

109 


ten  years,  and  the  ungrateful  wretch  swore  that  as  soon  as  his  time 
was  up  he  would  back  to  our  office  and  kill  us  both.  What  pleasant 
jokes  one  finds  in  this  business!  It  is  so  nice  to  be  remembered  by 
one's  friends.  We  make  a  specialty  of  lady  clients,  although  we 
haven't  had  any  yet.  We  thought  we  had  one  yesterday,  but  she  was 
a  book  agent  selling  "The  Way  to  Succeed."  We  took  her  remarks 
as  a  personal  insult  and  slammed  the  door  in  her  face.  Bill  and  I  make 
pretty  good  partners,  we  keep  up  an  excellent  general  average.  Bill 
tells  everybody  what  a  smart  fellow  I  am,  and  I  air  the  excellent 
qualities  of  Bill  everywhere  I  go.  Bill  is  a  hard  worker  and  I  am  a 
good  loafer.  I  look  respectable,  and  Bill  is.  Bill  knows  the  law,  and 
I  look  as  if  I  did.  Bill's  hair  is  black  and  thick,  mine  is  light  and 
"light."  I  write  a  good  hand,  and  Bill  tells  me  what  to  say.  Bill  makes 
the  speeches  and  I  look  dignified,  so  he  will  have  the  proper  environ- 
ment. "The  eyes  of  the  world  is  upon  us  and  we  have  got  to  do  it." 
Bill  is  a  good  general  lawyer,  and  I  am  a  good  criminal. 

We  never  have  any  disagreements,  for  as  yet  we  have  had  nothing 
to  disagree  about.  When  summer  comes  again  we  are  going  to  hold 
legal  revival  services  throughout  the  country  in  a  tent  to  advertise 
ourselves,  and  we  have  hired  a  crowd  to  tar  and  feather  us  so  we  can 
get  our  names  in  the  papers,  for  as  Bill  says,  "It  is  far,  far  better  to  be 
known  as  a  tarred  and  feathered  man  than  never  to  be  known  at  all." 
So  I  reckon  this  is  "The  Only  Way"  to  be  recognized  by  the  public. 
Sometimes  work  goes  like  a  woman  chopping  wood  with  a  dull  axe, 
and  a  fellow  feels  like  a  rooster  that  did  all  his  crowing  sitting 
down,  but  when  we  feel  that  way.  Bill  and  I  start  in  to  tell  of  the 
old  boys  of  '97,  and  before  long  we  brace  up  and  feel  as  happy  as  a 
couple  of  cows  going  to  a  country  fair.  It's  a  real  treat  to  sit  down 
and  think  how  many  of  you  all  are  doing  so  well, — married,  and  all 
that  sort  of  thing.  We  are  making  history,  now,  as  a  class,  and  we 
must  keep  up  the  good  work.  We  always  had  good  sense,  and  we  never 
showed  better  judgment  than  when  "Old  Pop"  was  elected  secretary. 
I  want  to  thank  him  personally  for  having  kept  me  in  touch  with  all 
the  fellows,  and  made  the  Princeton  fire  burn  more  brightly  in  my 
bosom.  Should  Providence  smile  on  the  firm  of  Jayne  and  Reynolds 
in  a  few  years,  we  will  give  the  class  a  house  party  for  a  month 
either  in  Duryea  or  Hoboken,  and  in  the  meantime  "Should  auld  ac- 
quaintances be  forgot,"  drop  in  at  47  Bennett  Building,  Wilkes-Barre, 
Pa.,  if  you  ever  land  in  Pennsylvania,  and  we  will  show  j^ou  what  you 
want, — from  a  prayer-meeting  to  one  of  the  borey-eyed  kind. 

Yours  for  '97, 

"Lady"  Jayne. 

,Wilkes-Barre,   Pa.,  Jan.  s,  '01. 

LAWRENCE  CHURCH  JEFFERSON. 

My  Dear  Classmate: — Your  several  requests  received;  the  reason  of 
my  delay  being  that  I  have  been  getting  into  business  in  Chicago, 
and  have  been  there,  more  or  less,  for  the  last  six  months  (principally 
more). 

no 


My  address  in  Chicago  will  be  5420  Ind.  Ave. 

My  marriage  experience  is  the  same  as  a  year  ago,  only  we  are  all 
a  year  older.  So  far  I  have  taken  no  part  in  clubs,  societies,  or 
politics,  and  as  far  as  offices  of  honor,  profit  or  trust  go,  none  except 
by  my  own  appointment. 

Since  leaving  Princeton  I  have  pursued  post-graduate  studies  in 
packing  and  moving,  and  have  attained  all  the  degrees.  My  present 
move    is   the   third    in   three   years. 

Last  spring  I  spent  three  months  of  my  time  in  the  mountains  of 
Idaho,  hunting  for  my  health,  game  and  most  any  other  old  thing. 
On  my  way  home  I  went  through  Yellowstone  Park,  and  just  happened 
to  fall  in  with  the  Kennedys,  '94-'oi,  from  Covington,  Ky.,  who  are 
very  fine  fellows.     We  had  a  pleasant  trip  through  the  Park. 

Since  leaving  college  I  have  spent  most  of  my  time  in  the  lumber 
business,  but  in  about  ten  days  will  be  in  the  manufacturing  business 
in  Chicago. 

Hoping  you  will  pardon  my  delay,  I  am. 

Yours  truly, 

L.  C.  Jefferson. 

Chicago,  III.,  Feb.  27,  '01. 

FREDERICK  NEVINS  JESSUP. 

My  Dear  "Pop" : — Those  sample  letters  you  sent  have  been  the  un- 
doing of  me,  and  have  scared  me  out  of  any  thought  of  a  class  letter. 
Even  a  sermon  would  be  an  easier  task  than  soaring  up  to  such 
heights.  But  a  good  while  has  lapsed  since  I  last  read  them,  and  I'm 
glad  to  say  they  no  longer  haunt  me  as  ideals.  Instead  of  soaring, 
you  are  invited  to  take  a  long  breath  and  plunge  in  with  me,  first  ot 
all,  for  a  good  7,000  mile  swim  to  Beyrout.  There  you  will  have  a 
full  three  years  to  sit  out  under  the  blue  Syrian  sky  and  dry  your 
clothes,  if  you  don't  immediately  invest  in  white  duck  suits  and  military 
looking  helmet  hats,  as  Luke  Miller  and  Teddy  Balken  did  on  arrival, 
or  haven't  come  prepared  with  khaki  equipments  like  Bob  Garrett's. 
And  while  you  are  driving  about  the  city  in  victorias  with  skeleton 
horses,  or  off  camping  at  the  Cedars,  or  travelling  through  the  country 
on  a  blooded  Arab  steed,  or  enjoying  Balken's  interesting  experience 
of  trying  to  smuggle  fire-arms  into  the  Turkish  Empire,  you  can  leave 
me  out  at  the  Syrian  Protestant  College,  teaching,  writing,  spelling, 
reading,  in  one  and  two  syllables,  the  roundness  of  the  earth  and  other 
branches  of  higher  science  and  literature. 

The  college  is  a  fine  place,  and  the  time  went  quickly,  with  the  sum- 
mers spent  at  home  on  the  slopes  of  Lebanon,  about  2,500  feet  above 
the  sea.  It  did  seem  a  long  way  fi-om  Princeton,  though,  and  one  would 
very  often  miss  the  fellows  and  the  life.  Wolf  Post  was  here  for  a 
couple  of  years,  working  like  a  Trojan  and  walking  off  with  every 
prize  which  was  open  to  him  in  the  Medical  School.  It  was  a  pleasant 
sight  the  first  year  to  lay  eyes  on  Allen  Sankey — moustache,  camera 
and  all, — if  only  for  a  passing  glimpse.     Last  year  was  the  lucky  one: 


going  down  to  meet  Luke  and  finding  Bob  Garrett  and  Teddy  Balken 
as  well.  It  was  like  getting  a  big  whiff  of  the  old  campus  atmosphere, 
and  did  one  good.  You,  who  have  been  living  on  here  within  range  of 
the  fellows  and  the  college,  can't  realize  how  we  feel  who  are  kept 
so  far  from  it  all.  It  was  one  of  the  hardships  of  our  work  that  neither 
JLuke  nor  I  could  be  at  the  Triennial  save  in  spirit,  and  that  telegram 
was  very  much  appreciated.  The  last  distinguished  visitor  was  Kirk- 
wood,  who  brought  back  the  old  days,  with  slightly  different  setting, 
as  he  leaned  back  dreamily  in  an  easy  chair,  enveloped  in  smoke,  and 
murmured  mingled  accounts  of  Spanish  beauties,  ministerial  experiences 
and  bull  fights. 

Last  summer  my  time  was  "up."  I  did  the  Paris  Exposition  in  three 
hours,  spent  a  month  in  England,  part  of  it  in  the  Scotch  and  Eng- 
lish Lake  Country,  and  then  came  on  to  America  and  Auburn  Semi- 
nary. 

Perhaps  you'll  think  me  prejudiced,  but  I  am  delighted  to  find  that 
Seminoles  are  not  after  all  the  set  of  fruits,  freaks,  and  unkempt  farm- 
ers that  we  used  to  think  them  when  we  were  down  at  Princeton. 
Instead  it  seems  the  next  best  thing  to  being  back  at  college. 

Little  more  remains  to  add  to  the  short  and  simple  annals  of  the 
poor.  As  for  engagements,  wives,  children,  lucrative  positions,  names 
of  books  written  or  crowned  heads  visited,  I'll  have  to  ask  you  to  wait 
till  our  Sesquicentennial  Special.  Till  then  a  long  farewell  to  all  great- 
ness. 

Frederick  N.  Jessup. 

Auburn,  N.  Y.,  Feb.  19,  '01. 

WILLARD  PARKER  JESSUP. 

Dear  Pop: — Please  pardon  this  lengthy  delay  in  responding  to  your 
request  for  an  account  of  my  post-academic  career,  but  there  are  rea- 
sons, I  assure  you.  Inasmuch  as  such  an  account  contain  little  of 
thrilling  interest  to  the  class  at  large,  and  because  in  your  encyclical 
you  emphasized  the  necessity  of  literary  finish  in  the  composition 
thereof,  I  thought  I  would  not  undertake  to  write  until  I  had  suffi- 
cient leisure  to  do  it  properly.  Alas,  that  time  has  not  yet  arrived. 
You  will  believe  me,  perchance,  when  I  tell  you  what  I  have  been  doing 
for  the  last  six  months. 

The  first  year  after  I  left  college  I  acted  as  principal  of  the  Oxford 
Academy  at  Oxford,  Pennsylvania,  one  of  those  old-time  farmers' 
academies  which  have  almost  entirely  passed  away.  The  life  there 
was  as  much  of  a  contrast  to  college  life  as  you  can  possibly  imagine. 
I  realized  to  the  full,  the  truth  of  all  those  reports  of  the  cold,  hard  world 
which  came  to  me  while  I  lingered,  lotus-eating  in  Arden.  The  ex- 
perience served  me  in  good  stead,  however,  for  I  have  since  been  able 
to  bear  the  "slings  and  arrows  of  outrageous  fortune  with  lighter 
heart."  This  is  putting  it  a  little  strongly  perhaps,  for  I  really  haven't 
had  so  much  to  complain  of  after  all.  I  expected  a  continuance  of 
the  delights  of  Princeton  days  and  was  disappointed — "Hinc  illae 
lacrimae." 

112 


In  the  fall  of  '98  I  took  a  position  as  instructor  at  the  Riisby  Military 
Academy  in  New  York.  This  was  much  more  to  my  taste,  as  the 
work  was  easier  and  I  had  opportunity  to  indulge  in  the  pleasures 
afforded  by  the  metropolis.  That  sort  of  thing  soon  palls  upon  one, 
however,  especially  as,  in  New  York,  opportunities  for  social  inter- 
course are  very  limited  to  one  of  moderate  income. 

In  February,  '99,  I  went  over  to  Brooklyn  to  take  a  place  as  teacher 
of  Latin  and  History  in  the  Boys'  High  School,  in  which  position  I 
remained  until  June,  1900.  It  was  a  fine  position,  but  the  work  tended 
to  become  very  monotonous.  I  had  seven  classes  to  each  of  which  I 
had  to  expound  the  same  lesson  in  history.  You  can  imagine,  per- 
haps, that  by  the  time  I  reached  the  seventh  class  I  was  somewhat 
familiar  with  the  subject  matter  under  discussion.  However,  it  went 
well  enough  for  a  year  and  a  half. 

Brooklyn  I  have  found  a  most  delightful  place  to  live  in.  Beside 
being  so  near  New  York,  it  affords  many  facilities  for  amusement,  and 
at  the  same  times  one  has  opportunity  to  form  those  close  social  re- 
lationships with  cultured  people  without  which  life  is  scarcely  worth 
living.  I  may  have  been  particularly  fortunate  in  the  people  I  have 
met  here,  but  I  believe  there  are  more  people  of  real  culture  to  the 
square  mile  in  this  Borough  than  in  any  place  of  which  I  have  had 
any  experience.  I  have  a  great  many  friends  here,  and  they  have  made 
it  so  pleasant  for  me  that  I  have  continued  to  live  here,  though  all  my 
work  is  in  New  York. 

Last  spring  I  was  offered  a  position  as  private  tutor  in  New  York 
at  the  same  salary  I  was  drawing  at  the  High  School.  As  I  would 
have  to  devote  only  my  morning  hours  to  this  work,  I  though  it  an  ex- 
cellent opportunity  to  do  something  I  had  long  desired  to  do,  namely, 
to  take  up  the  study  of  law.  So  I  determined  to  accept,  and  since 
October  last,  I  have  been  drilling  mathematics  and  English  into  the 
reluctant  head  of  a  candidate  for  admission  to  the  "sacred  precincts," 
and  at  the  same  time  endeavoring  under  the  kindly  auspices  of  the 
New  York  Law  School,  to  familiarize  myself  with  the  principles  of 
jurisprudence  as  laid  down  in  my  own  state.  Now,  maybe  you  will 
understand  why  I  have  not  written  before.  I  have  scarcely  a  mo- 
ment's leisure  from  7  a.m.  to  ii  p.m.,  except  on  Sundays,  and  you 
may  well  believe  that  I  am  not  greatly  inclined  to  exertion  of  any  sort 
then.  I  am  enjoying  the  law  work  immensely,  though  I  had  no  idea 
of  the  vastness  of  the  subject  until  I  got  well  into  it.  Our  instructors 
encourage  us  by  telling  us  that  no  man  can  know  all  the  law,  and  so 
we  toil  on,  absorbing  what  we  can,  and  trusting  it  will  be  sufficient 
to  enable  us  to  pass  a  bar  examination.  At  first  it  was  a  little  diffi- 
cult to  prevent  confusion  of  my  morning  with  my  afternoon  work. 
There  was  a  tendency  to  mix  up  truncated  prisms,  logarithms,  and  the 
binomial  theorem  with  torts,  novations  and  bailments,  but  I  have  quite 
overcome  that. 

No,  I  have  not  married  or  been  given  in  marriage.  The  worst  I 
have  done  in  that  line  has  been  to  act  as  accessory  in  the  first  degree 

113 


at  a  ceremony.     I  am,  nevertheless,  prepared  to  give  testimony  as  to 
the  conjugal  felicity  of  one  or  two  of  the  benedicts  of  our  class. 

My  travels  have  been  limited  almost  wholly  to  frequent  trips  on  the 
Sixth  Avenue  Elevated  and  the  Gates  Avenue  trolley  line,  on  which 
I  find,  after  a  careful  computation,  that  I  have  traveled  about  two  thou- 
sand miles  in  the  last  two  years. 

Now  and  again  I  bespeak  one  of  "the  Elect"  in  the  seething  crowds 
of  Manhattan.  A  hearty  Princeton  grip  and  the  sight  of  a  familiar 
face  does  me  a  world  of  good. 

Into  thy  fatherly  care,  dear  Pop,  I  commend  this  mite  to  be  added 
to  the  reams  of  unadulterated  English  which,  long  ere  this,  must  have 
filled  the  secretarial  sanctum.     With  fraternal  regard  still  undiminished 
for  you  and  the  members  of  the  "great  and  glorious,"  I  am, 
Most  cordially  thine, 

WiLLARD    P.    JeSSUP.. 

Brooklyn,  N.  Y.,  April  3,  '01. 

WALTER  LATHROP  JOHNSON. 

My  Dear  Pop: — One  of  thy  wayward  children  has  at  last  determined 
to  write  to  the  guardian  of  his  college  days,  to  say  that  the  memories 
<of  those  days  have  been  ever  present  with  him  during  this  much  of 
his  journey  through  life. 

For  the  first  year  after  I  v/er_t  through  the  car  window  at  the  rail- 
way station  of  the  old  hunting  grounds,  I  played  the  gentleman  (or 
loafer),  not  doing  very  much  of  anything.  Then,  one  fine  day  in 
June,  1898,  I  found  myself  in  a  stock  broker's  office,  surrounded  by  a 
lot  of  funny  papers  they  called  stocks,  and  a  few  still  funnier  papers, 
with  some  square  pieces  torn  oflf,  called  bonds.  And  here  I  have' 
been  ever  since,  always  trying  to  learn  something  more  about  these  queer 
pieces  of  paper  or  what  they  represent. 

Although  Harry  Fine  and  I  were,  and  are,  the  best  of  friends,  I 
must  say  that  I  never  learned  to  add  until  I  struck  Wall  St. ;  while 
on  the  other  hand  I  have  yet  to  find  any  practical  application  in  busi- 
ness life  for  the  intricate  theorems  of  Calculus  or  Differential  Equa- 
tions. 

When  I  get  rich.  Pop,  (which  I  see  no  signs  of  in  the  near  future), 
I  am  going  to  endow  a  chair  of  Good  Fellowship  at  Princeton,  and 
seat  a  '97  man  in  it. 

With  the  very  best  of  wishes  for  your  success,  and  that  of  all  our 
friends  whom  this  may  reach,  I  am. 

Your  fellow  classmate, 

Walter  L.  Johnson. 

New  York  City,  March  3,  1901. 

NEJIB  IBRAHIM  ANGELO  KATIBAH. 

The  sun  never  sets  on  '97,  "Where  Afric's  sunny  fountains  roll 
down  their  golden  sands"  the  voice  of  Katibah  is  heard  in  the  land, 
sounding  the  praises  of  Princeton  and  doing  credit  to  '97.     For  five 

114 


years  he  has  been  chief  translator  for  the  Sudan  Government  Rail- 
way. Further  information  received  from  him  is  hereto  appended, 
given  in  his  own  characteristic  style: 

Marriages :  Ch  ildrcn : 

(a)  Date,  Vid.  Genesis.  Supply   ordered — Post-Graduate 

(b)  Place,  Utopia.  Studies  Pursued. 

(c)  Maiden     Name     of  Wife,         (a)   What,  "To  be  or  not  to  be?" 

Daughter  of  Eve.  (b)  Where,  Great  Sahara. 

(d)  Residence     of     AVife,     the         (c)  When,    when   occasion   oc- 

Globe.  curs. 

It  is  very  apparent  that  a  continuation  of  his  efforts  will  cause  the 
desert  to  bloom  as  the  rose. 

JOHN  HENRY  KEENER. 

Dear  Classmates: — There  should  be  an  unwritten  law,  with  all  the 
force  and  authority  of  a  positive  enactment,  which  exempts  the  secre- 
tary from  writing  a  letter  on  such  an  occasion.  His  frequent  communi- 
cations, made  necessary  by  the  oversensitiveness  of  so  many  persons  of 
retiring  disposition,  and  still  further  increased  by  the  inexcusable  in- 
difference and  general  apathy  of  others,  have  so  exhausted  his  vocabu- 
lary that  he  is  in  danger  of  repeating  himself  and  thus  either  betray- 
ing his  limitations  or  else  grating  upon  the  sensibilities  of  his  readers. 

Then,  too,  he  has  already  severely  tried  the  patience  of  many  mem- 
bers by  his  unremitting  zeal  in  forcing  upon  their  attention  his  match- 
less (  ?)  compositions,  so  that  the  self-poise  and  serene  temper  which 
generally  characterizes  them  has  been  disturbed  and  maledictions  have 
been  his  portion.  Why  should  he  still  further  offend  their  taste  and 
add  fuel  to  the  flame  of  their  passions?  Truly,  additional  messages  from 
him  seem  like  adding  insult  to  injury. 

Besides,  serving  in  the  capacity  of  "whip"  entirely  unfits  one  for 
sublime  thinking  and  nicety  of  expression.  The  language  one  uncon- 
sciously acquires  in  this  bolstering-up  process  savors  strongly  of  the 
police  courts,  where  force  rather  than  elegance  is  the  prevailing  char- 
acteristic. To  sandwich  such  material  between  so  much  that  is  chaste 
and  exceptionally  excellent  seems  utterly  inexcusable,  unless  it  be  on  the 
basis,  that,  by  way  of  contrast,  the  lattef  is  properly  appreciated. 

But,  notwithstanding  these  excellent  reasons  for  silence,  the  secretary 
is  amenable  to  the  same  uncompromising  custom  of  class  obligation,  and 
even  he,  dictator  though  he  seems  to  be,  must  write  a  letter.  With  this 
justification  for  his  act,  and  with  fervent  appeals  to  a  suffering  public 
for  merciful  consideration,  he  launches  forth  upon  the  recital  of  a  few 
unimportant  details,  which,  in  their  interest,  are  strongly  akin  to  statisti- 
cal tables,  and,  in  regard  to  furnishing  employment,  about  as  profitable 
as  the  perusal  of  Webster's  Dictionary,  to  see  how  the  characters  might 
turn  out. 

It  was  my  good  fortune  to  return  to  the  university  the  year  following 

115 


graduation.  There  was  a  strong  demand  for  some  one  to  play  the  role 
of  fellow  in  Mental  Science.  No  one  appearing  on  the  scene  as  a  can- 
didate, the  necessity  of  the  occasion  brought  to  me  the  coveted  honor. 
A  year's  hard  work  gave  me  but  a  faint  glimpse  of  the  only  subject 
worthy  the  serious  consideration  of  thoughtful  men,  but  it  impressed 
me  more  profoundly  than  ever  with  the  undoubted  superiority  of  this 
subject  over  all  those  that  can  engage  the  attention  of  the  human  mind. 
It  was  too  deep  for  me,  hence  this  tribute. 

But  my  efforts  during  the  year  were  not  solely  directed  in  the  line  of 
philosophical  investigation.  I  had  been  commissioned  by  the  authorities 
to  act,  in  conjunction  with  Bill  Leggett  and  the  other  supernumeraries, 
in  an  effort  to  make  of  Edwards  a  habitable  abode.  This  dormitory  had 
been  the  arena  of  so  many  midnight  escapades  that  it  became  a  stench 
to  the  nostrils  of  the  governing  body,  and  energetic  measures  were 
necessary.  Armed  with  a  dark-lantern  and  a  club,  I  interspersed  the 
weary  hours  of  ontological  study  with  herculean  efforts  to  bring  about 
the  desired  reform.  Visions  of  hair-breadth  escapes  and  bloody  en- 
counters did  not  deter  me,  for  Edwards  had  to  be  reclaimed.  It  was — 
when  I  left. 

The  next  year  the  President,  in  a  moment  of  extreme  altruistic  feel- 
ing, tendered  me  the  fellowship  in  ethics.  I,  moved  by  the  opposite 
feeling,  accepted.  This  brought  me  into  close  contact  with  the  head 
of  the  university  and  gave  me  a  splendid  opportunity  to  suggest  various 
improvements  in  his  policy  of  running  the  institution,  where,  to  my 
mind,  he  was  not  adhering  strictly  to  the  behests  of  the  categorical  im- 
perative. It  is  needless  to  say,  that  before  I  ventured  any  suggestions, 
I  was  always  sure  of  a  hasty  exit. 

The  most  pleasant  memories  of  these  two  years  of  post-graduate 
work  are  associated  with  a  "seminar"  which  weekly  convened  in  my 
room.  It  was  composed  of  many  of  those  of  our  number  who  returned 
for  further  study,  and  had  a  fair  sprinkling  of  noted  men  of  other 
classes.  These  meetings  in  their  scope  and  interest  rivaled  the  sym- 
posiums of  classic  days.  The  profoundest  themes  in  all  departments 
of  knowledge  were  thoroughly  discussed,  and  their  relative  position  in 
the  general  scheme  finally  determined.  Indeed,  such  was  the  char- 
acter of  that  body  and  so  beneficial  its  discussions  that  it  is  generally 
understood  that  without  its  helpful  influence  Russell  could  never  have 
secured  the  proud  title  which  he  now  enjoys.  Others  of  that  notable 
body  achieved  distinction,  traceable  solely  to  the  impetus  received  here. 
But  not  so  with  your  humble  servant.  The  lingering  fumes  of  bad 
tobacco  and  the  painful  impressions  of  a  board-like  bed  drove  from 
his  mind  the  beatific  visions  of  the  early  part  of  the  evening  and  the 
morning  found  him  with  thoughts  too  deep  for  utterance  and  too 
chaste  for  print. 

And,  now,  through  the  generosity  of  the  authorities  of  the  Lawrence- 
ville  school,  I  am  posing  as  an  instructor  in  Latin  and  mathematics, 
and  incidentally  drawing  my  pay.  Here  I  suppose  I  shall  continue  as 
long  as  I  can  dupe  these  good  people  and  keep  up  the  bluff.     If  any 

ii6 


of  you  happen  in  this  vicinity  I  should  be  delighted  to  see  you.    There 
is  no  latch  string.     It  is  "wide  open." 

In  closing,  I  wish  to  thank  all  of  you  very  heartily  for  your  gener- 
ous assistance  in  getting  up  this  record.  I  say  "all"  advisedly.  While 
a  few  of  you  have  seemingly  been  unresponsive,  yet  I  am  charitable 
enough  to  believe  that  it  was  due  rather  to  uncontrollable  circum- 
stances than  to  lack  of  class  patriotism.  It  is  a  cause  for  great  rejoicing 
that  our  class  spirit  has  lost  none  of  its  pristine  vigor,  but  that  in  each 
succeeding  struggle  an  additional  halo  adds  to  its  lustre.  May  the 
coming  years  still  further  cement  us,  remembering  that  in  such  com- 
radeship we  are  not  only  most  helpful  to  one  another,  but  we  are  best 
serving  our  Alma  Mater,  whom  we  owe  more  than  we  can  repay.  God 
bless  you  all.  Sincerely  yours, 

Pop. 

Lawrenceville^  N.  J.,  May  20,  1901. 

JOHN  MUMFORD  KEESE. 

Dear  Pop: — What's  the  use?  Can't  you  let  a  fellow  alone?  This 
is  your  third  notice  that  lies  before  me,  and  I  am  gradually  becom- 
ing ashamed  to  let  you  waste  any  more  energy  upon  me.  If  ever- 
lastingly-at-it  will  accomplish,   you  certainly   will   succeed. 

I  have  been  one  of  the  delinquents,  because  I  do  not  feel  inter- 
esting, but  now  I'll  bore  away  to  the  best  of  my  ability. 

I  would  not  hesitate  so  much  if  I  could  hold  the  attention  of 
readers  as  Booth  Tarkington  does  in  his  "Gentleman  from  Indiana." 
A  great  longing  for  the  old  days  came  over  me  as  he  made  Hark- 
less  reminisce  of  the  days  under  the  elms  and  the  seniors  upon  the 
steps,  the  songs  and  good  fellowship. 

The  old  world  contains  some  queer  people,  and  in  my  work  I 
meet  many  of  them — I  suppose  I'm  one  of  them  myself,  and  don't 
realize  it — but  after  all,  we  have  a  pretty  good  world  to  live  in. 
When  I  started  to  practice  in  a  city,  I  wondered  how  long  the  hungry 
stage  would  last.  At  first  I  felt  somewhat  like  the  old  "dark"  in  the 
following:  "What  you  want  to  do,"  said  the  druggist,  as  he  handed 
the  old  darky  the  patent  medicine,  "is  to  take  a  dose  of  this  after 
each  meal." 

"Yes,  suh,"  was  the  reply,  "an'  now,  boss,  will  you  please,  suh, 
tell  me  whar  I'm  gwine  to  git  de  meals?" 

But  now  I  manage  to  get  at  least  one  meal  a  day,  am  a  member 
of  the  staff  and  attending  physician  in  one  of  our  hospitals  here; 
fill  in  spare  moments  lecturing  to  the  nurses,  addressing  various 
clubs  in  the  city,  and  "plugging" ;  am  interested  and  doing  well  in 
my  work,  and  beginning  to  have  plenty  of  it.  I  do,  however,  deplore 
the  necessity  of  getting  in  at  six  A.  M.,  as  I  have  been  doing  rather 
frequently  recently, — could  find  the  keyhole  easily,  too. 

I  have  had  some  good  visits  with  four  or  five  of  the  boys  who 
have  seemed  to  enjoy  the  happy  home  with  which  I  have  been 
blessed  for  over  four  years  now.     We  are  on  the  high  road  of  travel 

117 


here  in  the  Empire  State,  and  would  be  more  than  happy  to  see 
any  of  the  fellows  who  might  pass  through  Syracuse.  Two  'phones 
in  the  office,  so  "you  can't  lose  me."     Call  me  up. 

Sincerely, 
Syracuse,  N.  Y.,  March  15,   1901.  J.   Mumford  Keese. 

WILLIAM   NOBLE  KELLER. 

Dear  Classmates: — Since  I  left  Princeton,  in  June,  '97,  I  have  been 
existing  in  and  about  Columbia,  Pa.  It  was  very  hard  to  start  into 
work,  and  I  missed  the  fellows  and  the  campus  very  much  for  a 
long  time;  now  it  is  not  so  hard  to  go  to  work  every  day,  and  I 
always  look  forward  to  spring  and  fall,  when  I  make  a  pilgrimage 
to  Princeton  or  New  Haven  and  always  see  some,  if  not  a  great  many, 
of  the  fellows  with  whom  I  spent  four  of  the  most  enjoyable  years 
of  my  life. 

July,  '97,  saw  your  humble  servant  enstalled  as  manager,  "working 
manager,"  of  "Locust  Grove  Farms,"  and  I  never  realized  before 
how  much  one  has  to  contend  with  on  a  farm.  Well,  it  was  good 
experience,  but  not  the  kind  of  work  I  wanted,  so  after  spending 
two  years  on  the  farm,  I  secured  a  position  with  the  Columbia  Trust 
Company,  then  organizing,  taking  charge  of  the  farms  as  a  side  is- 
sue, which  means  long  hours  and  hard  work,  but,  then,  there  is 
always  the  chance  of  something  better  coming  along. 

Hoping  by  the  end  of  five  more  years  I  shall  be  able  to  tell  you  of 
time  better  spent.  Ever  your  friend, 

Henry  Neff  Kehler,  Jr. 

Columbia,  Pa.,  Feb.  26,  1901. 

HENRY  NEFF  KEHLER. 

My  Dear  Pop: — I  have  time  to  drop  you  only  a  few  lines  in  reply 
to  your  numerous  requests  as  to  my  doings  since  I  left  Princeton. 

After  leaving  college  I  spent  four  years  at  Rush  Medical  College,  in 
Chicago.  After  graduation,  passed  competitive  examination  for  in- 
terne at  Cook  County  Hospital,  Chicago,  where  I  remained  eighteen 
months.  Since  then  have  spent  most  of  my  time  in  Colorado  and  New 
Mexico,  and  at  present  am  with  Denver  &  Rio  Grande  Railroad  Hos- 
pital at  Salida.  Yours  very  truly, 

Salida,  Colo.,  May  6,  igoi.  W.  N.  Keller. 

GEORGE   HARRINGTON   KELLY. 

My  Dear  Pop: — Your  gentle  reminder  of  February  12th,  reached  me 
at  Elizabeth  City,  N.  C,  last  week,  and  this  is  the  first  opportunity 
I  have  had  to  reply  to  it.  I  regret  that  my  "inexcusable  indifference" 
has  delayed  this  letter  so  long,  and  can  only  plead  that  you  will 
bear  with  me  for  this  time.  I  have  been  ill  since  the  ist  of  January, 
and  after  getting  out  of  the  hospital,  went  south  for  a  rest,  and  am 
now  in  good  condition  once  more. 

Since  our  graduation   my  career  has  been   a  very  uneventful   one. 

118 


I  spent  three  years  at  the  Western  Reserve  University  Law  School 
here;  was  graduated  last  June,  and  immediately  admitted  to  the  bar. 
Since  that  time  I  have  been  general  utility  slave  with  the  above 
firm,  and  am  getting  a  little  practical  knowledge  of  his  royal  majesty, 
the  law. 

I   have  not  taken   any  extensive  trips   aside   from  journeys   up   the 

lakes  in  the  summer  time  and  occasional  short  visits  to  other  places. 

It  was  a  matter  of  extreme  regret  with  me  that,  owing  to  the  bar 

examination,  I  was  unable  to  be  at  the  triennial,  and  I  hope  that  the 

next  reunion  will  see  me  with  the  rest  of  the  chosen. 

I  regret  to  say  that  I  have  not  the  pleasure  of  announcing  my 
engagement  to  any  of  the  best  of  God's  products,  and,  therefore, 
cannot  give  you  the  name  of  my  wife  or  my  children. 

Perkins  is  the  only  '97  man  who  exists  in  this  town  (and  I  don't 
mind  saying  that  it  is  merely  existence),  and  we  see  quite  a  good 
deal  of  each  other,  and  do  our  best  to  celebrate  properly  the  Prince- 
ton victories,  etc. 

I  trust  that  I  shall  have  the  pleasure  of  receiving  the  triennial  re- 
port  before  long,  and  that  the  announcement  in  the  last  number 
of  the  Alumni  Weekly  is  an  error. 

I  remain  as  ever,  Yours  for  Princeton  and  '97, 

Cleveland,  O.,  March  i,  1901.  George  H.   Kelly, 

Alias  "Pie." 
ARTHUR  MARCH  KENNEDY. 

My  Dear  "Pop": — In  your  very  delightful  letter  of  a  month  or  so 
ago,  requiring  an  immediate  answer,  you  suggest  that,  in  replying, 
we  "just  sit  down  and  forget  what  we  are  doing" — on  which  score 
you  must  pardon  my  delay.  In  waiting  for  "the  ebullitions  of  thought 
and  feeling  as  free  and  untrammeled  as  the  crystal  fluid  that  gurgles^ 
in  all  its  pristine  beauty,  from  some  cavernous  seclusion  in  the  moun- 
tainside" to  come  along,  I  forgot  why  I  had  sat  me  down!  I  think 
that  sentence  of  yours  would  paralyze  almost  any  one!  But  having 
delayed  you  so  much  already,  I  shall  now  endeavor  to  make  up  for 
lost  time  by  not  delaying  you  too  much,  even  in  the  reading. 

You  must  know,  then,  that  my  career,  since  my  heels  disappeared 
-hrough  the  car  window  at  the  Princeton  Station,  has  been  diverse 
varied  and  not  uncheckered.  The  wide,  wide  world  proceeded  at  once 
to  shove  in  any  old  direction,  regardless  of  the  shovee ;  so  that  1 
was  glad  to  stop  for  a  while  at  a  factory  in  Philadelphia,  where  I 
aad  a  job  as  a  superintendent,  and  many  interesting  adventures.  I 
learned  to  harden  myself  to  the  pathetic  side  of  "the  workers'  "  life, 
ior  that  is  a  necessity;  and  I  was  edified  to  learn  that  there  was  an 
amusing  side  as  well,  for  that  means  research  and  is  correspondingly 
eatisfactory.  I  learned  to  make  estimates,  etc.,  in  a  ceaseless  roar 
Qf  machinery  all  but  deafening,  and  to  have  my  letters  punctuated 
V  the  crashing  blows  of  a  steam  hammer  about  eight  feet  away 
All  this  was,  of  course,  very  pleasant, — which  is  not  the  manner  of 
speech    to    be    employed    in    referring    to    the    fourteen    hours    a    day 

119 


spent  in  a  casting-room,  equipped  with  seven  furnaces,  on  red-hot 
August  days.  Sometimes,  too,  there  was  more  or  less  excitement 
to  be  found  in  occasional  chats  with  gangs  of  angry  Union  strikers, 
while  vague  feelings  of  loose  bricks  in  transit  pervaded  one's  inner 
consciousness  or  permeated  one's  outer  periphery.  These  various 
factors,  you  will  understand,  united  to  keep  me  interested  in  my 
work.  Bye  and  bye  I  was  through  with  it,  and  after  some  further 
peregrinations,  which  included  a  couple  of  months  in  Princeton  in 
the  spring  of  1899,  I  landed,  at  last,  at  the  "Equitable  Life"  in  New 
York,  where  I  am,  at  this  writing,  still  clinging  to  my  job.  But  I 
must  mention  (what  I  see  your  sample  letters  make  very  plain  to  be 
my  duty,  as  it  is  certainly  my  pleasure)  that,  prior  to  this,  I  took 
a  few  days  off,  one  time,  and  was  married.  I  am  now  engaged  in 
"living  happily  ever  after." 

The  president  of  the  Equitable  is,  as  every  one  knows,  one  of 
Princeton's  most  illustrious  and  loyal  sons,  and  some  day  I  may  ask 
him  to  authorize  a  large  contribution  to  your  Class  Fund,  which 
you  say  is  getting  low.  And  if  he  says  "Yes,"  I'll  send  you  all  that 
I  find  I  do  not  need  for  the  Memorial  Fund,  which  is  also  low.  Do 
not  expect  too  much. 

Busy  as  my  life  has  been,  I  have  yet  found  time  for  literary 
efforts.  I  wrote  a  book  once  which  was  read  by  several  friends  over 
whom  I  exercised  an  undue  influence.  Two  of  these  are  still  my 
friends.  I  also  wrote  a  "pome,"  which  has  been  regretfully  declined 
by  four  magazines,  eleven  comic  papers  and  forty-four  newspapers. 
It  is  about  a  fake  cur  who  had  a  quarrel  with  a  fakir  named  Dan. 
I  append  the  last  quatrain,  gladly  taking  taking  advantage  of  this 
rare  opportunity  to  see  it  in  print : 

So  he  curdled  the  blood  of  discourteous  Dan, 

And,  encouraged  to  curtail  the  monk, 
His   cur   tail   got   curv'd   'round   his   curly   cur   ear 
And  his  career  ended  curplunk ! 

I  cannot  better  close  than  at  this  juncture.  In  the  words  of  your 
sample  letter :  "I  hope  you  are  well ;  I  express  the  earnest  wish  that 
your  whole  being  is  replete  with  virility." 

Very  sincerely  your  friend, 

Arthur  M.   Kennedy. 

New  York  City,  N.  Y.,  Dec.  22,  1900. 

EDWARD  GRUET  KENT. 

Dear  Pop: — Your  postal  was  received  this  morning  and,  of  course, 
I  cannot  delay  after  receiving  such  an  urgent  appeal  to  write.  I 
will  do  so  even  if  the  letter  may  seem  pretty  dry.  As  you  may 
know,  I  am  leading  a  very  uneventful  life,  and,  therefore,  have  little 
of  interest  to  say. 

After  leaving  college,  in  June,  '97,  I  spent  the  following  summer  on 
the  Jersey  Coast  and  in  September  returned  to  Princeton,  staying 
there    until    about    November    i.      After    that    I    spent    some    time    in 

120 


Philadelphia;  then  returned  to  Princeton,  and  remained  there  until 
college  closed  for  the  "midwinter  vacation."    ( ?) 

In  April  of  the  following  year  I  secured  a  position  with  the  Essex 
County  Electric  Company,  which  has  since  been  absorbed  by  the 
United  Electric  Company  of  New  Jersey,  and  have  been  with  that 
company  ever  since. 

Orange,  formerly  a  Yale  stronghold,  is  now  well  represented  at 
Princeton,  and  I  think  the  class  of  '97  is  in  a  measure  responsible 
for  this,  for  before  our  class  entered  college  everything  was  very 
blue  in  this  town.  I  think  there  are  five  Orange  representatives  in 
'97 — Arthur  Hagemeyer,  Gregory,  Frank  Baldwin,  "Chap''  Reynolds 
and  myself. 

"Chap"  Reynolds  and  Hagemeyer  are  now  New  York  business  men, 
Gregory  is  living  in  Connecticut,  I  believe,  and  Baldwin  and  myself 
are  compelled  to  spend  our  days  in  Orange,  the  former  being  city 
editor  of  the  Orange  "Chronicle." 

It  is  only  when  in  New  York  that  I  see  any  of  the  '97  men  except 
the  ones  above  mentioned.  The  Princeton  Club  is  the  meeting  place, 
numerous  "sessions"  being  held  there.  For  want  of  interesting  news 
I  must  close,  wishing  success  to  '97. 


Yours  very  sincerely, 

Edward  G.  Kent. 


Orange^  N.  J.,  March  7,  1901. 


RICHARD  BROWNING  KENT. 

Dear  Pop: — What  have  you  been  smoking  lately?  I  answered 
your  late  circular  the  day  after  I  received  it,  like  a  dutiful  and  loyal 
son  of  '97.  Didn't  you  receive  it?  I  am  touched  to  the  heart  by 
your  wail  of  woe  and  will  hasten  to  duplicate  the  information  I  can 
remember  it  asked  for.  First,  I  am  in  business  in  Sioux  City,  Iowa, 
as  assistant  manager  of  the  Mondamin  Block  Company,  and  have 
been  out  here  about  seven  months.  I  am  unmarried,  thanks  to  my 
massive  brain  and  a  shortage  of  funds.  I  am  a  member  of  the 
Princeton  Club  of  New  York,  president  and  secretary  and  treasurer 
and  only  member  of  the  Princeton  Alumni  Society  of  Sioux  City, 
and  also  a  member  of  the  Sioux  City  Boat  Club.  I  haven't  run  for 
office,  or  held  a  position  of  honor,  or  read  any  papers  before  any 
august  bodies.  To  my  credit  side,  I  can  only  write  that  I  am  still 
free  and  that  the  normal  output  of  the  brewery  here  was  only  in- 
creased five  per  cent,  when  I  hit  the  village.  During  the  muss-up,  I 
.was  with  the  New  Jersey  Naval  Reserves  and  met  a  man  whose 
brother  saw  a  Spaniard. 

I  don't  remember  your  other  questions.  Pop,  but  please  don't 
think  I  neglected  your  letter.  If  you  only  knew  how  lonesome  I 
become  away  out  here,  for  even  a  whisper  from  the  dear  old  place 
you  wouldn't  accuse  me  of  that.     Why,  I  often  get  off  in  the  woods 


here  and   rip  oflf  a  cheer  or  so  just  to  hear  the  old   name  go   sky- 
rocketing through  the  air. 

I  hope  you  can  dig  enough  material  out  of  this  to  keep  my  name 
in  the  record.  Good  luck  and  prosperity  to  you,  Pop.  Don't  let- 
any  of  your  bulletins  pass  me  by. 

Most  loyally  yours, 

Richard  B.  Kent. 
Sioux  City,  Iowa,  Feb.   17,  igoi. 

CARLTON  MONTGOMERY  KERSHOW. 

My  Dear  Pop: — In  reply  to  your  last  bombardment,  here  goes  for 
a  try.  After  leaving  the  good  old  "burg"  in  June,  '97,  it  became  my 
object  to  find  some  sphere  of  activity  in  which  to  continue  the  round 
of  toil,  to  which  we  had  all  been  so  constantly  subjected  in  the 
strenuous  undergraduate  days  at   Princeton. 

However,  as  a  preliminary,  I  found  it  necessary  for  my  health 
(of  course,  with  the  aid  of  a  doctor's  certificate)  to  put  in  the  next 
few  months  in  making  several  trips  here,  there,  or  "any  old  place," 
some  long,  some  short,  but  I  must  say  all  very  pleasant.  My  next 
move  landed  me  in  the  Department  of  History  and  Literature  in  the 
Graduate  School  of  the  University  of  "Pennsylvania.  Here  I  led  a 
very  quiet,  but  enjoyable  life  for  two  years,  interrupted,  several  times, 
by  long  trips  to  the  far  West,  the  South  and  Europe,  on  all  of  which 
occasions  I  never  failed  to  run  across  numerous  Princeton  men  and 
to  have  the  opportunity  of  spending  many  a  pleasant  hour  with  one 
or  another  of  them. 

On  one  of  these  trips,  two  summers  ago,  while  living  in  Berlin,  I 
had  the  luck  to  share,  for  a  time,  my  humble  abode  with  Bob  Wilkins, 
and  had  the  advantage  of  his  great  linguistic  abilities  (they  really 
were  great,  you  know,  although  Bob  wouldn't  acknowledge  it  in 
public,  of  course)  in  my  endeavors  to  make  the  natives  talk  American. 

As  many  of  the  fellows  know,  we  have  a  thriving  Princeton  club, 
here  in  Philadelphia,  which  we  all  feel  is  doing  constantly  increasing 
good  work  in  running  the  affairs  of  the  nation  generally,  as  well  as  be- 
ing a  center  for  all  loyal  adherents  of  the  old  college. 

Referring  to  that  imposing  list  of  questions,  I  am  a  member  of 
several  clubs  and  societies.  Am  not  married.  Have  not  held  any 
position  of  profit,  honor  or  trust  (anyone  would  know  better  than 
to  offer  me  either  of  the  last  two),  but  as  to  the  first,  I  am  busily 
engaged  at  present  in  trying  to  catch  up  to  one. 

Wishing  all  the  fellows  the  very  best  of  luck,  I  am, 

Most   faithfully   yours, 

Carleton  M.  Kershow. 

Philadelphia,  Pa.,  March  16,  1901. 

SAMUEL  VICTOR  KING. 

My  Dear  Pop: — I  have  just  finished  my  studies  at  the  West  Penn- 
sylvania Medical  College  and  can  now  tack  an  "M.  D."  to  my  name. 

122 


My  life  since  I  left  Princeton  has  been  uneventful,  and  now,  as  I 
shall  have  to  sit  and  wait  for  patients,  it  is  quite  likely  to  continue  so. 
Best  to  all  the  boys.    Will  see  you  in  June. 

S.  Victor  King. 
Allegheny,  Pa.,  May  13,  1901. 

ROBERT   OGILVIE  KIRKWOOD. 

My  Loving  and  Most  Patient  "Pop": — How  the  multitudinous 
successes — successes  domestic,  social,  political,  financial,  scientific, 
philanthropic,  and  whatnot, — of  your  glorious  family  must  cause  the 
warm  blood  to  spring  with  eager  joy  to  your  dear  cheek.  How  you 
must,  at  times,  stand  in  some  great  open,  and  send  your  "barbaric 
yawp  over  the  roofs  of  the  world,"  or  crawl  into  your  downy  couch 
at  night  with  great  peace  in  your  big  heart,  and  that  characteristic 
small  smile  in  your  face,  as  you  say  over  and  over  again  to  yourself, 
"He  done  it;  he's  mine;  I  always  knew  that  he  was  a  good  one." 

It  is  no  reflection  either  upon  you  or  upon  your  training,  dear  Pop, 
that  there  are  a  few  who  may  not  be-  numbered  rightfully  in  the  be- 
fore-mentioned successful  class.  It  is  not  strange  that  among  your 
numerous  progeny  there  should  be  some  whose  procrastinations, 
idiosyncrasies  and  utter  lack  of  attainment,  must  often  vex  the  pel- 
lucid deeps  of  your  transcendently  beautiful  soul.  These  few,  oh, 
Pop,  may  be  reduced  to  one,  but  not  to  less,  for  I  am  such  an  one. 
With  most  humble  obeisance  I  kneel  before  your  august  presence,  and 
in  beseeching  tones  crave  pardon. 

Oh,  Pop !  That  I  were  married  !  That  I  might  give  you  the  "maiden 
name  of  my  wife  in  full,"  or  rather  of  wives,  for  I  see  you  call  for 
"marriages,"  which  thought  caused  me  almost  to  faint  and  my  fifteen 
cents  of  worldly  wealth  to  vanish  into  thin  air.  No,  I  have  not  even 
one  wife,  nor,  awful  to  relate,  have  I  prospect  of  one.  For  this  reason 
I  may  not  give  "her  residence  at  time  of  marriage"  nor  may  I  write  the 
"name  in  full,"  the  "date  of  birth"  and  the  "place  of  birth"  of  our  chil- 
dren, for.  Pop,  we  have  none. 

Active  politics  has  not  known  me,  neither  have  I  filled  offices  of 
profit,  honor  nor  trust.  After  pursuing  theological  studies,  which, 
without  sprinting,  were  easily  able  to  escape  my  grasp,  for  three  years, 
in  Princeton  Seminary,  I  again  find  myself  on  the  cold,  cold  world. 
Two  or  three  little  things  of  mine  have  been  published.  They  are  of 
such  power  that  the  last  time  I  had  the  courage  to  read  them  I  be- 
came nauseated.  My  addresses  have  been  limited  to  sermons  and  such 
talks  as  normally  fall  to  one  of  my  calling.  Yes,  I  have  traveled  a 
little,  and  I  will  tell  you  about  that  later.  You  see  I  am  answering 
questions  now.  In  the  wars  you  mention,  I  have  had  no  part.  I  have 
not  crawled  to  the  firing  line,  despite  the  fact  that  I  was  shot  full  of 
holes,  neither  have  I  had  the  opportunity  of  nobly  ministering  to  the 
needs  of  the  sick  or  wounded,  as  some  of  the  better  fellows  have  done. 

I  was  in  a  war.  Pop — a  Spanish  war,  a  Spanish  war  in  Spain.  Like 
the  battle  of  New  Orleans,  it  occurred  after  peace  had  been  declared. 

123 


I  always  was  a  shark  at  history.  This  war  was  not  noticed  to  any 
great  extent  in  the  press  despatches,  so  I  will  tell  you  about  it,  and  I 
might  as  well  do  so  now  : 

The  casus  belli  was  of  such  a  nature,  Pop,  that  even  your  gentle 
spirit  would  have  been  aroused  to  bull-dog  ferocity.  The  enemy  chose  a 
position  which  he  evidently  thought  could  be  easily  defended.  After  a 
most  careful  reconnaissance,  my  keen  military  vision  and  experience 
led  me  to  doubt  the  validity  of  his  conclusions.  I  was  alone  in  a 
strange  land;  but,  like  an  ancient  hero,  I  charged.  The  battle  was 
spirited,  short,  sharp  and  decisive.  After  some  excellent  artillery  prac- 
tice, the  infantry  came  into  play.  The  enemy  seemed  about  to  weaken, 
so,  like  a  good  general,  I  ordered  up  the  cavalry — Shank's  mares — 
which  advanced,  double-quick,  in  splendid  order.  The  enemy,  now 
completely  routed,  beat  a  hasty  retreat,  with  the  avowed  intention  of 
bringing  up  his  reserves.  Casualties — American,  nil ;  Spanish,  one, 
slightly  wounded.  I  think  it  must  have  been  the  dust  that  hindered 
the  enemy  bringing  up  his  reserves.  Be  that  as  it  may,  I  held  the  field 
for  two  days  and  then  departed  in  search  of  still  greater  glory.  For 
this  brilliant  action,  my  dear  Pop,  I  expect  that  you  will  place  a  bust 
of  myself  (please  make  it  as  flattering  as  possible,  and  place  it  in  a 
good  light)  within  our  Hall  of  Fame.  Oh,  yes,  don't  forget  to  have 
my  name  writ  large  beneath  it,  so  that  future  generations  may  gaze 
and  wonder.  Hold  your  breath,  Pop.  The  foregoing  is  only  the  intro- 
duction.    I  nov/  come  to  the  main  portion  of  my  short  epistle. 

For  the  summer  of  '97,  I  had  made  arrangements  to  manage  a  hotel 
on  the  New  Jersey  coast,  where  I  had  been  clerk  two  j^ears  before,  but 
just  as  I  was  about  to  begin  operations,  the  sheriff,  bless  him !  seized  on 
the  whole  business,  and  I  found  myself,  much  to  my  delight,  with 
nothing  to  do,  and  my  first  summer's  vacation  before  me.  That  was  a 
most  notable  summer.  I  spent  it  visiting  "Alex"  Alexander,  in  Ken- 
tucky; "Abbie"  Abbot,  in  Ohio,  and  "Up"  Upshur,  in  Maryland.  They 
all  received  me  with  royal  hospitality  and  gave  me  an  out-of-sighf 
time.  In  the  fall  I  went  back  to  Princeton,  became  a  full-fledged 
Seminole,  and  have  not  been  entirely  plucked  since. 

Lonely !  That  was  no  name  for  it.  I  used  to  go  over  to  the  campus 
at  night  and  yell  up  for  the  old  fellows,  but  none  of  them  came.  You 
know  how  you  used  to  console  me  in  those  days.  I  ran  an  eating  club 
of  about  forty  Frenchmen.  They  seemed  very  young  indeed.  When  I 
learned  to  know  some  of  the  other  Seminoles  and  found  out  what  re- 
markably fine  men  they  were,  I  became  more  contented ;  but  it  was  not 
like  the  old  crowd,  Pop,  no,  nor  will  there  ever  be  one  like  it  again. 
One  week  I  took  some  of  the  Freshmen  classes  in  English  and  as  long 
as  I  was  in  Princeton  the  deluded  youths  would  take  off  their  caps  in 
deferential  salute.  How  I  expanded !  How  my  manly  breast  was 
filled  with  exultant  joy!  I  understand  now,  fully,  why  it  is  that  so 
many  of  our  fellows  have  become  professors. 

In  the  summer  of  '98  I  went  to  Philadelphia  to  take  charge  of  the 
Mariners'   Church,   down  on  Front  street.     It's  an   organized  church, 

124 


but  mostly  a  mission  for  seamen.  There  were  a  number  of  meetings 
every  week.  It  was  awfully  hot,  but  the  work  was  interesting,  and  if 
no  one  else  was  helped,  the  preacher  was.  I  spent  my  ten  days'  vaca- 
tion with  "Up"  Upshur,  in  Maryland,  and  then  went  back  to  the 
seminary  and  another  Freshman  Club.  The  winter  was  a  busy  one, 
for  I  preached  every  Sunday  in  a  little  church  in  New  Jersey.  In 
March  I  went  to  the  Old  First  Church,  Fifth  avenue  and  Twelfth 
street,  New  York  City,  to  help  in  Sunday  School  and  young  people's 
work.  Later,  I  was  appointed  assistant  pastor  for  six  months  and 
preached  there  during  the  summer. 

In  the  fall  of  '99  I  went  back  for  the  last  year  in  the  seminary,  late, 
after  the  manner  of  seniors.  I  was  not  very  well  and  had  to  "loaf  a 
batch"  in  the  infirmary.  Then  I  was  elected  a  member  of  the  Benham 
Club.  It  was  not  necessary  for  me  to  do  so  much  outside  work,  the 
subjects  became  more  interesting  and,  taking  it  as  a  whole,  I  had  a 
most  enjoyable  winter.  In  November  our  old  club  had  a  fine  little 
dinner  at  the  Hotel  St.  Denis,  New  York.  The  fellows  present  were 
"Alex"  Alexander,  "Pat"'  Patterson,  "Wolf"  Post,  "Schoonie"  Schoon- 
maker,  "Rubber"  Shearer,  "Willie"  Wilson  and  myself.  "Alex"  had  3 
big.  turkey  and  "fixin's"  sent  all  the  way  from  "Ole  Kentuck."  We 
each  told  what  we  had  been  doing,  sang  the  old  songs  and  had  a  good 
time.  In  the  spring  I  was  graduated,  and  after  another  set  of  ex- 
aminations the  Presbytery  of  New  Brunswick  licensed  me  to  preach. 

The  i2th  of  May  found  me  a  member  of  a  personally  conducted 
party  of  one  on  board  the  good  ship  "Ems,"  bound  for  Naples.  I  was 
dead  tired,  sleepy  and  stupid,  with  only  one  regret,  and  that  was  that  I 
should  have  to  miss  the  Triennial.  Then,  as  time  passed,  when  I  found 
that  I  was  not  going  to  be  ill,  and  that  I  was  fully  able  to  eat  five 
meals  a  day,  and  sleep  ten  hours  a  night,  as  our  old  steamer  steadily 
throbbed  her  way  through  a  summer,  moonlit  sea,  my  lazy  soul  was 
stirred  to  its  depths  and  I,  at  times,  gave  myself  to  delightful  compan- 
ionship. I  stopped  off  at  Gibraltar  and  went  over  to  Morocco,  where  I 
was  splendidly  entertained  by  the  Consul  General  for  the  United  States. 
I  saw  a  wild  country  and  a  wilder  people.  I  could  tell  you  a  tale,  Pop, 
that  would  make  every  individual  hair  of  j-our  old  head  stand  on  end. 
Here  she  is,  standing  free,  on  the  sand  of  the  desert,  in  the  full  light 
of  the  glorious  Morocco  sun :  young,  tall,  erect,  blue-black  hair,  oval 
face,  great,  dark  eyes,  straight  nose,  full,  red  lips,  cheeks  rich  in  color 
and  curves.  Her  generous  form  clad  in  the  silken  folds  of  a  fine,  old 
rose,  Spanish  brocade,  that  some  of  her  pirate  cousins  had  given  her. 
The  gown  was  not  a  Worth  creation.  It  was  much  too  low  at  the  top, 
too  incomplete  at  the  sides,  and  too  high  at  the  bottom  for  a  street 
costume.  I  doubt  if  there  was  a  hem,  tuck,  flounce,  pleat,  bone,  hook, 
or  whatever  else  they  put  in  gowns,  in  the  whole  thing.  But  it  was  a 
success.  Pop ;  a  great  success.  The  girl  had  style,  carried  herself  like 
a  queen.  She  might  have  been  one  for  aught  I  know.  There  she  stood 
and  smiled  in  amused,  but  not  unkindly  fashion,  at  poor  me,  who  sat 
under  a  huge  growth  of  cacti,  wishing  that  I  were  an  artist  and  that 

125 


she  would  let  me  paint  her.  You  can  put  your  blue  pencil  through  this 
if  you  want  to,  Pop,  but  you  can't  spoil  my  picture  of  her. 

I  went  from  Tangier  to  Cadiz,  and  made  a  trip  in  Southern  Spain. 
Then  from  Gibraltar  to  Naples,  Brindisi,  to  Patras,  to  Athens.  Here 
I  wandered  about  the  Stadium  and  thought  of  that  great  day  when 
'97's  athletes  did  the  world,  amid  the  applause,  and  under  the  admir- 
ing gaze,  of  thousands.  They  gained  many  honors,  but  more  than  all, 
they  prize  the  high  roosting-place  they  have  in  the  hearts  of  their 
'Classmates.  I  sailed  from  Piraeus  for  Constantinople,  spent  about  ten 
days  there  and  saw  lots  of  queer  things.  Then  went,  on  a  Russian 
steamer,  to  Beyrout.  The  Turk  who  sat  next  to  me,  at  table,  during 
this  trip,  had  three  wives  and  a  lot  of  slaves  "on  deck."  At  Beyrout  I 
saw  "Long"  Jessup  and  Luke  Miller.  My!  but  it  was  fine  to  be  with 
them.  They  were  as  kind  as  they  could  be,  and  you  know  what  that 
means.  They  have  both  done  great  work  at  the  college.  It  was  there 
that  Luke  Miller  read  to  me  from  the  Princetonian  the  account  of  the 
Yale  game  and  how  we  had  again  won  the  championship. 

I  went  east  as  far  as  Baalbek  and  Damascus,  and  then,  from  Bey- 
rout, sailed  for  Joppa  on  an  English  iron  pot.  We  were  light  and 
listed  so  far  to  port  that  it  was  hard  to  walk  about  the  deck.  The 
screw  kissed  the  willing  deep  about  once  in  half  an  hour  and  so  our 
progress  was  naturally  slow.  It  was  about  hundred  and  ninety-seven 
in  the  shade,  and  that  night  we  had  rare  roast  beef  and  plum  pudding 
for  dinner,  the  captain  saying  that  he  believed  in  keeping  things  Eng- 
lish no  matter  what  heathen  waters  he  was  on.  I  slept  on  deck,  be- 
cause of  the  heat  and  for  other  reasons.  Spent  about  ten  days  in 
Jerusalem  and  its  environs  and  then  went  down  to  the  Dead  Sea  and 
east  of  the  Jordan  with  a  Greek  for  a  guide.  People  said  that  I  would 
be  killed,  but  I  really  was  not.  Indeed,  I  was  treated  very  well,  the 
Bedawi  being  sometimes  hospitable.  We  were  invited  to  a  wedding 
by  one  tribe  who  had  a  cam.p  near  the  mountains  of  Mohab.  We  ar- 
rived about  two  A.M.  I  could  tell  you  a  tale,  Pop,  but  cheer  up,  I 
won't.  \ 

From  Joppa  I  went  to  Port  Said,  Cairo  and  Alexandria.  The  coun- 
try being  full  of  the  plague,  I  had  to  go  all  the  way  to  Marseilles  to 
get  free  of  the  quarantine.  Then  I  went  along  the  coast  to  Rome,  and 
after  that  over  much  the  usual  route,  with  some  side  trips  that  are  not 
usual,  through  parts  of  Switzerland,  Austria,  Bohemia,  Germany,  Hol- 
land, Belgium,  France,  England  and  Scotland.  I  saw  the  Passion 
Play,  which,  to  my  mind,  was  most  impressive,  and  had  the  great 
pleasure  of  meeting  "Pat"  Reilly  in  Munich  and  "Bob"  Garrett  in  Paris. 
Came  home  on  the  St.  Paul,  which  arrived  October  13.  Since  then  I 
have  been  preaching  temporarily  in  a  church  in  New  York  City.  We 
had  another  delightful  club  dinner  this  month.  Same  fellows  as  before, 
except  "Pat"  Patterson  and  "Willie"  Wilson,  who  are  now  too  far 
away  to  come.  "Up"  Upshur  came  from  Baltimore  to  be  wath  us,  and 
we  were  mighty  glad  to  have  him.  I'm  coming  down  to  Lawrenceville 
before  long  to  see  you  and  to  hear  about  the  fellows.     I  know  that 

126 


every  one  of  us  is  going  to  do  "good  work."     I  hope  that  we  may  all 

do  it  with  a  fine  spirit. 

May  God  bless  you  and  every  one  of  us,  so  that  when  we  hold  our 

Centennial  reunion,  and  the  roll  is  called,  not  one  will  be  missing. 
This  is  a  most  personal  and  informal  letter.   Pop,  but  it's  the  kind 

you  told  me  to  write,  and  so,  as  usual,  it's  all  your  fault. 

Good  bye,  Old  Man,  Yours, 

YoNKERS,  N.  Y.,  Feb.  14,  1901.  "Kirk." 

P.  S. — I  have  just  received  a  call  to  the  Second  Presbyterian  Church 

of  Lexington,  Ky.,  and  expect  to  go  there  about  June  i.     If  you,  or 

any  of  the  other  fellows  want  to  make  me  happy,  drop  in. 

WILLIAM  WHITE  KNAPP. 

Dear  Pop: — Your  post-card  brought  me  to  my  senses,  and  I  hope  you 
will  overlook  both  the  delay  and  the  uninterestingness  of  this  paper. 

The  delay  in  writing  was  due  not  to  the  lack  of  enthusiasm,  but  to 
the  lack  of  ideas  necessary  to  concoct  something  worth  reading.  You 
see  we  C.  E.'s  did  not  have  a  very  thorough  course  in  English,  and 
what  little  we  had  the  chance  to  enjoy  was  not  thought  of  as  enjoy- 
ment. 

Nothing  so  very  exciting  or  out  of  the  ordinary  has  happened  since 
we  all  passed  the  loving-cup  around,  four  years  ago  this  June.  Ely  and 
I  spent  the  summer  in  the  West  and  Alaska,  and  in  September  I  came 
out  here  to  put  in  circulation  some  of  the  Elmira  Bridge  Company's 
money.     That's  one  thing  I  succeeded  in  doing. 

I  can  find  no  fault  with  the  way  the  world  has  been  run,  the  board- 
ing house  was  very  good  for  the  first  two  years,  and  now  keeping 
house,  or  rather  having  it  kept  for  you,  is  very  much  better  The 
housekeeping  was  started  last  May,  and  I  can  recommend  it  fully. 

One  thing  I  regret  is  that  Elmira  is  as  far  as  it  is  from  Good  Old 
Princeton.  It  was  hard  to  be  left  out  of  the  doings  last  June,  hut 
when  the  next  celebration  comes  off  I'll  be  there  with  a  trunk  or  know 
the  reason  why. 

This  must  get  started  or  you  will  send  another  post-card.  Good 
luck  to  you  and  all  the  other  fellows. 

Yours    of   the    "Great   and    Glorious," 

Wm.  W.  Knapp. 

Elmira,  N.  Y.,  March  22,  1901, 

FRANCIS  ADONIJAH  LANE. 

My  Dear  Keener: — The  problem  of  how  best  to  write  a  letter  worth 
publishing,  from  uninteresting  facts,  is  one  that  is  far  from  being  easy 
to  solve.  Simple  statements  of  events  connected  with  the  acquirement 
of  a  medical  education  make  dry  and  unprofitable  reading  and  promise 
very  little  thanks — still,  I  want  to  read  about  every  member  of  our 
class  and  feel  that  there  has  been  no  request  thus  far  from  our  secre- 
tary, that  calls  so  loudly  and  urgently  for  a  persistent  propaganda  as 
the  one  which  pertains  to  the  class  record. 

127 


Since  leaving  Princeton  my  time  has  been  occupied  almost  anin- 
terruptedl}^  with  medicine.  I  learned  how  thoroughly  different  the  life 
of  the  two  schools  was.  At  Princeton  we  practically  knew  no  annoy- 
ances or  grievances,  but  we  experience  little  else  at  Medical  College — 
there  is  nothing  else  to  do  but  sink  into  a  state  of  seclusion  and  turn 
poler.  Day  by  day,  I  become  more  and  more  convinced  that  my  Prince- 
ton days  are  the  only  ones  of  my  life,  thus  far,  that  I  would  care  to  live 
over  again. 

After  the  close  of  the  first  session  in  medicine  I  attended  an  extra 
course  of  lectures  and  did  some  dissecting  independently  of  the  re- 
quired work.  At  the  conclusion  of  the  summer  term  I  went  to  my 
home  in  Ohio  and  soon  after  availed  myself  of  the  opportunity  to  get 
into  the  army.  Being  the  only  clerk  for  the  Army  Transportation 
Quartermaster,  I  had  to  work  hard.  My  duties  consisted  of  all  the 
clerical  labor  connected  with  the  issuing  of  mules,  harness  and  wagons ; 
I  encountered  the  army  mule,  and  risked  my  life  in  the  service  by 
dealing  them  out  to  the  troops.  The  army  mule  proved  to  be  a 
formidable  enemy  and  was  to  be  dreaded  much  more  than  the  cannon 
which  adorned  the  matchless  squadron  of  which  Spain  was  so  proud. 
I  had  an  opportunity  to  go  to  Manila,  but  felt  that  I  could  best  serve 
my  country  at  that  period  of  my  life  by  preparing  mj-^eif  for  useful 
citizenship.  So,  late  in  September,  returned  to  my  studies.  Atier 
graduating  I  took  the  City  Hospital  examinations  and  was  appointed 
by  the  Health  Commissioner  as  interne  at  the  Female  Hospital,  where 
ten  very  valuable  months  were  spent.  Since  then  I  have  served  ten 
months  as  assistant  physician  at  the  St.  Louis  Insane  Asylum,  where 
I  had  a  rare  opportunity  to  study  the  different  types  of  mental  aliena- 
tion. 

One  month  ago  the  Health  Commissioner  made  me  assistant  physi- 
cian at  the  St.  Louis  Poor  House,  thus  extending  a  still  further  oppor- 
tunity for  me  to  fortify  myself  before  undertaking  the  terrible  ordeal 
of  private  practice.  I  have  been  extremely  fortunate  in  getting  these 
appointments,  and  believe  that,  for  experience,  my  hospital  training  has 
been  equivalent  to  almost  ten  years  of  private  practice.  I  have  seen 
but  four  '97  men  since  leaving  Princeton — Tyler,  Spencer,  Hurst  and 
"Hub"  Jamison.  Now  I  have  made  a  short  story  long  and  will  close 
with  best  wishes.  Believe  me,  as  ever, 


Francis  A.  Lane. 


St.  Louis^  Mo.,  Feb.  23,  1901. 


WILLIAM  WALLACE  LEGGETT. 

Dear  Pop: — Every  time  I  receive  notice  from  you  I  make  up  my 
mind  to  write  you  the  same  evening.  Well,  you  know  the  rest.  It  was 
carelessness,  pure  and  simple,  and  I  am  ashamed  to  be  one  of  those 
who  are  rounded  up  at  the  eleventh  hour,  but  I  hope  I  will  stick  closer 
to  the  fold  hereafter.  Since  I  have  neither  traveled  in  foreign  lands 
nor  made  any  wonderful  discoveries,  I  have  very  little  of  interest  to 

128 


write  you.     I  scarcely  crawl  out  of  the  shadow  of  Old  Nassau.    Trust- 
ing I  shall  be  more  punctual  herafter,  I  remain, 
Very  truly  yours, 

W.  W.  Leggett. 
Princeton,  N.  J.,  March  7,  '01. 


HARRY  WELLS  LEIGH. 

Dear  Pop: — Please  allow  me  to  apologize  most  humbly  for  keeping 
you  waiting  for  contribution  to  the  Record,  and  thereby  assisting  your 
wanderings,  or  rather  your  attempts  to  wander — for  I  am  sure  you 
did  not  succeed, — in  all  sorts  of  bias  pathways,  and  crowded  trails. 

Cheer  up.  Pop,  it  will  not  take  me  long  to  tell  my  tale.  I  left  Prince- 
ton, during  the  festivities  attendant  upon  our  first  annual  reunion,  to  take 
a  position  as  assistant  to  the  resident  civil  engineer  of  Tuxedo  Park, 
N.  Y.,  and  have  been  right  here  in  the  mountains  ever  since,  except 
for  an  occasional  escape  to  attend  a  class  reunion  or  a  ball-game. 
Have  no  children,  am  not  married,  and  have  no  intentions.  Did  not 
take  part  in  the  Spanish  War,  am  not  a  politician  or  an  author,  and 
have  done  nothing  worthy  of  note. 

I  met  a  led  from  the  south,  some  time  ago,  who  had  been  imbibing 
knowledge,  and  other  things,  under  the  instructions  of  Lady  Jayne 
and  Bill  Reynolds,  and  from  his  story  I  judged  that  Lady  had  been 
unable  to  find  his  blind  man,  and  that  Bill's  arms  were  just  as  long  as 
ever.  Speaking  of  Bills,  Bill  Jessup  lives  somewhere  in  these  wilds, 
but  the  only  guide  I  have  found  who  knows  the  way  to  his  abode  is 
dangerously  ill  of  a  mountain  fever,  so  have  been  unable  to  find  Bill. 

Here's  to  the  Record,  and  may  it  be  as  successful  as  the  other  "tri" — 
our  reunion  last  June,  which  every  one  acknowledges  was  an  unqualified 
success,  at  times  even  approaching  the  howling  stage,  begging  Dr. 
Russell's  pardon,  "than  whom  there  is  none  such."  When  a  Journal 
(N.  Y.)  reporter  was  asked  last  week  why  Dr.  Russell's  name  was  not 
mentioned  in  connection  with  the  new  star  that  has  recently  appeared, 
he  said  that  Russell  was  much  interested  in  some  earthly  satellites,  just 
now,  and  he  had  been  unable  to  establish  his  claim  as  to  priority  of  dis- 
covery, but  that  there  was  no  doubt  in  his  mind  that  Russell  was  the 
only  original. 

With  best  wishes  for  the  success  of  all  the  members  of  the  only 
'97,  believe  me, 

Very  sincerely, 

Haery  W.  Leigh. 
SuFTERN,  N.  v.,  Feb.  25,  '01. 


ROBERT  THEODORE  LEIPOLD. 

My  Dear  Po/>:— 'Twas  the  Ninety-seven  spirit  that  imposed  the 
silence.  For  Ninety-seven's  doings  were  always  well-doings.  The 
years  that  have  passed  since  graduation  have  been  most  uneventful. 

129 


On  the  5th  of  July,  '97,  I  began  the  acquisition  of  the  much-dreaded 
work-habit,  the  Pennsylvania  Steel  Company  kindly  consenting  to  be 
my  instructor. 

For  three  years  was  I  under  their  tutelage — vainly  seeking  to  for- 
get the  green  fields  and  the  Golden  Road  of  which  we  dream.  Since 
the  15th  of  October,  1900,  I  have  continued  my  attempted  acquisition, 
under  the  guidance  of  the  Fort  Pitt  Bridge  Works,  located  at  Canons- 
burg,  a  small  and  neighbor-fearing  town  some  twenty  miles  from  Pitts- 
burg. 

Twice  have  I  been  to  New  Haven,  and  thrice  to  Princeton,  although 
I  try  to  forget  two  of  the  journeys. 

And  of  my  other  doings — are  they  not  written  on  the  sands  o'er  which 
the  sea  hath  passed? 

Very  sincerely  yours, 

Robert  Leipold. 

Canonsburg,  Pa.,  April  i,  '01. 

JEROME  AARON  LELAND. 

Dear  Pop: — Your  many  requests  for  some  little  attention  from  your 
sons  have  all  made  deep  impression  upon  me,  but  I  have  never  before 
quite  come  to  the  writing-point.  Since  leaving  college,  I  have  settled 
down  into  a  staid  and  sober  stockman,  and  am  having  some  success 
and  much  pleasure  in  my  chosen  occupation. 

It  is  not  an  exciting  life,  however,  nor  a  good  theme  for  this  letter. 
I  see  a  few  Princeton  men  of  other  classes,  but  scarcely  ever  one  of 
ours,  and  really,  now  that  I  have  actually  started  this  long  delayed 
letter,  I  have  little  of  interest  to  tell  you.  Coleman,  '96,  and  I,  managed 
to  get  back  for  the  Sesquicentennial,  but  that  is  the  last  I  have  seen  of 
the  class  and  the  good  old  place  where  so  many  pleasant  days  were 
spent. 

Late  in  the  summer  of  '98,  Wiggins,  '98,  one  Yale  man,  and  two 
Harvard  men,  a  couple  of  other  friends,  and  myself  took  a  fine  trip 
through  Yellowstone  Park,  and  hunted  south  of  the  Park  as  far  as 
Dubois. 

There  was  plenty  of  hunting,  but  no  finding  to  speak  of,  but  one  of 
our  party,  who  remained  in  Wyoming  until  November,  succeeded  in 
killing  several  good  specimens  of  big  game,  and  now  spends  his  spare 
time  telling  any  one  who  will  listen,  the  stories  of  the  mounted  heads 
he  is  so  proud  of. 

If  we  had  little  shooting,  we  had  much  and  fine  trout-fishing  through 
the  Park  and  south  of  it  along  the  Snake  River  in  the  Jackson  Lake 
country. 

It  was  considerably  more  trouble  to  catch  bait, — flying  grasshoppers, 
as  artificial  flies  were  often  rejected, — than  to  get  enough  fish  for  a  meal. 
We  outfitted  at  Cinnabar,  had  saddles  and  pack  horses,  guide,  provisons, 
etc.,  and  camped  through  the  Park,  as  well  as  while  hunting,  and  all 
enjoyed  every  moment  of  the  month  we  were  out. 

Since  returning  I  have  been  grinding  away  like  other  mortals,  and 

130 


could  not  attend  the  Triennial,  of  which  I  have  heard  much  favorable 
comment.  I  have  sent  the  photograph  of  Edward  Akin  Leland,  Prince- 
ton, 1919 — Providence  permitting — which  you  requested. 

Wishing  every  member  of  '97  a  successful  career,  especially  our  secre- 
tary, and  hoping  to  see  you  all  in  the  near  future,  I  am, 
Yours  truly, 

J.    A.    Leland — "Daddy." 
Springfield,  III.,  March  28,  '01. 

ARTHUR  WILLIS  LEONARD. 

Dear  Pop: — I  know  that  you  have  cursed  me  out  for  my  long  delay 
in  unfolding  to  you  the  story  of  m'  life ;  that  you  have  said  in  your 
heart  that  I  lack  class  spirit,  and  am  dead  to  the  promptings  of  personal 
friendship.  But  if  you  have  said  or  thought  any  of  these  things^ 
you  have  been  quite  wrong.  The  truth  is  that  I  have  been  facing  a 
serious  dilemma — a  dilemma  that  I  have  in  vain  tried  to  escape,  and 
that  even  now  confronts  me :  that  in  my  life  which  may  be  disclosed 
is  uninteresting,  and  that  which  is  interesting  may  not,  with  propriety, 
be  disclosed.  So,  since  I  must  write  something — for  I  see  the  black 
shadow  of  your  threatening  frown,  and  hear  the  far-off  rumbling  of 
your  avenging  thunders  (O  Zeus  Keener!) — I'll  pass  the  whole  thing  up 
and  write  a  bluff.  The  bluff  will  contain  a  few  facts,  much  fancy, 
and  no  fun.     It  follows. 

Since  I  left  college  my  life  has  been  an  unattractive  mixture  of 
wandering,  waiting  and  hard  work.  The  wandering  led  to  no  place 
that  I  should  not  have  preferred  to  be  away  from ;  the  waiting  brought 
no  satisfactory  reward ;  the  hard  work  reaped  its  usual  and  logical 
recompense,  more  hard  work.     I  trust  that  this  will  not  depress  you. 

Of  my  present  life  this  passage  from  Goldsmith's  Vicar  of  Wake- 
Held — v/hich  I  quote  at  the  risk  of  seeming  obnoxiously  literary — will 
speak  more  adequately  than  any  words  of  mine  can  do : 

"Ay,"  cried  he,  "this  is  indeed  a  pretty  career  that  has  been  chalked 
out  for  you.  I  have  been  an  usher  at  a  boarding-school  myself;  and  may 
I  die  by  an  anodyne  necklace,  but  I  had  rather  be  an  under-turnkey 
in  Newgate.  I  was  up  early  and  late:  I  was  browbeat  by  the  master, 
hated  for  my  ugly  face  by  the  mistress,  v/orried  by  the  boys  within, 
and  never  permitted  to  stir  out  to  meet  civility  abroad.  But  are  you 
sure  you  are  fit  for  a  school?  Let  me  examine  you  a  little.  Have 
you  been  bred  apprentice  to  the  business?" — "No." — "Then  you  won't 
do  for  a  school.  Can  you  dress  the  boys'  hair?" — "No." — "Then  you 
won't  do  for  a  school.  Have  you  had  the  smallpox?" — "No." — "Then 
you  won't  do  for  a  school.  Can  you  lie  three  in  a  bed?" — "No." — 
"Then  you  you  will  never  do  for  a  school.  Have  you  got  a  good 
stomach?" — "Yes." — "Then  you  will  by  no  means  do  for  a  school.  No, 
sir;  if  you  are  for  a  genteel,  easy  profession,  bind  yourself  seven  years 
to  turn  a  cutler's  wheel ;  but  avoid  a  school  by  all  means."  You  need 
not  swallow  this  passage  whole,  Pop ;  it  does  not  represent  in  detail 
my  feelings  regarding  this  school  so  much  as  my  attitude  toward  teach- 

131 


ing  school  in  general  under  such  conditions.     That  attitude  it  expresses 
perfectly. 

I  am  unmarried;  am  a  member  of  no  political  organization;  have 
published  no  books,  nor  written  any;  hold  no  position  of  influence  in 
the  community  (I  regard  my  position  of  academy  assistant  in  English 
in  the  University  of  Chicago  of  less  importance  for  the  influence  than 
for  the  affluence  that  proceeds  from  it),  in  a  word,  I  am  a  living 
text  for  those  who  utter  cynical  sermons  on  the  college  graduate  in 
his  one-sided  fight  with  the  world. 

Well,  it's  done,  Pop.  For  a  man  that  started  out  to  weave  with 
cobwebs,  I  have  given  you  the  semblance  of  a  reasonably  substantial 
fabric.  But  don't  thrust  your  finger  into  it  too  violently;  it's  cobwebs, 
however  closely  woven,  only  cobwebs,  after  all.  Have  I  got  you 
bluffed,  Mr.  Secretary?  Pick  out  the  truths  if  you  can.  But  of  one 
thing  let  there  be  no  doubts — of  my  unfailing  interest  in  our  class. 

"And  on  the  mere  the  wailing  died  away." 

Very  sincerely  yours, 

Arthur  Willis  Leonard. 

Morgan  Park,  III.,  March  3,  1901. 


HARRIE  THEDORE  LEONARD. 

It  may  be  of  interest  to  our  married  members  to  learn  that  in  case 
it  may  be  necessary  to  calm  the  troubled  waters  of  domestic  life,  our 
classmate  Leonard  is  in  the  oil  business.  From  present  indications  it 
would  be  well  for  the  magnates  of  the  Oil  Trust  to  look  to  their  laurels. 
He  is  conducting  a  flourishing  business  at  11  Broadway,  New  York  City. 


GEORGE  GREENE  LEWIS. 

Deer  Pop: — Since  leaving  college  in  June,  '97,  I  have  spent  most  of 
jny  time  in  New  York,  working  on  the  new  East  River  Bridge — a  struc- 
ture which  was  started  some  years  ago,  and  will  be  finished  some  time 
in  the  future.  Till  then  I  expect  to  hang  out  on  the  same  work.  I  have 
not  yet  joined  the  ranks  of  the  married  ones,  nor  have  I  even  the  satis- 
faction of  being  engaged.  In  the  way  of  travel  I  have  done  little,  a 
short  dash  to  the  south  or  to  Pittsburg  on  business  is  about  all.  So 
you  see  my  life  has  been  far  too  quiet  to  write  about. 

Your  old  classmate, 

Geo.  G.  Lewis. 

New  York  City,  N.  Y.,  April  4,  1901. 


WILLIAM  HERBERTON  LIGGETT. 

My  Dear  "Pop": — At  last  will  I  ease  my  long  troubled  conscience. 
In  doing  so  I  will  take  your  advice,  to  "just  sit  down  and  forget  what 
you  are  doing," — bad  advice  to  a  Minnesotian ;  for  to  secure  this  cata- 
leptic bliss,   where   oblivion   is   regarded   as  the   "chief  end   of  man," 

132 


he  turns  on  the  faucet  at  one  end,  and  then  he  is  down  and  don't  know 
what  he  is  doing.  He  can  doubtless  run  the  "Beerometer"  several 
degrees  higher  than  Nat  Poe's. 

Since  this  letter  will,  prima  facie,  show  that  I  have  taken  your 
advice,  I  need  not  state  that  my  typewriter  is  of  a  visionary  character, 
as  no  doubt  is  every  one's  who  sits  down  and  forgets  what  he  is  doing. 

"Pop,"  you  should  have  been  a  preacher.  You  have  mistaken  your 
calling.  You  should  have  been  a  modern  divine.  Your  six-page,  printed 
letter  betraj^s  a  pregnant  verbosity  prerequisite  for  those  who  soothe  the 
aching  void,  called  the  conscience,  with  a  jug  full  of  effervescence  and 
three  drops  of  pure  stimulants.  Moreover,  you  have  the  patience  of 
Job,  the  persistence  of  a  book  agent  and  the  determination  of  a  mule. 

What  have  I  done  to  "multiply,  increase  and  replenish"  the  honor  and 
glory  of  '97,  and  consequently  of  old  mother  Princeton — nothing, 
absolutely  nothing.  Where  is  the  man  who  can  show  a  record  with 
as  much  modesty  as  that?  Absolutely  nothing.  You  know,  "Pop," 
that  I  was  never  given  to  boasting  and  advertising  myself.  I  never 
went  up  as  a  sky-rocket  and  came  down  a  charred  piece  of  paste  board. 
I  never  even  shone  at  night  as  a  star  of  Old  Nassau,  but  was  always  a 
son.  I  was  always  unassuming,  and  humility  was  my  saving  virtue. 
I  invariably  took  off  my  hat  to  my  superiors — during  my  freshman 
year. 

Absolutely  nothing — I  can  prove  it.  I  was  the  first  of  our  class 
after  passing  final  examination  to,  take  unto  myself  a  helpmeet.  But 
what  did  that  amount  to?  Every  mother's  son  of  them  will  get  mar- 
ried as  soon  as  they  find  a  girl  who  is  willing.  Then  again,  besides 
never  boasting  about  myself, — for,  as  you  see,  a  man  who  has  done 
absolutely  nothing  can't  boast  even  if  he  wished — I  like  to  be  fair  and 
charitable.  To  show  that  this  is  my  dispositon,  I  did  not  even  enter 
the  marriage  lists  for  the  Class  Cup,  as  was  hinted,  but  I  waited  and 
gave  every  one  a  fair  show — then  to  cap  the  climax  of  my  brotherly 
kindness,  I  presented  the  class  with  a  Princeton  girl — a  little  "duckling" 
— the  sweetest  little  girl  imaginable.  You  will  observe  also  that  I  am 
long-headed,  besides  charitable.  I  let  another  have  the  cup  and  others 
have  the  boys,  but  I  have  contributed  a  bewitching  little  Princeton 
girl.  How  could  you  have  Princeton  boys  without  Princeton  girls' 
Impossible !     This  is  a  proposition  which  is  scientifically  demonstrable. 

Further,  I  have  not  got  a  handle  to  my  name,  yet,  though  they  all 
call  me  "Reverend"  here.  I  have  no  D.D.  Nevertheless  I  think  I 
am  fully  deserving  of  such  a  title;  for  my  calling  makes  me  a  Devil 
Darer.  I  throw  down  the  gauntlet  and  have  a  bout  with  this  fellow 
every  day.  How  nice  it  would  be  to  have  the  title  conferred !  If 
someone  would  only  intercede  for  me  and  present  the  matter  to  "Jimmy 
Stink,"  or  some  other  member  of  the  faculty  whom  I  might  bootlick 
in  various  ways,  I  would  doubtless  get  the  honored  degree. 

But  you  will  also  wish  to  know  something  about  where  I  am.  and 
what  I  am  doing.  You  see,  I  am  in  the  "great  wild  and  woolly" — 
a  foreign  land,  to  hear  people  talk,  for  half  the  time  I  don't  know 

133 


a  word  they  are  saying.  I  am  right  among  the  Scandinavians.  There 
are  very  few  American  families  here.  In  one  of  my  churches  there  are 
but  two  American  families,  the  others  are  Swedes,  Norwegians  or 
Danes,  or  children  of  such.  The  fact  is  there  are  almost  as  many 
Scandinavians  in  the  United  States  as  there  are  in  Norway.  As  a 
people,  there  are  none,  except  the  English,  v/hom  we  should  welcome 
more  heartily  as  immigrants.  They  are  Teutons — a  sturdy  race — 
frugal,  industrious,  with  the  promise  of  making  the  best  of  citizens 
when  fully  Americanized.  The  emigrants  are  mostly  of  the  second  or 
lower  class  of  their  own  people.  But  they  come  to  make  homes  for 
themselves — entering  our  country  with  barely  enough  to  get  here.  They 
have  taken  up  homesteads,  endured  the  hardships  incidental  to  pioneer 
life,  and,  by  staying  on  the  land,  have  eventually,  by  their  own  industry 
and  toil,  acquired  comfortable  surroundings,  and  homes,  while  the 
American  settler,  in  many  cases,  with  his  unrest  and  speculative  thirst, 
has  moved  about  from  place  to  place  and  is  little  better  off  than  when 
he  started  in  pioneer  life. 

It  is  not  the  easiest  thing  to  win  the  confidence  and  friendship  of 
the  Scandinavians,  but  when  once  won,  you  have  in  him  a  staunch, 
warm-hearted  friend.  But  they  need  two  things — to  be  thoroughly 
Christianized  and  Americanized.  True  they  have  a  religion,  but  it 
savors  much  of  the  old  world,  Medieval,  or  pre-Reformation  religion. 
They  have  churches  wherever  they  go.  But  their  religious  life  is  far 
from  pure.  They  bring  with  them  the  old  country  religion.  This. 
it  seems  to  me  is  the  same  type  or  even  lower  than  that  of  Luther ; 
for  they  are  all  Lutherans. 

Luther  in  his  reformation  discarded  many  features  and  doctrines  of 
the  Roman  Catholic  church,  but  rejected  only  those  which  he  felt 
obliged  to.  He  retained  much  that  we  repudiate.  You  can  see  the 
effect  of  Luther's  method,  right  here  among  the  Scandinavians.  There 
are  strong  traces  of  the  Roman  Catholic  religion.  In  some  cases  it 
runs  almost  to  priestcraft.  However,  there  are  five  sects  of  the 
Lutheran  Scandinavian  church.  One  of  their  ministers  told  me  be 
reckoned  two  of  these  orthodox  and  three  heterodox ;  or  as  he  ex- 
pressed it,  "Three  were  outside  the  Bible  and  two  in."  Now  there  are 
many  genuine  Christians  among  them,  and  the  heterodox  seem  the 
more  pious.  But  there  is  that  old  Roman  Catholic  idea,  especially 
among  the  older  people,  natives  of  Norway,  that  union  v/ith  the  visible 
church  is  the  essential  prerequisite  to  salvation.  As  a  result  of  this  idea 
there  is  a  sad  lack  of  personal  piety.  They  confirm  their  children. 
When  this  is  done  they  are  full-fledged  members,  and  it  does  not  make 
much  difference  what  their  subsequent  manner  of  life  is,  they  are  always 
members  of  church.  So  it  is  not  folly  for  us  to  come  in  as  missionaries 
and  present  true  personal  Christianity.  As  an  illustration  to  show  how 
low  their  conception  of  pure  religion  is,  one-tenth  of  all  children  in 
Norway  are  illegitimate.  They  generally,  if  not  always,  marry,  and 
consider  this  a  justification  of  their  virtue. 

Again,    they   have   the    European    conception    of    the    Sabbath.     The 

134 


best  among  them  have  little  or  no  regard  for  the  Sabbath  as  we  have. 
It  is  considered,  and  made,  a  holiday.  In  fact,  I  understand  the 
Lutherans  hold  their  Sunday  School  picnics  on  the  Sabbath.  But  the 
leaven  of  American  influence  is  vi^orking,  and  is  changing  their  views, 
while  our  public  school  system  is  educating  and  Americanizing  their 
children.     The  children  are  bright  and  intelligent. 

As  to  the  country,  it  is  a  beautiful  place  here.  The  land  is  just 
rolling  enough  to  destroy  the  monotony  of  the  plain,  and  is  dotted  here 
and  there  with  lakes  teeming  with  pike,  bass  and  other  fish,  some  of 
which  weigh  as  much  as  ten  pounds.  Between  my  two  stations,  which 
are  nine  miles  apart  by  rail  and  twelve  by  road,  are  two  beautiful 
lakes,  known  as  the  "Twin  Lakes" — also  called  "Christian"  and  "Peli- 
can." They,  together,  are  some  eight  or  nine  miles  long,  over  a  mile 
wide  at  the  greatest  width,  and  in  some  places  eighty  or  a  hundred  feet 
deep.  In  the  fall  until  it  freezes,  wild  ducks  are  hunted  and  found 
around  these  lakes.  Other  game  is  the  prairie  chicken,  which  is  get- 
ting scarce,  and  the  jack-rabbit.  Timber-wolves  are  also  getting  scarce, 
but  a  few  have  been  trapped  here  this  winter.  Fish  are  abundant  all 
the  year  around.  They  fish  now  through  the  ice,  which  is  over  two  feet 
thick.  The  strangest  part  is  that  the  fish  and  ducks  of  Minnesota 
are  very  pious,  more  so  than  the  people.  The  fish  bite  better  on 
Sunday,  and  the  wild  ducks  on  account  of  their  religious  scruples 
don't  know  any  better  on  Sunday  then  to  come  down  and  roost  on  the 
ends  of  numerous  shot  guns  held  up  along  the  lakes  by  wary  old 
sinners. 

The  land  here  is  rich  and  fertile.  Wheat  is  their  dependent  crop. 
But  this  must  soon  change  to  diversified  farming,  for  wheat  does  not 
pay  like  it  once  did.  Those  v/ho  are  now  raising  stock  and  using  diver- 
sity in  the  farming  are  in  the  vanguard.  This  immediate  country  will 
sooner  or  later  become  a  fine  stock  and  dairying  country.  Land  sells 
for  from  fifteen  to  thirty  dollars  an  acre,  according  to  location  and  im- 
provements. It  has  doubled  in  value  within  the  last  ten  or  fifteen 
years.  The  prospects  are  that  it  will  again  double  in  value  within  the 
next  ten  years.  This  was  the  case  in  the  southern  part  of  the  state, 
and  in  Missouri  where  lands  now  sells  for  forty-five  to  fifty  dollars 
an  acre,  and  in  some  cases  more. 

Living  here   is   cheap. 

The  two  things  lacking  in  this  country  are  fruit  and  soft  water. 
All  water  is  hard.  Fruit  can  be  bought  on  the  market  as  cheaply  as 
in  the  East.  They  could  raise  fruit  here,  but  give  all  attention  to  wheat, 
and  have  not  time  for  fruit.  Wild  fruit,  the  strawberry,  raspberry, 
gooseberry  and  grapes  flourish  here.  Also  various  kinds  of  large 
wild  plums  and  crab  apples. 

As  to  my  work,  I  have  two  churches,  one  here  in  Ashby,  a  pretty 
little  town  of  about  four  hundred,  and  one  in  Evansville,  a  town  of 
about  six  hundred.  I  have  one  sermon  a  week  to  prepare,  which  I 
preach  here  in  the  morning  and  at  Evansville  in  the  evening.  I  came 
out  last  September.     At  first  I  rode  between  the  places  on  my  wheel. 

135 


After  wheeling  became  difficult  I  walked  down  Sunday  afternoon,  and 
came  back  during  the  week  on  a  train,  as  both  places  are  on  the  Great 
Northern,  or  Jim  Hill's  railroad.  I  usually  drive  now,  however,  as 
a  groceryman  lends  me  his  span  of  horses  which  he  wants  exercised. 
Yesterday,  I  drove  up  in  the  face  of  a  wind  blowing  at  the  rate  of 
forty  or  fifty  miles  an  hour,  with  the  thermometer  two  degrees  below 
zero.  I  did  not  perspire,  nor  yet  did  I  suffer  from  the  cold,  for  I  was 
dressed  for  it,  with  heavy  cloth  overcoat  and  a  fur  coat  over  that,  cap 
down  over  my  ears,  shoes  lined  with  heavy  wool  and  arctics  over  these, 
and  heavy  worsted  driving  mitts.  Coming  across  the  lake  on  the  ice  a 
snow  squall  struck  me,  which  lasted  about  ten  minutes.  During  this 
time  I  could  not  see  five  yards  from  the  wagon.  But  this  is  a  grand 
climate  compared  with  New  Jersey  or  Pennsylvania.  It  is  dry,  clear 
and  brisk.  It  has  rained  but  three  times  since  I  came  here.  The  other 
storms  have  been  snow.  It  is  invigorating,  giving  you  an  appetite  like 
a  bear.  I  have  not  felt  so  vigorous  since  I  entered  college.  The  cli- 
mate puts  life  into  the  body  and  zest  into  the  brain. 

I  shall  have  much  constructive  work  here  before  the  field  is  on 
equality  with  old  established  fields.  I  am  looking  forward  to  building 
a  parsonage,  as  there  is  none  at  present.  But  it  will  be  hard  work 
for  them  financially.  If  you  should  know  of  any  one  with  a  few  sur- 
plus rocks  which  he  would  like  to  invest  in  a  good  cause,  just  tell 
him  of  this  project,  and  that  rocks  are  scarce  here. 

Now,  "Pop"  it  is  about  time  to  say  "Amen,"  but  before  I  do  so, 
I  would  like  to  extend  the  heartiest  kind  of  an  invitation  to  you  to  come 
and  see  me.  Bring  your  wife  along,  for  I  hope  you  have  one  by  this 
time,  to  help  you  bear  your  sorrows  and  share  your  rocks.  Lay  aside 
the  cares  of  your  sons,  and  come  out  into  the  "wild  and 
woolly"  and  see  this,  your  prodigal  son.  I  can  give  you  some  pretty 
good  husks  with  which  to  fill  your  belly.  I  would  also  be  overjoyed 
at  any  time  to  see  and  give  my  best  entertainment  to  any  of  my  illus- 
trious classmates — any  time  they  happen  this  way  on  Jim  Hill's  railroad, 
one  hundred  and  sixty  miles  northwest  of  the  Twin  Cities.  So  long, 
"Pop." 
Affectionately,  your  non-illustrious,  opaque  classmate. 

"Bill"  Liggett. 
AsHBY,  Minn.,  March  5,  'oi. 


HENRY  WHEELER  LOWE. 

Classmates: — I  have  received  so  many  of  those  dreadful  postals  from 
"Pop"  that  I  can  no  longer  remain  quiet,  and  must  own  up  to  being  one 
who  has  not  done  his  share  in  the  work  of  getting  up  the  record. 
That  there  are  others,  I  am  sure,  from  the  tenor  of  those  notices. 

My  letter,  if  a  long  one,  would  be  of  a  negative  character.  As  I 
cannot  tell  much  both  truthful  and  interesting  about  myself,  it  would 
have  to  be  of  things  left  undone,  of  wealth  unattained,  of  girls  I  have 
not  married  and  babies  I  have  not  got.     Some  or  all  of  these  distinctions 


136 


have  come  to  my  friends,  and  I  hope  they  will  not  miss  this  oppor- 
tunity to  tell  you  of  them. 

Four  years  ago  I  was  of  the  firm  opinion  that  by  this  time  I  would 
not  be  obliged  to  tell  of  my  own  greatness,  but  now  that  the  time  has 
gone  by,  I  find  that  if  there  are  to  be  any  praises  coming  my  way,  I 
shall  have  to  sing  them  myself. 

Business,  and  I  think  of  all  others,  insurance,  which  I  have  chosen 
as  a  pastime,  would  not  bear  much  exposure,  so  of  that  I  cannot 
write  except  to  say  that  I  am,  to  all  present  appearances,  in  it  to  stay, 
and  with  Johnson  &  Higgins,  New  York  City,  so  if  any  of  you  have 
any  property  you  would  like  to  burn  down  and  collect  on,  try  our  shop. 

Boys,  "Pop"  certainly  made  our  Triennial  an  occasion  always  to  be 
remembered  with  joy,  and  I  am  sure  we  all  look  forward  to  the  next 
reunion  with  great  pleasure. 

Here's  the  best  of  luck  and  every  success  to  him  and  all  others  of  '97. 

Yours  ahvays, 

Henry  W.  Lowe. 

New  York  City,  N.  Y.,  April  8,  '01. 


DAVID  MAGIE,  JR. 

My  Dear  Pop: — Were  it  not  for  the  fear  that  haunts  me — far  worse 
than  the  ghost  of  Banquo  ever  haunted  the  unfortunate  Macbeth  family 
— that  another  of  those  reminders  from  you  might,  at  any  time,  fall 
through  my  letter-slot  with  an  ominous  thud,  this  valuable  information 
about  my  unworthy  self  would  be  still  longer  in  forthcoming.  So, 
having  heated  my  furnace  seven  times  in  order  to  raise  it  to  the  neces- 
sary temperature,  I  will  try  to  blow  off  some  air  of  sufficiently  caloric 
power  to  suit  the  occasion,  and  to  give  you  the  history  of  my  past 
career — my  name  is  unchanged,  so  is  the  location  of  my  business,  for 
I  am  still  at  ye  ancient  college  within  ye  ancient  towne  about  ye  middle 
of  ye  State  of  New  Jersee,  the  nature  of  my  business  being  the  proc- 
ess of  instilling  information  concerning  the  Latin  language  into  the 
heads  of  the  youth  now  there  assembled.  Your  questions  as  to  mar- 
riage and  politics  I  consider  an  insult  to  myself — the  one  as  to  offices 
of  trust  filled  my  me,  an  insult  to  humanity.  Your  question  about  post- 
graduation,  and  on  the  A.M.  won  thereby.  My  books  and  pamphlets 
the  bluff  I  am  putting  up  on  the  basis  of  one  year's  work  here  since 
graduation,  and  on  the  A.M.  won  thereby.  My  books  and  pamphlets 
are  still  unwritten,  and  my  addresses  before  public  meetings  yet  unde- 
livered, and  the  perusal  and  hearing  thereof  are  privileges  still  to  be 
looked  forward  to  by  mankind — the  latter  especially  to  be  produced 
when  eggs  are  at  a  premium. 

My  journeys  of  late  have  been  chiefly  over  the  well-worn  paths  (still 
commented  upon  editorially  by  the  Daily  Princetonian  when  news  is 
scarce)  leading  to  Dickinson  Hall,  while  the  waiting  audience  lays  bets 
as  to  whether  I  am  likely  to  arrive  before  the  bell  shall  cease  to  give 
forth  its  hollow  note.  Otherwise,  two  journeys  in  this  and  other  coun- 

137 


tries — one  last  summer  down  eastward  to  Maine  to  rest  my  powers  after 
the  strenuous  existence  of  my  first  year  of  teaching  here ;  one  the  sum- 
mer before  to  the  Teutonic  land,  that  floweth  with  beer  and  sausage,  for 
the  double  purpose  of  learning  the  language  and  seeing  the  show. 
Being  a  firm  believer  in  Sherman's  definition  of  war,  and  having  no 
desire  to  serve  as  fuel  before  my  time,  I  carefully  abstained,  and  read 
about  them  in  the  newspapers — a  proof  of  no  little  endurance  on  my 
part.  Hence  my  time  and  place  of  service  might  be  said  to  have  been 
the  breakfast  table,  my  rank  well  on  toward  the  end  (on  the  prin- 
ciple that  first  come,  first  read),  and  the  name  of  my  regiment,  legion. 
Any  other  information  about  myself,  would  be,  I  am  sure,  superfluous, 
any  about  other  classmates,  only  rank  gossip — from  which  prerogative 
of  the  other  sex  I  shall  abstain.  Besides  the  fuel  is  about  exhausted, 
the  draughts  blow  in  vain  and  the  continuous  current  begins  to  grow 
chill  and  will  soon  become  only  an  icy  blast  good  for  nothing  except 
to  serve  as  a  refrigerating  medium. 

In  the  memory  of  the  Triennial  and  in  the  hope  of  a  succession  of 
reunions  reaching  out  into  infinity, 

David  Magie,  Jk. 

Princeton,  N.  J.,  January  31,  1901. 

JAMES  HENRY  MASSON. 

Masson  seems  to  have  devoted  all  his  energies  to  the  stock  market, 
so  that  he  has  none  left  for  his  class  obligations.  In  the  late  disturbance 
on  'Change  it  was  doubtful  for  a  time  whether  he  or  Harriman  would 
come  out  on  top.  Such  display  of  masterly  financiering  in  the  absence 
of  his  right  hand  man  (Morgan)  augurs  well  for  the  future  of  the 
financial  system  of  the  country.  It  is  expected  that  no  popular  sub- 
scription will  be  needed  to  defray  the  expenses  of  future  reunions. 

HENRY  EVERETT  MATTISON. 

My  Dear  "Pop": — "Will  you  step  into  the  breach?" 

With  these  words  ringing  in  my  ears,  I  proceed  to  rouse  myself 
from  my  lethargy  and  "take  my  pen  in  hand"  to  write  that  letter  for 
which  there  has  been  an  even  greater  demand  than  there  was  for  that 
copy  of  the  "Tiger"  which  was  suppressed  by  the  faculty  in  our  junior 
year.     Who  said  "rubber"  ? 

So  I  am  to  be  one  of  the  immortal  "twenty-five  to  break  the  record.'' 
Well,  it's  fine  that  we  are  going  to  do  it,  but  I  feel  quite  ashamed  that 
I  should  have  been  so  tardy  about  getting  my  letter  in.  However, 
after  being  told  at  divers  times  by  "Red"  Gulick,  "Burt"  Miller,  "Eph" 
Williams,  Arthur  Kennedy,  "Puss"  Balken,  "Davie"  Magie  and  Percy 
Colwell  that  I  was  a  disgrace  to  the  class,  the  finest  specimen  of  the 
genus  "lobster"  extant,  and  a  few  other  awful  things,  and  after 
receiving  ten  or  fifteen  letters,  and  eighteen  postals  from  you,  I  have 
really  seen  my  duty  and  have  done  it,  and  here  it  is.  I  hope  it  won't 
do  anybody  else  before  he  finishes  it. 

I  had  always  understood  that  the  purpose  of  a  triennial  letter  was  to 

138 


tell  of  the  success  achieved,  the  conquests  made,  the  travels  taken  and 
the  fortunes  amassed  during  those  three  years.  If  such  be  the  cast 
I  shall  have  to  break  sharply  away  from  precedents  of  that  sort,  for 
no  such  tale  is  mine.  My  story  will  not  glow  with  excitement,  nor  lead- 
the  rapt  attention  of  the  reader  to  those  heights  from  which  one  ob- 
tains rosy  visions  of  the  future. 

I  am  neither  engaged,  married,  nor  a  widower. 

My  travels  have  been  confined  to  two  trips  to  Florida,  during  the 
winters  of  '98  and  '99,  which  were  most  enjoyable. 

I  have  not  charged  through  the  leaden  hail  and  driven  the  Spaniard 
back  to  "Old  Madrid,"  or  the  Filipino  "back  to  the  shrubbery." 

I  have  not  solved  the  fourth  dimension,  neither  have  I  piloted  a  log 
raft  down  the  Mississippi,  nor  edited  a  Hebrew  newspaper  at  New^ 
Orleans. 

In  a  literary  way  I  have  done  nothing  except  to  offer  to  give  Charlie 
Dunn  some  back  numbers  of  the  "Tiger"  for  the  Princeton  Club  of 
New  York.     You  can  search  me  if  there's  anything  literary  about  that. 

In  fact,  my  story  is  a  negative  one.  There  are  lots  of  things  I  haven't 
done,  law  being  a  long  lane  and  requiring  all  of  one's  time. 

However,  there  is  one  thing  I  have  realized  more  and  more  through 
the  years  that  have  passed  since  that  last  evening  when  the  loving-cup 
went  round  among  us  as  we  sat  gathered  together  as  an  entire  class 
for  the  last  time.     It  is  summed  up  in  these  two  words : 

PRINCETON  FOREVER! 

You  remember  the  words  of  Colonel  Sapt  in  "The  Prisoner  of 
Zenda ;"  "As  a  man  grows  old  he  believes  in  fate"  ?  My  version  is : 
As  a  Princeton  man  grows  older  he  believes  in  Princeton.  Not  that 
he  has  not  always  believed  in  her.     Not  at  all. 

But  the  Princeton  we  now  know  is  in  many  respects  far  different 
from  the  Princeton  we  knew  in  our  undergraduate  days.  And  those 
were  great  days,  too.     None  better. 

She  stands  forth  free  from  all  glamour,  broad-minded,  liberal,  demo- 
cratic in  the  best  sense  of  the  word.  Not  that  these  attributes  were 
not  hers  "when  we  were  in  college,"  but  they  are  increased  a  thou- 
sandfold when  viewed  from  our  present  standpoint. 

We  can  now  more  fully  realize  the  ideals  for  which  she  has  always 
stood ;  we  know  how  firmly  she  is  planted  upon  the  solid  rock ;  we 
can  appreciate  the  untiring  efiforts  of  the  men  who  have  helped  to  make 
her  what  she  is;  we  can  see  clearly  the  great  and  beneficial  influence 
which  she  is  exerting  over  "all  sorts  and  conditions  of  men ;"  and 
when  she  summons  us  into  her  presence  we  can  thankfully  and 
reverently  say,  as  was  said  of  old,  "It  is  good  for  us  to  be  here." 

It  may  be  true  that  "comparisons  are  odious,"  but  in  your  case.  Pop, 
it  doesn't  apply,  for  you  are  in  a  class  by  j^ourself,  so  the  other  fellows 
needn't  feel  hurt.  You've  got  more  class  spirit  than  all  the  rest  of  the 
class  put  together,  and  it  won't  do  you  any  good  to  deny  it,  for  it's 

139 


absolutely  true.  Our  class  would  never  have  been  where  and  what  is 
is,  on  top  and  a  record  breaker,  if  it  hadn't  been  for  "the  man  from 
Harrisburg."  If  you  aren't  the  finest  example  of  loyalty,  class  spirit 
and  self-sacrifice  for  your  class  that  "ever  came  over  the  pike"  then 
I  miss  my  guess.  (N.B.  If  you  dare  to  leave  out  a  word  of  this  about 
yourself,  I'll  come  after  you,  in  the  classic  vernacular  of  "Babe"  Hill, 
with  a  "stuffed  club.") 

I  never  was  much  on  poetry.  My  only  efforts  along  that  line  were 
sent  to  the  "Lit"  and  unanimously  rejected.  In  fact,  the  editors  told 
me  that  my  manuscripts  were  not  worth  returning,  and  I  had  enclosed 
stamps,  too ! 

Therefore,  instead  of  bursting  forth  into  anything  original  as  "Lady" 
Jayne  on  Class  Day  did  about  my  roommate  "Nate"  Smyser,  I  simply 
send  you  the  following  lines  with  the  endorsement,  "Them's  my  senti- 
ments," upon  them: 

"Dear  fellow,  v/hen  our  college  days  are  over, 

These  happy,  happy  days, 
And  we,  by  unrelenting  fate  divided, 

Pursue  our  different  ways, 
Then  shall  this  spark  of  friendship  ever  glowing 

Conceive  external  life; 
Lighting  our  pathway,  as  we  struggle  onward, 

'Mid  toil  and  strife. 

"Dear  fellow,  Alma  Mater's  sacred  name 
A  talisman  shall  be, 
A  bond  of  union  binding  us  together 

For  all  eternity. 
Life's  sands  run  low,  the  ranks  grow  thin  and  thinner 

Grief  gathers  fast,  and  care. 
Once  more,  dear  fellow,  here's  to  Alma  Mater, 
Our  mother  fair!" 

Faithfully  yours, 

Harry   E.   Mattison. 
New  York  City,  N.  Y.,  April  27,  '01. 


BURTON  ROCKWOOD  MILLER. 

My  dear  Pop: — I  feel  so  sure  that  you  are  going  to  send  your  first 
batch  of  gentle  reminders  on  January  2  that  I  feel  compelled  at  least 
to  "pole"  up  a  little  for  my  Triennial  (thank  Heaven!  not  annual) 
letter.  And  first  of  all  let  me  begin  this  epistle  according  to  the  ap- 
proved style  which,  to  my  mind,  contains  the  most  real  feeling  in  the 
fewest  words. 

Dear  Classmates: — To  one  and  all  I  send  a  sincere,  friendly  greeting. 
If  you  want  to  hear  from  me  half  as  much  as  I  want  to  hear  from 
each  one  of  you  I  should  feel  flattered  indeed.    But  do  not  expect  to 

140 


find  this  humble  letter  any  modern  historical  novel,  any  zigzag  journey 
in  Europe  or  America,  or  even  in  the  dead  of  night.  There  are  others 
who,  with  vivid  word  painting,  can,  if  they  will,  give  you  letters  of  this 
school.  Not  at  all.  This  letter  might  better  be  called  "The  Short  and 
Simple  Annals  of  the  Poor  School  Teacher."  Yet  not  so  "poor"  after 
all,  perhaps,  with  the  consciousness  of  a  noble  Princeton  heritage  and 
the  wealth  of  memories  it  bestows. 

On  leaving  Princeton  in  June,  1897,  I  intended  entering  a  certain 
manufacturing  business  which  was  then  organizing.  Accordingly,  of 
course,  I  spent  the  summer  quite  pleasantly  in  the  country  and  at  the 
seashore.  During  the  fall,  more  delays  in  the  organization  kept  oc- 
curring and  so  I  continued  to  loaf  (the  only  adequate  term)  till 
February,  with  the  exception  of  a  month,  December,  with  Simons 
Brothers  &  Co.,  silversmiths.  Then,  in  order  to  keep  myself  more 
out  of  mischief  and  less  out  of  pocket,  I  began  to  work  for  my  father 
in  the  Henry  F.  Miller  &  Sons'  Piano  Company,  remaining  with  him 
till  November,  1898,  when  I  finally  decided  to  wait  no  longer  for  this 
manufacturing  business,  which,  like  a  will-o'-the-wisp,  had,  after 
countless  delays  in  starting  up,  at  last  settled  in  San  Francisco.  So  I 
left  the  piano  company  and  commenced  what,  at  present,  I  intend  to 
make  my  life  work — teaching.  For  two  years  I  taught  at  the  German- 
town  Academy,  the  school  which  I  had  attended  as  a  boy,  and  this 
winter  I  am  engaged  in  private  tutoring  and  teaching  at  a  studio  in  the 
Weightman  Building,  in  association  with  Mr.  Philip  H.  Goepp,  a 
Harvard  man.    We  expect  to  send  some  boys  to  Princeton  next  fall. 

To  the  purely  educational  work  I  add  instruction  on  the  banjo, 
mandolin  and  guitar,  and  am  leading  several  musical  clubs,  one  of 
them  (Shades  of  Evelyn  College!)   in  a  girl's  boarding  school. 

Now  for  the  answers  to  the  list  of  interrogations  which,  like  a  duti- 
ful boy,  I  returned  (properly  filled  out)  so  long  ago  that  I  have  well- 
nigh  forgotten  the  questions  themselves.     But  I  remember  No.  i. 
"Where  do  you  live?" 

Answer:  "At  home,  4012  Spruce  street,  Philadelphia,  with  my  par- 
ents." 

This  cunning  and  adroit  reply  serves  to  answer  a  host  of  lesser  in- 
quiries which,  if  one  once  admits  that  he  is  married,  come  swarming 
about  his  ears.  Hence,  I  need  not  bother  myself  or  any  of  you  with 
rapturous  elucidations  regarding  wife,  date,  place,  maiden  name,  color 
of  eyes,  size  of  feet,  opinion  of  her  worse  sixteenth,  classified  list  of 
children,  birthdays,  names,  first  teeth,  bright  juvenile  remarks,  mar- 
vellous manifestations  of  intelligence,  which  undoubtedly  prove  the 
theory  of  heredity  on  the  paternal  side,  and  other  intensely  important 
details. 

I  shall  now  take  a  long  breath,  push  the  typewriter  back  to  zero  and 

announce  that  I  am  a  member  of  The  American  Academy  of  Political 

and  Social   Science,  and  have  often  addressed — the  treasurer  thereof. 

While  the  gentle  and  flabbergasted  reader  is  slowly  recovering  from 

this  frivolous  remark,  I  will  also  mention  that  whereas,  I  am  a  mem- 

141 


ber  of  the  successful  Princeton  Club  of  Philadelphia,  I  have  by  no 
means  given  up  my  active  and  loyal  interest  in  the  famous  Princeton 
organizations — The  Pa  Ha  Club,  The  Dodo  Club,  The  Fool  Club,  The 
Two  O'clock  Club,  and  The  Patton  Club. 

I  belong  to  an  amateur  orchestra  in  which  I  play  one  bass  drum, 
three  kettle  drums,  two  cymbals,  one  triangle,  one  tambourine,  one 
glockenspiel,  containing  sixteen  and  one-half  separate  and  distinct 
bell-like  tones ;  one  magnificent  pitch-pipe,  which  huskily  breathes  the 
dulcet  notes  of  A  and  C,  and  beats  Hades  generally. 

I  am  a  member  of  the  Germantown  Academy  Dramatic  Club,  whose 
stage  manager  has,  for  the  last  two  years,  decreed  that  I  should  stalk 
the  boards  incased — no,  that  isn't  the  word — eternally  rammed, 
jammed  and  dammed,  "good  measure,  pressed  down,  running  over," 
into  a  13  (unlucky  number)  inch  corset,  meanwhile  enduring  this 
torturing  embrace  of  the  Iron  Miaiden  with  a  smile  worthy  of  Morley 
Hitzrot  and  gasping  out  the  lines  assigned  by  a  trusting  playwright 
to  Mrs.  Malaprop  or  Georgiana  Tidman. 

In  politics  I  am  an  indigent  payer  of  poll  taxes  and  a  sovereign 
voter  for  the  lesser  evil.     A  bas  Quay. 

I  profit  by  mistakes  (of  my  pupils).  I  am  honored  by  an  occasional 
letter  from  a  classmate,  and  I  am  trusted  (vide  supra)  in  a  girl's 
boarding  school. 

I  have  v/ritten  one  short  story  of  happy  days  in  college  (published 
in  school  magazine)  entitled,  "Who  Got  the  Interest?"  and  I  have 
gathered  more  than  sufficient  data  for  a  new  story  entitled,  "Who  Got 
the  Frost?" 

I  have  delivered  several  addresses  before  literary  clubs — and  run. 
I  have  safely  journeyed  through  Wanamaker's  on  December  24.  I 
have  been  to  the  top  of  the  Land  Title  Building.  I  have  been  to  Bos- 
ton, the  proud  city  of  my  insignificant  birth,  and  every  time  that  I 
could  get  the  time  and  money  I  have  been  to  Princeton,  N.  J.,  and  I 
have  been  happy. 

Also :  I  have  been  writing  much  more  than  I  intended  or  anyone 
can  wade  through,  and  will,  therefore,  stop — with  best  wishes  to  the 
class  for  a  very  Happy  New  Year.  Sincerely  yours, 

Philadelphia,  Pa.,  Dec.  31,  1900.  Burt  Miller. 

JOSEPH  WALTER  MILLER. 

My  Dear  Classmates: — I  was  unable  to  get  down  to  the  reunion 
last  June,  owing  to  the  fact  that  Presbytery  met  that  week  and  I  had 
to  come  before  it  for  examination  for  ordination.  There  never  was  a 
much  more  disappointed  fellow — for  I  had  planned  for  that  great  event 
a  long  time  ahead,  and  then  to  have  it  upset  just  as  I  was  to  realize 
the  anticipated  good  time,  was  no  small  disappointment.  But  the 
path  of  duty  had  to  be  followed,  and  the  path  of  pleasure  sacrified,  I 
went  to  Presbjrteryandwas  passing  my  examinations  and  going  through 
the  other  things  necessary  to  becoming  a  full-fledged  minister,  while 
142  of  my  classmates  were  having  one  of  the  best  of  times  in  the  old 

142 


happy  stamping-ground.  But  I  have  passed  that  Jordan,  and  I  have 
the  satisfaction  of  knowing  that  there  are  no  more  necessary  waters 
of  that  kind  to  be  passed  through. 

I  wished  that  I  had  seen  you  last  June  as  I  commenced  to  write  to 
you,  for  I  feel  sure  I  could  write  a  better  letter. 

Well,  now  as  to  my  whereabouts  since  graduation.  I  spent  the 
summer  of  '97  at  Lake  Mahopac,  in  a  boys'  camp,  doing  some  tutoring 
to  fill  in  the  time  and  the  pocketbook.  It  was  a  most  enjoyable  sum- 
mer. 

In  September  I  commenced  my  course  at  Auburn  Theological  Semi- 
nary, Auburn,  N.  Y.,  which  course  I  completed  "in  a  satisfactory  man- 
ner," according  to  the  words  of  the  diploma.  I  wasn't  satisfied  with 
what  I  had  accomplished,  but  was  more  than  satisfied  with  what  the 
faculty  had  tried  to  get  me  to  do.  It  is  the  best  seminary  in  the  land 
and  you  fellows  who  are  married  and  will  soon  have  sons  who  may 
want  to  study  for  the  ministry,  be  sure  to  send  them  to  Auburn. 

The  summers  of  '98  and  '99  were  spent  endeavoring  to  fill  the  position 
of  pastor  at  a  place  called  Onondaga  Hill,  just  outside  of  Syracuse, 
N.  Y.  I  was  there  initiated  into  the  work  of  the  ministry,  and  had 
my  first  taste  of  the  joy  of  that  work. 

June  I,  1900,  I  became  assistant  pastor  in  Schenectady  of  the  First 
Presbyterian  Church,  of  which  church  Dr.  A.  Russell  Stevenson  is 
pastor. 

I  have  had  a  very  busy  year  meeting  the  "wide,  wide  world"  with  all 
its  many  demands  and  difficult  problems  to  be  solved.  I  shall  be  here 
in  Schenectady  until  June  i,  1901,  after  which  time  you  will  have  to 
inquire  of  our  most  worthy  secretary  as  to  my  whereabouts. 

I  have  continued  to  be  in  good  health  and  am  about  the  same  weight 
as  when  in  college.  I  can  still  break  into  a  full  run  when  necessary, 
especially  when  late  in  keeping  an  engagement.  I  learned  one  thing 
in  the  Theological  Seminary  at  which  you  will  be  surprised.  I  can 
play  baseball  now.  Made  the  seminary  nine  and  have  become  so  fond 
of  the  game  that  I  expect  to  play  baseball  as  long  as  I  am  able  to  run 
bases.  About  the  only  thing  that  I  ever  succeeded  in  doing  while  in 
college  in  the  way  of  baseball,  you  will  recall,  was  to  bat  the  ball 
through  one  of  the  windows  in  Edwards  Hall. 

If  any  of  you  come'  to  Schenectady,  N.  Y.,  be  sure  to  look  me  up. 
I  am  at  34  Park  avenue.  I  have  no  wife  to  help  me  entertain  you, 
but  then  we  never  needed  wives  while  in  Princeton,  so  come  and  I 
will  give  you  a  good  old  bachelor  reception. 

Very  sincerely, 

Joseph  W.  Miller. 

Schenectady,  N.  Y.,  Feb.  15,  1901. 

LUCIUS  HOPKINS  MILLER. 

My  Dear  "Pop": — It  is  only  my  warm  desire  to  help  you  send  to 
the  printer  as  many  pages  as  you  promised  him,  and  the  feeling  that 
every  other  man  in  the  class  expects  me,  being  the  "other  fellow,"  ta 

143 


write  a  full  letter,  that  induces  me  to  spin  this  out  into  anything 
longer  than  a  few-line,  bare-and-bald  statement  of  facts. 

When  I  left  Princeton  after  commencement  I  stood  in  the  rear  of 
the  train  trying  to  see  the  old  familiar  things,  but  I  didn't  see  them. 
I  couldn't.  It  was  cold  comfort  to  think  that  I  was  coming  back  in 
the  fall  to  fill  the  miserable  role  of  a  P.  G.  That  was  the  idea  I  then 
had  of  P.  G.,  and  while  there  are  still  some  inklings  of  that  under- 
graduate idea  in  my  "mental  image"  of  the  type,  I  must  confess  to  a 
very  great  and  really  glorious  disillusioning  during  my  two  P.  G. 
years. 

Then  I  had  the  opportunity  and  privilege,  because  of  my  position 
as  secretary  of  the  Philadelphia  Society,  of  becoming  acquainted  with 
all  the  men  in  college  from  the  seniors  to  the  freshmen,  and  it  rejoiced 
my  Princeton  heart  to  see  the  fine  specimens  of  manhood  that  entered 
each  year  to  take  up  and  carry  on  the  work  laid  down  not  long  before  by 
our  own  class. 

There  is  a  joy  within  me  that  will  never  leave  me,  and  it  came  from 
those  two  years  of  happy  work  among  those  splendid  fellows  in  the 
dearest  place  on  earth.  Then  I  learned  better  than  ever  before  that 
college  is  more  than  class,  that  Princeton  is  greater  than  '97,  and  that 
'97  is  the  grand  class  that  she  is  to-day,  only  because  she  saw  this  fact 
more  clearly  than  most  classes  and  had  the  ability  to  realize  her  ideal 
in  more  spheres  of  action  than  are  within  the  wildest  dreams  of 
ordinary  classes. 

During  the  summer  of  1899  I  was  busy  making  preparations  for  my 
three  years'  "sojourn  in  the  Orient,"  and  on  the  1st  of  September  set 
out  from  New  York — but  not  alone,  as  I  had  expected.  At  the  last 
moment  Ted  Balken  decided  that  a  sea  trip  would  be  good  for  his 
declining  health,  and  came  along  to  see  that  I  got  safely  into  turkey 
(don't  spell  it  with  a  capital  "t,"  boys!). 

In  London  we  met  "Tod"  Sloan  and  Bob  Garrett,  and  from  Paris 
to  Beyrout,  what  with  Prentice  '92,  Bob  Garrett  and  Ted  Balken,  it 
was  Princeton  enough. 

When  we  got  to  Athens  we  had  everything  our  own  way.  Upon 
entering  the  harbor  of  the  Piraeus,  all  the  whistles  blew  and  the  flags 
dipped  and  the  bands  played  "Lo !  the  Conquering  Hero  Comes !" 
From  the  Piraeus  to  Athens  was  one  triumphal  procession.  In  Athens 
Bob  had  great  difficulty  in  refusing  presents  of  photographs  of  him- 
self, taken  at  the  Stadium,  in  the  very  act,  and  having  "Disco-Bobalos" 
printed  at  the  bottom. 

I  don't  know  what  an  Athenian  looks  like.  I've  never  seen  the  face 
of  one  except  once  when  I  got  away  from  where  Bob  was.  At  all 
other  times  you  might  have  taken  them  for  Moslems  at  prayer.  But 
I  saw  the  place  where  "our  Bobs"  "done  it"  and  then  was  ready  to 
depart  in  peace. 

After  sniffing  around  Smyrna  and  Constantinople  a  bit — and  you 
can  get  sniffs  of  almost  anything  you  may  wish  or  even  imagine  in 
those  places — we  reached  Beyrout  on  October  i,  in  a  broiling  sun  and 

144 


black  Derby  hats,  to  be  welcomed  most  warmly  by  Long  Fred  Tessup- 
just  as  long  and  just  as  everything  else,  with  a  modest  hirsute  append- 
age on  his  upper  lip  to  show  for  his  two  years'  absence  from  us 

In  a  few  days  college  commenced,  but  for  most  of  last  year  I  was 
hardly  able  to  decide  whether  it  was  the  Syrian  Protestant  College  or 
Princeton,  with  so  much  of  "Hello,  Ted  Balken !  Hullo,  Fred  Jessup » 
Hullo,  Bob  Garrett!     Stick  your  head  out!     Stick  it  in  again  t" 

After  getting  me  well  started,  "Puss"  left  for  home,  much  tanned 
from  head  to  foot  from  daily  lying  on  the  sandy  shore  of  the  "blue 
blue  sea  with  little  to  cover  him  but  sunbeams  and  zephyrs  Bob' 
having  made  several  trips  into  the  heart  of  the  country  to  "squeeze"- 
think  of  It,  gentlemen  !-stones!  !  having  drunk  of  the  Euphrates,  paid 
his  respects  to  old  St.  Simeon  Stylites,  and  made  a  map  of  the  country 
for  which  all  muleteers  and  cameleers  will  ever  execrate  his  name- 
for  now  they  have  no  chance  to  lie  to  travelers  about  distances  between 
places-returried  to  the  land  of  the  faithful.  At  the  end  of  the  year 
l^red  followed,  and  I  was  alone. 

The  work  here  is  intensely  interesting  and  inspiring,  and  what  with 
Syrians,  Jews,  Armenians,  Persians,  Greeks,  "Barbarians"  and  others 
and  every  phase  of  religious  belief  from  that  of  the  Druses  to  Protes- 
tantism, one  IS  apt  to  obtain  a  broader  view  of  life  in  general 

Eastern  Students  are,  as  a  rule,  very  lovable  fellows,  and  one  finds 
dealing  with  them  a  pleasant  task.  But  they  have  their  weaknesses 
as  well  as  their  strong  points.  One  of  their  strong  points  is  "boot- 
!<  f  ,„  ^°*^  persistency  and  ingenuity  they  can  "out  boot"  and 
out  hck  and  "out-boot-lick"  the  most  successful  "boot-licker"  that 
ever  pulled  on  the  "latch  string  that  is  always  hangin-  out  " 

In  closing  I  wish  to  express  my  deep  appreciation  of  the  loving 
thought  that  prompted  the  sending  of  that  telegram  from  the  Triennial 
Reunion  to  us  who  were  in  Beyrout. 

I  trust  'ere  long  to  come  back  to  shake  the  hand  and  slap  the 
shoulder  of  every  single  mother's  son  of  you-worthy  sons  of  the  best 
daughter  among  all  the  daughters  of  the  best  mother  among  all  the 
Alma  Maters  of  America.  Affectionately  yours 

Beyrout,  Syria.  March  15,  1901.  L_  H.  Miller. 

ANDREW  MILLS,  JR. 

Dear  Secretary:— I  hasten  to  write  this  letter,  so  that  it  may  re- 
place the  one  sent  at  the  first  alarm.  That  one  was  written  in  a 
moment  of  deep,  despondent  dejection.  I  was  between  two  fires  I 
did  not  wish  to  cost  you  any  more  postage,  and  I  did  not  want  to 
write.  So  I  turned  on  a  few  cubic  feet  of  "hot  air,"  which  un 
fortunately,  was  unfit  for  publication,  that  is  if  the  writer  wished  to 
keep  up  a  reputation  for  sense. 

Unlike  many  of  our  glorious  class  I  have  had  no  adventures  of 
any  kind.  I  did  not  go  to  war,  I  have  not  had  any  troubles  and  I 
have  not  amassed  a  fortune.     I  have  not  even  made  a  turn  on  the 


14s 


Stock  Exchange.     So  you  see  I  am  again  In  the  sad  predicament  of 
having  nothing  to  say,  and  not  knowing  how  to  say  it. 

Upon  leaving  Princeton  I  did  as  several  other  members  of  the  class 
did,  started  in  on  Wall  Street,  and  to  show  that  I  did  not  start  any 
lower  than  some  others,  on  the  ladder  of  fame  and  success,  I  will 
state  that  nearly  every  morning  I  used  to  encounter  one  of  the  ex- 
clusives  of  the  class  getting  the  morning  mail  for  his  office.  To  avoid 
all  misunderstanding  I  will  here  acknowledge  that  I  was  upon  very 
much  the  same  errand  myself. 

Cleaning  ink  wells  also  gave  me  a  wider  view  of  life,  for  I  held  that 
job  for  a  few  months.  The  longer  I  live,  the  more  I  realize  how 
young,  giddy  and  inexperienced  we  are  upon  graduation,  in  spite  of 
the  old  song  which  describes  us,  when  in  our  last  year,  as  "the  grave 
old  seniors." 

Many  of  our  men  are  married,  more  are  on  the  road  to  fame  as 
lawyers,  ministers  or  physicians.  In  fact,  one  member  of  the  class 
will  be  famous  as  a  faith  healer.  I  mention  this  because  I  fear  that  he 
may  be  too  modest  to  claim  the  glory  of  his  achievement. 

I  am  none  of  these  things ;  but  I  will  hope  that  some  day  I  may 
come  into  prominence  of  which  none  of  you  will  be  ashamed. 

Yours  for  '97, 

New  York  City,  N.  Y.,  April  30,  1901.  Andrew  Mills,  Jr. 

THOMAS  SUMPTION  MINKER. 

Doubtless  the  cares  of  a  large  parish,  particularly  exacting  on  ac- 
count of  the  imperative  demands  made  upon  him  by  the  fair  members 
of  his  flock,  as  well  as  the  subtleties  of  theology,  have  so  occupied  the 
mind  of  Minker  that  his  interest  in  the  convivial  companions  of  his 
foi-mer  days  is  on  the  wane.  Such  indifference  will  bring  its  painful 
reward  and  unless  a  regeneration  is  effected  we  fear  there  will  be  one 
more  goat  in  the  day  of  the  final  division.  Repent,  sinner,  ere  it  be  too 
late. 

RICHARD  LEVIN  MITCHELL. 

Dear  Keener: — In  reply  to  your  favor,  requesting  an  outlined  sketch 
of  my  different  movements  since  leaving  college,  would  explain  that  I 
have  nothing  of  any  great  importance  to  report.  I  have  simply  been 
living  the  life  of  an  ordinary  American  citizen. 

My  business  career  started  in  the  grain  line,  but,  feeling  that  that 
branch  of  mercantile  life  did  not  come  within  the  range  of  any  special 
ability  possessed  by  your  humble  servant,  I  made  a  change  in  July,  1896, 
and  connected  with  the  Pratt  Food  Company  of  Philadelphia,  Pa.,  with 
whom  I  have  been  associated  ever  since,  at  the  present  time  having 
charge  of  the  general  correspondence. 

On  October  11,  1898,  I  had  the  nerve  to  take  unto  myself  a  wife,  but 
up  to  the  present  time  have  not  been  blessed  v/ith  any  offspring. 

My  traveling  has  been  limited,  in  view  of  the  fact  that  my  business 
duties  have  confined  me  very  closely,  with  the  exception  of  a  short 

146 


period  during  the  summer,  when  it  has  been  my  pleasure  to  indulge  in 
my  favorite  sport,  fishing,  every  summer  making  it  a  special  order  of 
the  programme  to  take  a  trip  down  the  Delaware  Bay  for  that  pur- 
pose, sometimes  meeting  with  good,  and  sometimes  with  bad  luck.  I 
know  that  the  relating  of  all  fishing  experiences  is  looked  upon  more 
or  less  suspiciously,  so  consider  it  to  my  own  benefit,  and  my  hope  of 
Heaven,  not  to  go  into  any  detail  regarding  same. 

Hoping  the  above  will  give  you  and  the  rest  of  the  fellows  a  general 
idea  of  what  my  existence  has  been  during  the  past  few  years,  I  remain, 

Sincerely  yours, 

R.  L.  Mitchell. 

Philadelphia,  Pa.,  May  13,  1901. 

WILLIAM  ELPHINSTONE  KEITH  MITTENDORF. 

Dear  Classmates: — Since  I  left  you  and  the  good  old  campus,  and  all 
the  other  good  things,  some  seven  years  ago,  I  have  spent  my  time 
at  medicine,  and  put  in  "four  very  hard  years"  at  the  Medical  School 
of  Columbia,  in  New  York  City,  and  as  my  home  was  in  the  same 
town,  lived  a  quiet  and  righteous  life  and  worked  hard,  with,  of  course, 
some  slight  vacations  from  both.  Then,  almost  as  soon  as  I  was 
graduated,  and  had  time  to  see  Old  Nassau  win  the  baseball  champion- 
ship at  New  York,  and  dance  around  the  diamond,  I  was  fortunate 
enough  to  get  an  assistant  surgeonship  in  Uncle  Sam's  army,  was 
ordered  on  board  the  hospital  ship  "Missouri,"  and  soon  after  set  sail 
for  Santiago,  and,  of  course,  began  my  army  career  by  getting 
gloriously  seasick  off  Cape  Hatteras.  A  doctor  sick  always  appeals 
to  my  sense  of  humor  anyway,  and  we  were  all  sick,  too ! — ten  doctors ! 
and  the  Lord  knows  how  many  of  our  corps,  I  don't ! 

After  this  little  relaxation  we  set  to  work  again  and  put  our  ship  in 
order  and  got  into  Santiago  Harbor  all  ready  for  the  sick.  Then  a 
little  surprise  came  to  me,  personally ;  coming  on  board  one  afternoon 
an  orderly  reported  fifty  sick  men,  in  my  ward,  the  first  we  had.  I  went 
down  and  you  can  imagine  my  feelings,  just  out  of  college,  when  all 
fifty  acknowledged  frankly  that  they  had  yellow  fever.  My  first  im- 
pulse was  to  run,  but  I  soon  got  over  that.  We  made  several  more 
trips  like  that  to  Cuba  and  Porto  Rico,  and  took  back  between  300 
anud  350  sick,  each  trip.     It  was  a  big  contract. 

After  six  months  I  resigned,  as  the  trouble  was  over,  and  spent  the 
following  spring  down  South,  shooting  and  finding  out  how  really 
nice  the  Southerners  are.  Of  course  I  escaped  all  Hobsonizing,  which 
by  the  way  is  a  regular  word  here  in  Europe  now.  Then  I  set  out 
for  Europe,  after  a  couple  of  months  in  a  New  York  eye  hospital,  to 
study  the  eye  over  here,  and  to  see  something. 

I  spent  last  year  in  Berlin,  Wurtzburg,  Vienna,  Budapest  and  Ham- 
burg; but  if  any  of  you  have  time  to  spare  go  to  Budapest — it  lies 
all  over  Paris  or  any  other  place !  Then  I  went  back  to  New  York  for 
a  month,  and  came  back  to  Hamburg  and  started  up  north  and  saw 
Copenhagen,    Stockholm,    Finland    and    St.    Petersburg,    where    I    had 

147 


chills  even  if  it  was  August;  then  I  went  to  Christiania,  and  to  Paris, 
where  I  have  been  studying,  not  only  the  medical,  but  also  the  Parisi- 
enne  eye,  and  the  language,  and  by  the  time  you  read  this  I  shall 
be  in  London. 

As  I  expect  to  see  every  country  in  Europe  and  come  back  home 
by  way  of  San  Francisco,  it  will  be  a  long  time  before  I  can  see 
another  game  like  that  one  in  June,  1900,  and  be  again  with  you  all.  I 
am  with  you  all  in  spirit  very  often. 

Your  sincere  classmate, 

Wm.  K.  Mittendorf. 

Paris,  Jan.  30,  1900. 

DUNCAN  MACKAY  MOORE. 

My  Dear  Pop: — I  know  that  in  this  world  apologies  don't  go  for  in- 
excusable delinquencies.  I'm  sorry,  for  if  they  did  I'd  overwhelm  you 
with  them.    That's  the  way  I  feel  in  the  matter. 

"Send  your  letter,"  you  say.  Heavens !  Pop,  do  you  realize  what 
would  follow  my  obeying  your  authoritative  command?  'Twould  go 
in  the  Record,  wouldn't  it,  side  by  side  with  those  of  boys  who,  since 
we  scattered  in  '97,  have  done  something  or  seen  something,  or  been 
somewhere,  or  worse  still,  perhaps,  who  are  happy  in  possessing  che 
art  of  doing  such  things  well?  Hence,  my  diffidence,  for  I  have  a 
fitting  sense  of  the  barrenness  of  my  story. 

One  year  in  Cambridge  and  another  in  New  York  were  devoted  (?) 
to  the  study  of  the  law.  Then  the  better  part  of  a  twelvemonth  I 
spent  in  the  serene  calm  beyond  the  cold  Cascades.  Returning  to  the 
Windy  City,  upwards  of  a  year  ago,  I  settled  down  to  practice.  To 
recount  the  incidents  of  my  doings  since  coming  here  would  be  to  in- 
flict upon  you  the  trite  but  realistic  tale  of  a  young  lav/ytr'o  stru^jglc.^. 
And  so  I  shall  save  you  the  annoyance,  though  I  have  reason  to  be- 
lieve, dear  Pop,  that  your  patience  is  boundless. 

Had  I,  as  have  some  of  the  boys,  been  beyond  the  seas  seeking  pleas- 
ure, or  pursuing  Filipinos,  then  I  should  certainly  embrace  this  op- 
portunity and  indulge  my  fondness  for  "reminiscing."  But  having  done 
nothing  of  the  sort,  I  can  do  no  better  than  close,  so  that  you  may  read 
the  letters  of  those  who  have. 

Wishing  you  abundant  happiness  and  success  commensurate  with 
your  efforts,  I  am,  Ever  thine, 

Duncan  Moore. 

Chicago,  III.,  March  19,  '01. 


EDWIN  MOORE 

Dear  Pop: — Can't  you  send  me  some  more  sample  letters  to  help  me 
compose  one?  I  don't  know  what  to  write  and  I  have  lost  or  mislaid 
the  samples  you  sent  last  November.  About  what  do  you  expect  us  to 
write, — about  ourselves  or  our  classmates?  Personally  I  have  done 
nothing  to  the  credit  of  '97's  high  standard,  beyond  keeping  out  of  jail, 

148 


so  far,  and  I'm  not  certain  how  long  I  can  maintain  this  excellent 
record.  A  few  interesting  secrets  I  know  about  one  or  two  other  class- 
mates might  help  to  land  me  there  if  I  told  them. 

Since  being  turned  out  of  Princeton,  I  have  avoided  the  poor  house. 
I  consider  that  next  best  to  keeping  out  of  jail. 

I  followed  Electrical  Engineering  in  New  York  for  a  time,  but  a  lit- 
tle more  than  a  year  ago  took  up  manufacturing.     I'm  still  in  the  busi- 
ness and  that  completes  my  autobiography. 
I  have  not  yet  become  a  benedict. 

Sorry  I  can't  write  anything  more  interesting,  but  as  I  did  not  enlist 
during  the  war  this  will  have  to  do. 

Sincerely  yours, 

Edwin  Moore. 
Philadelphia,  Pa.,  March  13,  '01. 

JOHN  TOMYS  MOORE. 

My  Dear  Pop:— As  an  irridescent  chronicle  of  the  strenuous  life  this 
epistle  can  only  come  to  one  end— grievous  failure.  I  have  been  neither 
abducted,  wounded  by  Filipinos,  murdered,  nor  married.  In  fact,  the 
only  events  not  of  purely  personal  interest  are  as  follows  :— 

After  leaving  Princeton,  I  entered  Harvard  Law  School,  in  the  Fall. 
Since  then  I  have  annually  made  from  two  to  three  round  trips  between 
Pittsburgh  and  Boston,  with  a  few  little  trips  to  Princeton,  New  Haven, 
and  New  York  on  the  side.  Finally,  last  June,  I  "pulled"  an  LL.B.' 
On  Dec.  15th.  together  with  three  other  '97  men,  I  was  admitted  to  the 
Bar  Association.     On  Jan.  7th,  I  began  the  practice  of  law. 

Yours  sincerely, 

John  T.  Moore. 
Pittsburgh,  Pa.,  Jan.  24,  '01. 

ROBERT  MOORE. 

My  Dear  Pop:— I  hope  the  Recording  Angel  will  be  busy  sharpening 
his  pencil,  and  so  forget  to  mark  against  your  account  all  those  un- 
said things  which  are  between  the  lines  of  your  numerous  postal  cards. 
No  doubt  if  you  do  have  to  answer  for  them,  the  plea  of  a  good  and 
sufficient  reason  will  tend  to  palliate  the  punishment.  I  suppose  you 
think  if  a  man  ever  had  cause  to  break  loose  and  hurl  his  withering 
sarcasm  and  his  profanity  at  the  "lost,  strayed  or  stolen"  members 
of  '97,  it  is  the  Honorable  Secretary  of  that  illustrious  class.  But  no 
doubt  some  of  us  have  excellent  reasons  (at  least  in  so  far  as  we  our- 
selves are  concerned)  for  delaying  our  letters,  or  perhaps  not  writing 
at  all.  The  aforesaid  H.  S.  at  this  point  I  imagine  will  begin  to  ex- 
ercise his  profanity,  so  I  won't  say  anything  more  about  those  "ex- 
cellent reasons." 

As  you  wanted  to  know  something  about  myself,  I  can  satisfy  you 
in  very  few  words.  Nothing  of  very  startling  interest  has  happened 
to  me  since  we  bade  our  adieus  to  each  other  and  to  Alma  Mater. 
Have  been  in  the  Bank  of  Pittsburgh  for  the  past  two  years,  and  have 

149 


had  some  valuable  experience.  The  work  is  pleasant.  Dangerfield, 
'96,  is  also  in  the  bank,  and  every  once  in  a  while,  when  time  hangs 
a  little  heavy  on  our  hands,  we  manage  to  talk  over  old  Princeton 
scenes,  and  it  makes  one  almost  feel  as  if  he  were  back  in  the  old 
place  again  going  the  familiar  rounds  and  yelling  under  somebody's 
window,  "Hello,  stick  your  head  out !" 

Memories  mean  a  great  deal  now.  As  you  know,  I  was  back  this 
winter;  but  very  few  of  the  old  fellows  were  around,  and  the  memories 
of  the  past  were  far  better  than  the  reality.  Everything  was  the 
same,  and  yet  not  the  same.  The  buildings,  the  walls,  the  grounds 
were  there,  but  the  men  we  used  to  know  and  love — where  were  they? 
Within  the  past  few  days  I  have  heard  from  some  of  them  in  no  very 
gentle  tones  about  "Pop's"  letter.  This  afternoon  over  the  telephone 
"Ted"  Balken  waxed  so  insistent  about  it  and  talked  in  such  eloquent 
language  about  class  feeling,  etc.,  etc.,  that  Central  was  no  doubt  on  the 
point  of  shutting  us  off. 

Well,  "Pop."  here  is  your  letter,  such  as  it  is,  and  may  many  good 
wishes  go  with  it  both  to  j^ourself  and  to  all  the  fellows  I  kr.ov,'. 
Cordially  yours, 

Robert  Moore. 

Edgewood,  Pa.,  April  16,  1901. 

VICTOR  PHILIP  MRAVLAG. 

Dear  Pop: — You  see  at  last  my  conscience  has  me  in  its  toils,  and  I 
am  going  to  take  advantage  of  a  nice,  quiet  Sunday  to  do  my  duty  to 
good  old  '97,  and  its  long-suffering,  much-enduring,  hard-working, 
faithful   secretary. 

I  don't  know  just  what  kind  of  a  letter  is  wanted  to  fill  the  bill, 
and  I  am  not  much  "on  the  write,"  anyway,  which  last  statement  you, 
with  your  "first  request,"  "second  request,"  etc.,  "ad  iniinitinn"  will 
probably  heartily  endorse.  However,  "Pop,"  I  won't  try  to  write  any 
particular  kind  of  a  letter.  I  will  first  have  a  nice  little  "paper  chat" 
with  j^ou,  and  write  any  old  thing  that  comes  into  my  head.  So  "we 
are  off" ! 

My  life  since  leaving  college  has  been  a  very  uneventful  one,  and 
contains,  I  think,  very  few  pages  of  class  interest ;  in  fact,  in  few 
instances  have  there  been  any  items  of  even  personal  excitement  to 
disturb  the  even  tenor  of  my  ways,  much  less  anything  which  could 
even  remotely  affect  '97,  especially  in  view  of  the  fact  that  so  many 
of  her  sons  have  participated  in  recent  stirring  events ;  I  refer  par- 
ticularly to  our  recent  little  difficulty  with  Spain. 

After  graduating  from  Princeton  I  entered  the  New  York  Law 
School,  where,  by  the  way,  I  found  hosts  of  Princeton  men  from  both 
'97  and  prior  classes.  I  was  graduated  there,  with  degree  of  "Bachelor 
of  Laws,"  which  I  find,  though  a  very  high-sounding  title,  does  not 
contribute  very  materially  to  the  acquiring  of  this  world's  goods.  Still, 
framed  and  hung  up  on  the  wall,  it  makes  an  ornament,  so  let  it  pass 
at  that.     I  was    admitted  to  the  New  York  State  Bar  last  June,  and 

150 


then  went  away  on  a  long  vacation,  ostensibly  to  recuperate  from  effects 
of  hard  work,  but  really  to  recover  from  the  shock  of  surprise  at  having 
successfully  passed  the  examinations.  Since  the  first  of  October  I 
have  been  practising  in  New  York  City,  working  hard  from  early  morn 
to  dewy  eve, — not  George.  So  far  I  have  not  had  to  stand  at  the 
door  and  beat  back  with  a  club  an  eager  mob  of  clients ;  in  fact,  at 
times  I  get  a  bit  discouraged  over  absence  of  visible  progress,  but  I 
suppose  every  young  man,  beginning  a  professional  career,  has  his 
"mauvais  qiiatrc  d'hcurc,"  and  of  course  I  am  no  exception,  but  I  guess 
it  will  all  come  out  O.  K.  in  the  end. 

I  did  not  start  in  for  myself  and  think  now  I  did  wisely.  I  am  at 
present  with  the  law  firm  of  Green  and  Stotesbury.  I  am  not  making 
more  than  $60,000  a  year,  but  my  relations  with  the  other  men  in  the 
office  are  exceedingly  pleasant.  My  work  is  interesting,  and  a  very 
beneficial  experience  to  me,  and  I  think  my  future  opportunities  good, 
so  I  suppose  at  the  present  stage  of  my  career,  I  ought  to  be  satisfied. 
I  meet  a  number  of  Princeton  men  in  New  York,  and  occasionally 
we  "drop  in"  somewhere  and  have  one  or  two  together,  trying  to 
imagine  that  we  are  at  the  "Inn"  or  "Dohm's  back  room."  It  is 
mighty  nice  to  meet  one's  collegemates  that  way  and  talk  over  old 
times ;  in  fact,  "Pop,"  I  find  one  of  the  pleasantest  phases  of  college 
life  is  just  that — the  meeting  of  classmates  in  the  outside  world  after 
graduation. 

I  meet  Fred  Shaw  (ex-'97),  occasionally,  who  went  through  the 
Cuban  campaign  with  the  71st  New  York.  He  was  wounded  at  San 
Juan,  and  it  is  really  interesting  to  hear  him  talk  of  his  experience. 
The  stories,  though,  of  some  of  the  veterans  I  have  met,  remind  me 
som.ewhat  of  some  of  the  weird  phantasies  of  "Burt  Miller's"  or  "Lady 
Jayne's"  brain,  as  they  appeared  in  the  "Nassau  Herald." 

Well,  "Pop,"  I  have  not  gotten  married  as  yet,  nor  held  any  im- 
portant positions,  nor  done  anything  startling.  By  the  way  some  of 
the  questions  on  those  printed  blanks  seem,  almost  to  smack  of  a  little 
sarcasm ;  the  idea  of  asking  me  what  important  part  I  have  taken  in 
politics,  etc.     "Pop,"  I  think  that  is  rubbing  it  in. 

You  remember  John  Graham,  don't  you  ?  he  was  on  East  a  few  weeks 
ago,  and,  judging  from  his  lavishness,  guess  he  must  be  doing  pretty 
well.  He  and  "Shy"  Thompson  formed  a  law  partnership  and  are 
practising  together  out  in  Denver. 

"Dutch"  Gregory,  "Jude"  Ta}dor,  "Harry"  Mattison  and  "Freddy" 
McNish  are  all  embryo  lawyers,  and  are  some  of  the  Princeton  men 
I  meet  frequently  in  New  York. 

"Pop,"  owing  to  various  circumstances  I  have  been  unable  to  get 
back  to  college  at  various  class  functions,  and  in  a  way  I  have  gotten 
somewhat  out  of  touch  with  affairs,  but  have  not,  in  the  slightest 
degree,  lost  interest  in  Princeton.  Quite  frequently,  evenings,  I  sit 
up  in  my  rooms  and  read  over  the  "Nassau  Herald."  It  gives  me  a 
hearty  laugh  and  brings  back  so  clearly  some  of  the  j oiliest,  happiest 


151 


moments  of  my  life.     It  sometimes  makes  me  a  bit  blue,  but  then  I 
go  to  bed  with  a  warmer,  closer  feeling  for  my  "Alma  Mater"  and  '97. 
Good  bye,  "Pop,"  good  luck  always  to  '97  and  her  secretary. 
With  apologies  for  my  tardiness  in  writing. 

Your  classmate, 

V.  Philip  Mravlag. 
New  York  City,  N.  Y.,  February  24,  1901. 

CHARLES  MONROE  MURRAY. 

My  Dear  Pop: — What  a  life  I've  led  since  my  graduation!  great — 
society,  travel,  work,  speechmaking,  turn-downs,  and  the  like ;  but  the 
greatest  of  these  are  my  adventures  in  society.  Have  been  slapped 
about;  whirled  around  until  I  hardly  know  where  to  look  for  myself; 
nevertheless  the  world  still  moves  onward. 

After  graduation  I  took  charge  of  the  Science  Department  of  Shady 
Side  Academy,  which  took  about  two-thirds  of  my  time.  Now  it  re- 
quires two  men  to  do  the  work.  But  that  isn't  all.  Most  all  of  the  best 
boys  are  sent  to  Princeton.  Last  June  nineteen  boys  took  examinations 
for  Princeton  and  five  for  Yale. 

Traveled  through  the  Southern  States  once;  went  home  (Albany, 
Texas)  twice.  Tried  to  speak  to  the  Western  Pennsylvania  Princeton 
Club  on  "The  Duty  of  Alumni  to  Prep  Schools,"  also  made  talks  to 
students  of  Whitewright  College  (in  Texas),  and  Weatherford  Semi- 
nary (not  a  place  for  Seminoles).  Have  written  no  articles  and  held 
no  office  of  trust.     Took  part  in  no  war  and  am  not  married. 

Good  luck  to  all. 

Yours, 

"Texas"  ("Dean")  Murray. 

Pittsburg,  Pa.,  May  i,  '01. 

MALCOLM  MACDONALD. 

Information  regarding  Macdonald  is  as  scarce  as  the  teeth  of  the 
traditional  hen.  When  last  heard  from  he  was  living  at  Camden  and 
studying  medicine  at  the  University  of  Pennsylvania. 

RODERICK  LACHLAN  MACLEAY. 

My  Dear  Pop: — I  consider  that  I  am  very  unfortunate  in  regard  to 
my  correspondence  with  you,  inasmuch  as,  more  or  less  owing  to 
hurried  traveling  to  and  fro,  your  mail  caught  me  here  only  yester- 
day after  having  been  forwarded  to  three  addresses.  So  kindly  extend 
to  me  your  benign  pardon,  and  do  not  think  of  me  as  knowingly  re- 
tarding the  work  with  which  you  have  so  cheerfully  saddled  yourself. 

I  really  am  at  a  loss  to  imagine  how  you  can  think  my  poor  pen 
can  furnish  matter  to  be  incorporated  with  selections  from  those  choice 
wits,  my  old  classmates.  I  blush  to  think  of  my  efforts  being  exposed 
in  cold  type  next  to  some  thrilling  account  of  heroism  in  Cuba  or 
Manila,  but  you  have  urged  the  matter  so  courteously  and  persuasively 
that  I  cannot  resist  you.     Why  you  have  not  taken  to  writing  pros- 

152 


pectuses  (or  is  it  prospecti?)  for  mining  companies  I  cannot  understand. 
I  feel  convinced  you  could  induce  the  tightest  wad  to  invest  in  any 
wild  cat  scheme.  So  far,  you  perhaps  may  have  noticed,  I  have  re- 
frained from  talking  about  myself,  but  at  this  point  my  self-denial 
has  become  utterly  exhausted,  so  now  prepare  yourself  with  true 
Christian  resignation,  for  the  "very  worst  ever"  as  "King"  Kelly  says. 

I  saw  Kelly  in  San  Francisco  a  few  months  ago.  He  had  been 
coaching  California.  We  had  many  good  talks  about  Princeton,  for 
when  I  do  meet  a  man  from  there  I  always  endeavor  to  improve  the 
opportunity  since  such  occasions  are  very  rare.  What  a  snap  you 
must  have  in  that  regard ! 

To  make  the  subject  under  discussion  entirely  personal,  I  may  state, 
first  of  all,  that,  so  far,  I  have  not  succeeded  in  becoming  the  admired 
lord  of  an  unsuspecting  female.  Whether  on  account  of  lack  of  effort 
or  not  I  leave  to  your  generous  mind,  assertions  pro  and  con  on  such 
matters  being  in  my  opinion  very  bad  form.  Furthermore,  up  to  date, 
I  am  most  exceedingly  well ;  have  had  and  am  having  a  good  time, 
and  expect  the  present  state  of  mind  and  body  to  continue  indefinitely 
into  the  future. 

When  the  next  gathering  of  the  class  occurs  I  have  determined  to 
be  present.  Unfortunately,  I  could  not  attend  the  triennial,  missing, 
from  what  I  have  since  heard,  the  time  of  my  life. 

There  are  none  of  my  class  anywhere  near  here.  I  wish  some  of  the 
'97  men  would  come  out  to  this  country.  It's  a  good  place,  growing 
rapidly,  and  furnishing  opportunities  without  number  to  any  enter- 
prising man,  and  you  know  we  always  were  an  enterprising  class. 
As  matters  stand  now  I  have  to  go  nearly  to  New  York  to  see  any 
of  the  old  gang.  I  can't  think  of  anything  more  to  put  down  in  this 
letter. 

With  the  hope  that  you  and  all  of  the  class  besides  are  happy,  good 
and  rapidly  accumulating  large  stores  of  wealth,  so  that  coming  re- 
unions may  be  marked  by  generous  support,  I  am, 

Your  old  classmate, 

Roderick  L.   Macleay. 

Portland,  Ore.,  April  25,  '01. 

EDWIN  AUGUSTUS  McALPIN. 

My  Dear  Pop: — So  I  am  one  of  the  careless  ones  as  usual!  I  am 
really  ashamed  of  myself,  and  to  tell  the  truth  I  thought  I  had  an- 
swered your  note,  but  now  I  remember  I  did  not  like  my  answer  and 
so  did  not  send  it.  That's  straight  and  no  bluff.  Honest,  I  have  no 
news  of  interest.  I  am  not  engaged,  I  have  not  broken  a  bank  nor  have 
I  done  anything  at  all  extraordinary.  I  have  taken  my  M.A.  at  Co- 
lumbia in  Sociology,  and  I  expect  to  finish  my  course  at  Union  Semi- 
nary this  spring. 

I  have  been  to  Cuba  this  winter  for  a  short  trip.  While  I  had  a 
very  pleasant  time  nothing  out  of  the  way  happened  so  I  don't  sup- 
pose that  will  interest  you. 

153 


I  have  spent  a  good  deal  of  my  spare  time  during  the  last  couple 
of  years  in  working  and  studying  the  Settlements  situated  in  New 
York  City.  I  have  nothing  more  of  interest  or  profit  to  relate  about 
the  past,  and  I  have  no  interesting  plans  for  the  future. 

You  see  I  had  at  least  one  good  reason  for  not  writing,  and  that  is, 
I  had  nothing  to  say.     When   I  get  engaged  or  married  or  make  a 
tear,  don't  worry — I  will  call  you  up  on  the  'phone  and  give  it  to  you 
straight,  so  that  you  can  have  a  corner  on  the  news. 
Your   old  classmate, 

E.  A.  McAlpin,  Jr. 

New  York  City,  N.  Y.,  Feb.  21,  1901. 

JAMES  ALEXANDER  McCAGUE. 

Aly  Dear  Pop: — What  a  proud  yet  merciful  "Dad"  you  must  be,  to 
have  so  many  prodigals  returning  to  unfold  to  you  their  varied  and 
devious  wanderings,  and  to  beg  forgiveness  for  their  dereliction  since 
they  left  your  rooftree. 

I  also  have  wandered  into  a  "far  country,"  and  have  seen  "riotous 
living." 

My  last  experience  in  riotous  living  occurred  during  a  strike  on  the 
trolley  roads  of  Brooklyn.  One  afternoon  while  enjoying  the  cooling 
zephyrs  wafting  from  the  renowned  shore  of  Coney  Island,  while  I 
was  on  my  way  to  Borough  Park,  the  car  on  which  I  was  riding  came 
to  a  sudden  stop.  The  halt  v/as  due  to  a  bed-spring  which  had  been 
thrown   upon  the  track. 

While  the  motorman  endeavored  to  extricate  the  springs  from  the 
wheels,  the  peaceful  and  law-abiding  citizens  of  the  "City  of  Churches" 
presented  compliments  to  the  passengers. 

These  favors  took  the  form  of  bricks,  bottles  (empty  of  course), 
and  other  inexpensive  luxuries.  That  crowd  must  have  been  color 
blind,  or  they  could  not  have  missed  my  head. 

Being  of  a  peaceful  turn  of  mind  when  odds  are  overwhelmingly 
against  me,  I  avoided  further  riotous  living  by  pedal  industry.  After 
traversing  several  miles  of  flagstones  I  found  myself  safely  domiciled 
in  my  usual  abode. 

I  mention  the  above  incident  to  divert  you  from  the  illusion  com- 
mon to  many  persons  that  a  minister's  life  in  a  small  town  like  New 
York  is  rather  slow  and  uneventful.  It  will  partly  answer  the  query 
whether  I  was  enlisted  in  a  regim.ent  in  the  Philippines,  Cuba,  etc. 
I  do  not  need  to  go  to  the  Philippines  or  Cuba  to  borrow  trouble,  for 
if  I  desired  any  of  that  commodity,  I  could  find  plenty  of  it  nearer 
home. 

Probably  the  best  way  I  can  punish  you  for  your  desire  to  have  me 
expose  the  last  three  years  of  my  wanderings  is  to  compel  you  to 
listen  to  some  of  these  escapades. 

Like  Alexander  the  Great,  I  sought  other  worlds  to  conquer. 

To  satisfy  the  bent  of  my  inclinations  I  essayed  to  go  from  the 
peaceful,  pious  and  picturesque  Isle  of  Manhattan  to  the   wilderness 

IS4 


of  Brooklyn.     I  was  launched  out  to  begin  the  organization  of  a  Presby- 
terian Church  at  Borough   Park. 

My  first  duty  was  to  ring  doorbells  and  acquaint  myself  with  the 
inmates. 

The  first  part  of  the  performance  was  second  nature  to  me,  as  I 
had  early  acquired  a  proficiency  in  the  art  of  ringing  door  bells ;  any 
sprinting  ability  I  have  may  be  directly  related  to  door  bells.  The 
latter  part  of  my  duty,  that  of  informing  the  occupants  of  the  various 
houses  that  they  were  reprobates  and  needed  a  spiritual  adviser,  did  not 
always  prove  as  popular  as  I  had  calculated.  As  a  result  of  the  afore- 
mentioned diversions  there  is  a  Presbyterian  Church  now  fully  organ- 
ized at  Borough  Park,  and  your  humble  servant  performs  the  ministerial 
functions  there. 

Quite  frequently  I  run  across  members  of  the  class.  I  have  visited 
the  Campus  twice  since  September,  and  hope  to  make  several  trips  dur- 
ing the  remainder  of  the  year. 

Wishing  you  a  very  happy  and  successful  new  century,  I  remain, 
Most  fraternally  yours  in  '97, 

New  York,  N.  Y.,  Jan.  24,  '01.  James  A.  McCague. 

WILLIAM  HENRY  McCARTNEY. 

My  Dear  Pop: — Without  desiring  to  run  the  chances  of  offending 
you,  I  will  venture  to  say  that  you  have  not  chosen  the  calling  in  life 
that  will  benefit  you  most. 

At  first,  or  at  least  after  having  received  the  fifst  y;i7  letters  you 
sent  me,  I  believed  that  the  Keener  sarcasm,  in  each,  denoted  ability  to 
fill  the  place  of  the  late  lamented  Mr.  Brown,  of  Texas — now  I  am  not 
chaffing,  understand,  but  the  receipt  of  the  last  2,72?  letters,  circulars, 
postals  and  anything  else  upon  which  might  be  printed  vile  abuse  and 
traitorous  insinuations,  leads  m.e  to  believe  that  the  merchants  at 
Princeton,  N.  J.  (located  near  Lawrenceville),  in  particular,  or  any 
collection  agency  in  general,  could  afford  to  pay  you  a  salary  equal 
to  that  received  by  Mr.  Roosevelt's  chief  of  office.  If  I  may  be  par- 
doned for  bringing  too  much  ego  into  this  tardy  but  affectionate  reply 
to  the  aforementioned  reminders  that  I  was  in  Princton  for  about  a 
minute,  I  would  say  that  the  above  advice  is  founded  on  experience — 
a   fool's  teacher. 

Thanking  you  again  and  again  for  your  kindly  and  solicitous  atten- 
tion to  my  daily  mail  supply,  and  hoping  that  you  may  include  in 
your  vespers  one  word  for  the  sinner  who  repented  at  the  last  mo- 
ment because  he  could  put  it  off  no  longer,  I  remain, 

Very  sincerely, 

W.  H.  McCartney. 

Wilkes-Barre,  Pa.,  April  9,  '01. 

JAMES  McCLURE. 

Dear  Pop  ■ — Three  years  have  passed  since  last  as  undergraduates  we 
cheered  old  '97,  and,  bidding  our  dear  mother  good  bye,  stepped  out 
into  the  world. 

155 


Much  need  not,  or  cannot,  be  said  of  my  life  since  we  separated. 
I  embarked  at  once  in  the  insurance  business,  doing  a  general  business, 
and  early  in  1899  formed  a  partnership  with  a  Mr.  P.  C.  Little,  and 
with  him  I  am  endeavoring  to  persuade  my  county  and  my  State  to  be- 
come immune  from  death  and  accident. 

I  have  made  three  pilgrimages  to  Princeton  and  there  renewed  the 
love  we  all  alike  bear  our  Alma  Mater,  and  received  new  inspiration 
for  a  faithful  discharge  of  every  day  work. 

I    send   with   this   my   regards.    Pop,   to   both  yourself   and   all    our 
classmates,  and  my  best  wishes  for  the  success  of  all. 
Fraternally  yours, 

James  McClure. 

Pittsburgh,  Pa.,  May  i,  '01. 

WALTER  PETER  McGIBBON. 

My  dear  Keener: — The  above  manner  of  address  looks  quite  formida- 
able  and  business-like,  but  I  hasten  to  assure  you  that  it  is  not  to  be 
construed  thus,  as  it  took  these  characteristics  only  after  it  was  in 
black  and  white.  Contrary  to  being  "formidable  and  business-like," 
the  purport  of  this  communication  is  to  be  in  response  to  "The  Privi- 
lege of  Contributing  to  the  Triennial  Record" — certainly  a  privilege 
which  should  appeal,  through  the  afferent  impulses,  to  the  common 
center  of  sensation,  the  sensorium,  only  in  the  name  of  pleasure,  evolv- 
ing, secondarily,  a  correlated  impression  of  justifiable  pride  in  that  this 
same  sensorium  incarnate  is  an  integral  part  of  the  "Great  and  Glor- 
ious." The  pleasure  and  accompanying  pride  in  this  privilege  are  cer- 
tainly important  and  well-developed  adjuncts  of  my  central  sensory 
system,  but  a  large  element  of  the  emotion  of  fear  portentously  com- 
mingles with  the  aforementioned  adjuncts  and  dampens  the  spontaneity 
of  my  effort,  lest  in  my  maiden  contribution  to  the  Triennial  Record 
I  should  inflict  upon  you  a  dismal  recital  of  generalities  and  details 
constituting  my  biography  from  college  days  to  the  time  present. 

With  an  appeal,  to  the  gods  who  protect  us  from  our  friends,  that 
this  production  may  be  as  devoid  as  possible  of  that  element  which 
would  make  it  a  bore  to  your  sensitive  organism,  I  will  resort  to  "time 
was"  and  mention  briefly  some  of  the  personal  experience  which  has 
filled  the  time  between  "then"  and  "now."  In  order  to  fortify  you 
against  possible  disappointment,  I  will  insert  here  that  none  of  my 
experiences  have  been  startling. 

Entering,  on  the  strength  of  certificates  from  Princeton's  biological 
department,  the  second  year  class  of  that  Chicago  Medical  Institution 
which  is  designated  by  the  name  of  the  great  exponent  and  promul- 
gator of  homoeopathy,  Hahnemann,  I  pursued  the  remaining  three 
years  of  the  course,  terminating  my  undergraduate  studies  in  the  spring 
of  that  year,  the  vocal  designation  of  which  falls  with  such  musical 
cadences  upon  the  terminal  auditory  filaments  of  every  '97  man.  (You 
will  perhaps  recognize  '98). 

The  time  intervening  between  my  entrance  upon  and  exit  from  the 

IS6 


medical  collegiate  studies  was  most  prosy,  I  assure  you,  as  the  student 
of  medicine  does  not  soar  to  the  lofty  meanings  and  high  interpreta- 
tions of  things  anatomical,  physiological  and  pathological  as  he  gets 
them  in  the  laboratories  during  the  developmental  stage  of  acquiring 
the  fundamental  knowledge  of  ''The  Theory  and  Practice."  However, 
surrounded  by  the  cosmos  of  a  large  and  busy  city,  possibilities  pre- 
sented themselves  which  allowed  as  frequent  diversion  and  recreation 
as  one  might  think  wise  to  indulge  in.  With  the  expiration  of  the 
time  limit  the  coveted  degree  of  M.D.  was  forthcoming,  and  after  a 
brief  sojourn  in  the  contiguous  country  I  returned  to  assume  the  duties 
and  pleasures  incident  to  my  chosen  profession,  affiliated  with  one  of 
the  genus  medici  whose  practice  has  outgrown  the  limit  of  his  personal 
attendance.  After  one  year  of  this  association  and  another  diminutive 
visit  to  the  country,  I  returned  to  undertake  the  practice  of  medicine 
in  Chicago.  The  foregoing  recital  brings  us  up  to  one  and  one-half 
years  ago.  The  major  part  of  my  diversions  since  then  every  one  who 
has  undertaken  the  practice  of  this  profession  can  fully  realize,  and 
out  of  consideration  for  those  who  are  still  contemplating  entering  upon 
the  practice  of  the  "art  of  healing"  I  will  refrain  from  further  de- 
lineation of  business  interests. 

Travel,  unfortunately,  has  not  been  my  lot,  for  I  have  made  but  one 
journey  since  taking  up  my  residence  in  the  "Windy  City."  That  trip 
took  me  east,  but  my  time  was  so  limited  as  to  preclude  the  carrying 
out  of  my  desire  to  visit  "Old  Nassau,"  and  that  pleasure  I  still  have 
in  the  future.  In  proscribing  travel  in  this  manner  I  do  not  wish  to 
mislead  you  into  thinking  that  my  marriage  to  Miss  Gertrude  Louise 
Crary,  of  Lafayette,  Ind.,  on  the  28th  of  the  last  November,  in  the 
century  just  closed,  was  not  the  culmination  of  a  series  of  trips  to 
that  town.  Should  I  do  that  I  should  be  obliged  to  rectify  the  error 
and  put  it  straight. 

I  do  not  wish  to  close  this  delineation  of  an  uneventful  career  with- 
out mentioning  to  you  the  pleasant  evenings  spent  nearly  every  month 
by  the  Chicago  aggregation  of  Princeton  '97  Alumni. 

These  evenings  are  entirely  informal,  are  well  filled  with  reminis- 
cences, stories  and  smoke,  and  are  conducive  to  the  elimination  of  possi- 
ble growing  strangeness  between  individuals  of  the  clan,  and  prove 
to  be  small  but  refreshing  oases  along  the  line  of  march. 

And  now,  my  dear  Prof.  Secretary,  lest  I  too  greatly  exacerbate  your 
sententiousness  by  compelling  you  to  pursue  unaided  more  of  this 
chirographical  wandering,  I  will  desist,  first,  however,  thanking  you 
heartily  for  your  kind  indulgence  and  suggesting  that  you  attempt 
to  eke  out  some  comfort  from  the  fact  that  it  is  only  Triennial. 
Yours  very  sincerely, 

Chicago,  III.,  Jan.  18,  '01.  Walter  P.  McGibbon. 

WILLIS  HENRY  McGRAW. 

My  Dear  Pop: — I  believe  that  when  I  saw  you  last  I  was  in  New 
York,   taking   my   second   year   of   medicine   at   the   "P.    &.    S.,"   per- 

157 


fectly  convinced  that  there  was  no  place  on  earth  equal  to  it,  and  that 
there  was  nothing  lacking  there  which  a  student  could  possibly  desire, 
except  leisure.  So  I  suspect  that  you  have  gotten  the  impression,  as 
you  have  noted  my  repeated  change  of  address,  that  my  chief  business 
since  leaving  Princeton  has  been  traveling  between  the  East  and 
the  West.  I  assure  you  the  impression  is  a  wrong  one,  and  that  there 
have  been  brief  intervals  in  which  I  have  settled  down  to  hard  work, 
between  these  geographical  oscillations. 

This  year  finds  me  located  at  the  Dunham  Homeopathic  Medical  Col- 
lege and  Post  Graduate  School,  which,  I  need  hardly  say,  I  consider 
the  best  homeopathic  institution  in  this  or  any  other  world,  and  which 
I  shall  doubtless  honor  with  my  presence  for  the  remainder  of  my 
period  of  undergraduate  bondage.  It  is  only  a  unit  in  the  big  branch 
of  medical  colleges  which  are  grouped  around  Cook  County  Hospital, 
where  more  medics  are  annually  turned  out,  and  more  patients  killed 
and  cured,  than  in  any  place  I  know  of. 

I  wish  I  could  write  you  that  I  have  acquired  a  touching  and  filial 
affection  for  this  fair  city  of  hams  and  bacon;  but  truth  compels  me 
to  admit  the  reverse. 

There  is  much  to  compel  admiration  of  a  certain  kind,  however; 
notably  the  delightfully  free  and  unconventional  way  in  which  dirt 
and  holdups  disport  themselves,  and  the  wholesome  restraint  which  this 
influence  must  exercise  upon  any  who  might  be  disposed  to  sport  their 
store  clothes  or  roll  of  bills  at  unseemly  hours  of  the  night.  I  won't 
say  anything  about  the  climate  for  fear  it  might  make  you  uncon- 
trollably envious  if  I  told  you  of  the  perpetual  ice  cream  condition 
in  which  I  have  been  the  past  two  months. 

This  year  I  have  been  more  than  usually  fortunate  in  finding  a 
goodly  number  of  the  "elect"  within  this  wicked  city,  and  the  number 
of  '97  "meets"  which  have  been  held  are  proof  that  we  are  not  en- 
tirely forgetting  the  "traditions  and  customs." 

Perhaps  I  do  not  regret  as  deeply  as  I  ought  that  I  am  unable  to 
report  any  marriages  or  births  in  my  family ;  not  even  a  change  of 
heart  can  be  detected  yet.  But  as  for  honors  and  distinguished  attain- 
ments, I  profoundly  regret  that  I  must  leave  such  announcements  for 
those  whose  meteoric  careers  have  carried  them  bej'ond  the  narrow 
limits  of  the  professional  school,  and  trust  to  the  future  to  reveal  my 
own  unrecognized  genius. 

Accept  my  deepest  sympathy  for  all  your  paternal  trials. 
Sincerely  yours, 

Willis  H.  McGraw. 

Chicago,  III.,  April  27,  '01. 

WILLIAM  ALLEN  McLAUGHLIN. 

My  Dear  Pop: — As  the  result  of  your  last  notice  my  mental  machin- 
ery has  begun  to  move,  pen  and  paper  have  suddenly  appeared  and  my 
pensum — the  Triennial  letter — is  begun. 

The  difficulty  is  not  to  find  ink  and  paper  sufficient  fully  to  record 

iS8 


the  events  of  the  wild  and  exciting  life  of  three  year's  prep,  school 
teaching,  but  to  provide  enough  material  which,  with  judicious  padding, 
without  however  doing  violence  to  the  truth,  can  fill  a  sheet  of  Crane's 
best. 

My  life  has  been  quiet  and  uneventful,  spent  in  teaching  and  summer 
tutoring  with  no  change  of  residence,  with  no  wife  and  children,  no 
offices,  no  speeches,  except  daily  exhortations  to  sluggards  in  the  class- 
room, no  trips  except  short  ones  at  vacation-time  to  gain  a  new  lease 
of  life  by  breathing  the  air  of  "ye  ancient  town  about  ye  middle  of  ye 
State  of  New  Jersee." 

There  is  too  much  leisure  in  the  life  of  a  prep,  teacher  and  sum- 
mer coach  to  fail  to  do  P.  G.  work,  but  in  some  way  that  glittering 
opportunity  afforded  to  one  on  duty  twenty-four  hours  per  day  six 
days  per  week  has  been  overlooked,  and  I  have  consequently  no  grad- 
uate degree. 

Though  seldom  seeing  members  of  the  "Great  and  Glorious,"  I  often 
think  of  them  and  eagerly  devour  news  of  their  doings. 

As  I  lack  the  inventive  faculty  of  Baron  Munchausen,  and  dare  not 
tell  a  lie,  I'm  compelled  to  be  content  with  this  simple  statement  of  an 
uneventful,  but  busy  life. 

Very  sincerely, 

W.  A.  McLaughlin. 

Mercersburg,  Pa.,  Feb.  26,  '01. 


FREDERIC  BROWNELL  McNISH. 

McNish  seems  to  have  forgotten  that  he  was  ever  a  '97  man.  Even 
the  C.  O.  D.  telegram  failed  to  draw  a  reply  from  him.  He  is  sup- 
posed to  be  practicing  law.  Perhaps  some  one  can  inform  the  secretary 
if  this  supposition  is  correct.  Writs  of  "mandamus"  and  "habeas  corpus" 
have  failed  of  service.  A  vigilance  committee  seems  the  only  resort 
left.  The  secretary  is  haunted  by  the  terrible  fear  that  he  has  been 
drawn  into  the  back  eddy  of  some  fearful  legal  maelstrom  and  sucked 
down  to  depths  whence  not  even  the  blast  of  his  once  famous  cornet 
can  penetrate  to  the  upper  world.     "Facilis  descensus  Averno." 


ALEXANDER  NEILL,  JR. 

My  Dear  Keener: — I  am  sure  when  you  finish  reading  the  story  of 
my  life  you  will  be  sorry  you  ever  prevailed  upon  me  to  write  this. 

Since  I  left  Princeton  nothing  of  any  moment  has  occurred  in  my 
career.  I  went  to  Trinity  College,  at  Hartford,  Conn.,  for  one  year, 
taking  a  special  course.  After  that  year,  I  remained  at  home,  studied 
law  with  my  father,  and  was  admitted  to  the  bar  in  January,  1900.  I 
have  been  rather  lucky  so  far  in  getting  clients,  and  am  now  able  to 
buy  my  smoking  utensils  from  my  practice.  I  did  not  whip  the 
Spaniards,  nor  even  enlist.  I  saw  the  Yale  game  last  fall  at  Prince- 
ton, which  was  the  first  time  I  had  been  in  Princeton  since  I  left. 

159 


Am  not  married  or  engaged. 

I  heartily  congratulate  the  class  of  '97  in  having  such  a  hard  working 
secretary.     Spent  most  of  last  summer  licking  Net  Poe  in  golf. 

Sincerely, 

Alexander  Neill,  Jr. 
Hagerstown,  Md.,  May  13,  1901. 

DANIEL  EDWARD  NEVIN. 

Dear  Pop: — The  "story  of  my  life"  would  be  very  short  and  dry 
reading  if  confined  to  the  things  I  have  accomplished  that  were  worth 
doing.     But  a  newspaper  man  should  be  able  to  make  a  "story"  from 
almost  any  statement  of  facts  set  before  him,  so  here  goes. 

After  spending  the  summer  of  1897  in  frivolous  traveling,  here  and 
there,  from  Atlantic  City  to  Wisconsin,  I  registered  as  a  student  of  law. 
Most  of  my  immediate  family  are  interested  in  the  Pittsburgh  "Leader," 
a  daily  newspaper,  and  without  deciding  whether  my  future  ambition 
was  to  write  editorials  or  briefs,  the  law  course  seemed  a  good  prepara- 
tion. And  through  the  three  succeeding  winters  I  worked  at  the  law 
books,  and  last  December  buncoed  the  examiners  and  got  admitted  to 
the  bar. 

In  the  meanwhile  I  had  done  a  little  newspaper  work.  I  spent  a 
mQnth  at  it  in  1899,  and  had  written  a  few  sporadic  stories ;  and  in 
January  of  this  year  I  went  to  work  in  the  office  of  the  "Leader,"  and 
have  since  been  filling  the  dignified  position  of  a  reporter. 

I  knew  a  little  music  when  I  was  in  college,  though  my  playing  and 
singing  were  of  a  very  elementary  type;  since  leaving  college  I  have 
picked  up  a  little  more  knowledge  on  the  subject.  I  organized  a  small 
amateur  mandolin  club  soon  after  leaving  college  and  have  done  a 
good  deal  of  arranging  and  a  little  composing  of  music  for  their  use. 
I  am  now  studying  at  one  or  two  musical  branches,  and  hope  to  know 
something  about  it  after  awhile. 

I  have  spent  a  goodly  share  of  time  in  enjoying  myself.  I  have 
been  twice  abroad,  the  first  time  in  1898,  the  second  in  1900,  when  I 
had  a  two  months'  bicycle  trip  in  France,  Switzerland  and  Germany, 
seeing  the   Paris  Exposition  and  the  Passion  Play. 

No,  I  am  not  married,  nor  is  there  any  present  prospect  of  anything 
of  the  sort.  I  did  not  take  part  in  the  war  with  Spain  or  in  the 
Philippines,  nor  have  I  been  elected  to  the  Presidency  of  the  United 
States  or  any  other  office. 

I   think  that  is   about  all   of  any  interest. 

Yours, 

Dan  Nevin. 

Pittsburgh,  Pa.,  April  26,  '01. 

FREDERICK  JANVIER  NEWTON. 

My  Dear  Pop: — I  haven't  anything  amusing,  or  startling,  or  even 
especially  interesting  to  write  of  my  life  since  graduation  from  college. 
A  Seminole's  life  generally  holds  a  pretty  even  tenor,  though  it  yields 

160 


plenty  of  enjoyment  of  a  quiet  kind.     I  have  been  a  Seminole  at  Prince- 
ton since  the  fall  after  graduation,  with  the  exception  of  one  year. 

During  the  first  two  years  of  the  course  I  didn't  feel  as  much  cut 
off  from  '97  as  at  present,  for  there  were  eight  or  ten  of  her  members 
in  the  Seminary,  but  after  staying  out  last  year  I  returned  to  find  myself 
the  sole  representative  of  '97  in  this  institution,  and  one  of  a  very  few 
in  the  University. 

Last  year  I  remained  out  and  tried  my  hand  at  practical  "sky-piloting" 
on  the  western  edge  of  the  Adirondack  Mountains.  Two  little  churches 
were  placed  under  my  care,  and  I  spent  two  summers  and  the  interven- 
ing Y/inter  with  them.  I  avoided  being  mobbed  by  the  natives,  on  the 
one  hand,  and  being  tried  for  heresy,  by  Presbytery,  on  the  other. 
Consequently  I  had  a  very  enjoyable  and  profitable  experience. 

I  was  very  sorry  to  miss  the  Triennial,  and  am  making  up,  as  far  as 
possible,  by  a  thorough  enjoyment  of  the  old  scenes,  though  they  can 
never  be  the  same  without  the  old  forms  and  faces. 
Most  cordially  yours, 

Fred  J.  Newton. 

Princeton,  N.  J.,  Dec.  tj,  '00. 

JOHN  HENRY  NICHOLS. 

My  Dear  Pop: — Your  welcome  letter,  after  many  wanderings  on  land 
and  sea,  has  at  last  found  me  in  the  Quartier  Latin.  Unable  to  resist 
an  appeal  so  fervent,  though  couched  in  that  chaste  simplicity  of  style 
characteristic  of  the  epistles  of  our  Secretary,  I  hasten  to  tell  you  the 
story  of  my  life — "the  short  and  simple  annals  of  the  poor." 

One  year  as  a  P.  G.  at  Princeton,  two  years  spent  trying  to  teach 
French — here  I  am  already  up  to  the  epoch  made  famous  by  our 
glorious  Triennial — quorum  fiii  pars, — though  a  very  insignificent 
"pars." 

I  sailed  from  New  York  in  October.  After  a  struggle  for  mastery 
between  the  briny  deep  and  myself,  in  which,  I  grieve  to  confess,  the 
■"briny"  won,  I  landed  at  Antwerp  and  then  came  on  to  Paris  in  time 
to  "see  the  finish"  of  the  exposition.  Since  that  mournful  event,  I  have 
been  wandering  through  picture  galleries,  exploring  Paris,  old  and  new, 
and  trying  to  talk  French  "as  she  is  spoke,"  which  is  a  fierce  problem 
to  solve. 

I  "assisted"  (from  the  curbstone  of  the  boulevard)  at  Oom  Paul's 
triumphal  entry  into  Paris,  and  in  company  with  some  other  Americans 
was  in  dire  peril  of  having  my  "crust  busted  in"  for  not  displaying 
sufficient  enthusiasm  to  suit  the  Paris  rabble  who  formed  a  ring  around 
us,  shouting,  "A  bas  les  Anglais,"  and  "Vivant  les  Boers."  L'oncle 
Paul  having  departed  to  the  land  of  beer,  where  His  Majesty,  William 
IL,  set  him  up  to  a  "Dutch  treat,"  the  only  excitement  left  in  Paris 
is  to  be  found  dodging  automobiles,  shaking  off  guides  who  wink  their 
eye  and  want  to  show  me  the  town,  and  finally,  calling  a  cabby, 
"cochon,"  instead  of  "cocher."  That  is  sure  to  give  you  the  time  of 
your  life  as  long  as  the  "cocher"  has  any  words  left  in  his  vocabulary. 

161 


The  students  of  Paris  do  not  differ  very  much  from  the  college 
men  on  the  other  side  of  the  pond.  I've  seen  many  a  crowd  of  them 
go  down  the  "Boulemiche"  singing  for  all  the  world  like  the  crowd 
at  Princeton  after  a  game.  And  some  of  them  dress  in  an  eccentric 
way  which  would  make  a  sophomore  green  with  envy.  The  lectures  at 
the  Sorbonne  are  very  fine  and  are  free  to  any  one,  and  so  the  crowd 
is  very  mixed — all  classes  of  people  and  all  ages  attend,  and  they  seem 
to  look  upon  the  professor  as  a  sort  of  matinee  hero.  The  hero  him- 
self marches  in  solmenly,  stirs  his  little  glass  of  sweetened  water  and 
begins  his  talk.  There  are  no  spotters  and  the  people  heave  a  sigh 
when  it's  all  over — so  like  the  way  we  used  to  do  at  Princeton ! 

Well,  Pop,  the  only  answer  I  can  give  to  most  of  your  questions 
is  "Nothing  doing."  No  office  of  profit  or  trust;  no  books  published. 
Married?  Jamais  de  la  vie.  Addresses  published?  Note  one  address, 
not  published,  to  the  French  custom  house  man  who  kept  me  three 
hours,  one  day,  trying  to  get  my  baggage  out  of  his  clutches.  That 
speech  alone  has  added  words  to  the  vocabulary  of  the  French  lan- 
guage which  the  "Immortals"  of  the  academy  never  dreamed  of. 

But  enough.  This  ought  to  go  into  the  fire  rather  than  into  any 
book.  Here's  hoping  for  all  the  class  of  '97  a  long  life  and  a  merry 
one. 

John  Nichols. 

Paris,  France,  Dec.  9,  '00. 

HERSCHEL  AUGUSTUS  NORRIS. 

My  Dear  "Pop": — Well,  old  man,  another  of  your  endless  list  of 
notices  was  recently  received,  and  I  suppose  there  is  no  possible  way 
of  stopping  the  incessant  flow  of  such  periodicals  and  thereby  avoiding 
the  annoyance  and  disappointment  incurred  in  reading  them,  except 
by  sending  you  the  asked-for  letter.  Since  graduation  my  life  has 
been  rather  uneventful.  The  year  of  1897-1898  I  spent  at  the  old  college 
(or  the  New  University),  working  for  my  Master's  degree,  and  inci- 
dentally enjoying  the  Saturday-night  "seances"  indulged  in  by  yourself 
Russell,  et  al,  at  No.  7  No.  Edwards. 

After  securing  my  degree  in  June,  1898,  I  was  appointed  Instructor 
in  Greek  and  Latin  in  the  Friends'  High  School,  Wilmington,  Del., 
which  position  I  filled  during  the  following  year. 

The  next  spring,  owing  to  the  failing  health  of  the  principal,  and  hi? 
consequent  resignation,  for  some  imaccountable  reason  the  Board  of 
Trustees  saw  fit  to  offer  me  the  principalship,  which  I,  after  some 
hesitation  ( ?)  due  to  modesty  and  difUdence,  accepted.  This  position 
I  am  still  holding  and  trying  to  fill.  I  was  married  December  28th5 
1899,  to  Miss  Elizabeth  L.  Fogg,  at  Salem,  N.  J.  My  time  is  spent  in 
close  attention  to  business,  and  mostly  taken  up  with  the  routine  of 
looking  after  some  fifteen  teachers  and  two  hundred  pupils,  and  inci- 
dentally trying  to  initiate  the  older  ones  into  the  mysteries  of  "Gallia 
oinnis  divisa  est  in  partes  tres"  etc.,  "Anna  virumque  cano,"  etc.,  and 
"Quo  usque  tandem  ahutere,  Catilina,  patientia  nostra?"    You,  who  are 

162 


also  teaching,  can  probably  sympathize  with  me  in  the  many  trials, 
incident  to  a  pedagogue's  career.  Hoping  that  these  few  lines 
may  meet  the  long-felt  want,  and  that  the  "Record"  may  be  such  a 
success  as  comports  with  the  past  career  of  the  "great  and  glorious," 
I  remain. 

Very  sincerely  yours, 

H.  A.  NoRRis. 
Wilmington,  Del.,  Feb.  25,'oi. 

HENRY  CHAPMAN  OLCOTT. 

My  Dear  Pop: — Your  at  one  time  apparently  inexhaustible  supply  of 
very  insulting  postal  cards  having  evidently,  at  last,  come  to  an  end, 
I  take  pleasure  in  sending  you  the  letter  which  you  request.  The  his- 
tory of  my  life  for  the  four  years  that  have  almost  passed  since  we 
all  started  in  the  world,  by  various  pathways,  in  June,  1897,  would  be 
of  very  little  interest  to  the  class  at  large.     So  I  will  make  it  brief. 

In  July  after  graduation  I  entered  this  office,  and  circumstances  and 
a  regard  for  my  monthly  salary  have  kept  me  pretty  close  to  it  ever 
since.  I  am  here  yet  and  see  no  reason  for  believing  that  I  will  not  be 
for  some  time  to  come.  I  have  taken  no  extensive  journeys,  I  made 
no  speeches,  and  the  public  press  has  not  taken  the  slightest  note  of 
my  existence.  So  there  you  have  it  all.  I  hardly  think  it  worth  the 
amount  of  labor  that  it  took  in  the  form  of  mail  matter  to  get  it. 

As  ever, 


Henry  C.  Olcott. 


New  York  City,  N.  Y.,  April  22,  '01. 


HORACE  GREELEY  PADGET. 

Dear  Pop: — I  send  you  a  photo  of  our  boy.  You  ask  me  to  write 
a  letter  and  I  suppose  it  is  to  be  about  myself.  That  is  the  reason  wh} 
I  have  put  it  off  so  long.  Nothing  striking  has  occurred  since  grad- 
uation. I  have  settled  down,  married  the  best  girl  in  the  world,  have 
the  brightest  boy  in  the  world  (except  Livy  Wescott's)  and  have  be- 
come a  kind  of  permanent  fixture  in  the  town. 

After  spending  three  years  in  connection  with  the  private  school 
(from  which  I  sent  two  boys  to  Princeton  last  fall)  I  was  elected 
principal  of  the  public  school  here.  This  proved  to  be  a  lively  change. 
I  followed  a  man  who  did  not  believe  in  corporal  punishment  and  would 
never  resort  to  it.  The  boys  had  been  running  wild  for  some  time. 
During  the  first  few  weeks  I  flogged  from  three  to  ten  a  day,  and  soon 
had  them  tamed.  Now  a  case  of  corporal  punishment  in  the  schools 
is  rare.     They  seem  to  have  reformed. 

I  labor  each  forenoon  to  impress  upon  the  youth  of  the  town  that 
verbs  have  tenses,  and  that  an  adjective  in  the  ablative  plural  cannot 
possibly  agree  with  a  noun  in  the  nominative  singular,  etc.,  etc. 

Mr.  Tilbury,  who  was  in  the  prep,  school  with  me,  and  who  is  a 
graduate  of  Syracuse  and  P.  G.  at  Cornell,  is  helping  me  in  the  school. 
The  board  was  kind  enough  to  let  me  pick  my  man  and  then  they  paid 

163 


his  price.  He  lives  with  us  and  we  have  a  den  fitted  up  to  remind  us 
of  college  days,  with  all  our  college  trophies  on  the  walls,  and  shelves 
of  imposing  works  on  pedagogy  (which  we  never  read). 

Now,  Pop,  I  am  busy  and  not  much  of  a  letter-writer,  but  I  have  a 
strong  interest  in  old  Princeton,  and  shall  try  to  send  one  or  two 
students  each  year,  so  you  needn't  lose  patience  with  me  and  depart 
from  the  "straight  and  narrow  path"  if  I  do  not  send  you  any  more 
of  this  tommyrot. 

Your  friend  and  classmate, 

H.  G.  Padget. 

TowANDA,  Pa.,  Feb.  27,  '01. 

SAMUEL  MORROW  PALMER. 

Dear  Pop: — When  one's  eye  is  cast  upon  the  categorically  imperative 
questions,  by  means  of  which  you  occasionally  seek  to  classify  your 
charges,  it  begins  to  assume  a  stony  glare,  and  its  owner  realizes  that, 
without  wife  or  children  wherewith  to  appease  you,  nor  disturbances 
in  the  far  east  to  narrate,  life  must  have  been  very  unprolific. 

Like  the  ancients,  I  have  to  look  back  through  what  seems  to  be 
several  decades,  now,  to  the  golden  age,  but  the  focus  is  not  hard  to 
obtain,  and  when,  as  usual,  a  glance  is  not  sufficient,  I  yield  to  tempta- 
tion and  make  haste  to  the  Elysian  fields  of  New  Jersey.  This  consti- 
tutes the  bulk  of  my  traveling  in  this  and  other  lands. 

My  steady  job  since  leaving  college  has  continued  to  be  that  of  art 
student.  I  strive  to  be  of  the  short-haired  variety,  and  to  see  not  too 
many  colors  in  the  prism.  My  best  wish  for  you  and  my  classmates 
is  that  you  may  all  live  a  sufficient  time,  with  faculties  intact,  to  see 
me  wielding  "the  brushes  of  comets'  hair,"  and  painting  nocturnes  in 
orange  and  black,  therewith. 

With  the  most  fraternal  greetings  and  good  wishes  to  all  the  faith- 
ful, wherever  fortune  may  have  led  them,  I  am. 

Your  sincere  friend, 

Samuel  M.  Palmer. 
\    Wilmington,  Del.,  Jan.  31,  '01. 

ARIOVISTUS  PARDEE. 

Dear  "Pop": — Your  final  appeal  has  just  been  received,  and  though 
I  have  but  little  to  report  as  accomplished  since  graduating,  what  little 
there  is,  is  at  your  service.  The  summer  after  graduation  I  spent 
abroad,  traveling  with  "Chappie"  Reynolds  in  England  and  on  the 
Continent.  Upon  my  return  in  the  fall  I  joined  with  others  of  our 
class  in  properly  opening  college,  and,  this  accomplished,  returned  to 
Philadelphia  and  commenced  work  in  my  father's  office.  I  remained 
at  work  there  until  the  spring  of  '98,  when  I  was  transferred  to  Perth 
Amboy,  where  I  am  still  located. 

Yours  sincerely. 

Arid  Pardee. 

Philadelphia,  Pa.,  April  15,  '01. 

164 


WILLIAM  JOSEPH  PARKER. 

My  Dear  Pop: — After  bidding  farewell  to  college  life,  I  put  in  a  year 
of  doing  nothing,  then  started  in  to  learn  the  banking  business,  which 
business  I  am  still  in.  This  I  think  is  about  all  I  have  done  since 
June,   1897, 

Yours  sincerely, 

Wm.  J.  Parker. 
Trenton,  N.  J.,  April  10,  '01. 

AUSTIN  McDowell  Patterson. 

Dear  "Pop" : — In  comparison  with  the  thrilling  tales  of  war  by  land 
and  sea,  of  travels  abroad,  and  of  the  excitement  of  caring  for  a  family, 
I  fear  to  tell  a  tame  story — three  years  spent  in  the  quiet  of  a  Uni- 
versity. 

After  witnessing  that  last,  championship  baseball  game  in  June, 
'97,  being  consequently  in  the  best  of  spirits,  I  turned  homeward  in 
company  with  my  freshman  roommate.  Some  of  you  may  remember 
him.  We  had  the  company  of  Abbie  and  Franklin  Upshur  on  the  way 
to  Albany,  and  from  there  we  wheeled  our  way  to  Niagara  Falls;  it 
was  a  delightful  trip.     Alas,  poor  Chew !     He  was  married  long  ago. 

The  next  October  I  entered  Johns  Hopkins  to  study  chemistry  and 
kindred  sciences.  And,  by  the  way,  let  me  say  that  Princeton  is  very 
popular  at  the  Hopkins,  and  that  a  warm  welcome  awaits  any  of  her 
sons  who  may  go  there.  If  you  care  to  join  the  Greek  letter  fraternities 
you  will  have  good  opportunity.  Then  there  are  social  clubs  among  the 
graduates.  We  of  the  scientific  departments  had  an  organization 
known  as  "The  Aristologists,"  which  used  to  meet  fortnightly  at  the 
Johns  Hopkins  Club  house  (all  the  members  belonged  also  to  the 
latter).  Occasionally  we  organized  opera  parties  or  initiated  a  new 
member  at  "the  Zoo,"  but  the  evening  was  invariably  terminated  with 
a  spread  at  "Gordon's"  or  some  similar  place.  The  Johns  Hopkins 
atmosphere,  both  during  working  hours  and  outside  of  them,  is  per- 
ceptibly German. 

Parts  of  two  summers  were  spent  in  college  laboratories  at  New 
Wilmington,  Pa.,  and  Ashland,  Va.  During  my  last  year  I  was  as 
busy  as  I  cared  to  be,  with  my  duties  as  superintendent  of  a  mission 
Sabbath-school  and  secretary  of  the  Chemical  Club,  and  the  effort  to 
present  a  satisfactory  thesis  for  the  doctor's  degree.  Books  published? 
Why,  certainly:  A  monograph  upon  "The  Reduction  of  Permanganic 
Acid  by  Hydrogen  and  Ethylene,  and  a  Study  of  Some  of  its  Salts." 
But  no  publisher  bid  for  the  manuscript.  It  was  issued  in  accordance 
with  the  University  regulations,  which  is  my  only  apology  for  its  appear- 
ance. 

Now  I  am  an  instructor  in  Center  College  down  here  in  Danville, 
and  of  course  I  have  discovered  some  of  Alex's  relatives.  All  Ken- 
tuckians  are  related,  and  it's  a  pretty  nice  family,  too.  The  boys  are 
gentlemen  and  the  troubles  I  anticipated  in  teaching  haven't  materialized. 
You  ask  about  offices  of  trust.     The  only  one  I  have  held  was  that  of 

165 


timekeeper  at  the  Center-Cincinnati  football  game.  My  duties  were 
light,  for  in  less  than  ten  minutes  we  had  a  fine  scrap  on,  and  after 
that  no  one  thought  about  the  timekeeper. 

That's  about  all,  isn't  it,  that  you'd  like  to  know?  Oh,  yes,  my  mar- 
riage. Well  now,  didn't  I  tell  you  before  we  left  college  that  that 
wouldn't  happen  until  I  was  thirty?  Perhaps  I  can  tell  you  more  on 
that  subject  at  the  Decennial. 

Sincerely  your  friend  and  classmate, 

Pat. 

Danville,  Ky.,  March  12,  '01. 


GEORGE  LEWIS  PATTERSON. 

My  Dear  '97; — When  I  received  Pop's  first  notice  that  he  wished  a 
letter  from  me  I  never  had  any  intention  of  writing  one,  but  when 
our  postmaster  came  to  me  and  said,  "For  goodness  sake,  if  you  owe 
this  man  Keener  anything,  please  pay  him,  or  we  will  have  to  raise 
the    wages    of    our    clerks,"    I    thought    it    about    time    to    be    doing. 

I  do  not  think  any  one  in  '97  remembers  me,  as  I  only  spent  about 
fifteen  minutes  with  you  all.  In  the  last  seven  years  only  two  '97  men 
have  ever  found  me  out  in  our  city.  They  were  Vick  King  and  Jarvie 
Geer.  I  think  they  stopped  here  because  they  could  not  get  any 
farther. 

I  will  write  you  a  little  about  our  city  in  hopes  that  some  lonesome 
man  might  stray  in  and  see  me  som.e  time. 

Newcastle,  Lawrence  County,  Penn.,  in  the  last  ten  years  has  the 
proud  distinction  of  having  the  largest  gain  in  population  of  any  city 
in  the  United  States,  with  the  exception  of  Duluth.  Our  gain  was 
144  per  cent.  We  have  a  great  diversity  of  industries — glass  factories, 
tube  mills,  wire  nail  mills,  tin  mills,  four  large  bla.st  furnaces,  steel  mill, 
bar  mill,  rod  mill,  stove  foundry,  engineering  works,  electrical  and 
brass  works,  and  in  fact  every  kind  of  manufacture  that  goes  to  make  a 
wide-awake  Pennsylvania  city. 

Our  banking  houses  are  of  the  best.  One  of  our  banks  stands  seventh 
in  the  United  States  in  the  amount  of  business  done  relative  to  the  sur- 
plus and  capital   stock. 

Newcastle  has  two  of  the  largest  tin  manufactories  in  the  world,  one 
of  twenty  mills  (the  Greer  Mill)  and  the  Shenango  Valley  has  thirty 
mills.  These  mills  were  bought  by  the  American  Tin  Plate  Company, 
and  are  now  controlled  by  the  United  States  Steel  Company. 

The  New  Castle  Wire  Nail  Mill  has  been  sold  to  the  American 
Steel  &  Wire  Company.  This  plant  was  one  of  the  largest  in  the 
country,  having  a  capacity  of  5,000  kegs  per  day. 

The  manufacturing  plants  of  our  city  are  now  mostly  owned  by  the 
trusts.  The  National  Steel  Company,  The  American  Tin  Plate  Co., 
The  Republic,  Shelby  Tube  Co.,  American  Window  Glass  Company, 
are  some  of  the  trusts  that  control  our  industries. 

Our  industrial  pay  rolls  per  month  are  in  the  neighborhood  of  $400,- 

166 


ooo.     I  think  that  this  probably  is  the  largest  amount  paid  out  in  any- 
city  of  28,000  population,  in  this  or  any  other  country. 

Our  street  railway  system  is  owned  and  controlled  by  R.  R.  Quay, 
They  have  as  fine  a  street  railway  as  could  be  built  at  the  time.  They 
spent  half  a  million  dollars  in  the  city.  They  made  a  fine  baseball 
park  and  a  park  of  amusement,  built  a  small  lake  at  the  entrance  to 
Amusement  Park,  which  lake  is  used  for  boating  in  the  summer  and 
skating  in  the  winter.     The  same  parties  own  our  electric  light  system. 

The  New  Castle  Hospital  is  a  thing  of  beauty  and  something  to  be 
proud  of.  One  of  our  leading  physicians,  after  traveling  in  Germany, 
Italy  and  some  other  foreign  countries  last  summer,  said  he  had  to  come 
home  in  order  to  appreciate  our  Shenango  Valley  Hospital.  He  said 
he  found  it  up  to  date  in  every  respect,  and  far  superior  to  some  he 
visited  while  abroad. 

We  also  have  the  Elmira  Home  for  the  aged,  which  is  partially  kept 
by  the  State — a  very  charitable  and  worthy  institution. 

I  do  wish,  boys,  you  would  drop  in  and  see  me.  I  have  just  given 
you  an  outline  of  what  we  can  do  for  you.  If  you  are  so  unfortunate 
as  to  become  "string  halt"  or  "blind"  or  most  anything,  I  think  we 
can  take  care  of  you. 

I  also  forgot  to  mention  the  Standard  Brewery.     We  have  one. 
Yours  very  truly, 

G.   L.   Patterson. 

New  Castle,  Pa.,  April  2,  '01. 

GEORGE  WILLIAM  PECK,  JR. 

My  Dear  Keener: — Theoretically  speaking,  I  became  a  "wanderer  on 
the  face  of  the  earth"  just  one  year  in  advance  of  the  remainder  of  the 
class.  For,  as  you  may  remember,  at  the  end  of  my  Junior  year,  I 
regretfully  forsook  the  shades  of  Old  Nassau,  and  hied  myself  away 
to  that  land-locked  college  in  the  center  of  New  York  State,  Cornell 
University.  I  labored  under  the  impression  that  the  experience  gained 
by  attending  two  large  Universities  would  be  of  more  practical  value 
to  a  man  than  the  pursuance  of  the  full  four  years'  course  in  one  place. 
Well,  I  gained  my  experience  the  first  week,  but  as  it  was  too  late 
to  retrace,  I  had  the  privilege  of  redigesting  that  experience  for  forty 
long  weeks,  at  the  end  of  which  I  received  my  diploma  and  packed  my 
trunk  for  New  York. 

Fellows,  they  say,  "You  never  miss  the  water  till  the  well  runs 
dry,"  and  I  tell  you  that  while  Cornell  is  all  right  in  her  way,  I  never 
knew,  and  never  would  have  known,  what  "Princeton  honor"  and 
"Princeton  spirit"  meant,  had  I  not  had  an  insight  into  another  insti- 
tution. It  doubled  my  love  for  the  old  place,  and  I  had  the  honor 
conferred  upon  me,  by  the  class  of  '97  at  Cornell,  of  graduating  at 
Ithaca,  "a  Princeton  man,"  than  which  no  greater  honor  could  any 
man  have. 

In  the  fall  of  '97  I  began  my  direct  study  for  the  ministry  in  Union 
Theological  Seminary,  N.  Y.,  where  I  spent  two  very  enjoyable  years; 

167 


meeting  many  men  from  other  colleges,  and  especially  associating  with 
the  fifteen  Princeton  men  who  were  there  at  the  same  time.  During 
my  second  year  at  Union  I  took  a  graduate  course  at  Columbia  Uni- 
versity, in  the  department  of  Political  Science,  specializing  in  Sociol- 
ogy, where,  in  June,  '99,  I  received  my  M.A. 

That  summer  I  performed  the  only  really  exciting  "stunt"  since  gradu- 
ating (except  getting  married).  Ted  McAlpin  and  I  took  a  trip 
South,  to  the  islands  ofif  the  coast  of  South  Carolina,  where  we  made 
a  sociological  study  of  the  negroes  there,  who  had  been  for  thirty 
years  practically  out  of  the  sphere  of  civilization.  It  was  mighty  in- 
teresting, and  we  received  some  real  information,  but  modesty  forbids 
my  relating  the  degree  of  success  with  which  the  world  received  our 
sociological  data.     I  will  leave  that  for  "Ted." 

In  the  fall  of  '99,  as  I  was  a  Baptist,  I  withdrew  from  Union  and 
entered  Crozer  Theological  Seminary,  at  Chester,  Pa.,  where  I  spent 
one  year,  quietly  and  pleasantly,  intrenching  myself  in  Baptist  doctrines. 
In  June,  1900,  I  graduated,  and  had  the  privilege  of  representing  my 
class  on  the  Commencement  stage. 

On  June  the  eleventh  I  was  called  to  the  Lower  Dublin  Baptist  church, 
of  Bustleton,  Philadelphia.  On  the  seventeenth  I  accepted  the  call, 
and  on  the  sixth  of  July  was  ordained  to  the  ministry.  From  that  time 
until  October  of  the  same  year  I  was  made  to  wait,  a  lonesome,  home- 
sick parson  in  a  quiet  country  town,  until  a  certain  young  lady  finished 
her  trip  to  California,  arranged  her  trousseau,  and  set  a  date  when  I 
could  join  the  order  of  benedicts,  and  attempt  to  do  justice  to  a  pretty 
parsonage,  in  which  I  had  been  living,  a  lone  owl.  That  date  was 
the  eighteenth  of  October,  when  the  nuptials  of  Miss  Mary  Maxwell 
Meeker,  of  Roselle,  and  your  humble  servant  were  performed  in  our 
home  town.     Since  that  time — ^J-O-Y,    B-L-I-S-S. 

You  might  be  interested  to  know  that  the  Lower  Dublin  Baptist 
Church  is  a  fine,  brown-stone  building,  with  250  members,  about  twelve 
miles  from  the  center  of  Philadelphia,  and  that  it  is  the  oldest  Baptist 
church  in  Pennsylvania,  and  the  second  oldest  in  America,  having  been 
instituted  in  1688.     So  it  has  name  and  fame. 

Now,  with  best  wishes  to  each  and  to  all,  and  God's  blessing  on  every 
man  of  you,  I  am.  Yours, 

G.  W.  Peek,  Jr. 

Philadelphia,  Pa.,  Feb.  22,  '01. 

TRUE  PERKINS. 

My  Dear  Pop: — In  response  to  your  demand,  I  will  attempt  to  set 
down  what  has  happened  to  me  in  the  three  years  which  have  inter- 
vened since  we  left  Princeton  never  to  return  as  undergraduates. 

After  shoving  some,  and  being  myself  shoved,  through  the  car  win- 
dow, I  spent  my  time  quietly  at  home.  At  the  end  of  July  I  made  a 
trip  up  the  lakes  to  Marquette,  Michigan.  Early  in  August  I  left  for 
Maine,  where  I  spent  the  rest  of  the  summer,  going  into  the  woods  for 
the  month  of  October.  The  last  tv/o  months  of  '97  were  spent  quietly 
at  home. 

168 


In  January,  'g8,  I  entered  the  Case  School  of  Applied  Science,  where 
I  worked  until  the  middle  of  June.  In  July  I  went  up  the  lakes  on  a 
barge  to  Ashland,  Wisconsin.  Early  in  August  I  left  for  Maine  once 
more.  About  the  first  of  October  I  went  into  the  woods,  and  with  an 
Indian  as  guide,  made  tracks  for  the  forest  primeval.  After  spending 
about  three  days  on  the  way  we  arrived  at  Ellis  Brook,  our  destination. 
This  is  a  little  stream  which  runs  into  Chamberlain  Lake;  the  region 
is  one  of  the  moose  grounds.  All  around  us  stood  the  majestic  pines 
and  birches.  In  due  season  I  got  my  chance  and  bagged  a  moose.  While 
camping  on  the  brook  I  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  a  beaver  dam  and 
observing  the  beavers  at  work.  During  this  trip  I  also  bagged  two  deer 
and  some  partridges.  After  my  return  from  Maine  I  continued  my 
studies  at  Case  for  the  rest  of  the  year. 

In  June,  1899,  I  was  fortunate  enough  to  be  able  to  be  at  Princeton 
for  our  second  reunion ;  on  my  return  I  made  another  trip  up  the  lakes. 
In  August  I  went  West,  visiting  Salt  Lake  City,  Denver,  Colorado 
Springs,  Manitou,  and  making  the  ascent  of  Pike's  Peak.  In  November, 
on  the  twenty-fifth  day  of  the  month,  Kelly  and  I  celebrated  Poe's 
kick  at  the  University  Club  of  Cleveland,  where  we  had  our  dinner. 
After  this  we  collected  a  crowd  of  non-combatants,  and  after  teach- 
ing them  the  cheer,  did  our  best  to  proclaim  the  glad  tidings;  Kelly 
proving  to  be  a  crowd  in  himself  by  his  strength  of  lung. 

I  completed  my  course  February  first,  1900,  and  set  about  writing  a 
thesis.  In  June,  1900,  I  was  once  more  in  Princeton,  and  took  an 
A.M.  On  my  return  Kelly  and  I  went  up  the  lakes  again.  In  August 
I  left  for  the  West,  going  over  the  same  ground  as  last  year ;  from 
Salt  Lake  I  went  on  to  San  Francisco,  where  I  saw  the  town  and  went 
through  Chinatown.  I  returned  the  last  of  September,  and  have  been 
living  at  home  ever  since. 

Such  has  been  the  course  of  my  life  since  I  left  the  protecting  care 
of  our  Alma  Mater  in  June  '97. 

Yours  as  ever, 

True  Perkins. 

Cleveland,  Ohio,  Nov.  24,  '00. 

FARRAND  BAKER  PIERSON. 

Dear  Pop: — Wrath  is  evidently  preparing  to  wreak  its  vengeance 
on  my  defenceless  head,  and  I  hasten  to  explain  that  since  your  letter 
came,  a  few  days  ago,  explaining  just  what  you  wanted,  I  have  had  a 
very  unusual  rush  of  business  that  has  prevented  my  giving  thought 
enough  to  it  to  write  a  presentable  letter  on  any  subject. 

If  you  expect  any  news  from  this  quarter  you  will  be  left,  I  fear, 
for  since  I  left  college  my  life  has  been  a  long  effort  to  find  the  tag 
that  ought  to  have  gone  with  me,  stating  for  what  use  I  was  intended. 
I  tried  tutoring  a  couple  of  years,  but,  of  course,  that  was  a  makeshift. 
Then  I  hailed  medicine  as  the  only  profession,  and  enjoyed  that  ex- 
ceedingly for  a  year  and  a  half,  when  it  became  clear  that  even  home- 
opathy won't  save  a  man's  soul,  and  since  then  I  have  looked  for  more 

169 


distinctly  Christian  work,  and  have  found  it,  I  hope,  in  work  among 
colored  toughs  in  a  boys'  mission  in  Brooklyn,  with  a  distant  prospect 
of  India  or  some  other  remoter  district  of  heathendom. 

I  was  sorry  to  give  up  medicine,  but  it  had  to  be  done,  though  it 
bereaved  both  McGraw  and  myself,  who  were  in  Chicago  together. 

Efforts  to  get  down  to  college  during  reunions  or  term  time  have 
proved  unavailing,  and  my  only  visits  have  been  during  vacation, 
which  is  unsatisfactory  from  a  social  point  of  view.  I  hope  to  be  able 
to  make  one  reunion  before  I  die,  but  it  looks  doubtful  if  I  have  to  come 
from  India  for  it. 

I'm  sorry  to  have  turned  your  hairs  gray,  but  as  I  didn't  understand, 
I  hope  they  will  turn  back  again. 

Yours, 

Punt  Pierson. 

Brooklyn,  N.  Y.,  April  23,  '01. 

WALTER  JAMES  PILLING. 

My  Dear  Pop: — As  you  have  probably  forgotten,  I  did  not  graduate 
with  the  "great  and  glorious,"  but  owing  to  the  courtesy  of  Dr.  Patton 
and  the  Faculty  received  my  degree  "as  of"  '97.  However,  that  is  a 
mere  detail,  for  as  we  all  know,  once  enrolled  under  those  magic  nu- 
merals no  other  would  suffice,  or,  indeed,  be  considered.  Two  of  the 
years  since  have  been  passed  by  me  in  travel  and  recreation,  principally 
in  Europe. 

I  am  now,  however,  actively  engaged  in  business  here,  of  a  more  or 
less  varied  kind,  consisting  chiefly  of  insurance  and  real  estate.  Al- 
though I  missed  the  triennial  reunion,  due  to  some  unforeseen  circum- 
stances, I  have  been  back  several  times  on  lesser  occasions  to  renew 
the  old  associations,  and  have  generally  been  fortunate  enough  to  meet 
some  of  the  old  guard  prowling  around  the  familiar  haunts. 

Hoping  that  you  or  any  other  member  of  the  class  who  may  be  in 
Washington,  will  look  me  up, 

I  am  very  truly  yours, 

Walter  J.  Pilling. 

Washington,  D.  C,  Feb.  22,  '01. 

ROBERT  PITCAIRN,  JR. 

My  Dear  Keener: — As  you  may  know,  I  spent  the  year  following  the 
'97  commencement  in  securing  the  much  coveted  degree  of  Civil  Engi- 
neer. This  seemed  very  desirable  since  I  expected  to  take  up  railroad 
work.  After  obtaining  the  degree,  I  entered  the  service  of  the  Penna. 
Railroad  as  rodman  on  the  engineer  corps,  and  gradually  worked  up 
to  the  position  of  assistant  supervisor.  I  resigned  this  latter  position, 
as,  although  it  was  in  the  direct  line  of  promotion,  I  found  the  chances 
of  advancement  were  few  and  far  between.  I  then  went  into  the  coal 
business,  and  am  now  vice-president  of  the  Keystone  Coal  and  Coke 
Co.,  with  principal  offices  in  the  Park  Building,  Pittsburgh,  Pa.     This 

170 


is  one  of  the  largest  private  companies  in  the  western  part  of  the  State, 
owning  and  operating  twenty  different  mines. 

I  am  not  married,  and  there  are  no  immediate  prospects  that  I  shall 
be. 

I  am  a  member  of  the  Duquesne  Club,  the  University  Club  and  the 
Country  Club. 

I  attended  the  recent  banquet  of  the  Princeton  Club  of  Western 
Pennsylvania,  which  was  the  finest  they  have  ever  held,  where  I  met 
a.  great  number  of  our  classmates,  from  all  of  whom  you  will  doubtless 
hear. 

Yours,  in  the  bond  of  Alma  Mater, 
Robert  Pitcairn,  Jr. 

Pittsburg,  Pa.,  May  4,  '01. 


NEILSON  POE,  JR. 

Dear  Pop: — Thanks  very  much  for  your  many  invitations  to  con- 
tribute to  the  history  of  the  lives  of  the  great  men  of  '97.  Since  leaving 
the  old  town  on  that  sad  June  day,  most  of  my  time  has  been  spent  in 
Baltimore,  where  I  attended  the  Law  School  of  the  University  of 
Maryland.  I  knew  I  could  get  through  before  I  started,  as  my  father 
is  Dean  of  the  Law  School,  and  one  of  my  brothers  lectures  there. 

Somewhat  of  a  pull  for  one  in  the  family.  If  you  know  any  of  the 
class  that  want  to  study  law  send  them  down  here,  and  I  will  guarantee 
that  they  will  get  through.     Don't  think  I  am  drumming  up  business. 

While  there,  I  was  the  star  right-fielder  on  the  ball  nine,  and  I 
caught  as  many  flies  as  "Jerry"  ever  did  in  his  palmiest  days.  And 
those  were  good  old  days,  you  know.  I  also  managed  to  pass  my  ex- 
amination, and  received  an  LL.B.  for  it  last  June.  I  have  coached  sev- 
eral football  teams.  In  the  fall  of  '97  I  was  at  Wesleyan.  with  a  half  a 
dozen  trips  to  Princeton  thrown  in.  In  the  fall  of  '98  I  was  back  at 
Princeton,  where  I  saw  lots  of  the  fellows  during  the  season.  In  the 
fall  of  '99  I  was  coaching  the  University  of  Illinois  football  team,  but 
got  East  in  time  to  see  the  game  in  New  Haven.  Last  fall  I  was  at 
Princeton. 

To  most  of  your  questions  I  have  to  say  no,  as  I  have  neither  wife 
nor  girl.  This  means  I  am  not  engaged.  I  have  not  delivered  any 
speeches,  held  office  of  profit,  honor  or  trust,  nor  did  I  become  a  soldier 
during  the  Spanish  war.  The  only  part  I  took  in  it  was  seeing  the 
soldiers  off,  and  reviewing  the  Peace  Jubilee  in  Philadelphia  with 
"Kinks"  Pardee,  whose  smallness  of  stature  alone  prevented  him  from 
becoming  a  soldier.  S.  E.  Gill  vouches  for  this.  The  initials,  of  course, 
are  superfluous,  as  I  know  there  is  still  "only  one  Gill." 

Now,  Pop,  I  know  it  is  not  necessary  to  tell  you  to  whoop  it  up  for 
the  Quinquennial,  as  I  fully  realize  what  you  have  done  for  us  in  the 
past  and  know  you  will  always  keep  up  the  good  work.  But  it  is  not 
far  off,  and  I  for  one  am  looking  forward  to  it.  We  all  had  a  good 
time  at  the  triennial,  and  we  want  to  make  the  "old  burg"  know  that 

171 


'97  is  back  again.  Fellows,  we  all  want  to  be  there,  so  I  will  take  this 
opportunity  to  add  as  a  postscript  to  the  many  letters  that  we  will 
receive  from  Pop  concerning  that  auspicious  occasion,  "Don't  miss 
it."  Yours  as  ever, 

Neilson  Poe. 
Baltimore,  Md.,  Feb.  28,  '01. 

WILFRED  McILVAINE  POST. 

Dear  Pop: — The  demand  of  the  secretary  that  all  class  letters  should 
be  typewritten  was  so  trenchant  a  criticism  of  the  handwriting  of  the 
class  in  general,  and  of  myself  in  particular,  that  I  was  tempted  to 
follow  the  example  of  the  Irish  stateman  who  returned  a  letter  from 
his  political  rival  with  the  words :  "Dear  Sir — The  insulting  tone  of 
your  last  favor  compels  me  to  return  it  unread." 

Since  the  year  of  1897  I  have  lived  in  both  hemispheres.  I  returned 
to  Syria  in  the  summer  of  1897  by  way  of  Scotland  and  England,  and 
then  through  the  straits  of  Gibraltar  to  Italy  and  up  the  Syrian  coast 
by  the  Egyptian  route.  I  arrived  in  Beirut  just  in  time  to  matriculate 
as  a  medical  student  in  the  Syrian  Protestant  College.  There  I  studied 
two  years,  greatly  enjoying  the  experience  of  being  with  Syrian  students, 
many  of  whom  are  fine  fellows.  It  added  not  a  little  to  my  pleasure 
to  be  in  touch  with  the  American  tutors  at  the  college,  several  of  whom 
were  Princeton  men,  Fred  Jessup  among  them. 

During  my  stay  in  the  East,  Emperor  William  II.,  of  Germany,  came 
to  Syria,  and  his  visit  was  celebrated  by  the  whole  country  in  many 
interesting  ways.  The  Sultan  spared  no  means  to  entertain  his  illus- 
trious guest,  and  on  the  night  preceding  his  departure  from  Beirut,  the 
whole  of  Lebanon,  visible  to  the  south  of  the  city,  was  ablaze  with  illu- 
minations; two  enormous  bonfires  being  lighted  at  the  top  of  Mt.  Sun- 
nin,  many  miles  away,  and  nearly  9,000  feet  in  height.  The  region  north 
of  the  city  being  under  French  influence,  not  a  light  was  shown,  and  the 
contrast  was  as  significant  as  it  was  picturesque. 

Syria  is  a  land  of  contrasts,  ancient  and  modern,  civilized  and  prim- 
itive, luxurious  and  poverty-stricken,  Mohammedan  and  Christian,  Jew 
and  Pagan,  Catholic  and  Protestant.  Its  political  future  is  yet  to  be 
decided,  but  missionary  and  philanthropist  maintain  their  efforts  for 
the  people  with  unremitting  zeal,  and  the  vast  amount  of  good  already 
accomplished  will,  I  feel  confident,  show  rich  increase  with  the  years. 

I  returned  to  the  U.  S.  in  1899  and  entered  the  third  year  of  the  Col- 
lege of  Physicians  and  Surgeons,  of  New  York  City,  where  I  am  still 
studying  in  company  with  nearly  a  dozen  other  '97  men — sometimes  an 
unsavory,  but  at  all  times  a  happy  and  hard-working  lot.  None  of  us 
are  often  seen  at  the  Princeton  Club,  I  regret  to  say;  it  is  through  lack 
of  time,  not  of  patriotism.  By  act  of  bravery,  and  by  generous  service, 
Percy  Williams  and  Leander  Shearer  have  already  appeared  before  the 
class.  The  rest  of  us  in  due  time  will  have  at  least  a  hard-earned  M.D. 
to  add  to  our  ever  loyal  names.  Very  sincerely  yours, 

Wilfred  M.  Post. 

WASHiNGToisr,  D.  C,  Dec.  28,  1900. 

172 


CHARLES  ELDRIDGE  QUINLAN. 

Dear  Fop: — My  story  is  soon  told.  In  the  lumber  business  in  Penn- 
sylvania up  to  1900,  then  a  year  in  the  mountains  of  Eastern  Tennessee, 
now  located  at  Waynesville,  N.  C,  twenty-eight  miles  south  of  Ashe- 
ville,  with  Quinlan,  Monroe  &  Co.,  wholesale  lumber. 

Charles  E.  Quinlan.  • 

Waynesville,  N.  C,  April  8,  '01. 

WILLIAM  BOYD  RAMSEY. 

My  Dear  Pop: — All  of  the  doughty  sons  of  '97  know  without  my 
saying  it,  that  "Short  and  simple  are  the  annals  of  the  poor"  fellows  in 
our  merry  band  who  have  chosen  the  law  as  their  mistress.  It  is 
bound  to  be,  for  we  are  just  now  going  through  the  starvation  period 
in  our  respective  careers.  Like  Peter  Stirling,  we  sit  in  our  offices 
reading  somebody  or  other  on  "Torts" ;  some  of  us,  perhaps,  mix  in 
politics  a  little,  while  we  all  keep  digging  away,  persistently,  with  that 
dogged  Princeton  ('97)  spirit  which  is  bound  to  bring  us  just  about  the 
success  we  each  deserve  in  our  respective  little  positions  in  this  great 
world  of  ours. 

The  chronicle  of  my  own  experiences  is  a  brief  one.  After  spending 
the  summer  of  1897  at  home,  I  succeeded  in  entering  the  senior  class 
at  the  Cincinnati  Law  School,  from  which  I  graduated  in  June  of  the 
following  year.  I  passed  the  state  bar  examination  by  a  tight  squeeze 
soon  after,  and  was  admitted  to  practice  on  the  unsuspecting  public. 
Since  August  of  that  year  I  have  been  located  in  Toledo.  While  at 
Cincinnati  I  met,  often,  our  hail  classmate  from  Kentucky,  "Colonel" 
Hill.  On  a  recent  visit  to  Chicago  the  hospitality  of  Duncan  Moore 
was  enjoyed,  while  of  course  the  one  experience  of  the  past  three  years, 
most  cherished  was  our  triennial  reunion.  The  only  serious  objection 
I  can  raise  against  Toledo  is  her  lack  of  Princeton  men — there  being 
but  four  of  us  here,  a  '39  man,  a  '77  man,  Dr.  Dice,  '93,  and  the  writer. 

Hoping  to  meet  with  you  all  again  in  June,  1902,  in  the  cool  shade  of 
the  dear  old  campus  elms,  I  am, 

Sincerely  your  classmate, 

Wm.  B.  Ramsey. 

Toledo,  O.,  Feb.  28,  '01. 

HARRY  NORMAN  REEVES. 

My  Dear  Pop: — The  pungent  and  reproachful  epithets  applied  to  the 
group  of  individuals,  of  which  I  am  one,  according  to  yours  of  the 
I2th  inst.,  have  sufficiently  stirred  my  calm  inactivity  with  a  desire  to 
get  even,  and  herewith  you  have  the  result. 

This  is  the  usual  position  for  matters  of  excuse.  And  the  fact  that 
I  have  recently  taken  unto  myself  a  wife  may  serve  in  that  capacity, 
as  well  as  a  matter  of  interest.  I  say  "a  matter  of  interest,"  for  aside 
from  furnishing  an  additional  statistic  for  our  hard-working  secretary 
to  compile,  that  fact  may  loom  up,  in  the  future  of  some  of  my  less 
fortunate  classmates,  as  a  great  source  of  encouragement,  who,  as  they 

173 


run  the  race  toward  a  similar  goal,  gird  up  their  loins  anew  when  they 
recollect  the  fact  that  even  "Porky"  Reeves  got  married.  And  further- 
more, as  an  additional  incentive  toward  reaching  the  aforesaid  goal,  I 
can  assure  all  who  breast  the  tape  there  stretched,  that  each  and  every 
one  will  receive  from  our  beloved  class  secretary,  hard-working  though 
he  be,  a  most  happy  and  appropriate  note — one  of  the  kind  that  you 
will  always  want  to  keep;  one  of  the  kind  that  makes  you  feel,  once 
more,  supremely  grateful  that  kind  Providence  saw  to  it  that  Princeton 
University  was  your  Alma  Mater,  that  '97  was  your  class,  and  that  Pop 
Keener  was  your  class  secretary. 

Now,  Pop,  don't  you  dare  allow  your  customary  modesty  to  tempt  you 
to  cut  out  those  references  to  yourself.  I  want  this  letter  printed  in 
its  entirety. 

If  I  can  for  a  moment  thrust  aside  from  my  thoughts  the  supreme 
fact  of  interest  in  my  life,  dilated  upon  above  to  so  large  an  extent,  I 
would  also  like  to  communicate  another  statistic  to  the  class  secretary. 

I  have  removed  from  my  former  sphere  of  business.  I  have  come 
down  out  of  the  country,  and  am  now  located  in  this  city — address, 
164  Market  Street.  I  now  run  up  against  a  Princeton  man  at  every 
turn,  where  before  I  had  to  seek  the  city  on  occasional  semi-annual 
jaunts  to  enjoy  a  reminiscent  Princeton  evening. 

And  speaking  of  reminiscences,  I  hope  you  have  succeeded  in  getting 
from  Selden  Spencer,  for  the  benefit  and  edification  of  his  classmates, 
the  story  of  his  life  since  graduation,  showing  how  he  no  longer  is  a 
"disgrace  to  the  family."  And  I  also  hope  you  succeed  in  wringing  out 
of  "Pip"  Wheeler  the  true  inward  history  of  the  time  he  bailed  out  one 
of  his  employees,  whereupon  the  court  appointed  him  guardian  of 
eleven  orphans,  because  of  his  apparent  philanthropic  tendencies.  Jude 
Taylor,  also,  I  hope,  will  tell  his  classmates  how  he  gets  the  judges  of 
the  municipal  courts  of  New  York  City  down  on  the  bench,  and  re- 
fuses to  let  them  up,  even  when  they  howl,  "Oh,  my  knee,  my  knee." 

Having  no  news  of  my  own,  I  have  offered  these  suggestions  for  the 
good  of  the  cause,  and  also  for  the  purpose  of  making  my  letter  of 
respectable  length.  Which  latter  purpose  being  accomplished  to  some 
slight  degree,  I  trust,  I  am,  as  always, 

Yours  for  '97, 

Harry  N.  Reeves. 

Newark,  N.  J.,  Feb.  23,  '01. 

JOHN  REILLY,  JR. 

The  "history  of  my  past  life"  can  be  told  in  a  few  words,  and  is  as 
follows : 

When  the  "Great  and  Glorious"  left  the  "good  town,"  Bob  Pitcairn, 
George  Crozer  and  I  were  taken  in  by  '98  and  made  to  feel  at  home. 
George  and  I  kept  3  South  Dod  warm,  and  Bob  and  myself  hustled 
all  year  for  our  C.  E.  dips.,  and  were  finally  successful.  '97  was  in 
evidence  on  Class  Day.  Wayne  Wilson  was  presentation  orator,  and 
said  he  could  not  leave  his  old  classmates  unmentioned,  so  "your  humble 

174 


servant"  was  once  more  called  before  that  august  assemblage  (not  with 
"Marbles,"  but  with  that  shy  young  creature,  G.  K.  C,  Jr.),  and  pre- 
sented with  a  squat  little  Chinese  image,  as  a  reminder  of  George. 
Wayne  did  not  give  George  an3^thing  to  remember  me,  as  he  said  I 
would  "always  remain  long  in  the  memory  of  my  classmates." 

The  winter  of  'gS-'gp  I  spent  in  the  engineering  and  physical  labs., 
and  received  my  M.  S.  in  the  spring.  That  summer  was  spent  in 
France  and  Germany,  principally  the  latter,  and  I  returned  to  Princeton 
to  begin  my  two  years  in  the  Electrical  School,  which  will  end  this 
June.  Last  May  I  went  South  with  the  Princeton  Eclipse  Expedition, 
and  shortly  after  sailed  for  Germany,  spending  most  of  the  summer  at 
the  University  of  Marburg.  Later  I  took  in  Oberammergau  and  the 
Paris  Exposition.  I  still  hold  my  room,  and  will  be  in  Princeton  a 
good  part  of  next  winter.     The  latch-string  is  always  out  for  '97. 

Most  sincerely, 

John  Reilly,  Jr. 

Philadelphia,  Pa.,  May  10,  '01. 

THEODORE  FAIRBANKS  REYNOLDS. 

Dear  Classmates :— Having  received  several  reminders  from  Pop,  al- 
low me  to  tell  you  what  I  have  been  doing  since  leaving  Princeton.  I 
spent  the  summ.er  of  '97  in  Europe  with  Ario  Pardee.  We  went  over 
to  complete  our  education,  visiting  m.any  cathedrals,  churches,  art  gal- 
leries, and  other  places  of  interest.  Pard.  was  bent  on  getting  another 
watermelon,  but  had  poor  luck. 

We  returned  in  the  fall.  I  entered  the  New  York  Law  School,  re- 
mained one  year,  and  then  decided  my  abilities  lay  in  other  directions. 

Joined  the  New  York  Stock  Exchange  December  i,  1898,  doing  a 
general  banking  and  brokerage  business,  under  the  firm  name  of  Ailing, 
Reynolds  &  Co.,  where  I  have  been  ever  since.  Glad  to  see  any  of 
you  at  30  Pine  street.  New  York  City,  at  any  old  time. 

Yours  as  ever, 
Theodore  F.  Reynolds. 

East  Orange,  N.  J.,  April  9,  1901. 

WILL  AYRES  REYNOLDS. 

My  Dear  Bop: — After  many  and  earnest  solicitations,  I  now  send 
you  a  I  St  of  April  letter.  It  seems  an  appropriate  day  for  me  to  write 
one. 

The  old  man  wishes  to  know  what  I  have  been  doing  and  what  I 
hope  to  do.  Not  being  of  a  prophetic  turn  of  mind,  a  la  Shortz,  and  as 
hopes  sometimes  do  strange  things,  I'll  pass  the  future  up. 

As  to  the  past,  if  I  should  tell  all  I  have  been  doing  it  might  not 
look  well  in  black  and  white,  so  I'll  just  give  you  a  few  lines. 

I  might  have  been  digging  gold  nuggets  and  playing  with  the  polar 
bear  children  in  the  Klondike. 

I  might  have  been  in  the  Philippine  Islands  following  the  instruc- 
tions of  Mr.  Kipling : 

•175 


"Take  up  the  white  man's  burden, 

Ye   must   assume    it    soon; 
Take  up  the  white  man's  burden, 

And  put  it  on  the  coon." 

I  might  have  been  an  advance  agent  of  civilization  in  China,  trying 
to  teach  the  obstreperous  Chinaman  to  wear  his  shirt  on  the  inside 
of  his  trousers,  or  to  interest  him  in  the  dehghtful  mysteries  of  Chi- 
cago canned  meats,  or  to  urge  him  to  give  up  his  rice  and  rats  for 
Uneeda  meals.  None  of  these  little  duties  have  fallen  to  me,  but 
nevertheless  I  have  traveled  some  and  fought  a  little.  I  have  traveled 
to  my  meals  three  times  a  day  and  battled  with  the  world  for  bread. 

The  first  four  years  after  I  was  graduated  were  spent  in  North  Caro- 
lina for  the  most  part.  There  I  instructed  the  youth  in  the  noble 
pastime  of  football,  and  incidentally  went  into  training  for  the  law, 
which  training  consists  in  a  little  legal  study  and  much  hard  discipline 
in  learning  how  to  live  best  by  eating  least. 

I  have  discovered  that  I  could  make  a  comfortable  living  in  the  law 
if  I  did  not  have  to  eat,  sleep  and  wear  clothes.  I  could  manage  to 
€ke  out  my  tobacco  money,  but  would  not  vouch  for  the  quality  of  the 
weed. 

A  severe  attack  of  typhoid  fever  made  me  lose  a  year  in  the  law, 
which  year  doubtless  the  law  has  not  lost.  Upon  my  recuperation  I 
came  to  Wilkes-Barre,  where  I  opened  a  law  office  with  Jayne.  There 
is  a  shingle,  which  reads,  "Jayne  &  Reynolds,  Attorneys  at  Law."  All 
clients  with  money  gladly  welcomed. 

We  thought  we  were  filling  a  long-felt  vi^ant  in  this  vicinity,  but  we 
now  realize  that  the  community  has  not  realized  it.  Strange,  is  it  not, 
that  three  months  have  passed  by  and  still  we  have  not  been  discov- 
ered? Nevertheless  we  are  here  to  stay,  until  poverty  or  the  sheriff 
drives  us  out,  but  at  present  it  look  as  if  our  days  were  numbered,  as 
the  hairs  in  the  bald  man's  head. 

Lady  says,  "A  blind  hog  will  find  an  acorn  once  in  a  while,"  and  it  is 
this  thought  that  cheers  our  meals  of  free  lunch  and  brightens  the  long 
hours  of  painful  waiting.  They  say  a  sucker  is  born  every  minute,  but 
I  reckon  the  suckers  have  not  started  to  run  this  early  in  the  spring. 
In  our  moments  of  despondency  we  ever  turn  our  thoughts  backward  to 
the  glorious  class  of  '97  and  the  good  old  days  in  Tiger  Town. 

I  see  that  Penn.  and  Princeton  are  to  meet  in  mortal  combat  over 
the  chessboard,  and  before  long  we  will  be  sitting  in  the  cheering  sec- 
tion and  giving  vociferous  long  cheers  for  the  pawns,  three  times  three 
for  the  bishops  and  locomotives  for  the  queens. 

Speaking  of  queens  reminds  me  that  single  blessedness  is  mine. 
Neither  are  there  any  prospects,  for  "The  girl  I  should  love  enough  to 
marry  I  fear  I  would  respect  her  too  much  to  ask  her,"  and  as  it  takes 
two  to  make  a  bargain,  besides  money  to  pay  the  parson,  my  chances 
are  slim  at  present.  As  a  candidate  for  the  class  cup  I  reckon  little 
Willie,  Jr.,  draws  the  booby  prize. 

176 


I  have  made  some  speeches,  but  as  they  would  not  look  well  in 
print,  and  have  been  for  the  most  part  mere  denials  that  I  owed  the 
bill,  I  don't  believe  they  fall  within  the  proper  class. 

Neither  do  many  clubs  or  orders  bear  my  name  upon  their  rolls,  but, 
nevertheless,  my  head  bears  the  marks  of  many  a  club,  and  I  have  taken 
orders  such  as  these : 

"We  don't  need  no  loafers  here." 

"Yes,  the  servant  girl  will  feed  you  at  the  back  door." 

"No  free  lunch  if  you  don't  buy." 

The  New  York  publishers  have  not  sought  my  volley  of  poems  or 
accepted  any  of  my  fiction,  although  I  always  have  been  strong  on 
fiction,  as  the  class  can  testify. 

Nevertheless,  it  is  pleasant  to  know  that  some  of  the  illustrious  mem- 
bers of  the  all-glorious  class  have  contributed  something  to  the  literary 
world,  won  distinction  upon  the  rostrum,  and  are  now  educating  '97 
juniors  in  the  Princeton  spirit. 

All  hail  to  those  who  have  done  so  well  and  may  the  gods  look  down 
propitiously  upon  us  who  are  still  striving  for  the  world's  approbation. 

We  have  made  our  maiden  speech  in  court.  Jayne  was  first  at  the 
bat  and  swatted  the  ball  nobly,  and  the 

Wilkes-Barre  Times 

vs. 
City  of  Wilkes-Barre, 

Jayne  &  Reynolds,  Attorneys, 
stands  as  the  only  evidence  of  our  practice  at  the  bar. 

All  members  of  the  class  will  find  a  hearty  welcome  at  Room  47, 
Bennett  Building.  W.  A.  Reynolds. 

Wilkes-Barre,  Pa.,  April  i,  1901. 

JAMES  MAURAN  RHODES,  JR. 

Rhodes  served  with  First  Troop  Philadelphia  City  Cavalry,  in  Porto 
Rico.  He  is  a  member  of  the  banking  firm  of  C.  &  H.  Borie,  of  Phila- 
delphia. The  panicky  times  of  recent  date  have  rendered  it  impossi- 
ble for  such  an  important  factor  in  the  financial  world  to  give  us  as 
much  attention  as  his  usual  enthusiasm  would  lead  us  to  hope.  We 
trust  that  our  loss  will  prove  his  gain.  This  is  entirely  gratuitous,, 
"Jimmy."  The  stenographer  refuses  to  wear  violets  and  all  others 
are  out  of  season. 

CHARLES  GORMAN  RICHARDS. 

My  Dear  Pop: — I  have  nothing  very  exciting  to  tell.  I  am  not 
married,  and  have  not  even  been  able  to  get  any  likely  game  treed,  as 
yet ;  but  am  still  on  the  hunt.  Looking  over  some  old  Alumni  Weeklies 
and  noticing  the  many  laurel  wreaths  that  have  encircled  the  noble 
brows  of  the  men  of  '97,  I  can't  help  regretting  that  I  am  unable  to  add 
something  to  the  general  honors.  But  it  is  good  just  to  feel  that  I  may 
share  the  distinction  of  belonging  to  "the  Great  and  Glorious" — as  our 
modest  secretary  so  often  calls  the  class. 

177 


The  first  year  after  graduation  I  taught.  In  September,  '98,  I  came 
out  to  Chicago.  Since  then  I  have  been  here  in  McCormick  Theological 
Seminary,  from  which,  by  the  kindness  of  the  faculty,  I  hope  to 
graduate  next  May. 

With  most  cordial  greetings,  believe  me,  yours  in  the  old-time  spirit, 

Charles  Gorman  Richards. 

Chicago,  III.,  Jan.  21,  1901. 

OSCAR  BERTRAM  RIEGEL. 

Dear  "Pop"  Keener: — In  writing  this  letter  I  feel  somewhat  like  a 
school  boy  making  his  first  attempt  at  letter-writing — I  don't  know  how 
to  begin. 

There  is  no  use  making  any  apologies,  "Pop."  I  simply  neglected 
the  matter  from  time  to  time.  Will  a  promise  to  do  better  in  the 
future  square  it? 

To  tell  you  all  that  transpired  since  you  heard  from  me  last  would 
take  too  much  time.  Suffice  it  to  say  that  I  am  now  practicing  law, 
and  so  far  cannot  complain.  I  am  a  member  of  the  firm  of  Riegel  & 
Stover. 

The  building  of  a  practice  is  slow,  but  it  is  coming  nicely.  I  think 
•our  first  year's  business  will  amount  to  about  fifteen  hundred  dollars. 

At  present  we  are  working  on  the  incorporation  of  a  town.  We  have 
several  good  cases  in  Circuit  or  District  Court  for  next  October.  Okla- 
homa is  all  right.  Yours,  etc., 

O.  B.  Riegel. 

Cashion,  Oklahoma,  April   16,   1901. 

THOMAS  DUDLEY  RIGGS. 

My  Dear  Pop: — If  apologies  are  in  order,  let  me,  before  trying  to 
give  you  a  brief  history  of  my  last  four  years,  offer  mine  to  you  for 
being  one  of  the  delinquents. 

I  was  engaged  in  the  early  spring  of  our  senior  year  and  was  mar- 
ried on  the  23d  day  of  June  of  the  same  year.  One  week  after  our  mar- 
riage we  sailed  for  Europe  from  New  York  on  the  Hamburg-American 
Line  steamship  Normania,  and  arrived  at  Southampton  without  in- 
cident. While  abroad  v/e  visited  England,  Scotland,  Ireland,  Holland, 
Belgium,  France,  Switzerland,  Italy,  Austria,  and  traveled  extensively 
through  Germany,  sailing  from  Hamburg  for  home  six  months  after 
our  arrival  on  foreign  soil. 

On  my  return  I  went  to  Hartford,  Conn.,  to  live  and  was  engaged 
in  the  drafting  department  of  the  L.  E.  Rhoades  Machine  Company.  I 
spent  a  good  deal  of  time  that  winter  working  out  the  drawings  for  a 
combination  hydraulic  beer  pump  and  organ  motor,  which  has  since 
proved  a  valuable  patent.  On  the  28th  day  of  April  our  "class  boy" 
was  born.  The  following  year  we  came  to  Baltimore  to  live,  and  for 
two  years  I  was  engaged  in  the  life  insurance  business. 

On  the  1st  day  of  January,  1900,  I  purchased  a  154-acre  farm  in  the 
Green  Spring  Valley,  a  suburb  of  Baltimore  and  twelve  miles  distant. 

178 


I  raise  about  everything  on  my  land  except  those  crops  which  pay, 
and  I  have  come  to  the  conclusion  that  the  life  of  a  country  gentle- 
man is  the  only  true  sporting  life  to  lead.  My  travels  in  this  country 
have  not  been  extensive.  However,  I  have  been  as  far  West  as  Iowa, 
and  South  as  far  as  Georgia,  and  to  Maine  in  the  summer.  I  have  also 
visited  the  principal  cities  of  Canada. 

I  imagine  that  I  have  already  taken  up  more  than  my  share  of 
space,  so  will  close,  with  best  wishes  for  all  of  you  in  the  future,  and 
hoping  to  see  you  in  June,  I  remain, 

Most  sincerely  yours, 

T.  Dudley  Riggs. 

Baltimore,  Md.,  March  4,  1901. 

HENRY  CURTIS  ROBB. 

My  Dear  Pop  Keener: — You  want  to  know  what  I  have  been  doing 
during  the  last  three  years  and  a  half.  Really,  a  most  extraordinary 
question  for  you  to  ask  me,  after  noting,  as  I  suppose  you  have  done, 
my  answers  to  your  latest  list  of  questions.  Nothing,  Pop ;  absolutely 
nothing  at  all.  I  have  not  been  anywhere  nor  seen  anybody,  did  not 
take  part  in  the  late  war,  have  not  held  any  political  office  or  position 
of  trust,  nor,  to  the  best  of  my  knowledge  and  belief,  have  I  been  so 
much  as  dreamed  of  by  any  man,  sane  or  otherwise,  as  a  possible  can- 
didate for  either  of  these  honors.  I  have  not  made  any  addresses  nor 
written  any  books,  nor — nor  am  I  married  or  engaged  to  be  married, 
nor  is  there  the  slightest  probability  of  my  marrying  or  engaging  my- 
self to  marry  for  a  very  long  time  to  come.  As  we  used  to  say  at 
Princeton,  "I  have  troubles  enough  of  my  own." 

So  you  see.  Pop,  mine  is  quite  a  negative  character.  I  really  am  not 
one  of  those  who  do  things.  I  could  never  win  fame  as  a  fighter,  for  I 
am  altogether  too  great  a  coward,  and  as  for  "cutting  any  ice"  in  voca- 
tions of  a  rnore  peaceful  nature,  I  fear  I  am  lacking  in  the  necessary 
keenness  of  brain.  So  I  am  forced  to  derive  what  comfort  I  can  from 
the  assurance  that 

"They  also  serve  who  only  stand  and  wait." 

For  in  this  kind  of  service  I  am  prepared  to  meet  any  demand,  how- 
ever great,  my  supply  being  practically  inexhaustible. 

But  to  give  you  the  story  of  my  life — the  narrative  of  the  things  I 
have  not  done.  A  great  deal  of  work,  a  little  play,  more  or  less  sleep, 
and  (usually)  "three  squares"  per  diem — if  you  will  imagine  a  monot- 
onous succession  of  days  and  weeks  and  months  lived  through  in  some 
such  way  as  this,  why  you  really  have  it  all.  To  be  sure  I  have  lost  a 
few  through  sickness,  and  there  has  been  the  annual  break  of  a  week  or 
so  in  the  summer  for  "change  and  rest."  But  I  suppose  that  goes 
along  with  the  work,  implicitly.  As  to  the  nature  of  my  work  I  have, 
for  the  past  three  years,  been  giving  my  valuable  services  for  a 
ridiculously    small    compensation    to    the    Pennsylvania    Railroad,    not 

179 


"working  on  the  railroad"  exactly,  but  working  for  it,  chiefly  in  a 
clerical  capacity.  Of  course  I  am  on  the  high  road  to  the  presidency, 
but  just  at  present  I  am — yes,  I  suppose  I  really  am — a  clerk.  And 
having  brought  myself  to  this  confession,  I  am  sure  you  will  agree  with 
me  that  any  further  dilation  on  the  subject  of  my  profession  would  be 
quite  superfluous — if  not  inexcusable.  Occupation  of  the  nature  which 
I  have  described,  while  very  honest  and  very  necessary  and  all  that,  is 
not  apt  to  be  productive  of  incident  of  the  melodramatic  variety.  The 
one  redeeming  feature  about  the  business  is  that,  taking  me,  as  it  does, 
daily  to  New  York,  it  is  responsible  for  frequent  meetings  with  differ- 
ent members  of  '97,  who  are  there  engaged  in  the  pursuit  of  the  fleeting 
dollar.  Such  chance  meetings,  together  with  occasional  visits  to  the 
Old  Town,  reminders  of  happy  days  gone  by,  I  find  to  be  great  promot- 
ers of  an  optimistic  spirit,  whenever  the  cares  of  life  seem  likely  to 
"o'ertake  me."  And  then  I  have  that  other  great  source  of  comfort, 
the  Alumni  Weekly. 

And  this,  Mr.  Secretary,  is  all  that  I  have  to  tell  you,  and  I  think  I 
can  hear  you  saying,  "It's  quite  enough."  I  realize  fully  that  such 
trivialities  as  I  have  here  recorded  can  hardly  add  to  the  attractiveness 
of  the  Record,  and  I  beg  to  assure  you  that  had  I  been  ruled  by  my 
inclinations,  not  one  word  of  it  would  I  have  written.  But  having  re- 
ceived your  warning  that  you  would  be  satisfied  with  nothing  less  than 
a  letter  from  every  man  in  the  class,  I  could  do  nothing  but  submit. 
So  here  you  have  the  result.  Very  sincerely  yours, 

Harry  C.  Robb. 

Newark,  N.  J.,  Feb.  19,  1901. 

WILLIAM  MOODY  ROBB. 

My  Dear  Keener: — It  is  with  a  great  deal  of  hesitation  that  I  start 
to  write  a  "class  letter,"  for  I  am  afraid  that  it  will  prove  of  very  little 
interest  to  any  one.  Yet,  realizing  that,  as  a  member  of  '97,  the  best 
class  that  ever  graduated  from  Princeton  University,  or  College,  either, 
for  that  matter,  I  have  a  duty  to  fulfill  in  helping  swell  the  number  of 
those  who  "respond,"  I  will  try  and  tell  you  what  has  happened  to  me 
since  I  was  put  through  the  car  window  at  the  station.  By  the  way, 
the  first  seat  I  found  was  on  my  dog  "Jack" — remember  him,  "Pop?" 
He  had  been  helped  through  the  window  ahead  of  me,  and  it  was  so 
beastly  hazy  in  the  car  that  I  could  not  see  him. 

Apropos  of  "Jack."  He  is  a  battle-scarred  veteran  now  and  spends 
his  time  dreaming — mostly  of  Princeton,  I  think,  for  many  a  time 
when  I  have  found  him  sound  asleep  I  have  stood  near  him  and  started 
a  Princeton  cheer.  Before  I  had  gotten  to  the  "Tiger"  the  old  dog 
was  running  up  and  down  the  room  and  doing  his  best  to  say  "Prince- 
ton." 

The  summer  of  '97  I  spent  in  trying  to  forget  that  I  was  never  to 
see  the  fellows  together  again — the  fellows  with  whom  I  had  spent  the 
four  pleasantest  years  of  my  life.  I  have  given  up  trying  to  forget  that, 
Pop ;  it  is  impossible,  for  the  name  Princeton,  with  all  that  it  signifies, 

180 


is  to  be  met  at  every  turn  one  takes.  One  morning,  in  the  heart  of 
the  Adirondack  Mountains,  I  was  creeping  cautiously  toward  a  lake, 
in  the  hope  of  getting  a  shot  at  a  deer.  I  could  hear  the  water  splash- 
ing as  if  one  were  stamping  among  the  lily  pads,  and  just  as  I  peeked 
through  some  bushes  at  the  edge  of  the  lake  I  heard  "Here's  to  Prince- 
ton College !  drink  her  down"  come  floating  over  the  water.  They  were 
Prep.  School  boys,  four  of  them,  camping  out  at  the  lake. 

Again,  in  New  Mexico,  I  saw  the  magic  name — it  was  at  the  "Big 
Springs"  in  the  middle  of  the  Navajo  desert.  I  had  ridden  horseback 
for  forty-five  miles,  with  nothing  but  the  never-ending  sage  brush  on 
every  side.  Coming  to  the  ruins  of  an  Indian  pueblo,  I  stopped,  found 
the  springs,  which  had  been  described  to  me,  and,  after  taking  care  of 
my  pony,  sat  down  and  tried  to  be  happy  with  the  knowledge  that 
when  I  had  traveled  forty-five  miles  more  I  might  be  able  to  get  some- 
thing to  eat.  Suddenly  my  pony  stopped  eating  and  threw  up  his  head. 
Away  off  in  the  distance  I  saw  a  black  object  moving  toward  me  with 
the  bumpty-bumpty  motion  of  a  man  on  horseback.  Plitching  a  "gun" 
into  position,  I  assumed  the  sphinx  expression,  and  watched  his  ap- 
proach. 

Don't  think  I  am  copying  this  from  a  dime  novel,  "Pop" — when  you 
have  been  "buffaloed,"  as  the  saying  goes,  by  some  Ute  Indians  and 
relieved  of  everything  of  value  you  possess,  down  to  a  flannel  shirt, 
you  will  realize  that  in  some  sections  of  our  glorious  country  it  is  still 
necessary  to  carry  a  gun  and  to  be  able  to  use  it,  too.  I  got  that  shirt 
back. 

But  I  digress.  When  the  horseman  came  to  the  springs  I  found  he 
was  a  mail  carrier  and  had  a  paper  which  was  only  three  weeks  old. 
After  some  persuasion  the  wrapper  of  the  treasure  was  broken  and 
one  of  the  first  things  which  met  my  glance  was,  "Princeton  Beats 
Yale," — "Arthur  Poe  Saves  Old  Nassau  from  Defeat."  I  came  near 
getting  shot  over  that,  "Pop,"  for  he  thought  I  was  crazy. 

Then  in  the  "Big  Horn  Basin,"  in  Montana,  all  the  old  scenes  were 
brought  back  to  me,  for  I  had  the  privilege  of  talking  about  them  to  a 
man  who  is  going  to  send  his  son  there  "if  it  takes  every  steer  on  the 
ranch." 

One  stormy  night  I  was  "riding  a  bunch  of  cattle,"  as  they  call  it, 
and  singing  "Tune  every  heart  and  every  voice"  (yes,  Pop,  singing  it, 
for  my  heart  was  in  every  word).  The  boss  of  the  outfit  was  riding  the 
other  half  of  the  circle.  As  the  storm  subsided,  the  cattle  became 
quieter  and  we  had  a  chance  to  talk  for  a  few  minutes  every  once  in 
a  while.  He  wanted  to  know  what  "Old  Nassau"  meant.  The  next  day 
he  awakened  me  early  in  the  afternoon,  and  wanted  me  to  tell  him 
again  about  "how  you  fellows  used  to  lie  around  on  the  range — no, 
camp-US — and  hear  them  other  fellows  singing  every  night."  I  told 
him,  as  no  one  but  a  Princeton  man  can  tell  a  person,  how  we  used  to 
uncover  our  heads  when  we  sang  "Old  Nassau"  and  "My  Country  'Tis 
of  Thee."  As  I  told  it,  involuntarily  he  raised  a  hand  to  a  sombrero 
which  had  never  been  touched  for  any  woman.     When  I  brought  him 

i8l 


to  see  that  in  Princeton,,  as  in  no  other  university  on  the  face  of  the 
earth,  "A  man's  a  man  for  a'  that,"  it  cinched  him,  so  to  speak,  and  if 
a  Yale  or  Harvard  man  ever  strikes  that  outfit  I  feel  for  him.  Forget 
Princeton?  I  have  never  been  to  the  dear  old  place  since  I  graduated,, 
yet  not  a  day  passes  but  I  think  of  our  Alma  Mater  and  of  the  friend- 
ships formed  at  a  time  vi^hen  worldly  thoughts  had  no  weight. 

During  the  fall  and  winter  of  '97  I  studied  medicine  at  the  College 
of  Physician  and  Surgeons,  in  New  York  City,  a  branch  of  Columbia 
College — Columbia  seemed  to  me  to  be  composed  mostly  of  branches, 
without  an  apparent  trunk.  Being  obliged  to  discontinue  my  course  of 
study  at  that  institution,  I  started  west  in  the  early  summer  with  the 
intention  of  building  up  my  health  and,  incidentally,  a  fortune.  The 
health  part  of  it  arrived  in  short  order,  but  the  fortune — QulcVi,  sauef 

Attracted  by  the  seductive  tongue  of  a  real  estate  agent,  I  wended 
my  way  to  Joplin,  Mo.,  and  invested  in  a  lead  mine.  I  came  into 
Joplin  in  a  palace  car,  and  the  following  spring  went  out  of  Joplin 
with  a  team  of  bronchos  and  some  experience.  I  was  easy.  Pop.  I 
know  it. 

[Stirred  by  the  "Last  Appeal,"  I  will  try  and  finish  this  if  I  have  to 
stay  up  all  night.] 

Arriving  at  Kansas  City,  Mo.,  just  in  time  to  pick  up  a  case  of 
typhoid  malaria,  I  spent  the  next  six  weeks  wondering  why  in  the 
dickens  they  were  trying  to  starve  me  to  death  instead  of  letting  me 
die  in  peace.  After  bribing  the  nurse  into  letting  me  eat  what  I 
wished,  strength  began  to  return,  and  with  it  the  desire  to  "Go  West 
and  grow  up  with  the  country."  The  first  of  August  found  me  riding 
for  the  "Spade"  outfit  on  Laramie  Plains,  Wyoming. 

It  was  like  starting  in  freshman  year  all  over  again.  At  the  start 
oflf  I  had  an  idea  that  if  a  gentle  pony  were  given  me  I  might  manage 
to  sit  in  the  saddle  for  a  little  while  at  least.  You  would  have  enjoyed 
watching  that  first  morning.  After  the  usual  questions  as  to  whether 
I  had  ever  ridden  horseback  and  if  I  thought  I  could  ride  a  mean 
pony — both  of  which  were  answered  in  the  negative,  you  may  be  sure — 
the  foreman  told  one  of  the  boys  to  rope  the  gentlest  pony  in  the 
bunch  and  show  me  how  to  saddle  him.  He  looked  gentle  enough — 
little  bit  of  a  stunted  buckskin,  head  to  his  knees,  and  eyes  all  but 
closed.  He  acted  as  nice  as  could  be  expected  when  the  saddle  was 
thrown  over  his  back,  though  I  did  see  him  smell  and  nip  at  the 
fellow  who  was  tightening  the  cinch.  At  last  he  was  ready,  and,  no 
matter  what  my  feelings  were,  I  had  to  be  ready  also.  Gathering  the 
reins  in  a  blase  manner,  I  started  my  foot  for  the  stirrup — so  did  the 
pony,  and  the  only  reason  my  ankle  was  not  broken  was  that  the  pony 
reached  the  stirrup  first.  This  was  repeated  several  times,  until  I  saw 
it  was  useless  trying  to  get  on  that  way.  Finally,  choosing  the  easiest 
of  about  ten  thousand  ways  which  I  was  advised  to.  try,  I  made  a 
leap  and  landed  across  the  saddle,  head  on  one  side,  feet  on  the  other. 
To  my  surprise — and  relief — the  pony  stood  like  a  rock;  stood  until 
my  feet  were  in  the  stirrups ;  still  stood  when  I  said,  "Get'ap" ;  stood 

182 


still  when  I  said  it  again.  I  thought  "This  is  easy" — and  it  was,  until  I 
took  some  more  advice  and  gave  him  a  dig  with  the  spurs.  That  was 
easy,  too, — for  the  pony.  He  seemed  to  begin  undulating  at  both 
ends — the  point  of  contact  of  those  equal  and  opposite  undulations  was 
directly  underneath  the  saddle.  The  effect  was  a  sore  shoulder  and  a 
lot  of  guying  from  those  who  had  been  there  before.  Unlike  the  ma- 
jority of  "tenderfeet,"  I  did  not  "try  again  and  again  until  the  beast  was 
conquered."  After  the  third  "down"  the  fellows  informed  me  that  I 
was  a  sulphurous  fool  to  try  and  ride  that  "outlaw  buckskin."  I  thought 
so,  too,  when  I  learned  that  he  was  the  "test"  pony,  used  at  all  the 
sports  in  that  vicinity.  Apropos  of  "pitching"  ponies — I  tell  you  this 
incident  in  good  faith,  Pop,  for  I  believe  it  to  be  true :  Two  men  took 
a  contract  to  break  a  bunch  of  horses  and,  as  the  custom  is,  one  had 
his  choice  the  first  morning,  the  next  morning  his  partner  took  his 
choice.  Such  a  process  naturally  leaves  the  worst  until  the  last  and 
in  this  case  the  last  was  an  "outlaw"  about  six  years  old.  The  fellow 
whose  turn  it  was  roped  the  pony,  blindfolded  him,  and  at  last  got 
the  saddle  into  position.  It  took  him  nearly  ten  minutes  to  get  into 
the  saddle  and  then  the  work  began.  The  pony  tried  to  drag  him  from 
his  place — you  know  some  of  them  will  reach  around  and  catch  a  man 
by  the  leg,  and  if  he  ever  loses  his  seat,  unless  help  comes,  he  will 
be  trampled  to  death — tried  to  roll  and  all  that,  but  the  rider  was  an 
old  hand  at  it  and  met  every  trick  with  an  effective  "counter."  At 
last,  having  tried  everything  else,  the  pony  came  back  to  ordinary 
tactics  and  did  some  straight  pitching.  He  would  pitch  as  long  as  he 
could,  maybe  five  minutes,  then  stand  like  a  rock  and  wait  until  he 
had  strength  and  wind  enough  to  go  at  it  again.  After  an  hour  of  this, 
both  man  and  horse  were  nearly  used  up,  but  neither  would  give  in, — 
the  same  after  an  hour  and  a  half.  Both  were  bleeding  at  the  nose  and 
mouth.  Just  an  hour  and  forty  minutes  after  the  struggle  began,  Bran- 
son, the  rider,  drew  his  gun  and  shot  the  pony  through  the  head.  The 
boys  picked  Branson  up  and  he  died  while  they  were  carrying  him  to 
the  ranch  house. 

After  a  month  of  riding  in  Wyoming  I  went  up  into  Montana ;  rode 
there  for  about  six  weeks  and  then  came  back  to  Denver.  My  next 
stopping  place  was  Durango,  Colorado.  I  stayed  there  long  enough 
to  get  an  outfit,  and  then  started  on  a  horseback  ride  which  took  me  to 
the  Canyon  of  the  Colorado,  from  there  to  the  petrified  forest  in  Ari- 
zona, thence  to  Albuquerque,  New  Mexico,  across  the  Navajo  desert, 
up  the  Animas  River,  up  the  San  Juan  River  to  Pagora  Spring,  Colo- 
rado, and,  after  hunting  for  a  while,  I  came  back  to  take  a  position 
offered  me  in  Kansas  City.  For  the  usual  reasons,  it  seemed  better  for 
me  to  accept  a  position  in  Omaha,  and  so  here  I  am  writing  a  lot  of 
stuff  to  you. 

It  does  not  seem  necessary  to  make  any  excuses  for  the  general' 
"flatness"  of  this  letter.  I  know  what  a  low  grade  it  deserves — yet  a 
fellow  who  had  received  as  many  postal  cards  as  I  have  would  do 
almost  anything,  and  when  I  can  plainly  see  that  "Pop"  is  liable  to 

183 


have  a  lingering  death  through  heartache  unless  more  of  us  respond,  I 
think  I  am  justified  in  sending  even  this  attempt  at  a  class  letter. 

W.  M.   ROBB. 

Kansas  City,  Mo.,  Jan.  2,  1901. 

ROBERT  FOSTER  ROBINSON. 

Dear  Pop: — Your  many  requests  have  been  received,  though  some  of 
them  have  experienced  seasons  of  wandering.  But  they  all  arrived  at 
last,  and  I  thank  you  for  being  so  persistent.  Some  of  the  numerous 
unnameables  from  you  have  been  duly  filled  in  and  have  begun  their 
journey  to  you  by  way  of  the  pocket  route,  where  they  have  remained, 
through  forgetfulness  on  the  part  of  the  responsible  agent,  until  they 
have  become  musty  by  reason  of  age.  Recently  I  observe  you  are  be- 
coming more  economical,  and  have  resorted  to  the  common  every-day 
postal  card,  and  what  a  message  it  does  bear.  Hot?  Sizzling!  If  j'ou 
are  responsible  for  the  composition  for  such  an  outrageous  attack  on 
the  members  of  '97,  who  hold  you  in  such  high  esteem,  it  is  my  opin- 
ion that  on  the  fifth  anniversary  those  same  admiring  classmates  will 
gather  on  some  pleasant  June  evening  of  '92  and  despatch  you  to  keep 
company  with  John  Brown,  via  rope  and  tree,  whether  the  latter  be 
oak,  apple,  or  any  old  tree.  You  really  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  your- 
self. Pop.  You  are  old  enough  to  know  better  than  to  insult  us  in 
such  a  public  manner.     Yet,  under  pressure,  we  forgive  and  forget. 

I  am  studying  in  the  Allegheny  Theological  Seminary  and  hope  soon 
to  be  filling  a  pastorate. 

With  best  wishes,  I  am.  Yours  very  truly, 

R.   Foster   Robinson. 

Pittsburgh,  Pa.,  April  4,  1901. 

EDWARD  HERATY  RODGERS. 

Dear  Pop: — I  would  gladly  write  you  a  letter  if  it  was  possible  for  me 
to  do  so,  but  unfortunately  I  cannot.  The  truth  of  the  matter  is  I 
have  neither  done  anything  to  either  extinguish  or  distinguish  myself 
since  leaving  college.  I  lived  on  hot  air  for  about  six  or  eight 
months,  and  then  went  into  the  wholesale  tea  business  with  my  father 
and  brother.  Was  married  in  June,  '96,  and  am  now  the  father  of  a 
family,  having  two  fine  boys — one  four  years  old  last  March  and  the 
other  about  five  months  old.  Hope  that  some  day  they  will  be  able  to 
do  something  for  Princeton.  This  is  about  all  I  have  done,  so  you  see 
that  it  would  be  impossible  to  write  an  interesting  letter.  With  best 
regards,  I  am,  Most  sincerely, 

E.    H.    RODGERS. 

Philadelphia,  Pa.,  May  13,  1901. 

IRVING  LIVINGSTON  ROE. 

Dear  Pop: — Your  second  has  arrived,  but  until  this  is  written  and 
mailed  I  shall  feel  too  much  like  a  moral  wreck  to  open  it. 

Since  graduation  I  have  been  living  at  home  in  New  York,  and  man- 

184 


aging  to  spend  Sunday  in  Princeton  pretty  often,  usually  without  find- 
ing much  '97  company.  And  this  year,  and  the  year  before,  I  have 
gone  down  in  the  last  part  of  September  for  a  week  of  my  vacation. 

I  am  with  the  New  York  Life  Insurance  and  Trust  Company,  at  52 
Wall  street,  and  find  a  goodly  '97  representation  in  that  part  of  the 
town.  F.  Sturges  has  recently  come  among  us,  and  we  are  seeking  re- 
laxation from  our  financial  responsibilities  by  playing  indoor  tennis 
once  a  week. 

Last  summer  I  went  west  on  a  three  weeks'  flying  trip,  which  in- 
cluded Yellowstone  Park,  but  v/e  were  hustling  so  that  I  did  not  get  a 
chance  to  look  anybody  up. 

I  am,  of  course,  a  member  of  the  Princeton  Club  and  a  subscriber  to 
the  Alumni  Weekly,  which  "can't  be  beat." 

We  ought  to  have  a  good  turnout  at  commencement,  for  we  certainly 
had  a  famous  time  last  June. 

Irving  L.  Roe. 

New  York  City,  N.  Y.,  March  2,  1901. 

ALBERT  HUNTSMAN  ROSENGARTEN. 

Rosengarten  has  wandered  into  the  wild  and  woolly  West  and 
turned  cowboy.  He  vouchsafes  the  interesting  information  that  he  is 
tired  of  loafing  and  is  going  to  work.  This  comes  from  a  "ranch  in 
Colorado,"  but  the  location  of  it  has  not  been  discovered.  During  the 
Spanish  war  he  served  in  Porto  Rico  with  Battery  A,  Pennsylvania 
Volunteers.  Since  that  he  has  studied  law  at  the  University  of  Penn- 
sylvania in  spite  of  athletic  memories.  He  has  traveled  in  the  West 
and  in  Central  America  and  has  at  last  lost  himself  on  the  cattle 
trails  of  Colorado. 

CHARLES  KIRKLAND  ROYS. 

Dear  Pop: — You  letter,  marked  "3d  request,"  reached  me  in  Mon- 
treal and  warmed  the  cockles  of  my  heart,  although  the  thermometer 
registered  18  degrees  below  zero.  This  is  the  first  request  that  has 
reached  me  this  year,  so  don't  think  me  altogether  forgetful  of  my  duty 
to  the  old  man. 

I  have  nothing  to  tell  about  except  a  year  of  medical  work,  with  an 
occasional  week  on  a  Roosevelt  Hospital  Ambulance  to  vary  the 
monotony  and  widen  the  horizon.  This  latter  is  quite  enjoyable  at 
times,  but  you  get  your  cuffs  all  bloody,  and  are  apt  to  dream  of  grue- 
some sights. 

I  had  a  pleasant  change  in  July,  taking  a  wheel  through  Germany, 
and  a  week  on  foot  through  the  Tyrolese  Alps.  Coming  home  1  met 
Buck  Thompson  and  Bobby  Wilkins  on  the  steamer,  who  had  been 
doing  Paris  for  a  month  or  so.  The  sight  of  Buck's  beaming  counte- 
nance drove  out  the  seven  devils  of  seasickness  that  had  converted 
me  into  a  blooming  geyser,  and  I  walked  the  deck,  feeling  that  life 
was  worth  living  once  more. 

When  I  reached  home  it  was  "up  to  me"  to  take  up  this  traveling 

185 


work  for  the  Student  Volunteer  Movement.    I  expect  to  go  back  next 
year  to  finish  my  medical  course  at  P.  &  S.,  and  get  my  degree,  if  the 
fates  are  kind,  in  1902. 
Remember  me  to  all  the  old  crowd  that  you  meet. 

Yours  as  always, 

Charles  K.  Roys. 
New  York  City,  N.  Y.,  Jan.  2,  1901. 

JAMES  WOOD  RUSLING. 

My  Dear  Keener: — After  numerous  epistles,  headed,  ist  notice,  2d 
notice,  3d  notice,  and  also  several  postal  cards,  lavishly  embellished 
with  exclamation  marks,  had  reached  me,  it  began  to  dawn  upon  me 
that  the  words  "this  means  you"  were  really  personal. 

It  seemed  to  me  that  '97  could  as  easily  break  all  records  in  future 
as  she  had  done  in  the  past,  and  that  there  was  no  need  for  a  letter 
from  me.  It  now  seems  as  if  a  good  many  others  were  thinking  the 
same  thing,  and  that  the  very  fact  of  our  past  success  was  about  to 
invite  a  break  in  our  glorious  career.  It  gives  me  pleasure  to  join  the 
ranks  and  give  most  strict  attention  to  that  very  excellent  list  of  "sug- 
gestions" : 

1.  Residence,  Trenton,  N.  J. 

2.  Unmarried. 

3.  Names  of  children,  undecided. 

4.  Member  of  the  Princeton  Club  of  Trenton,  the  Loyal  Legion, 
Pennsylvania  Commandery,  and  the  Philadelphia  Stock  Exchange. 

5.  Republican  and  expansionist,  with  the  greatest  belief  in  the  future 
of  our  country. 

6.  7  and  8.  No  offices  of  profit  have  as  yet  sought  me  out,  but  any 
member  of  the  class  having  any  such  to  dispose  of  will  please  com- 
municate with  me  at  once. 

9.  No  addresses  delivered,  but  am  getting  my  voice  in  training  by 
daily  practice  from  10  to  3  on  the  Stock  Exchange. 

10.  One  journey  to  Europe,  1898,  and  one  1899.  One  to  Princeton, 
June,  1900,  to  enjoy  a  magnificent  baseball  game,  together  with  many 
other  attractions.    One  to  the  White  Mountains  in  1900. 

11.  Permanent  address,  Trenton,  N.  J.,  or  Philadelphia  Stock  Ex- 
change. 

12  and  13.  No  interesting  or  blood-curdling  experiences  to  relate.  I 
fear  my  share  of  space  has  already  been  exceeded. 

Trusting  that  your  gentle  (  ?)  reminders  will  make  '97  again  vic- 
torious, I  am.  Sincerely, 

James  W.  Rusling. 

Trenton,  N.  J.,  April  20,  1901. 

HENRY  NORRIS  RUSSELL. 

My  Dear  Keener: — Happy  are  the  people  whose  annals  are  brief, 
and  I  am  one  of  them.  Three  years  in  Princeton,  imitating  the  hero 
of  Booth  Tarkington's  first  masterpiece — the   Senior  on  the  cover  of 

186 


the  "Tiger"— in  his  struggle  for  the  elusive  diploma,  and  another  at- 
home  on  Long  Island,  resting  by  doctor's  orders,  and  trying  to  recover 
from  the  fatigue  incident  to  the  first  three,  composed  my  experience. 

The  chief  results  of  the  first  period  are  two  diplomas,  a  few  published 
articles,  whereof  you  are  already  sufficiently  informed,  and— the  sec- 
ond period.  Its  best  feature  was  that  it  kept  me  in  the  dear  old  place. 
A  word  in  explanation  of  the  romantic  titles  of  some  of  the  aforesaid 
articles.  I  confess  that  I  took  up  work  relating  to  Venus  of  my  own 
free  will.  But  later  there  came  along  a  new  and  interesting  asteroid, 
and  I  rashly  started  my  thesis;  and  then  the  discoverer  of  the  thing 
named  it  Eros.     I  am  really  not  to  blame  for  that. 

Of  the  second  period  it  need  only  be  said  that,  while  it  is  not  alto- 
gether delightful  to  be  laid  on  the  shelf,  still,  Oyster  Bay  is  a  pretty 
good  sort  of  a  shelf,  and  I  am  not  so  flat  on  my  back  that  I  cannot 
enjoy  life. 

As  for  travel,  my  only  trip  of  any  length  so  far,  has  been  one  to 
North  Carolina  with  the  Princeton  party,  to  see  last  year's  eclipse. 
This  statement  will  not  long  remain  true,  however,  for  in  the  near 
future  I  expect  to  accompany  my  mother  on  a  three  months'  trip  to 
Italy.  We  sail  for  Naples  on  February  2— next  Saturday— and  shall 
spend  our  time  there  and  in  Rome.  I  hope  that  when  we  return  I 
shall  be  on  my  feet  again,  and  able  once  more  to  keep  up  with  the  pro- 
cession. 

Hoping  that  '97  may  always  head  its  line,  I  am. 

Yours  sincerely, 

Henry  Norris  Russell. 

Oyster  Bay,  L.  I.,  Jan.  31,  1901. 

JOSEPH  WRIGHT  RYLE. 

Dear  Keener: — My  tale  is  soon  told  and  can  fill  but  a  modest  space- 
in  the  Triennial  Record.  I  have  been  interested  in  various  mechanical 
contrivances,  more  or  less,  since  I  left  college,  one  of  them  being  a 
peculiar  form  of  camera,  which,  though  successful,  has  not  yet  reached 
the  stage  which  I  want  it  to  attain  before  I  put  it  on  the  market.  I 
have  traveled  about,  here  and  there,  at  various  seasons  of  the  year,, 
and  on  some  of  these  trips,  in  fact,  on  most  of  them,  have  met  many 
Princeton  men,  with  some  of  whom  I  discussed  old  times. 

Although  yours  truly  has  had  the  opportunity  of  matrimony  thrust 
before  him,  he  must  admit  he  has  not  yet  succumbed  to  the  charms  of 
the  fairer  sex.  Wouldn't  it  jar  that  same  fair  sex  to  hear  such  a 
statement;  but  then  they  do  not  know  how  easy  they  are  after  all. 

You  ask  a  heap  of  questions  for  such  a  short  man,  but  as  no  dis- 
respect is  meant,  I  will  try  to  answer  them. 

1.  Mail  will  always  reach  me  at  the  same  old  stand. 

2.  My  business  is  the  same  as  heretofore. 

3.  Unmarried,  and  therefore  no  kids  on  the  scene.    Q.  E.  D. 

4.  Am  a  member  of  several  golf  and  country  clubs,  a  yacht  club,  the- 
Princeton  Club  of  New  York,  and  the  Hamilton  Club  of  Paterson. 

187 


5-  Always  a  dyed-in-the-wool  Republican,  once,  twice,  and  all  the 
time. 

6.  Have  filled  so  many  offices  of  trust  that  it  would  overwhelm  you 
did  you  hear  but  a  few  of  them. 

7.  Have  played  much  golf  since  leaving  college,  and  was  startled 
to  see  "Buck"  Thompson  doing  the  same.  It  is  the  greatest  game  a 
la  tapis. 

8.  Suggestions?     Yes.      Shorten   this   letter   as   much   as   you   like. 
And  now  good  bye. 

Joseph  W.  Ryle. 
Paterson,  N.  J.,  Dec.  4,  '01. 

IRA  ALLAN  SANKEY. 

Dear  Classmates: — After  being  called  all  kinds  of 

names  by  our  beloved  "Pop,"  I  at  last  take  up  my  typewriter  and  drop 
you  a  few  lines,  one  and  all,  both  individually  and  collectively,  to  let 
you  know  what  "Sank."  has  been  at  the  last  few  years. 

Pardon  me,  gentle  reader,  if  I  seem  egotistical  in  an  unnecessary 
degree,  but  Pop  has  been  so  persistent,  I  can  no  longer  get  out  of  it 
and  still  be  loyal  to  the  dear  old  "Great  and  Glorious" ;  so,  fellows, 
here  goes : 

After  commencement  I  guess  I  did  about  as  much  as  you  other  fellows 
did  for  the  rest  of  the  summer — bummed  and  loafed  and  thought  of 
the  future.  This  hard  work  was  done  at  Eastport,  Long  Island,  and, 
not  feeling  equal  to  the  accomplishment  of  this  arduous  task,  all  by 
myself,  I  wrote  to  "Dutch"  Gregory  to  come  down  and  help  me. 
"Dutch"  arrived  in  due  course,  intending  to  stay  but  a  couple  of  weeks. 
At  the  end  of  six  weeks  "Dutch"  was  still  with  us.  We  had  "one  or 
two  times,"  didn't  we,  Dutch  ?  Ask  him  if  we  didn't,  when  you  see  him. 
Then  came  "Spot"  Stahl,  and  I  think  "Spot"  enjoyed  his  stay  as  much 
as  "Dutch"  did  his.  The  way  "Spot"  mixed  up  the  mathematical  and 
scientific  method  of  sailing  a  boat,  with  the  practical  way,  was  a 
caution.  It's  a  wonder  we  were  not  all  drowned.  Taking  it  all  in  all, 
it  was  a  great  summer. 

When  college  opened  in  fall,  I  went  back  to  the  dear  old  place  for 
about  five  weeks,  and  just  hung  around  and  looked  for  all  you  fellows, 
and  thought  of  the  good  times  we  had  spent  together,  which  we  did  not 
half  appreciate  until  they  were  all  over.  It  was  awfully  lonesome  and 
strange,  and  I  was  glad  to  come  away. 

On  Christmas  day,  1897,  my  father  told  me  to  get  ready  to  take  a 
trip  through  Europe  and  Africa,  with  my  mother  and  himself.  It  was 
short  notice,  but  did  I  hustle?     Well,  I  guess. 

On  the  4th  day  of  January,  1898,  we  left  New  York  on  the  North 
German  Lloyd  S.  S.  Normania,  for  parts  unknown.  On  board  were 
some  350  "odd"  passengers,  among  whom  there  were  about  65  girls, 
between  the  ages  of  sixteen  and  twenty-five,  as  near  as  we  could  tell 
from  their  looks,  and  only  three  fellows,  including  myself.  The  other 
two  fellows  were  from  Pittsburgh — a  Harry  Wilson,  and  his  cousin,  Pat- 

188 


terson.     The   latter    was   a   cousin   of   George    Patterson,    who   played 
second  base  on  '97's  great  team,  Freshman  Year. 

On  the  eighth  day  after  leaving  New  York  we  sighted  Trafalgar  on 
the  coast  of  Spain.  The  only  thing  that  impressed  me,  as  we  slipped  by 
Trafalgar,  was  a  little  lighthouse  on  the  shore,  and  the  remark  some 
one  made  that  that  was  the  place  where  the  word  "tarif"  came  from, 
when  another  asked  him  where  "Freetradeville"  was. 

Our  first  stop  was  made  at  Gibraltar.  It  was  nearly  dark  when  we 
landed,  so  we  did  not  get  very  much  of  an  idea  of  the  town  itself,  but 
the  fort  is  great.  It  is  an  immense  mountain  all  by  itself.  Reminded 
me  forcibly  of  an  advertisement  of  the  Prudential  Life  Insurance  Co., 
it  looked  so  natural. 

From  Gibraltar  we  proceeded  to  Genoa,  Italy,  one  of  the  half  dozen 
birthplaces  of  Christopher  Columbus,  passing,  on  the  way,  close  enough 
inshore  to  see  the  little  Kingdom  of  Monaco,  where  Monte  Carlo  is 
situated.  One  of  the  gentlemen  on  board  remarked,  as  we  passed  this 
little  island  where  so  much  money  changes  hands  every  year,  that  this 
Island  of  Monaco  was  the  smallest  kingdom  in  the  world.  In  fact, 
he  said  he  was  so  sure  of  it  that  he  was  willing  to  gamble  on  it. 

At  Genoa  we  went  ashore  and  drove  around  the  town  and  out  to  the 
great  cemetery  of  Campo  Santa.  There  are  miles  and  miles  of  the 
finest  kind  of  marble  statuary.  It  seems  that,  in  Genoa,  no  matter  how 
poor  you  may  be,  when  you  die  you  must  have  a  marble  statute  put  over 
your  tomb.  There  is  one  statue  that  attracts  more  attention  than  any 
other.  It  is  of  an  old  woman  with  a  basket  over  her  arm  and  a  large 
pretzel  in  her  hand.  The  story  is  that  this  old  woman  made  a  fortune 
in  selling  pretzels  there  in  Genoa.  On  her  death-bed,  she  in  some  way 
learned  that  her  relatives  were  praying  that  she  would  hurry  up  and 
die,  so  that  they  could  have  her  money.  Naturally  she  did  not  like 
this,  and  decided  that  she  would  fool  them.  Sending  for  the  finest 
sculptor  in  the  city,  she  ordered  him  to  make  a  statue  of  her  as  she 
used  to  look  in  her  working  clothes,  a  basket  over  her  arm  and  a 
pretzel  as  the  sign  of  her  business  in  her  hand.  She  also  told  him  that 
the  work  must  not  cost  less  than  the  amount  of  her  whole  fortune. 
It  was  just  like  finding  money  for  the  sculptor,  but  to  do  him  justice, 
he  quite  outdid  himself,  for  the  statue  is  as  lifelike  as  life,  and  the 
pretzel  so  real  that  it  made  me  quite  hungry,  and  I  longed  for  the  good, 
old  days  of  Artie  Bave  and  the  grill-room.  But  the  tale  neglects  to 
state  what  the  poor  relatives  said  when  they  saw  that  statue.  Probably 
it  wouldn't  be  printable,  anyway. 

From  Genoa  we  proceeded  down  the  coast  to  Naples,  where  we 
stopped  one  evening — only  long  enough  for  a  few  of  us  to  make  a  short 
trip  through  the  city  and  get  lost  for  a  couple  of  hours.  It  was  more 
like  the  East  Side  of  New  York  than  anything  we  have  in  New  York 
itself.  If  we  only  could  have  run  across  the  Bowery  in  our  wanderings 
we  would  have  been  all  right.  As  it  was  we  only  had  a  couple  of 
fights,  and  a  run  for  our  money,  before  we  found  our  way  back  to  the 
docks  again. 

189 


From  the  deck  of  the  vessel,  Vesuvius  could  just  barely  be  made  out 
through  the  blue  haze  and  the  darkening  twilight,  by  the  glow  of  the 
fires  on  its  summit.  It  looked,  as  we  slipped  by  in  the  dark,  as  though 
there  was  a  large  summer  hotel  on  the  top  of  the  mountain  and  the 
people  were  having  a  big  dance,  with  all  the  lights  in  every  room  lit. 

Then  the  gong  sounded  for  dinner. 

We  only  stayed  over  night  at  Alexandria  before  going  on  to  Cairo, 
so  we  did  not  see  much  of  the  town.  At  Cairo  we  put  up  at  the  far- 
famed  Shepheard's  Hotel.  Almost  the  first  person  I  ran  across  there 
was  Frank  Curtis.  Frank  has  good  reason  to  remember  Cairo  and  the 
subsequent  trip  to  Palestine  and  Constantinople.  Now  haven't  you, 
Frank?    Ask  Mrs.  Frank  Curtis  about  it,  if  you  don't  believe  me. 

After  bumming  around  Cairo  for  a  week,  we  started  for  a  three  weeks' 
trip  up  the  Nile  on  the  S.  S.  Rameses  III.  We  went  ashore  each  day, 
to  see  the  ruins  of  the  different  temples  built  thousands  and  thousands 
of  years  ago,  and  the  great  tombs  of  the  kings,  built  when  Egypt  was  in 
its  greatest  glory  and  power.  These  immense  temples  and  tombs  are 
situated  either  far  out  in  the  desert  or  high  up  in  the  mountains,  miles 
back  from  the  river.  The  only  way  of  getting  to  them  is  by  riding 
on  the  diminutive  donkeys  driven  by  little  Egyptian  boys  who  run 
along  behind  with  clubs.  We  paid  these  boys  the  large  sum  of  fifteen 
cents  a  day  for  their  very  necessary  services,  and  even  then  they  asked 
for  more. 

At  Assouan,  about  550  miles  from  the  mouth  of  the  Nile,  and  just 
below  the  First  Cataract,  we  stopped  for  three  days  before  starting  on 
our  return  journey.  It  was  here  I  had  my  first  and  only  swim  in  the 
Nile.     It  was  simply  great. 

On  our  return  to  Cairo,  we  found  we  needed  a  rest,  so  we  stayed  there 
for  a  couple  of  weeks  to  recuperate  before  starting  for  Palestine.  We 
made  several  trips  to  the  Pyramids,  but  I  was  the  only  one  of  our 
party  to  climb  the  Great  Pyramid.  It's  quite  a  stunt.  I  also  made  the 
trip  into  the  inner  chamber.  A  fat  man  couldn't  get  in  there  to  save 
his  life,  the  passageway  is  so  small  and  steep. 

I  wouldn't  mind  spending  a  whole  winter  in  Cairo. 

From  Cairo  we  took  the  train  for  Port  Said,  and  from  there  we 
traveled  by  boat  to  Jaffa,  Palestine.  We  stayed  at  Jaffa-Jappa- 
Japho-Joppa,  or  any  old  way  you  like  to  spell  it,  only  a  few  hours 
before  taking  the  train  for  Jerusalem.  A  few  hours  was  quite  enough, 
for  it  is  the  dirtiest,  filthiest  town  in  the  whole  world. 

At  Jerusalem,  we  stayed  for  about  ten  days,  three  of  which  were 
spent  on  a  trip  to  Jericho,  the  River  Jordan  and  the  Dead  Sea.  I  think 
I  enjoyed  those  three  days  the  best  of  any  three  on  the  whole  trip.  I 
went  in  swimming  in  the  Dead  Sea,  and  could  have  stayed  in  all  day — 
it  was  so  exhilarating.  You  can't  quite  walk  on  the  water,  but  you 
can  come  pretty  near  it.  Anyway,  you  can't  wade  out  of  your  depth, 
for  when  the  water  comes  up  to  your  chest  your  feet  begin  to  come  up, 
and  you  either  have  to  swim  or  float. 

The  rest  of  the  time  at  Jerusalem  was  spent  in  visiting  Bethlehem, 

190 


Bethany,  the  Mount  of  Olives,  Mosque  of  Omar,  Tombs  of  the  Kings, 
Church  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre,  Jews'  Wailing  Place,  and  a  thousand 
other  places  of  biblical  interest.  It  was  all  awfully  interesting,  but  they 
tell  you  such  great  tales  about  every  place  you  visit — and  then  expect 
you  to  believe  them,  and  get  mad  if  you  don't — that  it  takes  half  the 
pleasure  away.  I  have  often  thought  what  a  fine  "Dragoman"  or  guide, 
"Bill"  Reynolds  would  make  out  there. 

From  Jerusalem  we  returned  to  Jaffa,  and  from  there  proceeded  by 
boat  to  Beiriit. 

At  Beiriit  we  visited  the  American  College,  where  W.  M.  Post  and 
Fred  Jessup  are  studying.  I  didn't  see  Post,  as  he  had  a  class  away 
off  somewhere  else  at  the  time  I  was  there,  but  I  saw  Jessup.  He  was 
teaching  a  class  of  little  Turks  to  read  English,  the  morning  I  called  on 
him.  He  looked  terribly  learned  and  severe,  sitting  there  in  front  of 
them,  when  I  came  into  the  room,  but  a  more  surprised  man  than  he 
was,  when  he  recognized  me,  I  have  never  seen.  He  dismissed  the 
class,  and  we  had  a  good  talk  of  old  times.  He  said  he  liked  it  well 
enough,  but  it  got  kind  of  lonesome  at  times.  He  wanted  to  be  re- 
membered to  all  of  you  fellows. 

We  stayed  at  Beirut  only  a  few  hours,  and  then  sailed  for  Constan- 
tinople, stopping  on  the  way  at  Smyrna  and  the  Island  of  Samos. 

We  arrived  at  Constantinople  in  a  blinding  snow  storm,  Vk^ith  the 
wind  blowing  sixty  miles  an  hour.  I  had  no  passport,  and  had  to 
bluff  in  on  my  uncle's,  he  handing  it  to  me  behind  his  back  after  he  was 
examined.  While  the  officer  who  examined  the  passports  was  reading 
the  one  I  handed  him,  i  shoved  up  close,  and  Vvhen  I  thought  he  had 
about  reached  the  age  clause,  I  "accidentally"  stepped  on  his  foot  in 
the  snow.  Of  course  he  swore  at  me  in  Turkish,  and  I,  of  course, 
scowled  at  the  crowd  around  us  in  turn.  You  see  I  may  look  old,  but 
I  hardly  look  forty-seven,  so  I  had  to  do  something  to  attract  or  rather 
distract  his  attention.  The  distracting  process  must  have  been  done 
pretty  thoroughly,  for  he  let  me  through  without  a  word  (that  I  could 
understand),  and  thus  saved  us  all  endless  trouble.  I  don't  think 
anything  in  the  world  is  hated  as  much  as  the  Turks  hate  Americans, 
cameras  and  newspapers. 

In  Constantinople  we  spent  about  a  week,  seeing  all  there  was  to  be 
seen  and  a  few  other  things.  We  were  invited,  together  with  the  other 
American  tourists  then  in  the  city,  to  the  diplomatic  department  of  the 
royal  palace,  from  the  windows  of  which  we  witnessed  the  ceremony 
of  the  Selimlik,  when  the  Sultan  drives  in  his  carriage  some  150  yards, 
between  his  thousands  of  cheering  soldiers,  to  the  mosque  where  he 
worships  every  Friday.  I  nearly  got  myself  into  trouble  by  trying  to 
take  a  picture  of  "His  Nibs"  as  he  passed  our  window.  One  of  the 
soldiers  objected,  so  I  thought  I  had  better  quit. 

A  good  deal  of  our  time  was  spent,  while  in  this  wonderful  city,  in 
tripping  over  the  dogs  that  lay  around  on  the  sidewalks  and  in  the 
street.  The  old  fable  about  the  dogs  running  Constantinople  is  no 
fable  at  all — it's  too  true.     The  dogs  do  own  the  town.     You  must  never 

191 


make  a  dog  get  up  when  he's  lying  across  your  path.  Either  step  over 
him  or  go  round.  Never  kick  him  in  the  slats,  much  as  you  may  want 
to,  for  the  Turks  will  murder  you  if  you  do.  You  often  see  dogs  block- 
ing the  traffic  of  a  whole  street.     Great  place,  Constantinople. 

From  Constantinople  to  Athens  was  one  of  the  nicest  voyages  on  the 
whole  trip — warm  weather,  blue  skies  and  jolly  companions.  We  ar- 
rived at  Piraeus,  the  seaport  of  Athens,  about  five  o'clock  in  the  after- 
noon, and  drove  the  five  miles  to  the  city  in  carriages. 

If  I  ever  want  to  live  out  of  the  United  States,  I'll  surely  choose 
Athens  for  that  place.  I  never  spent  a  more  enjoyable  two  weeks  any- 
where than  I  did  in  that  city.  The  first  place  I  wanted  to  see  was  the 
Acropolis,  and  there  was  not  a  day  during  our  whole  stay  that  I  did 
not  spend  anywhere  from  six  to  eight  hours  there.  I  saw  sunrises 
from  the  Temple  of  the  Six  Virgins,  sunsets  from  the  Temple  of 
Winged  Victory,  moonlight  in  the  Parthenon,  and  about  everything 
else — it  was  simply  fine. 

They  never  forgot  that  throw  of  the  discus  by  "Bob"  Garrett  at  the 
Olympic  Games  at  Athens.  The  first  thing  our  new  courier  asked  us 
when  he  saw  we  were  Americans  was :  "Do  you  know  Garrett,  the 
American  discus  thrower?"  My!  how  I  swelled  up  with  pride  when  I 
told  him  I  was  in  the  same  class  in  the  same  college  as  Garrett.  Good 
work.  Bob !  You  beat  them  at  their  own  game,  and  they  will  never 
forget  you  or  us. 

From  Athens  we  journeyed  by  land  and  by  sea  to  Brindisi,  and  from 
there  by  rail  back  to  Naples  once  more.  A  week  in  Naples  was  taken 
up  by  visits  to  Mount  Vesuvius,  Pompeii,  Capri,  Sorrento,  and  the 
great  National  Museum.  I  could  writes  pages  on  Vesuvius  and  Pom- 
peii, I  enjoyed  them  so  much;  but  I  won't,  thus  sparing  you  all  need- 
less agony.  I'm  very  much  afraid  I  have  taxed  your  endurance  enough 
as  it  is,  so  will  hurry  on. 

From  Naples  we  proceeded  to  Rome,  where  we  stayed  about  ten 
days.  Rome  has  lots  of  places  of  interest  for  the  traveler  as  well  as 
the  historian,  and  I  suppose  we  saw  them  all,  but  sightseeing  was  be- 
ginning to  pall  on  us. 

Easter  Sunday  was  only  a  few  days  away,  and  consequently  the  hotels 
and  the  city  were  crowded  with  people  of  all  sorts  and  conditions. 
We  had  seen  enough,  so  we  thought  we  would  run  up  to  Florence  and 
spend  Easter  in  peace  and  quiet.  After  a  few  days  of  walking  through 
the  miles  and  miles  of  art  galleries  and  wandering  about  the  queer  old 
town,  we  continued  on  to  Venice. 

We  only  stayed  a  day  at  Venice,  but  it  was  a  day  well  spent.  We 
saw  everything,  from  the  Bridge  of  Sighs  and  the  Doge's  Palace  to  the 
glass  and  lace  factories.  It  was  all  too  hurried  to  suit  me.  I  would 
like  to  have  stayed  a  month.  What  amused  me  most  was  the  fact  that 
there  was  no  way  of  getting  from  the  station  to  the  hotel,  or  from  the 
hotel  to  any  where,  except  by  calling  a  gondola.  Over  here,  if  you 
haven't  the  price  of  a  cab  or  even  the  trolley,  you  can  at  least  walk, 
but  there  it's  either  pay  the  boatman  his  fare  or  swim.  I  don't  think 
a  bicycle  store  or  a  riding  academy  would  thrive  there. 

192 


Verona,  Milan  and  Geneva  were  visited  in  turn,  but  by  this  time  it 
was  nearly  summer,  so  we  hurried  north  to  Paris. 

The  rest  of  our  party  seemed  to  like  Paris  much  better  than  I  did, 
for  after  staying  there  a  week  I  got  tired  and  started  off  for  England 
by  myself,  intending  to  meet  them  later  at  Southampton,  the  day  the 
steamer  left  for  New  York. 

My !  but  it  seemed  good  to  hear  English  spoken  once  more,  after  all 
the  "gib-gab"  we  had  heard  on  our  travels,  and  also  to  be  able  to  get 
news  of  the  war ;  but  I  longed  to  get  back  to  good  old  U.  S.  of  A.  again, 
and  go  to  war  myself,  if  needed.  We  were  in  Constantinople  when  we 
first  got  news  of  the  sinking  of  the  "Maine,"  and  often  I  paid  half  a 
dollar  for  a  Paris  edition  of  the  New  York  Herald,  we  were  so  anxious 
for  news  of  the  impending  war  with  Spain. 

It  was  like  being  left  a  lot  of  money  to  be  back  in  New  York  once 
more,  and  you  never  appreciate  our  own  country  the  way  it  should  be 
appreciated  until  you  have  been  away  from  it  for  a  while.  I  tell  you, 
fellows,  this  is  "God's  country,"  and  no  mistake. 

During  the  trip  I  took  about  800  pictures,  and  the  summer  after  our 
return  was  spent  in  making  up  books  of  pictures  for  a  number  of  the 
people  who  were  on  the  trip  with  us. 

In  the  fall  of  '98  I  went  to  work  with  the  Biglow  and  Main  Co.,  135 
Fifth  Avenue,  New  York  City,  and  since  then  have  gradually  drifted 
into  the  phonograph  business  as  a  side  line. 

If  any  of  you  fellows  are  in  town  any  time,  drop  in  and  see  me  at 
53  East  nth  Street,  where  we  have  our  laboratory,  and  I'll  show  you 
how  we  make  the  real  thing  in  the  record  line.  "Bab"  Hill  has  been 
there,  and  sang  us  his  old  "Turn-key"  song,  and  it  came  out  splendidly. 
I  have  the  record  at  home,  and  those  who  have  heard  it,  say  it  is  perfect. 
Last  summer  "Dutch"  Gregory,  "Pigeon"  Wren  and  "Chippy"  Kent 
visited  us  for  a  while  at  our  country  cottage,  at  Eastport,  L.  I.,  and,  as 
my  wife  had  some  of  her  girl  friends  visiting  us  at  the  same  time,  we 
managed  to  have  a  pretty  good  time.  I  think  the  summer  left  us  with  the 
impression  that  both  "Dutch"  and  "Pigeon"  had  capitulated  without 
a  struggle  to  the  allurements  of  one  and  the  same  young  lady.  As'i 
them  if  it's  so  when  you  see  them,  but,  for  heaven's  sake,  don't  tell 
them  I  told  you. 

The  date  of  my  engagement,  and  subsequent  marriage  to  "the  dearest 
little  woman  in  the  world"  will  be  found  elsewhere,  as  will  the  date 
of  the  birth  of  my  little  daughter,  "Hope." 

If  any  of  you  fellows  happen  to  be  in  the  city  at  any  time  I  do  wish 
you  would  come  over  to  my  house,  369  Park  Place,  Brooklyn,  and  see 
me.  I  would  like  to  introduce  you,  one  and  all,  to  Mrs.  Sankey,  and 
show  you  the  sweetest,  pinkest  little  baby  that  ever  was.  Incidentally, 
have  a  game  of  pool  and  anything  else  you  might  want. 

I've  just  got  a  telegram  from  "Pop"  to  hurry  this  along,  so  with  best 
wishes  to  you  all,  and  hoping  we  will  soon  meet  again,  I  remain,  now 
and  always. 

Your  classmate  and  sincere  friend, 
New  York  City,  N.  Y.,  May  i,  '01.  "Sank." 

193 


JOSEPH  SAWYER,  JR. 

My  Dear  Keener: — Your  gentle  reminder  of  the  I2th  is  before  me, 
and  I  hasten  to  reply. 

I  have  spent  most  of  the  past  year  in  the  West  and  Northwest,  min- 
ing In  Arizona  during  November,  December,  January,  February  and 
March,  of  last  year,  returning  to  New  York  in  March.  I  left  for 
Nome,  Alaska,  last  May,  and  returned  in  November,  stayed  here 
about  a  month  and  then  went  to  Seattle  and  San  Francisco,  re- 
turning from  there  the  last  of  January.  Saw  Morgan  Smith,  '97, 
at  the  Palace  Hotel,  'Frisco,  and  had  a  little  dinner  or  two  with  him. 

I  am  interested  in  a  number  of  mining  claims  in  Nome,  and  shall  re- 
turn thither  the  last  of  May,  to  be  gone  until  November. 

Am  not  married  yet,  and  don't  expect  to  be,  for  a  while,  anyway. 

Well,  old  man,  take  care  of  yourself,  and  believe  me. 

Sincerely  yours, 

Jos.  Sawyer,  Jr. 

New  York  City,  N.  Y.,  Feb.  26,  '01. 

ROBERT  DALZELL  SCHOONMAKER. 

Dear  Classmates: — "Pop"  has  requested  me  to  lay  aside  my  garb  of  a 
private  citizen  and  pose,  for  a  little  while,  in  the  role  of  a  public  charac- 
ter— in  other  words,  to  give  to  the  world,  or  the  class  of  '97,  which  is 
the  same  thing,  through  the  medium  of  written  language,  a  resume  of 
my  adventures,  various  and  sundry,  since  I  was  shoved  through  a  car 
window  by  certain  teary  members  of  the  "Great  and  Glorious,"  one 
day  in  the  month  of  June,  eighteen  hundred  and  ninety-seven.  I  obey, 
and,  for  the  nonce  rise  out  of  oblivion. 

Since  Commencement  very  little  has  happened  to  me  which  would  be 
of  interest  to  you.  The  major  portion  of  the  three  years  which  have 
elapsed  since  that  momentous  event  has  been  spent  at  Princeton  Sem- 
inary, in  frantic  efforts  to  have  my  name  enrolled  on  the  records  of  the 
"Society  of  the  Great  Unwashed."  (Term  used  with  permission  of 
copyright  owner,  C.  K.  Roys.)  The  minor  portion  has  been  whiled 
away  in  a  judicious  series  of  loafs.  Just  what  my  future  wnll  be  is  at 
present  somewhat  hazy ;  therefore  the  less  said  about  it  the  better. 

With  the  wish  for  all  you  fellows  of  as  great  success  in  life,  as  we 
attained  while  in  college  as  a  class,  I  lay  aside  the  role. 

Your  friend, 
RoBT.  Dalzell  Schoonmaker. 

Plainfield,  N.  J.,  Nov.  24,  '01. 

EDWIN  HOWARD  SCOTT. 

My  Dear  Keener: — Perhaps  it  was  for  the  purpose  of  seeing  if  the 
"old  man's"  patience  had  quite  run  out,  that  I  waited  for  the  second 
summons ;  or  perhaps  I  waited  till  Christmas,  thinking  that  a  letter 
from  any  one  of  his  straying  sheep  would  fill  his  heart  with  the  spirit 
of  the  season.  I  guess  it  was  the  latter,  for  surely  every  '97  man  would 
fall  over  himself  to  add  even  a  drop  to  Pop's  cup  of  happiness. 

194 


Well,  my  career  has  been  uneventful.  The  first  two  years  after  gradu- 
ation was  spent  in  resting  and  in  contemplating  the  glorious  days. 
And  some  of  the  time,  I  hope,  I  put  to  good  use  in  singing  (?)  Prince- 
ton's praises.  Two  years  ago  I  was  chosen  principal  of  the  High  School 
at  Plymouth,  and,  since  that  time,  have  been  endeavoring  to  hold  my 
job.    There's  little  excitement  or  fun  in  such  a  job. 

I  haven't  wandered,  except  in  imagination,  over  any  considerable 
portion  of  the  earth.  A  summer  spent  in  the  South  (nice  place  to  spend 
a  summer)  constitutes  the  most  extensive  trip.  Even  in  North  Caro- 
lina I  found  the  fame  of  Princeton. 

Don't  you  think  "Pop's  letter  bears  an  unfortunate  date — Nov.  ii, 
1900?  May  it  stand  forever  accursed  in  the  calendar — even  if  it  is  my 
birthday.  Well,  yesterday  I  learned  there's  no  use  to  despair.  I  met, 
in  Wilkes-Barre,  an  athletic  sophomore,  who  told  me  all  about  it. 
In  his  words  this  spring's  baseball  team  is  going  to  throw  some  of  the 
records  of  the  famous  Bostons  into  the  shade.  And  next  year,  of 
course,  Princeton  will  have  the  only  football  team  worthy  the  name, 
I  forget  what  reason  he  gave  for  the  disaster  of  the  season.  That  ol 
spirit  is  there,  and  while  it  is  there,  doubt  as  to  the  future  is  absurd. 

Well,  "Pop,"  in  that  wonderful  book  of  yours,  my  letter  ought  not  to 
take  up  too  much  space,  so  I'll  bring  this  to  a  close,  regretting  that  my 
doings  are  so  commonplace,  and  wishing  to  every  member  of  our  uni- 
versity's first  class  the  greatest  possible  success. 

Yours,  with  the  "old-time  spirit," 

Edwin  H.  Scott. 

Plymouth,  Pa.,  Dec.  23,  1900. 


CLARENCE  MILLS  SEYMOUR. 

Seymour  seems  to  be  lost  to  the  world.  No  news  of  him  has  been 
received  for  over  four  years.  Notwithstanding  this  dearth  of  informa- 
tion, the  secretary  feels  no  apprehension  as  to  his  safety,  being  well 
assured  that  his  sublime  self-poise  will  keep  him  right  side  up  in  any 
situation. 


WALTER  ALLEN  SEYMOUR. 

Dear  Pop: — Your  postals  of  frantic  appeal  irritated  a  guilty  con- 
science to  a  feeling  of  annoyance ;  but  your  final  prayer  swept  away  the 
last  vestige  of  laziness,  and  has  caused  me  to  try  to  oblige  you  with 
some  sort  of  a  letter. 

My  reluctance  to  undertake  the  task  arose  more  from  not  knowing 
what  to  say  than  from  the  task  itself.  Your  job,  I  know,  is  a  hard  one 
and  seems  thankless,  too,  when  you  think  of  the  rest  of  us  only  need- 
ing to  take  a  few  moments'  time  and  thought  to  comply  with  your  just 
and  expected  demands.  However,  we,  too,  have  our  side.  The  high 
standard  you  have  desired  frightens  us,  and  we  pray  for  an  inspiration 
of  wit  and  imagination  to  transform  the  prosaic  past  into  something 

195 


which  will  interest  and  amuse  those  who  are  to  peruse  our  efforts.  No 
doubt,  with  this  in  view,  you  will  readily  see  with  what  hesitancy  the 
"class  letter"  is  approached,  and  how  poor  and  mean  our  little  scrawl 
seems  when  compared  with  what  we  would  like  to  have  done.  This 
little  explanation  and  excuse  having  deferred  as  long  as  possible  the  real 
business  of  writing  my  "class  letter,"  that  is  still  before  me,  and  some- 
thing must  be  done,  I  suppose. 

Owing  to  stress  of  circumstances,  it  has  been  my  lot  to  get  back  to 
the  dear  old  college  only  once  since  we  all  parted  in  that  beautiful  June 
four  years  ago.  So  I  have  not  kept  in  touch  with  the  fellows  as  I  would 
like  to  have  done,  to  which  end  the  yearly  reunions  so  greatly  aid ; 
however,  in  the  future  I  intend  to  change  that,  if  possible.  It  is  a  won- 
derful bond  which  connects  all  Princeton  men,  and  it  tightens  as  we 
leave  our  college  days  further  behind  us.  Traveling  through  West 
Virginia  this  fall  I  met  a  "ninety-eight"  man,  unknown  to  me  at  college, 
and  in  the  easy  conversation  of  the  smoking-room,  we  each  discovered 
that  the  other  was  a  Princeton  man.  At  once  we  were  friends  with 
a  wealth  of  recollections  for  furthering  our  acquaintance.  So  it  always 
is ;  a  fellow  Princeton  man  met  haphazard,  is  a  friend  and  can  have 
the  best  one  can  give. 

The  summer  of  ninety-eight  I  spent,  as  did  many  classmates,  helping, 
each  his  mite,  to  free  Cuba;  so  that  Congress  could  amuse  itself  an- 
nexing it,  as  speedily  and  legally  as  possible.  Fortunately  for  me  my 
lines  were  cast  in  pleasant  places,  for  I  went  to  the  Philippines,  of  the 
existence  of  which  I  was  but  dimly  aware  before  th'e  beginning  of  the 
late  unpleasantness :  so  I  had  a  chance  to  see  that  country. 

Going  over  on  the  transport  we  used  to  talk  and  joke  about  what  we 
would  loot,  and  we  decided  to  spare  no  churches,  for  we  had  inflated 
ideas  of  the  hoards  of  gold  and  jewels  we  should  find.  However,  most 
of  the  wealth  of  the  church  consisted  of  land ;  if  they  had  any  stores  of 
gems,  they  were  not  on  exhibition,  and,  anyhow,  everything  not  nailed 
down  had  a  sentry  over  it. 

We  had  many  college  men  in  the  battery,  among  them  Joe  Beacham, 
captain  of  the  Cornell  baseball  and  football  teams,  who  was  my  sergeant. 
Afterward  he  was  promoted  to  first  sergeant  and  recommended  for  a 
commission  for  bravery  on  the  field  of  battle.  He  was  one  of  three 
recommended  at  that  time  for  bravery,  one  of  the  others  being  Ser- 
geant Burdick,  a  Brown  man,  also  of  our  battery.  Beacham  accepted 
his  lieutenancj^  and  is  now  serving  in  Cuba  with  the  Eighteenth  In- 
fantry. 

Among  the  Princeton  men  I  met  out  there  were  Lane,  '87,  of  the 
First  California;  the  Coulters,  of  the  Tenth  Pennsylvania,  whose  regi- 
ment did  splendidly;  and  "Count"  de  Montalvo,  of  the  Utah  Battery — 
which  also  did  fine  work.  At  the  time  I  called  on  him  he  was  detailed 
as  interpreter  to  General  Otis,  and  was  sitting  at  a  table  in  the  coolest 
corner  of  the  inside  balcony  of  the  palace,  clothed  in  spotless  white 
duck,  translating  some  regulations  or  other,  which  seemed  as  easy  to 
him  as  the  Spanish  exercises  he  did  for  the  fellows  at  college. 

196 


Since  my  return  I  have  been  nowhere,  and  done  nothing  to  interest 
any  one  but  myself,  so  I  will  close  now  with  a  hope  to  see  you  and 
all  the  boys  in  June. 

Yours  sincerely, 

W.  A.  Seymour. 
Flushing,  L.  L,  April  lo,  'oi. 

FREDERICK  VAN  VLIET  SHAW. 

Shaw  is  another  timid  youth  whose  modesty  interferes  with  his  letter- 
writing.  A  reference  to  the  First  Record,  in  which  he  gives  such  an 
interesting  account  of  his  thrilling  experience  at  San  Juan  hill,  gives 
proof  positive  that  this  misdirected  modesty  deprives  the  class  of  fur- 
ther pleasure.  He  has  "stuck  to  the  law"  ever  since  that  "trifling  argu- 
ment" with  the  Spanish  government. 

LEANDER  HOWARD  SHEARER. 

Dear  Pop: — It  is  always  delightful  to  receive  one  of  your  cheering 
letters.  You  should  not  neglect  to  make  the  very  most  of  that  marked 
talent  which  you  possess.  Write  as  often  as  possible  and  change  the 
subject  matter  whenever  convenient.  I  am  very  sorry  I  cannot  recipro- 
cate with  letters  of  like  brilliancy  and  humor.  However,  after  a  few 
more  months'  work  at  medical  college,  I  shall  be  ready,  and  able  too, 
I  hope,  to  render  medical  service  to  any  who  may  seek  for  it.  If  ever 
you  overtax  your  rugged  constitution,  come  in  and  see  me,  and  I  will 
do  my  best  to  patch  it  up  for  you. 

The  autobiography  of  my  graduate  life  is  quickly  told.  With  seven 
other  '97  men  I  have  spent  three  years  of  constant  and  interesting 
work  at  The  College  of  Physicians  and  Surgeons,  in  New  York  City. 

A  very  small  portion  of  each  of  these  three  years  I  have  fortunately 
been  able  to  spend  at  Princeton,  under  the  auspices  of  the  class  secre- 
tary. 

These  class  reunions  mark  the  beginning  and  the  end  of  each  year  of 
graduate  life — the  college  man's  new  year — a  time  for  celebration,  con- 
gratulation, reminiscence,  and,  perhaps,  for  resolutions  too. 

No  man  in  the  class  of  '97  would  willingly  miss  the  stimulus  and 
pleasure  which  such  occasions  bring.  Nothing  else  eventful,  I  regret  to 
say.  has  marked  my  career.  I  hope  this  letter  may  find  you  in  the  best 
of  health,  and  that  its  very  sudden  appearance  may  not  be  a  shock 
to  your  nervous  system. 

Ever  your  friend  and  classmate, 

Leander  Howard  Shearer. 

New  York  City,  April  25,  '01. 

EDWIN  SHORTZ,  JR. 

My  Dear  Secretary: — I  acknowledge  that  I  am  provokingly  remiss 
in  the  sending  of  this  epistle,  but  the  fact  of  the  matter  is  that  I  am 
"more  to  be  pitied  than  censured,"  for  I  have  tried  several  times  to 
compose  something  that  would  be  intelligible  English,  and,  at  the  same 

197 


time,  be  conducive  to  the  edification  of  the  class,  but  all  my  efforts 
have  seemed  hopeless,  and  the  only  excuse  for  sending  this  is  my 
conviction  that  every  one  of  us  should  contribute  his  mite  to  the 
Record. 

Since  you  last  heard  from  me,  I  have  traveled  a  great  deal — but  not 
far ;  most  of  my  pilgrimages  having  been  made  between  Wilkes-Barre 
and  Moosic,  Pa.  I  have  neither  faced  the  terrors  of  the  Chilcoot  Pass 
nor  bearded  the  elusive  bolo-man  in  his  lair ;  so  any  accounts  of  my 
travels,  I  fear,  would  be  about  as  exciting  as  an  expurgated  edition  of 
Calderwood's  Psychology. 

However,  I  observe  with  increasing  apprehension  that  deeds  of  chiv- 
alry and  daring  no  longer  find  favor  in  the  eyes  of  mankind,  as  was  the 
case  in  the  last  century.  This  age  of  horseless  carriages  and  henless 
eggs  has  a  tendency  to  knock  all  of  the  romance  out  of  life.  Our  great 
warriors  can  no  longer  get  into  print  by  dashing  up  and  sticking  their 
heads  in  the  mouths  of  cannon.  The  only  way  to  do  it  now  is  to  go  out 
West  and  get  treed  by  a  pack  of  coyotes,  or  else  allow  your  beard  to 
grow  until  the  election  of  Byran.  Great  statesmen  arc  no  longer  noticed 
for  the  parts  they  play  in  bringing  about  international  treaties,  but  if 
they  go  South  and  knock  the  feathers  out  of  a  few  canvas-backs  the 
newspapers  get  out  extra  editions  and  print  pictures  of  their  wives  and 
children.  But  as  such  is  the  lamentable  state  of  affairs,  I  will  risk  tell- 
ing of  a  peculiar  hunting  expedition  in  which  I  took  part. 

Two  summers  ago  I  was  employed  on  an  engineer  corps  constructing 
a  large  masonry  dam  on  a  stream  of  water  known  as  Mill  Creek.  How 
it  got  its  name  I  am  not  sure,  for  we  never  ran  across  any  mills  in  the 
course  of  our  wanderings,  but  I  believe  that  years  ago  there  had  been 
one  in  its  vicinity,  which  was  stopped  in  the  first  round  by  the  police. 
About  a  mile  from  our  camp,  up  the  creek,  was  a  quarry,  from  which 
stone  had  been  taken  for  the  construction  of  the  dam,  but  which  had 
not  been  worked  for  about  a  year.  One  very  hot  morning  a  workman, 
who  had  been  sent  to  the  quarry  for  some  old  iron,  returned  with  two 
rattlesnakes,  and  reported  that  the  place  was  full  of  the  reptiles.  I  had 
long  wished  to  secure  some  skins  of  these  animals,  and,  in  the  afternoon, 
another  young  fellov/  and  myself  started  out  on  a  hunting  expedition 
armed  with  hickory  sticks  about  four  feet  long.  We  had  to  do  some 
tall  climbing  up  the  side  of  a  mountain,  and  the  torrid  condition  of  the 
weather  would  have  made  any  Turkish  bath  look  pale.  Before  that 
day  I  had  never  seen  a  rattlesnake  loose  in  the  woods,  nor  heard  one 
rattle,  so  every  time  one  of  those  flying  grasshoppers  buzzed  through 
the  air  I  would  jump  and  look  all  around  me  before  proceeding.  T 
greatly  amused  my  companion,  who  delivered  himself  of  sundry  jocu- 
lar remarks  at  my  expense.  However,  I  got  even  with  him  by  insinu- 
ating that  his  superior  training  in  woodcraft  eminently  qualified  him  to 
take  the  lead  on  that  occasion,  so  we  changed  places. 

Just  before  arriving  at  the  quarry  we  had  to  walk  through  a  patch  of 
huckleberry  bushes,  which  reached  nearly  to  our  knees,  and  obstructed 
our   view    of   the    ground.      In    traversing    this    place    I    walked    very 

198 


daintily  on  my  tip  toes,  and  took  very  long  and  deliberate  strides,  at 
the  same  time  experiencing  the  unique  and  delightful  sensation  of 
perspiration  rolling  down  my  face  and  cold  chills  rolling  up  my  back. 

Then  we  reached  the  quarry — a  large  clearing  in  which  were  scattered 
many  stones  of  all  sizes,  some  of  them  grown  over  with  fern  and  huckle- 
berry bushes.  My  companion,  whom  I  will  call  Jim  for  convenience, 
proceeded  into  the  clearing  about  ten  feet  in  advance  of  me,  but  had 
not  taken  more  than  five  steps  when  we  were  both  stopped  by  a  quick, 
dry  rattling  sound  in  a  clump  of  bushes,  which  he  had  already  passed, 
and  which  lay  between  us.  I  had  never  heard  this  sound  before,  but  it 
was  unnecessary  for  me  to  consult  a  Century  dictionary  to  ascertain  the 
meaning  of  it.  Jim,  without  waiting  to  learn  my  views  on  the  proper 
method  of  strategic  procedure  to  be  employed  in  such  an  emergency, 
immediately  poked  his  stick  into  the  bushes :  whereupon  a  large  speci- 
men of  the  crotalus  horridus  came  wriggling  slowly  in  my  direction  with 
his  ugly  head  raised  slightly  from  the  ground  and  his  opposite  end 
rattling  like  the  bell  of  a  block-signal  system.  Jim  now  appointed  him- 
self professional  coach,  and  exhorted  me  to  "nail  'im."  However,  I 
refrained  from  so  cruel  an  act,  just  then,  as  I  had  a  kind  of  instinctive 
feeling  that  any  overtures  of  a  belligerent  nature  on  my  part  might  not 
be  taken  by  the  rattler  in  a  sportsmanlike  spirit.  Then,  too,  the  rattling 
process  had  in  some  way  been  communicated  to  me,  and  I  was  afraid 
of  making  a  bad  shot  and  spoiling  the  skin.  Another  matter  which 
may  have,  in  some  slight  measure,  influenced  my  decision  was  a  hasty 
mental  calculation  of  his  length,  placing  it  at  about  eight  feet,  not 
counting  the  curves.  This  estimate  I  later  found  to  be  erroneous,  as  he 
measured  not  quite  four  feet,  and  was  not  a  he  at  all. 

The  snake,  therefore,  paid  not  the  slightest  attention  to  me,  but 
glided  deliberately  under  a  large  flat  stone  which  lay  directly  in  front 
of  me.  Jim,  after  waiting  a  moment  to  metaphorically  cast  a  few  roses 
at  my  feet  and  moisten  his  palms  by  a  method  common  to  those  who 
win  their  daily  bread  by  the  sweat  of  the  brow,  proceeded  to  pry  up 
the  stone,  using  his  cudgel  as  a  lever.  The  rattling,  which  had  stopped 
for  a  moment  (probably  to  replace  a  worn  out  battery),  now  started  up 
again  with  the  loud  pedal  on.  Jim  soon  lifted  the  stone  and  held  it 
up,  throwing  a  smaller  one  under  it,  and  then  began  to  poke  the  snake 
with  his  stick.  There  followed  some  thrashing  about  under  the  stone, 
accompanied  by  fierce  rattling,  then  the  snake  ran  out,  and  in  my  direc- 
tion again.  But  this  time  I  had  him  spotted,  and  landed  heavily  upon 
his  low  but  intellectual  forehead.  He  rang  off  immediately  and  lay 
still.  We  were  therefore  greatly  surprised  to  hear  more  rattles  pro- 
ceeding from  under  the  same  stone.  More  poking  with  our  sticks  dis- 
lodged another  reptile,  which  was  dispatched  by  my  companion.  But 
the  rattling  still  kept  on,  and  by  peering  under  the  stone  we  could  see 
another  snake,  somewhat  smaller  than  the  first  two.  This  one  refused 
to  come  out,  but  was  in  a  great  rage,  rattling  furiously  and  striking  at 
our  sticks.  Finally  he  did  sally  forth,  but  was  so  quick  that  he  got  off 
among  some  small  stones  and  disappeared  before  we  could  stop  him. 

199 


We  now  noticed  a  peculiar,  musty  smell  in  the  air,  which  often  serves 
to  warn  one  of  the  presence  of  rattlesnakes.  I  have  heard  many  people 
assert  that  this  odor  is  very  similar  to  that  of  cucumbers,  but  it  seems 
to  me  that  individuals  possessed  of  such  elastic  imaginations  might  just 
as  well  give  them  an  extra  stretch  and  then  swear  it  is  more  like  violets 
or  orange  blossoms.  The  plain  truth  of  the  matter  is  that  one  can 
obtain  an  excellent  imitation  of  it  by  sticking  his  head  into  a  small 
shed  occupied  by  a  family  of  goats.  Jim,  whose  warlike  spirit  was  now 
thoroughly  aroused,  was  for  proceeding  with  fire  and  sword,  so  to 
speak,  into  the  heart  of  the  quarry.  As  it  had  become  exceedingly  hot, 
and  as  our  legs  were  unprotected,  I  recommended  a  cessation  of  hostil- 
ities for  that  day,  and  we  went  back  to  camp  with  our  snakes,  which 
proved  to  be  very  beautiful  females,  each  having  secreted  upon  her 
person  about  eight  eggs. 

After  that  day  I  encountered  rattlers  in  the  woods  on  a  number  o^ 
occasions,  and  every  time  they  warned  me  of  danger  before  I  saw  them. 
I  have  a  respect  for  the  fair  spirit  they  show  in  fighting,  and  have  com- 
posed the  following  verses  in  honor  of  the  species. 

THE  RATTLESNAKE. 

Th'   rattlesnake   air  much   abused. 

And  don't  deserve  it  nuther; 

To  hear  some  town  folks  talk  an'  blow. 

You'd  think  they'd  dern  sight  ruther 

Run  up  agin  most  anything 

What  bites  er  claws,  er  has  a  sting. 

So  when  they  come  up  here  they  bring 

Some  kind  o'  grog  er  other. 

Fact  is  th'  rattler's  jist  'bout  right; 
He  never  does  no  fightin' 
Onless  somebody  stirs  him  up 
An'  makes  him  do  his  bitin'. 
If  folks  'ud  only  let  him  be. 
He'd  stay  right  with  his  family. 
Round  some  old  rock,  er  stump,  er  tree. 
In  quietude  delightin'. 

Now  then  you  take  most  any  man 

What's  mad,  er  in  a  flurry. 

He's  apt  to  act  in  some  mean  way, 

Thet  later  gives  him  worry. 

But  rattlers  never  is  so  low 

As  not  to  warn  a  guileless  foe. 

They  always  make  that  rattle  go, 

No  matter  what's  the  hurry. 

Yours  truly, 
Wilkes-Barre,  Pa.,  Jan.  29,  'ci.  Ed.   Shortz. 

200 


WILLIAM  WEEKS  SILVEY. 

Dear  Pop: — Inclosed  please  find  a  blank,  which  I  have  filled  out  in 
such  a  manner  that  I  trust  it  may  aid  you  in  the  making  up  of  the 
book. 

A  letter  is,  I  think,  rather  out  of  the  question  just  now,  as  I  fear 
that  I  could  not  make  it  interesting  enough  to  be  worthy  of  space. 

Probably  I  have  been  as  "long"  of  vicissitudes  as  the  "Vizier  of  the 
Two-horned  Alexander,"  but  mine  must,  like  his,  wait  to  be  con- 
fidentially told ;  so  please  to  wait  until  some  time  when  I  have  you  alone. 

Sincerely, 

W.    W.    SiLVEY. 

East  Orange,  N.  J.,  April  lo,  1901. 

SAMUEL  SMALL,  JR. 

Small  is  another  of  the  incorrigibles,  absolutely  refusing  to  give  a 
word  of  information  about  himself.  He  is  known  to  be  rusticating  on 
the  banks  of  the  historic  Codorus  and  incidentally  engaged  in  mercan- 
tile pursuits. 

FREDERICK  LORENZE  SMITH. 

Fred's  retiring  disposition  is  the  cause  of  much  trouble  and  anxiety 
to  the  secretary.  The  Pinkerton  agency  long  ago  gave  up  the  job  of 
finding  him,  and  even  the  special  Sherlock  Holmes  system  has  acknowl- 
edged defeat.  He  was  seen  in  Princeton  one  day  in  April  with  the 
Fordham  College  baseball  team,  but,  before  he  could  be  buttonholed, 
he  disappeared  and  covered  his  retreat  with  such  skill  that  specially 
trained  bloodhounds  failed  to  locate  the  trail.  He  has  spent  most  o^ 
his  time  since  graduation  in  training  and  coaching  various  prominent 
college  teams. 

JAMES  MORGAN  SMITH. 

No  word  has  been  received  from  Smith  since  '98.  In  a  roundabout 
way  the  secretary  learns  that  he  was  lately  seen  in  San  Francisco, 
wending  his  way  towards  the  Klondike.  Let  us  hope  that  there  he 
will  find  a  new  El  Dorado. 

JAMES  SMITHAM. 

My  Dear  Classmate: — I  received  your  letter  to-day,  containing  the  in- 
formation that  I  am  a  delinquent.  Some  time  ago  I  answered  a  list  of 
printed  questions  forwarded  by  you.  It  was  my  impression  then  that 
those  answers  would  make  up  the  Record,  although  it  strikes  me, 
now,  the  reading  would  be  somewhat  dry  if  confined  to  them  alone. 

Since  leaving  Princeton  I  have  confined  my  work  to  legal  matters. 
I  took  law  at  Harvard,  and  after  studying  in  the  law  office  of  Bertolette 
&  Barber,  of  Mauch  Chunk,  Pa.,  I  was  admitted,  and  am  at  present 
practicing  at  the  Carbon  County  Bar.  I  don't  know,  "Pop,"  whether 
the  foregoing  is  the  kind  of  stuff  you  want  or  not.  There  are  too 
many  I's  in  it  to  suit  me. 

201 


I  read  in  to-day's  paper  that  Lafayette's  basketball  team  defeated 
Princeton  last  night.  Cornell  was  bad  enough ;  but  Lafayette  makes  me 
extremely  weary.  Sincerely  yours, 

James  Smitham. 

Mauch  Chunk,  Pa.,  March  7,  1901. 

NATHAN  SMITH  SMYSER. 

Dear  Pop: — There  is  very  little  to  tell  in  my  case,  as  it  has  been 
largely  a  repetition  of  the  same  story,  viz.,  "plugging  away"  at  the 
law.  I  started  in  to  study  law  at  my  old  home.  Fort  Wayne,  Ind.,  in 
the  law  office  of  Barrett  &  Morris.  Mr.  Morris  is  a  Princeton  'y^ 
man.  I  stayed  in  that  office  until  December,  1898,  when  I  came  to  the 
"Windy  City"  and  entered  the  law  firm  of  Wilber,  Eldridge  &  Alden, 
which  firm  was  succeeded  by  the  firm  of  Alden,  Latham  &  Young  in 
September,  1899.  I  have  been  with  this  latter  firm  ever  since  that  time. 
I  took  my  examinations  for  admission  to  the  bar  in  October,  1900,  and 
passed  them  successfully,  so  I  am  now  a  full-fledged  attorney-at-law. 
I  was  very  sorry  that  circumstances  would  not  permit  me  to  join  the 
fellows  at  our  Triennial  Reunion,  in  June  last.  We  have  a  flourishing, 
informal  organization  of  the  '97  Princeton  men  in  Chicago,  and  have 
had  as  many  as  ten  men  present.  We  meet  on  an  average  of  once 
a  month.  This  brings  us  about  as  close  to  our  dear  old  Alma  Mater 
as  anything  could. 

Pop,  you  certainly  are  to  be  congratulated  on  the  way  you  have 
held  our  class  together,  and  the  way  you  have  patiently  kept  after  the 
delinquent  ones.  You  shall  have  your  reward.  What  more  can  I  say 
than  that  I  hope  your  success  in  the  future  will  be  equal  to  that  of 
the  past.  With  best  wishes  for  yoxir  success  in  all  your  undertakings, 
as  well  as  for  every  member  of  the  dear  old  class,  I  am. 

Very  sincerely  yours, 

Nathan  S.  Smyser. 

Chicago,  III.,  Jan.  30,  1901. 

RICHARD  BRIGGS  SMYTH. 

Dear  Pop: — Peccavi!  I  have  come  to  a  realization  of  my  faults, 
since  the  receipt  of  a  most  strenuous  letter  from  our  president,  and 
promptly  proceed  to  give  you  "the  story  of  my  life." 

I  was  admitted  to  the  bar  of  South  Carolina  in  May,  1900,  and 
since  then  have  spent  all  my  time,  and  my  overflowing  Southern  energy, 
in  the  practice  of  the  noble  profession  of  law,  with  more  or  less  suc- 
cess. 

Little  has  happened  to  me  in  the  way  of  news,  and  I  am  at  a  loss 
how  to  write  a  letter  that  will  interest  the  rest  of  my  class.  I  have  a 
visit,  once  in  a  while,  from  some  "old  grad,"  and  receive  rather  than 
give  news. 

I  find  so  little  news  in  the  Princetonian  about  the  class — why  is  that? 
Won't  the  fellows  send  you  items  of  interest?  Or  is  the  rest  of  the 
class  in  the  same  condition  of  "innocuous  desuetude"  that  I  am  in? 

202 


I  know  this  is  not  the  kind  of  letter  you  want,  but  I  have  nothing 
else  to  tell  about  myself,  and  that  is  the  whole  story. 

Most  seriously  yours, 

Richard  B.  Smyth. 
Charleston,  S.  C,  April  i,  igoi. 

CHARLES  EDWARD  SPEER,  JR. 

The  last  message  from  Speer  promises  that  he  "will  write  in  a  few 
days."  The  non-arrival  of  his  letter  argues  that  in  Pittsburgh  the  days 
are  uncommonly  long.  He  is  engaged  in  the  banking  business  and  it  is 
rumored  that  he  is  in  a  fair  way  to  become  a  Pittsburgh  edition  of  the 
Rothschilds. 

SELDEN  SPENCER. 

Dear  Pop: — My  life  since  college  has  not  been  a  very  eventful  one, 
but  I  shall  briefly  give  you  some  idea  of  what  I  have  been  doing  dur- 
ing that  time.  In  the  fall  of  '97  Francis  Lane  and  I  started  in  the  sec- 
ond year  of  the  Missouri  Medical  College,  having  received  credit  for 
medical  work  done  at  Princeton,  with  the  understanding  that  we  were 
to  make  up  some  back  work.  We  made  up  our  work  during  the 
year,  and,  in  the  summer  vacation,  I  took  some  courses  at  the  Uni- 
versity of  Edinburgh,  in  Scotland. 

In  the  spring  of  '99  Lane  and  I  graduated  from  the  Missouri  Medi- 
cal College  in  the  last  three-year  class  graduated  from  that  institu- 
tion, which  is  now  the  Medical  Department  of  the  Washington  Uni- 
versity. After  my  graduation  from  college  I  received  an  appointment 
to  fill  out  an  unexpired  term  as  interne  in  the  St.  Louis  City  Hospital. 
In  June  my  term  expired  and  I  managed  to  get  East  to  our  second  an- 
nual reunion.  That  summer  I  remained  in  St.  Louis,  doing  clinical 
work,  and  during  the  next  winter  I  received  another  St.  Louis  City 
Hospital  appointment.  My  second  term  also  expired  in  June,  and  this 
time  I  got  East  to  our  great  Triennial  Reunion.  This  fall  I  came  on 
to  Norm  Reeves'  wedding,  but  didn't  get  to  Princeton,  though  I  saw 
a  good  many  of  the  fellows.  On  my  way  to  Europe  I  spent  a  week  in 
the  East  and  managed  to  get  down  to  that  Yale  game. 

I  sailed  from  New  York  on  the  steamer  Westernland  on  the  21st  day 
of  November,  and  landed  in  Antwerp  on  December  2,  after  a  rather 
rough  voyage.  From  Antwerp  I  came  almost  direct  to  Berlin,  and 
have  remained  here  ever  since,  studying  medicine  and  wrestling  with 
the  German  language,   especially  the  latter. 

On  New  Year's  evening  I  went  out  to  see  the  excitement,  and  was 
walking  down  Unter  den  Linden,  when  some  one  slapped  me  on  the 
back  and  said,  "Well,  'Father'  Spencer,  what  are  you  doing  here?"  I 
turned  around  and,  to  my  surprise  and  joy,  saw  old  "Eddy"  Elliott. 
After  Eddy  and  I  had  had  a  good  little  talk,  with  sufficient  explana- 
tions, he  informed  me  that  there  was  to  be  a  reunion  the  next  night  of 
the  Princeton  men  in  Berlin.  I  had  known  of  only  one  Princeton 
man's  being  in   Berlin  and   I   was   very  much   surprised,   but  greatly 

203 


overjoyed  to  get  that  news.  Well,  to  cut  the  story  short,  we  had  our 
reunion  and  it  was  a  grand  success.  There  are  eight  men  here  from 
Princeton,  but  one  was  not  present  at  that  gathering,  so  we  were 
seven — two  of  us  from  '93,  and  one  each  from  Seminary  '97,  and  Col- 
lege '94,  '96,  '98  and  '99.  Ninety-seven,  as  is  ever  the  case,  was  in  the 
majority.  We  got  a  small  room  to  ourselves,  in  one  of  the  restaurants 
here,  and  we  stayed  there  till  far  into  next  morning.  We  talked  over 
the  old  days  and  sang  the  old  songs,  and  again  and  again  those  old 
walls  echoed  and  re-echoed  our  "triples."  We  closed  with  "Old  Nassau," 
and  we  resolved  that  this  should  not  be  our  last  meeting.  I  wouldn't 
have  dreamed  or  hoped  for  such  a  Princeton  reunion  over  here. 

Well,  that  brings  me  up  to  date,  but  I  shall  close  with  a  few 
words  about  my  intentions.  I  expect  to  stay  in  Berlin  about  six 
months,  and,  after  doing  a  little  general  medical  work,  I  intend  to  pay 
special  attention  to  the  ear  and  the  nose.  I  expect  to  go  to  Vienna 
for  a  while,  and  perhaps  to  Paris  and  London.  After  a  year's  work 
in  this  part  of  the  world,  I  expect  to  go  back  to  St.  Louis  and  assist  my 
father  in  his  office. 

Well,  I  must  close,  for  I  am  a  little  rushed  and  I  am  afraid  that  this 
may  not  reach  you  in  time.    I  hope,  though,  that  it  will.    I  am,  as  ever. 

Yours  faithfully, 


Father  Spencer. 


Berlin,  Germany,  Jan.  31,  1901. 


NICHOLAS  STAHL. 

Dear  Fellows: — "Pop"  wrote  in  November.  I  reply  in  February. 
Some  of  you  have  written  already.  You're  to  be  congratulated,  either 
because  your  ability  to  stand  "hot  air"  is  great,  or  because  you  haven't 
so  much  of  it  as  those  who,  three  times  a  day,  frugally  "replenish 
the  inner  man"  in  company  with  our  festive  and  frivolous  "Pop." 
Thrice  three  times  a  day  I  learn  that  I  ought  to  have  written  long  ago. 
I  know  it.  I  make  no  excuse.  I  merely  ask  under  the  circumstances  to 
be  "pitied  rather  than  censured." 

Notwithstanding  all  your  smiles,  we  who  know  it,  claim  that  life  in 
Lawrenceville  is  "strenuous" — it  couldn't  be  otherwise,  when  Pop  sets 
the  pace — early  mornings  and  late  nights  and  sufficient  filling  for  a 
healthy  weariness  of  the  flesh. 

But  there  are  compensations;  we  get  regular  arc-light  gleams  from 
the  sidelights  of  our  secretary's  character.  He  was,  to  us,  in  our  under- 
graduate guilelessness,  a  man  unknown.  Few  of  you,  I  fancy,  have 
had  the  pleasure  of  learning  that  our  secretary's  quickest  way  of 
commanding — from  the  land  of  dreams — your  attention  and  profanity 
is  by  the  gentle  propulsion  you-ward  of  a  suit-case,  dumbbell  or  two, 
not  to  say  shoes  and  pillows. 

Nor  would  you  have  believed  him  capable  of  beguiling  an  unsuspect- 
ing youth  from  the  classic  shades  of  Harvard  into  the  mad,  mysterious 
maelstrom  of  Philadelphia  wickedness.  It  is  well  understood  here  that 
the  people  of  Pennsylvania  are  now  rejoicing  in  the  senatorship  of  his 

204 


fast  friend,  Colonel  Quay,  largely  through  our  little  "Pop's"  ardent 
labors  in  his  behalf. 

Tliis  next  is  something  I  think  you  ought  to  know :  As  a  teacher 
he  is  not  a  success.  So  little  so  that  many  educators  in  Trenton  were 
anxious  to  rid  our  school  of  such  an  incubus,  by  making  him  principal 
of  the  High  School.     But — he  is  with  us  still !     Amen ! 

Tyler — as  in  the  old  days — is  of  us,  but  not  ivith  us.  And  I  haven't 
heard  of  his  offering  any  of  his  old-time  dentist  certificates  for  his 
absence  from  town.  You  knew  "Ty";  we  see  A.  Clinton  Tyler,  A.B. 
(Princeton),  spectacled,  muustachioed,  thinned  to  218,  stern  and  se- 
vere. He  used  to  be  somewhat  of  a  Princeton  enthusiast ;  he  is  still. 
He  often  orders  50-cent  tiger  chromos  and  rejoices  to  find  them  $7 
etchings. 

My  fellowship  year  at  Princeton  landed  me  here  in  Lawrenceville, 
after  a  summer's  work  at  Harvard,  where  I  gained  a  sufficiency  of  the 
broadening  culture  of  a  great  university  to  offset  the  narrowing  in- 
fluences of  a  country  college.  Two  years  passed  very  pleasantly  with 
masters  and  boys  in  the  Davis  House  and  my  time  most  generously 
devoted  to  anything  no  one  else  found  sufficiently  alluring.  Then 
something  went  wrong  and  when  the  smoke  cleared  away  I  found  my- 
self in  the  Hamill  House,  teaching  just  science. 

My  foreign  travels  are  limited  to  the  delightful  summer  just  passed, 
canoeing  through  the  Kawarthagamihigawagamog  Lakes  with  Mo- 
ment and  Hamilton,  '96,  and  our  elfish  friend  Tyler.  Tyler's 
head  would  sometimes  fill  with  the  excitement  of  the  occasion, 
and  the  enthusiasm  of  the  nonce,  and  he  would  gravely  declare 
that  he  didn't  "believe  the  Lord  ever  m.ade  a  rapids" — he  wasn't  so 
sure  about  waterfalls — "that  he  couldn't  shoot  successfully,  if  he  only 
had  a  paddle  strong  enough."  His  further  remarks  about  finding  some 
one  able  to  steer  a  canoe  are  personal,  and  therefore  uninteresting. 

I  have  always  greatly  respected  a  man  contemplating  marriage,  and 
have  even  thought  I  should  like  to  try  it,  if  only  I  were  sure,  in  my  faint- 
heartedness, how  it  would  turn  out.  But  evidently  the  strain  of  antici- 
pation is  tremendous.  Tyler  is  wan  at  218  and  Keener  scarce  casts  a 
shadow  at  187 ;  nervous  preoccupation  and  habitual  absence  from  town 
indicate  an  alarming  state  of  mental  tension.  If  so  the  strong  are  af- 
fected, what  would  a  weakling  do?  But  if  the  truth  must  be  told,  I 
fear  I  have  loved  "not  wisely,  but  too  many."     I  am  the  Undesired. 

In  "offices  of  honor"  I  loll  too  seldom ;  but  those  of  "trust"  my 
numerous  debts  make  a  pressing  necessity.  I  do,  however,  belong  to 
the  Nassau  Club,  Princeton,  and  the  Princeton  Club,  Philadelphia. 

Politically,  I  went  with  the  crowd  last  November,  but  I  hate  Quay 
because  Keener  loves  him.  And  just  in  this  connection,  let  me  warn 
you,  classmates  all,  that  our  wily  secretary  brusquely  refused  Jack 
Williams'  generous  offer  to  write  an  authentic  and  unbiased  biography 
of  our  president  and  secretary,  and  told  him,  moreover,  that  he'd  cut  out 
of  any  letter  any  allusion  to  himself,  for  it  wasn't  tnie!  I  have  a  pull 
with  the  printer,  so  I  hope  to  escape  the  censor. 

205 


Fellows,  no  one  could  enjoy  more  than  I  our  good  old  reunions,  the 
return  to  the  old  campus,  and  another  sight  of  you  again,  each  and 
every  one.  Some  of  you  at  times  are  hereabouts,  in  your  ignorance  not 
knowing  whom  to  do  or  how  to  do  them.  My  latch  string  is  always  on 
your  side  and  it  will  give  us  Laurentians  great  pleasure  to  have  you  pull 
it  hard  and  often.  In  '97  we  never  wore  our  hearts  on  our  coatsleeves, 
but  you  know,  fellows,  how  much  it  means  when  I  write, 

Yours  for  '97,  N.  Stahl. 

Lawernceville,  N.  J.,  Feb.  18,  1901. 

EDWIN  McMASTER  STANTON. 

"Eddie"  tackled  the  University  of  Pennsylvania  law  course  and  ex- 
tracted therefrom  the  right  to  practice  upon  the  unprotected  public  of 
the  Keystone  State.  Finding  Philadelphia  too  slow  for  his  energetic 
nature,  he  sought  for  a  stage  better  suited  to  the  display  of  his  talents. 
Pittsburgh  was  the  place  selected.  But  with  his  usual  faculty  for  find- 
ing adventure  he  has  become  lost  in  the  mazes  of  the  Smoky  City.  A 
suitable  reward  will  be  given  for  his  discovery  and  rescue. 

ARTHUR  NELSON  STARIN. 

Dear  "Pop": — This  must  needs  be  a  brief  and  prosy  epistle,  a  few 
facts  here  and  there  of  my  daily  life  for  the  past  four  years,  as  I 
don't  intend  to  take  up  space  set  apart  for  the  adventures  and  illustrious 
doings  of  others  far  more  worthy  than  your  humble  servant. 

Ever  since  leaving  college,  in  the  winter  of  '94,  I  have  been  in  the 
banking  business,  starting  with  the  Penn  National  Bank  of  this  city. 
In  the  spring  of  '99,  I  entered  the  Philadelphia  National  Bank,  where 
I  am  engaged  at  this  present  time. 

My  life  has  been  uneventful  with  one  important  exception,  that  of  my 
marriage  last  June,  to  Miss  Laura  Corse  Pitfield,  also  of  Germantowa 
After  living  quietly  at  home  for  a  year,  we  decided  to  take  upon  our- 
selves the  responsibilities  and  vicissitudes  of  housekeeping,  and  at  the 
present  writing  we  are  in  the  midst  of  getting  settled  in  our  new  quar- 
ters. 

Two  years  ago  this  coming  August,  having  decided  upon  an  outing 
of  a  rather  unusual  character,  I  took  a  sailing  trip  with  a  Princeton  '98 
man,  on  a  three-masted  schooner  bound  from  this  port  to  Beverly, 
Mass.,  loaded  with  coal.  It  took  us  two  weeks  to  reach  our  destina- 
tion, owing  to  storms  and  head-winds,  but  we  thoroughly  enjoyed  the 
trip,  although  we  came  within  an  ace  of  being  wrecked  on  some  shoals 
off  Cape  Cod.  The  Mate  had  mistaken  the  location  of  two  buoys 
marking  the  channel,  and  the  Captain  discovered  the  error  just  in 
time  to  bring  the  ship  up  into  the  wind,  so  that  we  passed  the  bell-buoy 
tolling  mournfully  scarcely  ten  feet  away.  Terra  Urnia  suited  me  after 
that  experience,  for  some  time. 

With  many  thoughts  and  best  wishes  for  the  prosperity  and  health  of 
each  member  of  the  old  class, 

Yours  in  the  bonds  of  '97, 

Germantown,  Pa.,  May  7,  1901.  Arthur  Nelson  Starin. 

206 


ROBERT  FULTON  STERLING. 

My  Dear  Old  Pop: — I  have  been  threatening,  for  some  moons,  to 
write  to  you  and  the  class,  "than  whom  there  are  none  such."  It  does 
not  matter  to  which  I  direct  this  missive,  for  the  class  and  Pop  are 
synonymous  terms.  Heretofore  my  threat  has  meant  little;  but  now 
I  fear  you  are  in  for  it— at  least,  so  many  of  you  as  care  to  read  this 
artless  tale  of  a  country  parson.  My  life  has  been  exceedingly  un- 
eventful of  late  years,  and  I  bid  fair  to  become  one  of  those  college 
fledgings  who  go  out  and  straightway  sink  to  the  bottom  of  some 
social  duck-pond,  and  never  raise  so  much  as  a  bald  head  above  its 
surface  till  the  day  they  go  back  to  their  beginnings.  Well,  here  I 
am,  squatted  on  the  bottom  of  the  pond  and  sending  up  a  bubble  or  two, 
this  morning,  to  the  world  above — that  is,  to  the  class  of  '97 — just  to  say 
that  I  am  alive  and  that  the  pond  isn't  half  bad — one  of  the  signs  that  I 
am  stuck  in  the  mud,  no  doubt. 

In  brief,  I  spent  the  summer  after  graduation  trying  to  decide  in 
what  profession  my  shortcomings  would  be  least  conspicuous.  I  never 
doted,  as  did  some,  on  dissecting  cats,  as  a  preliminary  to  medicine; 
had  not  sufficient  horse  sense  for  business ;  liked  law ;  but  somehow 
was  led  to  assume  the  role  of  a  priest.  When  that  was  decided, 
straight  I  went  to  Princeton,  where  the  quadrangle  didn't  seem  quite 
right  without  Roy  Cox's  calf  bleat  and  Bert  Miller's  lion  howl ;  but 
there  was  still  the  meeting  in  Pop's  room,  where  a  set  of  dear  old 
reprobate  loafers  would  convince  (  ?)  Henry  Russell  of  the  immorality 
of  all  mathematicians.  Three  years  went  by  like  a  summer's  vacation, 
and  I  was  set  down  at  my  present  home  on  the  Saturday  after  the  Re- 
union, bedraggled  like  a  wet  chicken,  with  the  rain  running  down  my 
back  from  an  umbrella,  and  my  knees  shaking,  for  Sunday  was  but  six 
hours  distant.  Here  I  found  I  was  expected  to  speak  of  a  Sunday  in  a 
way  to  interest,  if  possible,  the  majority  and  yet  not  to  disturb  the  slum- 
bers of  a  few  who  are  in  the  habit  of  taking  a  nap  during  service,  to 
improve  their  spiritual  condition.  By  way  of  amusement,  I  have  made 
the  acquaintance  of  the  black  bass  in  the  Susquehanna,  and  he  is  a 
fish  worth  knowing;  have  got  a  pacing  horse  who  is  said  to  have  speed, 
and  am  now  on  the  lookout  for  a  setter  pup — with  an  eye  on  some 
quail  that  keep  whistling  all  summer,  outside  my  window.  When  the 
aforesaid  pup  arrives,  the  three  of  us — horse,  dog  and  dominie — expect 
to  live  in  great  domestic  bliss  and  tranquillity,  and  my  heart  will  expand 
and  grow  in  the  spring  sunshine  like  cucumbers  and  corn.  "Be 
durned"  if  I  don't  believe  that  is  poetic,  so  it  is  high  time  I  ceased  this 
nonsense. 

One  word  more,  in  all  seriousness.  I  am  a  parson,  and  I  do  hereby 
solemnly  covenant  and  agree  to  perform  scot-free  to  all  '97  men,  the 
ceremony  containing  the  words,  "love,  honor  and  obey."  All  others 
must  pay  the  usual  fee  of  umpteen  dollars,  or  its  equivalent  in  potatoes 
and  cabbage. 

Most  sincerely  yours, 

Robert  F.  Sterling. 

Glenville,  Md.,  Feb.  25,  '01. 

207 


WILLIAM  ADAMS  WALKER  STEWART. 

My  Dear  Keener: — Since  leaving  college  I  have  spent  three  years 
in  learning  the  law  as  taught  at  Columbia,  and  with  such  marked  suc- 
cess that  I  have  been  admitted  to  the  bar  of  New  York  State.  On 
May  I,  1900,  I  married  Miss  Frances  E.  de  Forest  of  this  city,  and  was 
assisted  on  that  occasion  by  Messrs.  Palmer  and  Magie,  who  per- 
formed their  arduous  duties  to  their  own  entire  satisfaction.  I  have, 
unfortunately,  done  nothing  else  worthy  of  record  in  so  illustrious 
a  history  as  that  of  the  class  of  '97,  and  will,  therefore,  refrain  from 
taking  space  which  will  be  more  profitably  filled  by  the  ready  pens  and 
imaginations  of  the  rest  of  the  class. 

Very  sincerely  yours, 

William  A.  W.   Stewart. 

New  York  City,  N.  Y.,  April  8th,  1901. 


HENRY  FORD  STOCKWELL. 

Dear  Pop: — So  I  am  one  of  the  "delinquents,"  and  am  chargeable 
with  "inexcusable"  indifference,  and  am  responsible  for  your  many 
"days  of  anguish  and  harrowing  of  soul."  I  plead  "non  vult  contendere" 
to  all,  and  throw  myself  on  your  mercy.  To  be  sure.  Pop,  you  have, 
no  doubt,  already  done  the  generous  act  by  anticipation  in  your  own 
thoughts,  of  the  only  suiEcient  excuse  which  a  young  sprig  of  the  law 
has  to  offer — to  wit:  a  rush  of  clients  and  a  crush  of  business  in  gen- 
eral. And,  by  the  way,  did  you  ever  yet  meet  one  of  this  species, 
who  was  not  complaining  of  bad  health  and  a  general  breakdown 
(physical,  of  course,  not  mental)  because  he  was  overworked?  No, 
Pop,  we  are  all  made  up  out  of  the  same  clay,  and  I  am  persuaded  that 
it  would  be  the  height  of  folly  for  me  to  thus  impose  upon  your 
credulity.  So  let  me  say  in  just  a  word  what  has  been  my  lot  since 
leaving  the  Princeton  fold. 

A  few  weeks  after  my  graduation  you  might  have  found  me  in  a 
Camden  law  office  working  like  a  N.  Edwards  Poler.  For  the  next 
year  and  a  half  I  continued  as  aforesaid.  My  bar  examinations  once 
passed  (November,  1898),  I  settled  down  at  the  address  below,  grasped 
the  hard  world  by  the  horns  (and  he  did  not  seem  to  notice  in  the 
least  my  presence),  determined  to  wrest  from  him  the  living  (and  that 
is  what  a  young  fellow  has  to  consider  at  the  outset,  all  wise  books  to 
the  contrary  notwithstanding),  which  he  owed  me.  Since  then  I  have 
done  several  legal  "stunts,"  and  at  the  present  writing  can  look  my 
landlady  in  the  eye  without  fear  of  a  bill  being  thrust  in  my  face. 

But  have  I  not  yet  shaken  new  life  into  the  New  Jersey  Bar  by  my 
original  and  brilliant  ideas?  Have  I  not  been  slated  for  a  judgeship, 
or  a  what-not?  No,  Pop,  I  have  not  even  addressed  a  farmer's  meeting 
on  "Bryan"  or  "McKinley."  Then,  too,  I  have  not  doubled  my  for- 
tune by  taking  a  wife !  Surely  my  lot  is  a  barren  waste,  when  placed 
beside  that  of  some  of  my  honored  classmates. 

But,  be  this  all  as  it  may,  I  hope  to  take  a  little  of  the  glory  which 

208 


belongs  to  the  great  class  of  1897,  even  though  my  share  be  but  a 
reflection. 

I  had  hoped  to  be  in  Princeton  to-morrow  to  kick  up  my  heels 
again  in  honor  of  Father  George,  but  I  am  denied  that  pleasure.  Yet 
I  am  persuaded  that  his  memory  will  not  be  neglected,  as  I  believe  '97 
is  to  be  on  board  with  a  goodly  contingent.  A  letter  from  you,  dear 
Pop,  always  infuses  new  life  into  your  most  remiss,  yet  well-meaning 
classmate,  Stockwell. 

Camden,  N.  J.,  Feb.  21,  '01. 

SAMUEL  AUGUSTUS    BRIDGES    STOPP. 

My  Dear  Pop: — Had  my  air-ship  come  into  port  to-day  I  should 
certainly  sail  over  to  Jersey  to-night  to  visit  the  grand  old  man  of 
'97,  and  hear  of  the  fortunes  of  the  best  boys  in  the  world.  It  seems 
but  yesterday  that  I  met  and  greeted  so  many  of  them  at  our  Triennial, 
and  yet  the  winter  winds  and  heavy  rains  of  December  are  driving 
about  this  ordinarily  peaceful  spot  in  a  storm,  not  harder  to  grapple 
with  than  the  patristic  lore  and  mediccval  theology  and  scholastic 
subtleties  and  sixteenth  century  dogmas  with  which  I  must  do  battle. 
I  am  trying  to  cultivate  an  acquaintance  with  Augustine,  and  Bernard 
of  Clairvaux,  and  Thomas  Aquinas,  and  a  number  of  other  venerables 
of  later  date,  but  a  letter,  fragrant  of  the  Princeton  life  of  to-day, 
has  a  charm  that  none  of  these  ancient  worthies  can  cast  from  me. 
Not  that  they  would  if  they  could.  It  was  their  misfortune  not  to  have 
been   at   Princeton. 

You  ask  me  so  many  question  that  I  cannot  answer,  and  until  I  write 
something,  or  marry  some  one,  or  engage  in  some  illustrious  avocation, 
it  will  hardly  be  necessary  to  send  me  the  list  again.  My  answers 
will  have  to  be  a  duplicate  of  what  I  have  been  sending  you  for  several 
years  past.  I  come  in  contact  with  many  Germans  here,  and  so  die 
Deutsche  Sprache  is  often  on  my  lips.  After  the  depths  of  German 
theological  thought  into  which  I  must  often  go,  and  the  mazes  of 
abstractions  in  which  I  am  liable  to  lose  myself,  it  is  a  relief  to  get 
into  the  clear  beauties  of  German  literature  and  music,  though  Wagner, 
of  whom  I  profess  to  be  enamored,  is  often  anything  but  clear.  May  I 
tell  you  that  even  seminarians  enjoy  the  grand  opera  and  the  Boston 
Symphony  concerts,  although  from  a  lofty  gallery— perhaps  the  more, 
because  of  their  high  position? 

Come  to  see  me,  so  that  we  can  talk  over  old  times  together,  and 
when  we  have  a  clear  day  we  will  go  to  the  Wissahickon  or  visit  some 
of  the  historic  places  in  Germantown.  I  am  living  on  part  of  the 
Revolutionary  battlefield. 

I  know  the  care  of  so  many  boys  is  wearing  on  you,  and  per- 
haps your  hair  is  turning,  as  you  anxiously  wonder  where  they  are, 
and  why  they  so  often  fail  to  think  of  you.  But  keep  up  heart.  The 
boys  of  '97  will  do  you  credit  by  and  by. 

Your  friend  and  classmate, 

S.  A.  Bridges  Stopp. 

Mt.  Airy,  Philadelphia,  Pa.,  Dec.  6,  '00, 

209 


HENRY  STUDDIFORD. 

Dear  Pop: — Your  last  circular  note,  apprising  me  of  my  failure  ta 
write  for  the  Record,  has  just  been  received.  I  had  been  hoping  that 
perhaps  the  filling  out  of  your  question  blank,  to  the  best  of  my  ability — 
and  I  had  to  answer  unprepared  to  most  of  that — would  satisfy  your 
craving  for  information.  For  really  that  outline  covers  the  history  of 
my  life  since  graduation  about  as  well  as  a  more  detailed  account  could 
do.  However,  since  you  won't  be  happy  till  you  get  a  letter,  I  beg  to 
submit  the  following. 

The  summer  after  graduation  I  took  the  rest  cure,  knowing  that  it 
would  be  the  last  long  vacation  I  would  get  for  many  moons,  and^ 
about  October  ist,  started  in  to  do  "the  strenuous"  with  the  firm  of 
Mclntyre  &  Wardwell,  commission  merchants,  of  this  city.  I  continued 
with  them  until  the  spring  of  '98;  and  then,  having  learned  the  geog- 
raphy of  lower  New  York  pretty  thoroughly,  in  my  capacity  of  mes- 
senger, etc.,  I  concluded  to  seek  a  wider  field,  and  entered  the  employ 
of  the  Mexican  International  Railroad  Co.,  23  Broad  St.,  where  I  am 
at  present  working. 

I  have  kept  pretty  close  to  the  "metropolis"  all  the  time,  my  principal 
journeyings  being  occasional  trips  to  The  Burg,  and  daily  commuting 
to  Plainfield,  N.  J.,  during  the  past  year. 

I  am  glad  to  report  that  so  far  I  have  managed  to  avoid  all  "en- 
tangling alliances ;"  and  if  my  luck  holds,  I  will  not  follow  Doggie 
Yeatts'   example  for  many  years  to  come. 

The  ordinary  experiences  of  a  man  chasing  the  almighty  dollar  in 
New  York  are  too  humdrum  and  prosaic  to  admit  of  much  dissection, 
and  though  I'd  like  to  give  you  a  lot  of  interesting  news  of  things  that 
have  happened  to  me  since  I  left  Old  Nassau,  I  fear  to  do  so  lest  I 
should  be  held  up  as  an  example  of  that  maxim  imparted  in  Jack 
Hibben's  course,  that  "all  men  are  liars."  However,  I  intend  to  hustle 
around  between  now  and  our  quinquennial  and  see  if  I  cannot  scare 
up  some  interesting  "copy."  If  successful  in  the  attempt  I  won't 
hesitate  so  long  about  writing  as  I  have  done  in  the  present  instance. 

Please  accept  my  apologies  for  the  long  delay,  and  with  best  wishes 
and  regards,  believe  me, 

Yours  in  the  Faith, 

H.  Studdiford. 

New  York  City,  N.  Y.,  Feb.  27,  '01. 


FREDERICK  STURGES,  JR. 

Dear  "Pop"  and  Classmates: — Far  be  it  from  me  to  wish  to  delay- 
any  game  where  '97  is  about  to  play.  It  has  merely  been  my  unwilling- 
ness to  burden  your  ears  with  "the  story  of  my  life,"  that  has  kept 
me  from  relating  it. 

In  October,  1897,  I  went  into  the  comptroller's  office  of  the  New  York 
Central  R.R.,  and  remained  there  until  the  first  of  the  present  year, 
when  I  graduated  from  the  over-energetic  railroad  life,  and  came  down 

210 


to  the  equally  severe  existence  of  Wall   St.     It  will  now  be  my  en- 
deavor to  do  everybody  and  everything  within  reach. 

My  three  years  with  the  Central  passed  very  quickly,  and  I  found 
the  work  most  interesting  and  beneficial.  It  was  made  all  the  more 
pleasant  for  me  by  the  presence  in  the  department  of  several  Prince- 
ton graduates. 

By  a  careful  study  of  the  class  statistics  you  will  learn  any  further 
information  you  may  desire. 

With  best  wishes. 

Very  truly  yours, 

Frederick  Sturges,  Jr.,  '97'. 

New  York  City,  N.  Y.,  April  5,  '01. 

FRANK  DELANEY  TAGGART. 

"The  lowing  herd  winds  slowly  o'er  the  lea,"  and  Taggart,  "home- 
ward plods  his  weary  way."  He  is  a  farmer,  and  consistently  refuses 
to  furnish  any  information  about  himself. 

CHARLES  IRVING  TAYLOR. 

Dear  Pop: — My  delay  in  replying  to  your  various  requests  for  a  letter 
is  due  in  part  to  carelessness,  but  chiefly  to  the  fact  that  I  was  unable 
to  think  of  anything  in  particular  that  had  happened  to  me  since  I 
left  Princeton,  and  which  I  thought  would  be  of  interest  to  the  readers 
of  a  class  book.  I  must  say,  though,  that  your  untiring  efforts  have 
brought  me  to  time,  and  I  am  forced  to  write  a  few  words  to  show 
my  appreciation  of  our  secretary's  work. 

After  leaving  Princeton  I  studied  law  at  the  New  York  Law  School, 
and  in  due  course  was  graduated;  since  then  I  have  been  endeavoring 
to  learn  how  to  practice  law,  and,  as  the  experience  of  all  young 
lawyers  is,  to  a  large  extent,  the  same,  I  will  not  bore  any  one  with  a 
repetiton  of  detailed  steps. 

Trusting  that  I  have  not  waited  too  long  before  writing,  and  hoping 
that  the  book  is  the  success  it  should  be,  considering  the  work  required 
to  prepare  it,  I  am. 

Very  sincerely, 

Charles  I.  Taylor^ 

New  York  City,  N.  Y.,  April  9,  '01. 

SYDNEY  WENTWORTH  TAYLOR. 

My  Dear  Pop: — All  of  your  little  notices  have  come  to  hand,  and  I 
regret  to  have  been  the  cause  of  so  much  trouble  to  you.  To  furnish 
the  Record  with  a  contribution  this  time  will  be  an  impossibility.  Try 
as  I  will  I  can't  get  down  to  the  task.  I  have  delayed  sending  the 
present  letter  in  hopes  something  would  happen  to  suspend  temporarily 
this  never-ending  work,  work,  work.  I  can't  get  the  time  to  give  my 
letter  proper  thought,  so  I  shall  have  to  beg  the  indulgence  of  the 
class. 

You  see.  Pop,  I've  got  a  better  thing  here  in  Texas  than  usually  falls 


to  the  lot  of  so  young  a  man.  It's  a  job  fit  for  a  man  with  a  vast  deal 
more  experience  than  I  possess;  hence  I  have  not  only  to  slave  to 
hold  down  the  job,  but  I  have  also  to  make  a  "rep."  A  great  deal 
depends  upon  what  sort  of  a  showing  I  make. 

I   am   awfully   sorry   to   have   been   the   cause   of   "gray  hairs"   and 
"premature  old  age."     Please  forgive  me  and  believe  me, 
One  of  the  children, 

S.  W.  Taylor,  Jr. 
Houston,  Tex.,  April  lo,  'oi. 

CHARLES  HOWARD  TEETER. 

Ady  Dear  Keener: — I  have  heard  your  cry  of  distress  and  hasten  to 
respond,  although  I  am  very  sure  that  I  filled  out  the  blank  I  received 
from  you  some  weeks  ago,  especially  as  I  sent  with  it  a  personal  letter, 
and  have  been  damning  you  for  some  time  because  I  have  not  received 
any  answer.  So  this  will  be  a  second  edition.  As  your  recent  fire  and 
brimstone  communication  contained  no  blank,  I  shall  have  to  scratch 
off  informally  the  few  facts  that  may  serve  to  fill  space  in  the  Record 
of  the  "Ever  Glorious." 

I  am  still  teaching  in  Hasbrouck  Institute.  My  address  is  still  19 
Duncan  Ave.,  Jersey  City,  and  my  permanent  address  is  East  Strouds- 
burg,  Pa. 

My  salary  is  still  small,  but  I  have  continued  hopes  of  getting  a 
boost. 

As  you  know,  I  was  married  on  April  28,  1900,  to  Miss  Josephine  E. 
Pearce,  at  Minsi,  Pa.,  and  as  yet  there  are  no  visible  fruits  of  our 
union. 

I  was  not  at  the  reunion  last  year — more's  the  pity, — and  have  done 
nothing  deserving  to  be  chronicled — unless  it  be  that  I  have  wiped  away 
.a  large  part  of  my  debts  and  have  tried  to  lead  the  life  of  an  honest 
man. 

Yours  truly, 

Chas.  H.  Teeter. 

Jersey  City,  N.  J.,  Feb.  6,  '01. 

LELAND  BURR  TERRY. 

My  Dear  "Pop": — The  old  saying,  "there  is  no  rest  for  the  weary," 
is  certainly  applicable  to  my  case,  for  it  seems  that  when  I  have  most 
to  do  I  get  a  letter  from  the  Secretary  of  the  "Great  and  Glorious," 
demanding  either  a  short  history  of  my  life  for  the  past  twelve  months, 
or  some  other  contribution. 

This  time,  "Pop,"  I  am  going  to  reply,  for  my  sympathies  are  with 
you,  because  I  know  the  pleasures  (?)  of  writing  a  letter  and  receiving 
no  answer. 

Since  leaving  Princeton,  years  ago  as  it  seems  to  me,  my  work  has 
been  varied  indeed;  I  have  done  most  everything,  from  clerking  in  a 
store  to  pleading  a  case  at  the  bar  of  justice.  It  took  only  about  six 
months  after  leaving  Princeton  for  me  to  find  out  that  I  was  only  a 

212 


human  being,  endowed  with  life,  able  to  sleep  and  eat  three  meals  a 
day;  and  as  yet  I  have  done  nothing  more  startling  that  that.  I 
spent  two  years  at  the  University  of  Buffalo,  trying  to  get  a  few 
legal  principles  instilled  into  my  weary  brain,  and  what  that  has  done 
for  me  still  remains  an  uncertainty,  and  I  presume  always  will,  for, 
as  you  may  well  see,  my  present  occupation  hardly  deals  with  legal 
problems. 

I  still  remain  a  free  man,  but  things  look  dangerous,  as  that  boy 
with  the  bow  and  the  basket  full  of  arrows,  that  laid  Dud  Riggs  and 
others  low,  early  in  the  game,  has  been  annoying  me  of  late  to  a  certain 
degree.  Man  is  weak  and  I  shall  undoubtedly  fall.  One  would 
naturally  think  that  my  flame  of  enthusiasm  for  Princeton  had  about 
been  extinguished  since  I  have  not  been  able  to  attend  any  reunions, 
but  let  me  disabuse  their  minds  of  such  a  thought ;  my  thoughts  are 
always  of  Princeton  and  no  one  is  more  proud  of  her  achievements 
than  I. 

Into  the  details  of  my  life  for  the  past  three  years  I  will  not  enter, 
for  it  has  been  the  same  as  that  of  most  individuals.  Having  cast 
some  light  on  what  I  have  been  doing  that  might  be  of  interest, 
and  not  wishing  to  rob  of  space  any  one  that  took  an  active  part  in 
the  "Dean's"  English,  I  am  as  ever, 

Your  obedient  servant, 

Leland  B.  Terry. 

Salamanca,  N.  Y.,  Dec.  30,  '00, 

BENJAMIN  HARVEY  THOMPSON. 

Dear  Pop: — I  have  been  putting  off  my  letter  in  the  hope  that  time 
would  give  me  the  opportunity  to  answer  at  least  one  of  your  questions 
with  more  than  a  "yes"'  or  "no."  It  hasn't  come  and  I  cannot  longer 
delay  my  letter.  I  am  sorry  that  I  cannot  add  to  the  list  of  "things 
done"  by  members  of  the  glorious  class. 

I  know  of  one  incident  which  may  be  of  interest,  as  it  concerns  the 
head  of  the  family.  Last  summer  I  was  in  Paris  at  the  time  of  the 
International  Athletic  Games.  Bob  Garrett  was  there  with  his  discus. 
But  the  cunning  which  made  possible  that  famous  telegram  from  Athens 
was  lacking.  Bob  had  literally  lost  his  grip.  Three  times  Bob  hurled 
the  discus  and  three  times  it  went  off  at  a  right  angle  to  the  proper 
direction,  and,  hitting  the  trees,  dropped  down  on  the  crowd.  The  first 
time  it  was  humorous,  the  second  time  it  became  dangerous,  and  at  the 
third  attempt  the  crowd  was  yelling  something  which  sounded  like 
"A  bas  le  Garrett."  To  me,  wondering  why  it  was,  there  seemed  to 
be  but  one  reason.  When  Bob  appeared  on  the  Athletic  Grounds  at 
Paris,  that  beard,  which  graced  the  reunion  last  Jime,  was  missing. 
It  was  another  case  of  Samson. 

In  answer  to  one  of  your  questions  I  would  say  that  the  largest 
and  most  important  public  assemblage  with  which  I  have  had  anything 
to  do  was  the  one  which  gave  Roy  Cox  and  his  bride  a  send-off  at 
the  Harrisburg  Railroad  Station.     It  was  enthusiastic. 

213 


As  for  myself,  Pop,  I  am  studying  law,  and,  in  the  near  future,  will 
take  the  examination  for  admission  to  the  bar  at  Pittsburgh,  I  am  not 
married.  Sincerely  yours, 

Benjamin  PI.  ("Buck")  Thompson. 

Pittsburgh,  Pa.,  Feb.  22,  '01. 

EDWARD  CAMERON  THOMPSON. 

My  Dear  "Pop": — Nothing  short  of  your  sarcasm  could  have  induced 
me  to  write  a  letter.  It  is  true  my  conscience  hurts  me.  And,  indeed, 
I  have  felt  myself  to  be  something  of  the  traitor  to  class  and  college 
loyalty.  But  to  be  classed  as  a  member  of  '96!  "Pop,"  you  cannot  con- 
ceive how  it  hurt.     Your  shot  went  true  and  it  struck  home. 

I  cannot  imagine  anything  more  uninteresting  than  the  record  of  my 
career  since  I  left  college.  Life  in  a  medical  school — if  one  is  at  all 
conscientious — is  a  far  different  story  than  that  of  the  happy,  half-lazy 
unresponsible  days  of  our  college  years.  To  the  study  of  medicine 
there  certainly  is  no  end.  And  the  more  one  knows,  if  he  is  honest 
with  himself,  the  more  modest  he  must  feel  as  to  his  knowledge. 

About  a  dozen  '97  men  are  in  my  class  in  Columbia  University,  and 
this,  it  is  true,  makes  it  somewhat  pleasanter.  But  here  there  is  no 
singing  on  the  steps,  no  camping  on  the  green.  Our  pipes  are  smoked 
in  solitude,  and  the  most  imaginative  would  not  compare  our  lives  to 
those  found  in  Arden  Forest.  But  I  am  not  trying  to  draw  a  gloomy 
picture.  While,  indeed,  we  may  lack  that  good  comradeship  which 
marked  the  good  old  days  at  Princeton,  we  are  all  happy.  For  to 
succeed  in  medicine  (and  we  are  all  going  to  succeed)  one  must  love 
his  work.  And  this  has  been  the  balm  which  has  enabled  us  to 
pursue  the  hard  and  stony  path  to  a  medical  profession.  And  these 
have  been  the  arduous  duties,  and  this  the  new  love,  which,  I  fear, 
have  kept  some  of  us  from  gladdening  the  heart  of  our  dear  old  Secre- 
tary by  contributing  to  the  Triennial  Record.  I  am, 
Affectionately  yours, 

Ed.   C.  Thompson. 

New  York  City,  N.  Y.,  March  5,  '01. 

SAMUEL  HUSTON  THOMPSON,  JR. 

To  the  Class: — My  career,  since  leaving  college,  has  been  an  excit- 
ing and  fairly  prosperous  one.  To  begin  with,  I  had  the  consummate 
nerve,  after  leaving  college,  to  start  right  in  tutoring  a  man.  This  bit 
of  information  will  probably  call  for  a  loud  guffaw  from  some  of  our 
first  group  men,  but  there  is  nothing  like  necessity  to  force  a  man  to  do 
the  impossible.  My  system  was  a  good  deal  like  that  of  the  coyote 
when  chased  by  a  hound — I  kept  a  few  feet  ahead  of  my  pupil  in  the 
knowledge  of  the  subject. 

This  task  occupied  me  till  September  of  '97,  when  Oberlin  College 
demanded  my  services  as  a  coach  for  their  football  team,  but  not 
till  I  had  written  them  that  I  was  the  only  real  thing  in  the  football 
line.     Here,  I  suppose,  it  will  be  proper  for  some  of  the  football  men 

214 


to  laugh!  But  by  some  hook  or  crook  the  OberHn  team  turned  out 
well.  During  its  itinerary  we  met  Bill  Church's  team — Perdue,  and 
Dave  Edward's  team— Ohio  State  University.  It  would  have  amused 
our  classmates  to  watch  Bill,  Dave  and  me  doing  the  Pinkerton  act- 
trying  to  catch  each  other  coaching  during  the  games.  My  team  was 
treated  splendidly  by  both  of  these  opponents,  which  only  goes  to  show 
that  Princeton  men,  wherever  they  may  be,  inculcate  in  those  about 
them  the  true  spirit  of  sportsmanship  and  hospitality. 

After  the  football  season  I  returned  to  Pittsburgh,  and  took  up  the 
study  of  law,  at  the  same  time  undertaking  again  the  cat-and-dog  life 
of  tutoring,  in  the  spare  hours.  When  spring  came  I  was  a  nervous 
wreck,  my  pupil  having  taken  the  position  of  the  coyote,  in  the  race 
for  knowledge,  and  I,  that  of  the  dog. 

During  the  summer  I  recuperated  in  Canada  and  Michigan,  where 
I  saw  a  great  deal  of  Dan  Altland,  '98.  I  am  afraid  Dan's  '97  friends 
would  not  know  him.  Dan,  the  web-footed  catcher  of  the  "Consoli- 
dated" and  the  "Tigers,"  is  an  out-and-out  dude,  living  in  Detroit  and 
putting  on  more  "lugs"  than  Masson  did  in  his  palmiest  days. 

The  next  fall  Lehigh  became  hypnotized  and  said  that  I  must  be  their 
coach.  It  was  a  repetition  of  the  previous  season — a  great  deal  of  hard 
work,  considerable  excitement,  and  never  becoming  a  cinch,  as  some 
of  the  public  would  have  us  believe.  If  any  one  thinks  coaching  is  a 
snap,  I  would  refer  him  to  Bill,  or  Net,  or  Fred,  and  they  will  inform 
him  in  stronger  language  than  I  dare  record  here. 

Lehigh  met  but  one  team  that  season,  coached  by  a  Princeton  man. 
Nearly  all  the  other  teams  had  Pennsylvania  men  for  their  "professors," 
and  as  we  won  from  all  the  smaller  colleges  who  were  coached  by  these 
my  cup  of  football  joy,  in  revenge  for  '94  was  almost  enough  to  satisfy 
even  a  Princeton  man. 

After  the  season,  I  took  up  my  residence  with  John  Graham,  in  New 
York,  and  attended  the  New  York  Law  School.  It  would  have  opened 
the  eyes  of  the  polers  of  our  class  to  see  the  way  some  of  the  most 
notorious  loafers  of  '<y]  worked  at  the  law  school.  The  time  passed 
on  wings,  and,  in  June,  John  Graham  and  I  journeyed  out  to  Denver 
and  took  our  bar  examinations.  There  were  fifty-three  men  to  come 
up.  When  that  poor,  scared  and  worn-out  gang  were  huddled  to- 
gether in  the  supreme  court  room,  like  a  herd  of  sheep  in  a  storm,  for 
their  oral  examinations,  and  the  chief  justice  made  us  stand  up,  one  by 
one,  and  answer  questions  for  five  minutes,  before  the  whole  court, 
I  confess  I  had  cold  feet  and  clammy  hands.  I  sat  for  two  hours 
awaiting  my  turn,  never  knowing  what  I  should  be  examined  upon, 
nor  when  I  should  be  called. 

But  my  turn  finally  did  come,  and  then  I  thought  it  was  all  off.  I 
got  the  buck  ague  so  badly  in  my  voice  and  legs  that  one  might  have 
thought  I  had  been  jagged.  However,  just  I  was  about  to  pass  it  all  up, 
one  of  the  judges  gave  me  a  kindly  smile,  which  braced  me  up  greatly, 
and  I  got  through  in  some  inexplainable  way. 

John   Graham  tore  his   shirt,   metaphorically   speaking,   making   the 

21S 


highest  mark  of  all  the  men  from  eastern  colleges,  and  there  were 
a  good  many  from  Michigan  and  Columbia.  Graham  and  I  started 
into  practice  in  the  fall,  forming  a  partnership,  which  has  managed 
to  make  expenses  so  far. 

During  the  fall  Lehigh  once  more  got  "nutty"  and  said  I  was  to  be 
their  coach.  As  I  have  remarked  before,  coaching  is  all  alike.  I  had 
my  share  of  hard  work,  excitement,  and  a  little  less  success. 

Since  then  I  have  been  trying  to  work  up  a  practice  in  this  great 
country.  Colorado  is  the  most  fascinating  place  in  the  world,  with 
its  magnificent  scenery  and  bracing  atmosphere.  If  it  were  not  for 
Princeton  and  my  family  I  should  be  a  long  time  in  returning  east. 

I  see  that  I  am  getting  verbose,  so  I  shall  have  to  ring  down  the  cur- 
tain; but  I  am  sure  that  you  will  permit  me  in  closing,  to  say  that  I 
have  seen  a  good  many  colleges  since  I  was  graduated,  and  have  met 
a  great  many  college  men,  and  I  am  more  convinced  than  ever  before, 
that,  for  pure  friendship,  college  spirit,  and  patriotism  for  one's  coun- 
try, the  Princeton  alumnus  stands  on  a  pinnacle  far  above  all  other 
college  men.  Very  sincerely, 

S.  H.  Thompson,  Jr. 

Denver,  Colo.,  Dec.  21,  '00. 

FREDERICK  RIDGELY  TORRENCE. 

Dear  Pop: — I  have,  if  my  eyes  deceive  me  not,  received  this  day, 
April  1st,  the  second  of  two  postal  cards,  both  headed  in  the  dot  and 
dash  language.  Now,  this  postal  card  is,  setting  aside  and  in  no 
way  to  be  confused  with — as  Mr.  Kipling  would  say — those  other 
articles  of  war  in  the  shape  of  innumerable  letters  in  which  you  have 
begged,  plead,  denounced,  anathematized,  hoped,  expostulated,  whistled, 
coaxed,  praised  and  performed  in  every  other  way  that  was  possible 
for  the  true  and  faithful  officer  and  man  you  are  in  trying  to  secure 
by  some  means  the  letter  of  that  most  unworthy  member,  m}^self — I 
only  trust  that  the  trouble  and  worry  my  own  delinquency  has  caused 
you  may  serve  as  an  example  to  be  shunned  by  other  members.  My 
reason  for  not  writing  before  is  a  good  one,  however.  I  suffer  from 
a  diseased  condition  of  The-Will-To-Work,  commonly  the  heritage 
of  men  of  genius,  as  Hamlet,  Amiel,  etc.  I  merely  say  that  I  have  the 
same  failing  and  allow  you  to  extract  your  own  inferences.  And  now 
that  I  have  finally  settled  myself  in  my  easy  chair  and  actually  made 
up  my  mind  to  write,  I  find  that  I  can  not  find  those  endless  blanks 
you  sent  me  to  be  guided  by  in — was  it  the  choice  of  words?  Not  one 
of  all  that  procession  is  tangible,  I  find,  after  a  desperate  and  riotous 
search  through  the  length  and  breadth  of  my  desk. 

So,  once  more,  I  am  cast  adrift  in  the  very  uncomfortable  position 
of  being  obliged  to  spill  ink  when  the  brain  throbs,  which  should  be 
the  motive  power,  are  running  about  one-and-a-half  volts  per  day — 
and  shutting  down  at  night  altogether — and  it  is  night  now. 

I  will  try  to  recall  some  of  your  questions  on  those  vanished  blanks. 
"Was  I  in  the  Wars?"  I  believe  that  was  one  of  them.     Well,  er — I 

216 


say,  that's  rather  awkward,  but,  to  come  right  down  to  it,  I  was  not, 
but  if  there  had  been  just  one  more  call  for  troops — you  know  the  rest. 
I'm  as  good  a  patriot  as  any.  At  all  events  I  intend  to  apply  for  a  pen- 
sion, for  I  caught  a  bad  cold  while  the  war  was  going  on. 

And  then  another  question  was,  "Are  you  married?"  To  this  soft 
impeachment  I  blushingly  plead  guilty.  Yes,  I  am  married.  Would 
you  behold  her?  Albrecht  Diirer  painted  her  portrait  (though  it 
is  no  likeness).  She  was  called  the  Muse  of  Christendom.  In  other 
words  it  is  only  to  Femininity  residing  in  the  to-me-known  portions 
of  the  globe  that  I  am  emotionally  wedded.     I  am  no  Universalist. 

Dear  me !  I  can  remember  but  one  other  of  your  queries,  "What 
prizes  have  you  gained  or  what  have  you  achieved  since  leaving  col- 
lege ?"  I  believe  that  was  the  substance  of  it.  Alas !  my  dear  Pop, 
few  indeed  they  have  been,  for  I  started  by  being  handicapped!  And 
by  what  do  you  suppose  ?  This :  I  count  as  one  of  the  greatest  of 
earthly  prizes  the  privilege  of  belonging  to  the — superlative  adjective 
— class    of   '97!     How    then    could    I    surpass    myself? 

Seriously,  though,  now  that  I  can't  think  what  else  to  write  about 
and  yet  see  that  I  haven't  written  enough,  seriously,  I  say  that  I 
haven't  yet  achieved  the  first  principle  of  success,  namely,  the  ability 
to  work.  And  if  success  ever  should  seek  me  out  with  such  a  short- 
coming resting  upon  me,  my  own  surprise  would  even  exceed  that 
of  other  people. 

As  for  my  work,  as  I  told  you,  it  is  to  consist  in  studying  and  at- 
tempting to  write  the  verse  drama,  in  rehabilitating  it  for  the  modern 
stage.  But  of  that,  anon, — you  will  receive  further  information  con- 
cerning it  from  the  critics — they  are  all  of  age  and  speak  for  them- 
selves— and  rarely   for  anyone  else. 

Really  this  is  the  only  excuse  for  a  letter  I  can  possibly  scare  up. 
Poor,  indeed,  but  I  am  positively  swamped  with  work  and  no  energy 
for  it  at  that. 

In  spite  of  it  all,  however,  I  do,  and  always  shall,  entertain  a  most 

loyal   affection    for    '97,    and   also    a   very   profound    and    sincere    and 

abiding  admiration,  Pop,  for  you,  all  you  stand  for,  all  you  are,  and  all 

you  have  done  with  such  infinite  long-suffering  patience  for  THE  Class. 

Faithfully, 

Frederick   Ridgely   Torrence. 

New  York  City,  N.  Y.,  March  7,  '01. 

JOHN  MYERS  TOWNLEY. 

Dear  Old  Pop: — Two  weeks  ago  I  was  home  and  found  your  good 
letter,  enclosing  a  list  of  questions,  waiting  for  me— Am  I  married' 
What's  my  wife's  name  before  marriage?  How  many  children,  and 
what  do  we  call  them? 

Well,  those  are  important  questions  for  the  fellows  that  have 
jumped  over  the  bachelor  traces.  They  are  not  bothering  me  yet. 
Say,  just  save  the  class  a  two  cent  stamp,  will  you,  by  taking  one  of 
those  blanks  and  fill  out  for  me— I've  lost  the  one  you  sent  and  know 

217 


you  will  be  endangering  your  own  soul,  and  recklessly  squandering  class 
funds  sending  chasers  after  it,  if  I  don't  write  you  about  it.  I'm  still 
John  M.  Townley,  in  my  right  mind,  and  haven't  moved  since  your 
last  report. 

For  past  two  years  I've  been  on  the  road  for  Townley  Metal  Co., 
■selling  tin-plate  and  sheet  iron,  eating  Missouri  corn-bread  and  learn- 
ing a  few  points  on  human  nature.  But  to-night  I  am  killing  my 
last  Sunday  evening  on  the  road,  by  writing  to  you  in  particular,  and 
the  class  in  general. 

When  I  get  home,  last  of  this  week,  it  will  be  for  good,  and  a 
new  man  takes  my  territory  after  January  ist,  1901,  while  I  shall  find 
a  position  in  the  house.  I  shall  be  glad  of  the  change  and  a  chance  to 
stay  at  home ;  yet  in  spite  of  the  bad  hotels  in  some  of  these  windy 
Kansas  towns,  and  the  pleasures  of  catching  midnight  trains,  I  can 
say,  truthfully,  that  I  have  enjoyed  my  work  on  the  road,  know- 
ing that  it  has  taught  me  many  things  about  business,  and  made 
me  appreciate  the  value  of  home  and  mother.  I  feel  like  a  boy  who 
is  getting  out  of  school  and  knows  he  doesn't  have  to  go  back  again, 
and  hence  look  forward  to  this  last  Christmas  of  the  nineteenth 
century  with  much  pleasure.  Of  the  work  that  is  before  me,  I  have 
all  to  learn.     I  may  be  getting  out  of  the  frying  pan  into  the  fire. 

This  last  week  the  class  resolutions,  in  regard  to  the  death  of 
John  Collette  reached  me,  and  I  sent  copies  to  Mrs.  Collette  and 
John's  sister,  Mrs.  Clawson  at  Oakland,  Cal.,  and  to  John's  father 
in  New  York  State.  Perhaps,  as  I  am  about  the  only  fellow  who  saw 
anything  of  John  after  his  marriage,  I  should  tell  you  something 
about  his  death.  On  February  22d,  1899,  he  married  Miss  Mary 
Parker,  of  Georgetown,  Colo.  I  expected  to  go  out  to  be  best  man, 
:as  his  first  intention  was  to  be  married  in  June,  but  rheumatism 
troubled  him  in  the  mountains  (he  had  been  in  Denver  all  winter), 
and  the  doctors  told  him  to  go  to  California,  so  the  wedding  was 
set  for  February,  and  at  that  time  I  was  unable  to  go.  In  the  fall 
■of  '99  he  went  to  Iowa  to  work  on  the  Northwestern  R.R.,  and  it  was 
there  I  went  to  spend  one  Sunday  with  him  and  his  wife,  who  was  a 
charming  little  woman. 

John  worked  hard  all  winter,  in  bad  weather  and  good,  from  early 
morning  until  late,  and  the  hard  winter  was  too  much  for  him.  In 
the  spring  he  took  a  severe  cold,  which  grew  worse  instead  of  better, 
and  in  March  I  was  very  much  surprised  to  hear  that  he  had  grown 
so  weak  he  must  stop  work  and  go  at  once  to  California  in  hopes  of 
recovering  his  health.  But  it  was  too  late — quick  consumption  had 
set  in,  and  while  we  were  having  our  triennial  reunion,  John  was  on 
his  death  bed,  although  he  did  not  know  it  then.  His  wife  writes  me 
that  he  lived  with  Princeton  and  '97  in  mind  all  the  time  and  seemed 
worried  that  some  one  might  die  even  during  commencement  week 
and  cast  a  shadow  over  the  reunion. 

Though  Mrs.  Collette  knew  John  could  not  live  more  than  a  month 
.at  most,  she  kept  the  deep  sorrow  to  herself  until  after  we  had  all 

218 


left  Princeton.  The  papers  and  letters  received  during  that  time  gave 
him  much  pleasure,  and  up  to  the  last  he  was  wonderfully  cheerful 
and  sent  messages  of  friendship  to  the  fellows,  and  love  for  Princeton 
and  all  '97.  He  was  buried  at  Oakland,  Cal.  There  were  no  '97 
men  near  to  attend  the  funeral,  and  word  reached  me  too  late  to  send 
flowers  for  the  class. 

Except  for  my  trip  back  to  Princeton,  last  June,  and  a  week  after- 
ward at  Lake  Keuka,  N.  Y.,  in  company  with  John  Hall  and  Ear! 
Cox,  I  have  spent  all  my  time  at  Kansas  City,  or  in  that  section  oi 
the  Missouri  Valley  which  lies  north  of  the  Kaw,  going  at  times 
even  as  far  north  as  the  home  of  one  W.  J.  Bryan. 

There  is  a  red  and  black  bug,  out  in  these  western  states,  that  the 
common  herd  call  "Pop  Bugs" —  I  can't  give  you  the  Greek,  nor  can 
I  say  whether  they  belong  to  the  "thesens"  or  "thosens"  species,  but 
last  summer  there  were  thousands  of  them — seemed  to  make  railroad 
depots  their  chief  loafing  place,  often  being  so  numerous  they  covered 
the  sides  of  the  stations  and  the  platform,  where  they  liked  to  sun 
themselves,  and  one  could  not  walk  without  crushing  some  at  almost 
every  step.  Now,  it's  queer  what  these  bugs  have  to  do  with  politics, 
or  politics  with  these  bugs,  but  this  is  gospel  truth — when  I  was  in 
Nebraska  just  the  week  before  election,  there  were  thousands  of  these 
bugs  everywhere,  but  this  week,  I  find  them  nearly  all  dead  or  else 
in  hiding.     They  are  scarcer  than  grillrooms  in  Kansas. 

It  is  only  here  and  there  one  sees  a  solitary  Pop  bug,  looking 
ashamed,  cold  and  lonesome,  and  ready  to  run  under  some  pro- 
tecting window  frame  or  between  the  cracks  in  the  board  walk 
at  first  notice  of  approaching  danger.  And  you  who  are  interested 
in  politics,  mark  ye  this :  Jackson  County,  Missouri,  on  Nov.  6th  last, 
went  Republican  for  the  first  time  in  22  years. 
Yours  for  the  good  of  '97, 

Jake  Townley. 

White  Cloud,  Kan.,  Dec.  16,  '00. 

WILLIAM  BOOTH  TRAINER. 

My  Dear  Classmates: — Since  the  most  eventful  occasion  in  June, 
'97,  my  business  career  has  been  varied  between  the  cotton  business 
and  the  steel  industry.  In  the  summer  of  '98  the  Patterson  Mills  Com- 
pany, at  Chester,  Pa.,  failed,  consequently  I  made  a  dash  into  the 
outer  world,  and  chose  Pittsburgh  as  my  victim  from  which  to  obtain 
the  much  sought  for  "lucre." 

Since  January,  '99,  I  have  been  doing  various  "stunts"  around  the 
Homestead  Steel  Works,  which,  as  most  of  you  know,  are  the  largest 
part  of  the  Carnegie  Steel  Co.  As  to  my  individual  progress  in  this 
line  I  can  safely  say  that  I  have  gotten  beyond  the  point  expressed  by 
Andrew  Carnegie  in  the  following  story : 

"On  one  of  the  venerable  gentleman's  trips  across  the  water,  some 
inquisitive  person  inquired  of  Mr.  Carnegie  if  he  had  any  choice 
when  he  died — Heaven  or  Trenton?     He  was  rather  diffident  in  his 

219 


answer,  but  finally  answered  the  question  by  saying  that  the  only 
trouble  about  going  to  Heaven  was  that  he  would  have  to  start  all 
over  again."  It  seems  to  be  the  thing  to  do  in  one  of  these  letters 
to  either  admit  or  deny  being  engaged  or  married.  My  answer  to 
this  is  "not  guilty"  of  either  offence.  In  this  busy  community  a  fellow^ 
does  not  find  the  opportunity  to  write  to  even  a  few  of  the  fellows  in 
the  class,  but  nevertheless  I  hope  that  when  any  of  you  are  in  Pitts- 
burgh, you  will  feel  at  liberty  to  come  out  to  the  works,  which  I  know 
will  be  a  pleasure,  and  it  will  be  a  privilege  to  me  to  point  out  a  few 
interesting  things  in  the  largest  plant  of  the  $800,000,000  steel  com- 
bine. With  the  assistance  of  Bill  Church  and  a  few  others  we  can 
make  it  interesting  for  almost  any  one.  Do  not  forget  we  have  an 
extra  key  out  all  the  time  for  any  arrivals  that  may  happen  in. 

As  ever, 

Bill  Trainer. 
MuNHALLj  Pa.,  March  3,  '01. 

ERNEST  ELY  TURNEY. 

Turney  left  college  handicapped  by  serious  ill-health.  After  various 
occupations,  selected  with  a  view  to  obtaining  the  benefits  of  out-door 
life,  he  has  finally  come  into  the  employ  of  the  Postal  Department, 
and  is  honorably  discharging  the  duties  of  a  mail  carrier  in  Toledo, 
Ohio,  with  fair  prospects  of  finally  regaining  his  health. 

ALBERT  CLINTON  TYLER. 

Dear  Secretary: — You  have  aroused  me  finally,  and  I  rather  feel 
sorry  for  the  members  of  '97  who  responded  promptly  to  your  call 
for  a  letter,  for  they  have  not  been  favored  like  the  rest  of  us  delin- 
quents with  so  many  pointed  personal  appeals  to  do  our  duty  ar 
break  records.  But  you  were  so  infernally  complimentary  the  last 
few  times,  that  I  felt  a  good  deal  like  saying  that  old  P.  O.  P.  J.  H.  K. 
can  G.  T.  H.  Of  course  you  don't  know  what  that  means,  so  I'll 
explain.  An  English  colonel  found  a  nice  big  empty  house,  and  at 
once  established  himself  therein.  When  the  news  of  his  comfortable 
quarters  reached  Bloemfontein  he  received  a  telegram,  which  read, 
"G.  T.  M.  wants  house."  He  didn't  know  what  G.  T.  M.  meant,  but 
finally  found  it  meant  "General  Traffic  Manager."  He  said  he'd  fix 
'em,  and  wired  back,  "G.  T.  M.  can  G.  T.  H."  In  a  short  time  he  was 
summoned  to  attend  a  court  of  inquiry.  On  appearing,  he  was  asked 
what  he  meant  by  sending  such  an  insulting  message  to  his  superior 
officer.  "Insulting !"  said  he ;  "nothing  of  the  kind."  "But  what  did 
3'ou  m^ean  by  telling  me  I  could  'G.  T.  H  ?'  "  "It  was  simply  an  abbrevi- 
ation," explained  the  colonel.  "G.  T.  M.  (General  Traffic  Manager) 
can  G.  T.  H.  (get  the  house)  !"  Well,  you  can  G.  T.  L.  anyway, 
Popsy,  old  boy,  and  explain  it  for  yourself.  But  on  to  the  fore ! 
On  to  tell  the  sad  story  of  a  sad  career  since  our  G.  et  G.  class  left 
Old  Nassau. 

I  had  signed  a   contract  to   coach  Amherst,   and   did   it,   even   if   I 

220 


felt  like  telling  the  whole  caboodle  of  them  to  G.  T.  H.  more  than 
once.  They  were  a  pack  of  little  boys,  with  not  near  the  amount  of 
spirit  for  their  college  that  most  prep,  schools  have  for  their  school, 
and  with  a  minimum  amount  of  nerve  and  maximum  amount  of  "head"  ; 
and  the  unavoidable  result  resulted.  After  that  I  went  to  Columbia 
and  took  a  course  in  the  Department  of  Architecture,  beginning  all 
over  again,  as  a  blankety-blank  freshman,  and  had  about  decided  to 
coach  every  fall  and  study  Architecture  every  winter  until  I  was  able 
to  become  a  full-fledged  architect.  But— that  everlasting  "but"— 
Harry  Fine  wrote  me  I  was  wanted  at  Lawrenceville,  and  I  went, 
and  here  I've  been  ever  since,  teaching  and  coaching— math.,  drawing, 
football,  and  pole-vaulting,  etc.,  etc.  I  rather  like  to  teach,  and  am 
probably  weaned  away  from  the  pursuit  of  building  houses,  for  an 
indefinite  period,  and  shall  probably  hold  my  nose  to  the  grindstone  of 
monotonous  instructing  along  with  some  of  the  other  warts  in  our 
class — one  of  whom  is  near  me  here — one  Stahl, — better  known  as 
"Spot."  He  is  a  winner  here,  a  triple-decked,  corrugated-bellied  old 
sport.  Even  the  boys  understand  his  position  and  consult  him  in 
reference  to  placing  of  bets  on  the  football  games,  and,  on  the  side, 
to  make  bets  among  themselves  on  the  probable  color  of  his  waist- 
coat that  day.  He  floats  away  from  this  quiet  village  with  astonish- 
ing regularity,  and  is  absent  for  periods  of  time  that  seem  impossible 
for  one  who  expects  to  do  any  work  at  all.  We  are  not  sure  yet,  but 
vv'e  all  imagine  he  haunts  a  certain  town  in  Pennsylvania — not  Scran- 
ton — but  not  so  very  far  from  it. 

Now,  Pop,  I  know  you  said  you'd  cut  out  anything  that  didn't  suit, 
but  if  you  cut  out  one  word  of  what  I  say  about  you,  I'll  have  your 
head!  Fellows,  Pop  is  in  love!  And  won't  acknowledge  it  to  any 
one.  You  all  know  his  cunning  ways  of  deception;  well,  he's  kept 
them  up  most  incessantly,  and  is  the  biggest  old  humbug  in  many 
worlds.  I  tried  to  draw  him  out  once  but  only  got  one  good  "rise" 
out  of  him.  Another  time  I  wanted  to  take  a  snapshot  of  him,  and  you 
should  have  seen  him  object!  Percy  Colwell  was  there  at  the  time, 
and  although  we  both  did  all  we  could  physically,  morally  and  argu- 
mentatively,  he  would  just  lie  on  his  divan  and  kick  his  heels  in  the 
air,  and  heave  pillows  at  us.  It  was  a  shame  to  see  one  of  his 
"embonpoint"  make  such  a  fuss  about  a  picture,  but  he  always  was 
fussy.  Why,  in  class  he  carries  on  dreadfully,  and  as  a  punishment 
makes  the  poor  boys  attend  special  recitations.  One  day  when  the 
old  cracked  bell  rang  at  an  unusual  hour,  some  one  asked  a  boy  what 
it  was.  He  said  he  didn't  know,  "unless  it  zvas  Mr.  Kcener's  Penal." 
That  shows  how  he  abuses  the  young  minds  intrusted  to  his  care. 
But  it  hurt  Pop  like  the  deuce  when  he  was  assigned  a  class  in  pen- 
manship. He,  the  umpty-ump  fellow  of  Ex  yz  of  Princeton  Uni- 
versity, etc.,  to  teach  writing!  But  he  got  over  that,  and  is  now  as 
serene  as  he  can  be. 

But  I  must  go  and  give  some  special  examinations  myself,  and 
will  say  bye  thee  bye.     It  is  my  sincere  wish  that  any  fellows  of  '97 


visiting  Princeton  would  take  time  to  run  over  in  the  trolley  and  see 
me.  I  could  manage  meals  and  bed  for  a  few  days  quite  easily,  and, 
fellows,  come  over  and  see  Pop.  With  best  wishes  for  the  success 
of  every  mother's  son  of  ye. 

Paternally  yours, 

Albert  C.  Tyler. 
Lawrenceville,  N.  J.,  May  2,  '01. 

FRANKLIN  UPSHUR. 

Dear  Pop: — Your  letter  under  date  of  the  seventeenth  instant,  with 
the  enclosures  of  "Sample  Letters,"  etc.,  was  received  to-day,  and  my 
happiness  is  not  even  measured  by  the  characteristic  promptness  witn 
which  I  hereby  hasten  to  reply. 

My  existence  since  leaving  the  shadow  of  Old  North  has  been  a 
very  simple  one.  I  spent  two  years  trying  to  absorb  into  my  cranium 
as  much  law  as  the  University  of  Maryland  usually  endeavors  to  im- 
part in  three — former  disciples  of  "Woodrow"  usually  have  no  diffi- 
culty in  doing  that.  Having  become  a  member  of  the  bar  in  June, 
1899,  I  entered  upon  the  duties  (I  have  three  years  yet  to  serve)  of 
Assistant  State's  Attorney  for  Baltimore  City,  the  following  January, 
after  receiving  the  appointment  subsequently  to  the  fall  elections, 
when  a  fortunate  (for  me)  change  of  State  and  City  administration 
took  place — and  that's  the  only  part  I've  taken  in  politics,  if  you  will 
ask  impudent  questions.  The  force  of  the  office  comprises  the  "Chief,"' 
one  "Deputy," — Edgar  Allan  (Peter)  Poe,  '91,  being  the  same — and 
three  "Assistants,"  of  whom  I  am  one.  I  use  much  good  paper  in  draw- 
ing indictments,  and  much  of  the  court's  "valuable  time"  in  trying 
multitudinous  petty  cases. 

My  summers  have  been  spent  for  a  number  of  years  at  Ocean  City,. 
Maryland,  a  quiet  little  place  and  Maryland's  only  seaside  resort. 
I  keep  a  catboat  down  there,  and  spend  the  time  quietly  sailing  and. 
swimming  and  shooting  (mostly  in  the  intransitive).  In  the  autumn  of 
ninety-nine  I  spent  a  delightful  month  at  Paul  Smith's,  in  the  Adi- 
rondacks,  from  there  making  a  short  excursion  to  Montreal  and 
Quebec.  On  the  golf  links  of  Paul  Smith's  one  afternoon,  Princeton 
was  the  magic  word  that  brought  about  a  very  delightful  acquaintance 
— without  other  introduction — with  a  gentleman  who,  when  I  men- 
tioned the  numerals  of  the  Great  and  Glorious,  gave  another  han 
shake,  with  the  remark:  "thirty  years  after."  Pie  was  a  member  of 
'sixty-seven. 

I  took  great  interest  in  witnessing  Net  Poe's  maiden  effort  in  court 
a  few  days  ago.  He  defended  a  boy  charged  with  the  larceny  of  two 
pigeons.  You  remember  that  "'Blige  Ye  Lady"  voice  of  his.  Well. 
when  he  was  cross-examining  the  prosecuting  witness,  if  you  had  been 
a  long  distance  off,  so  as  not  to  understand  the  words,  you  would 
have  thought  he  was  "doing  business  at  the  old  stand"  at  "Quarter," 
giving  signals.  Notwithstanding  that  the  State  traced  feathers  from 
the   pigeon   coop   to   the   traverser's   home,    where    in    the   cellar   the 

222 


pigeons  were  actually  found,  still,  after  having  placed  his  client's 
pretty  sister  on  the  stand.  Net  inveigled  the  jury  into  believing  that 
the  traverser  was  as  innocent  as  the  '97  class  boy.  His  fee  should 
have  been  handsome,  so  make  him  treat  on  it  when  you  see  him  again. 

Here's  to  the  Quinquennial ;  may  it  not  fall  short  of  the  glory  of  the 
Triennial. 

Franklin  Upshur. 

Baltimore,  Md.,  April  12,  '01. 

P.  S. — Reverting  for  a  moment  to  "any  information  about  other 
members  of  the  class,"  I  want  to  add  that  I  hear  you  have  developed 
a  marked  faculty  for  epistolary  and  other  correspondence.  I  under- 
stand further  that  some  members  of  the  class  have  been  "shame- 
fully" delinquent  in  responding  to  your  "urgent  appeals"  for  letters, 
necessitating  the  sending  of  "requests,"  numbering  in  some  cases  as 
high  as  ten,  supplemented  later  with  daily  postal  cards,  with  "scare" 
headlines,  constituting  a  sort  of  "yellow  journal" — though  one  fellow 
told  me  he  felt  much  hurt  that  you  skipped  the  "4th,"  "6th,"  "8th" 
and  "gth"  "requests,"  so  you  must  be  careful  about  that.  Pop,  not  to 
hurt  their  sensitive  (  ?)  feelings.  But  I  want  to  add  my  protest  right 
here  against  such  "disgraceful  indifference,"  and  to  assure  you  of 
my  heartfelt  sympathy  for,  and  admiration  of,  our  Patient,  Persever- 
ing, Persistent  Pop. 

Yours  again,  as  never  before, 

F.  U. 

HARRY  VAN  CLEAR 

My  Dear  Keener:  Since  you  insist  on  hearing  from  every  member 
of  the  class,  I  will  try  to  send  my  humble  contribution.  One  year  at 
leisure;  one  year  at  the  Ocean  Grove  High  School,  as  instructor  of 
Greek  and  Mathematics;  one  summer  at  Long  Branch,  tutoring;  from 
September,  '99,  until  March  1900,  at  the  Peekskill  Military  Academy 
as  instructor  in  mathematics;  from  March  until  June  recuperating 
from  a  severe  nervous  attack ;  since  June  with  the  C.  R.  R.  of  N.  J. — 
that  is  all. 

I  might  add  that  I  was  married  on  January  20,  1901,  to  Miss  Ina 
C.  Ray,  at  Long  Branch,  N.  J. 

Pardon  my  delay.  I  didn't  intend  to  write  at  all,  for  I  haven't  any- 
thing to  write  about. 

Sincerely  yours, 

Harry  Van  Cleaf. 

Long  Branch,  N.  J.,  Feb.  23,  '01. 

JOHN  STOUT  VAN  NEST. 

My  Dear  Pop: — Having  received  numerous  caustic  and  finally  al- 
most insulting  communications  from  you,  both  in  print  and  writing, 
I  am  of  the  opinion  that  the  only  way  to  keep  you  quiet  is  to  write 
a  letter,  so  this  is  it. 

223 


Unlike  most  of  the  class,  I  did  not  have  the  prospect  of  leaving 
Princeton  before  me  when  we  graduated,  for  I  had  decided  to  return 
for  another  year,  and  give  the  time  to  the  study  of  chemistry.  This 
I  did;  and  the  graduate  study,  plus  a  thesis  written  later,  gave  me  the 
degree  of  M.  S.  in  June,  igoo. 

But  in  the  meantime  I  was  a  rolling  stone,  which  gathered 
neither  moss,  nor  anything  else.  In  the  fall  following  my  final 
leaving  of  Princeton  (that  of  1898),  I  took  a  position  with  the  Inter- 
national Correspondence  Schools  of  Scranton,  Pa.  This  corporation 
claims  the  ability  to  teach  a  man  almost  any  branch  of  scientific 
learning,  wholly  through  the  medium  of  the  mails,  aiming  to  help  most 
the  practical  mechanic  who  wishes  to  learn  the  theory  of  his  work; 
and,  depending  on  the  individual  and  the  amount  of  study  he  will 
give  to  it,  it  is  quite  successful.  My  role  in  the  play  was  to  per- 
suade the  mechanic  he  was  in  sore  need  of  such  instruction,  and, 
incidentally,  sell  him  a  scholarship.  Well,  I  found  it  easy  enough  to 
convince  him  that  he  ought  to  know  more — that  cost  him  no  money — 
but  when  it  came  to  relieving  him  of  his  cash,  he  would  lie  down  and 
want  time  called.  I  kept  that  up  for  a  little  less  than  five  months, 
and,  becoming  more  and  more  convinced  that  I  was  not  cut  out  for 
the  book-agent  business,  I  gracefully  retired  from  the  scene  of  action. 

I  may  add  that  during  this  time  the  field  of  my  work  was  Johns- 
town, Pa.,  notable  in  my  mind  for  two  things;  the  first  being  the 
flood,  and  the  second  being  the  ardent  wish  that  if  ever  I  have  to  go 
there  again  it  may  be  on  a  train  which  does  not  stop.  For  those  who 
know  the  town,  I  have  said  enough;  for  those  who  do  not,  the  less 
said  the  better. 

From  the  latter  part  of  March,  1899,  until  November  of  the  same 
year,  I  tried  my  hand  at  loafing;  and  I  flatter  myself  I  did  it  fairly 
well.  However,  I  would  not  recommend  it  as  a  life  occupation,  for 
times  dies  harder  than  the  proverbial  feline.  The  little  exertion  I 
did  make  during  these  last  mentioned  eight  months  of  my  career, 
was  in  trying  to  find  work,  with  no  success. 

At  last  I  returned  to  Princeton  for  the  purpose  of  seeing  if  things 
were  done  in  the  same  way  as  "in  the  old  days  when  I  was  in  college," 
and  actually  stumbled  (it  is  the  only  word  to  apply)  upon  a  chance 
to  act  as  assistant  in  chemistry  and  mineralogy  in  the  School  of 
Science.  I  entered  upon  my  new  duties  on  the  first  of  December, 
1899;  and  here  I  am  still.  No  man,  who  has  not  been  tossed  around 
as  I  was  for  the  greater  part  of  a  year  and  a  half,  can  appreciate  the 
joy  and  peace  I  experienced  at  finding  work  in  Princeton.  It  was 
like  coming  back  to  college  again  and  beginning  everything  anew. 

On  the  20th  of  last  June  I  was  married,  and  as  all  stories  close  with 
that  event,  I  guess  I  will  cut  off  this  line  of  wind.       Believe  me, 

Very  sincerely  yours, 

John  S.  Van  Nest. 

Princeton,  N.  J.,  March  8,  '01. 


224 


BENJAMIN  FOLSOM  VORHIS. 

Shaw  is  the  only  person  who  has  given  any  information  about 
Vorhis,  whom  he  met  at  a  football  game  last  fall.  The  meeting  was 
too  brief  to  disclose  any  details  of  his  career.  He  seems  to  have  dis- 
appeared and  covered  his  trail  as  effectively  as  three  or  four  others. 
Any  information  will  be  welcomed. 

JESSE  CONKLING  WALDO. 

Dear  Classmates : — I  suppose  that  our  esteemed  secretary  has  given 
few  of  you  as  many  opportunities  to  enroll  your  names  upon  the 
Roll  of  Fame,  as  he  has  been  pleased  to  grant  me.  All  arguments 
as  to  the  fact  of  the  evident  lack  of  interesting  details  in  my  career 
have  proven  unavailing. 

I  supposed  that  I  was  pretty  well  acquainted  with  "Pop"  Keener, 
having  boarded  in  the  same  club  for  a  year,  and  having  often  "polled" 
out  lessons  with  him,  but  his  well-developed  pertinacity  of  purpose 
has  indeed  been  a  surprise  to  me. 

It  is  to  be  hoped  that  this  arduous  labor,  in  behalf  of  the  class, 
has  not  turned  the  hair  gray  upon  the  top  of  his  head. 

After  leaving  the  classic  groves  of  Princeton  in  '94,  I  matriculated 
in  the  medical  department  of  Syracuse  University;  from  which  in- 
stitution I  was  graduated  in  June,  '97,  a  few  days  before  you  were 
taking  your  degrees.  Thus  I  was,  as  I  believe,  the  first  of  our  class 
to  enter  the  profession  instituted  and  ennobled  by  Hippocrates. 

Since  that  time  my  energies  have  been  directed  to  this  calling,  the 
details  of  which,  though  always  engrossing  to  the  participant,  would 
present  little  of  general  interest. 

No  doubt  you  are  all  planning  to  attend  the  Pan-American  Expo- 
sition, at  Buffalo,  this  summer.  I  hope  it  may  be  my  privilege  to  meet 
some  of  you  there  and  to  renew  our  acquaintance. 

Jesse  C.  Waldo. 
HuLBURTONj  N.  Y.,  May  14,  '01. 

ARCHIBALD  HAY  WALLACE. 

Dear  Keener: — Your  oft-repeated  and  strenuous  appeals  for  my 
autobiography  from  the  time  of  leaving  college  to  date,  have  at 
last  borne  fruit,  and  may  the  result  be  upon  your  own  head.  Un- 
forunately  there  is  little  to  tell  and  less  skill  for  the  telling,  but — 
here  goes. 

As  you  know,  I  left  Princeton  with  regret,  at  the  end  of  our  fresh- 
man year,  and,  the  following  October,  wended  my  way  to  the  village 
where  the  Schuylkill  and  Delaware  meet,  to  enroll  as  a  student  in 
veterinary  medicine,  at  U.  of  P.  Three  years  soon  pass,  and  in  due 
time  my  diploma  was  granted  in  June,  '97,  conferring  the  right  to 
minister  to  the  ills  of  all  the  animal  kingdom  save  man.  The  period 
which  followed  probably  needs  no  description  to  any  physician,  or 
veterinarian,  who  has  endeavored  to  found  a  country  practice.  The 
animals  of  that  part  of  New  Jersey  in  which  I  was  located  seemed 

225 


distressingly  healthy,  and  the  owners  of  those  who  were  not,  usually 
developed  an  alarming  case  of  financial  disability  as  soon  as  my 
services  were  no  longer  required.  Suffice  it  to  say  that  I  determined 
to  seek  another  field  of  activity,  and  in  the  spring  of  '99,  entered  the 
service  of  the  Department  of  Agriculture,  as  an  assistant  inspector 
of  the  Bureau  of  Animal  Industry.  My  first  assignment  was  to  East 
St.  Louis,  where  I  remained  until  last  June,  being  then  transferred  to 
New  York.    This  brings  my  record  to  date. 

As  concerns  matrimony — no  partner  for  my  joys  and  sorrows  has 
yet  appeared.  There  has  been  nothing  published  to  the  authorship 
of  which  I  could  lay  claim,  and  my  part  in  politics  has  been  confined 
to  that  of  every  voter,  with  Republican  tendencies,  and  a  high  regard 
for  sound  money,  who  exercised  his  right  of  suffrage.  I  was  sorry 
to  miss  the  reunion  last  June,  but  my  doing  so  was  unavoidable,  and 
I  can  only  hope  that  the  fates  will  be  kinder  in  1902.  With  best  wishes 
for  the  success  of  the  Record,  I  am,  as  ever. 

Sincerely  yours, 

A.  H.  Wallace. 

New  York  City,  N.  Y.,  March  7,  '01. 

JOHN  TALBOT  WARD. 

Dear  Pop: — I  have  no  excuse  for  not  answering  before,  except  the 
invalid  one  of  "too  busy."  I  hope  this  information  blank  will  come 
in  time. 

As  you  see,  I  am  still  close  to  the  shadows  of  the  old  place,  and 
get  a  chance  to  look  at  it  about  once  a  month.  Once  in  a  while  I  pass 
through  Lawrenceville,  the  place  where  you  shine,  but  I  never  yet 
have  had  a  glimpse  of  j'ou. 

As  to  what  I  have  been  doing — there  is  little  to  say.  I  entered  the 
Seminary,  in  New  York,  immediately  after  I  graduated — entered  in 
September — and  there  I  stuck  for  three  winters.  One  summer  I  spent 
in  Trenton,  the  other  in  Colorado,  on  a  vacation.  I  was  in  the  employ 
of  this  mission  all  during  my  Seminary  course.  That  took  me  out  of 
the  city  from  Friday  afternoon  until  Monday  morning.  I  had  charge 
of  a  church  and  several  mission  stations — sort  of  a  circuit-rider  ar- 
rangement. My  field  of  operation  was  Hunterdon  County,  with  Flem- 
ington  as  the  center.  There's  little  of  interest  to  anybody  else  in  this 
work,  though  I  find  it  very  absorbing  myself. 

Shortly  after  I  graduated  from  the  Seminary  last  June,  I  was 
ordered  by  the  Bishop  of  Central  Pennsylvania,  to  South  Bethlehem, 
and  came  directly  here  to  resume  my  work.  In  a  general  way  I  am 
looking  after  the  whole  field  touched  by  this  Mission.  My  "travels"" 
take  me  to  a  list  of  places  like  this :  Flemington,  Clinton,  High 
Bridge,  Pittstown,  Frenchtown — all  in  Hunterdon  County;  Rocky  Hill, 
Sand  Hills,  Deans,  Monmouth  Junction,  Glenmore  and  Mercerville, 
in  Mercer  County.  Then  toward  the  shore :  Sea  Grit,  Manasquan, 
Point  Pleasant,  Mattawan,  Sewaren,  Carteret  and  Railway — a  long, 
uninteresting  list  of  names.     But  you  see  I  have  an  eye  on  a  great  deal 

226 


of  New  Jersey.  We  have  a  house  in  Trenton,  and  live  comfortably 
enough.  There  are  six  men  here  besides  myself,  so  you  see  we  have 
a  small  crowd.  If  any  of  the  old  class  wants  to  stay  a  while  in  Trenton, 
he  can  find  a  welcome  over  at  our  house,  on  Hamilton  Avenue. 

Every  man  knows  in  general  what  missionary  work  is;  but  let  no 
one  think  all  the  mission  field  is  far  from  home.  There  is  enough 
missionary  work  to  be  done  right  here  in  New  Jersey  to  keep  a 
number  of  men  busy  for  a  long  while.  Of  course  I  like  my  work; 
that  goes  without  saying.  For  that  is  my  business  in  life.  I  am  very 
busy,  but  that,  too,  is  my  business  in  life.  I  hope  I  shall  never  be 
otherwise. 

It  is  not  often  that  I  meet  one  of  the  class,  but  once  in  a  while  I 
do.  I  am  looking  forward  with  much  anticipation  for  the  Triennial 
Record,  to  see  where  all  the  boys  are. 

Yours  very  truly, 

Johnny  Ward. 

Trenton,  N.  J.,  Jan.  17,  '01. 

EDWARD  SANFORD  WARNER,  JR. 

My  Dear  Pop: — No  doubt  you  think  I  either  have  no  feelings  of 
loyalty  for  the  class  of  '97,  or  have  dropped  off  of  this  earthly  planet 
Your  eight  or  ten  different  appeals,  from  printed  circulars  to  per- 
sonal letters,  and  best  of  all  your  telegram — which  I  am  going  to 
have  framed,  to  show  my  appreciation  of  how  faithful  and  loyal  oui 
dear  old  secretary  remains  to  the  class  which  has  been  scattered  for 
over  four  years— all  came  to  hand,  but,  as  I  have  been  laid  up  nearly 
ten  months  with  the  tortures  and  pains  of  rheumatism,  I  have  not 
paid  much  attention  to  your  requests,  or  rather,  have  been  putting  ofi 
from  day  to  day,  saying  to  myself,  "will  send  my  letter  to  'Pop'  to- 
morrow." Now  I  must  blush  with  shame  to  say  that  you  had  to  arouse 
me  from  my  lethargy  by  sending  a  telegram,  which  I  received  at  home, 
at  midnight.  I  sincerely  hope  there  are  not  many  others  of  our  class 
who  have  been  so  delinquent  as  myself.  For  the  future  I  solemnl) 
swear  that  I  will  promptly  answer  your  requests,  for  you  are  worse 
than  a  reporter  or  a  bill-collector  in  following  up  the  "laggers." 

Now  as  to  my  class  letter.  Just  pick  out  the  facts  I  mention  in  this, 
brief  note  of  explanation,  or  confession— no  doubt  the  latter  is  more 
appropriate  at  this   late   hour. 

Since  leaving  college  my  experiences  have  not  been  exciting  com- 
pared to  those  of  some  of  our  fellow  members  who  were  mixed  up 
in  our  late  war  in  Cuba  and  the  Philippines;  still,  to  do  my  duty  to 
the  "great  and  glorious,"  I  will  "step  into  the  breach."  On  leaving 
college  I  accepted  a  good  position  in  a  railroad  office  here,  but  soon 
found  out  that  it  was  too  monotonous  for  my  disposition.  Then  J 
got  a  position  with  a  commercial  house,  to  travel  in  Texas,  Arkansas 
and  the  Territories.  In  a  a  short  time  I  discovered  there  were  vastly 
more  varieties  and  changes  in  this  life  than  I  ever  dreamed  of.  One 
night  I  would  be  staying  at  a  first-class  hotel,  then  in  a  day  or  two 

227 


would  be  way  off  from  civilization,  putting  up  at  a  "wayside  inn" 
(either  a  log  hut,  or,  still  better,  a  hole  in  the  ground  called  a  "dug- 
out," where  at  least  one  can  sleep  with  a  feeling  of  security  from 
those  gentle  breezes  called  cyclones  further  north).  While  my  ex- 
periences were  of  the  same  general  character,  there  was  one  episode 
extraordinary,  which  will  show  that  although  part  of  Texas  is  as 
well  civilized,  if  not  better  than  some  of  the  older  states,  there  are 
sections  where  the  old  frontier  life  has  not  entirely  passed  away. 

In  making  an  overland  trip  from  Ft.  Davis,  an  old  government 
fort,  now  a  supply  station,  to  Alpine,  another  small  collection  of 
"adobe"  huts,  with  two  brick  buildings — one  the  bank,  the  other  a 
store — located  on  the  same  R.R.,  while  another  salesman,  the  driver 
and  myself  were  taking  a  little  lunch  and  giving  the  team  a  rest,  we 
were  suddenly  surprised  to  see  a  bunch  of  cowboys  coming  up  the 
trail  just  as  though  the  D'l,  was  after  them.  Upon  reaching  us  they 
stopped  to  find  out  who  we  were,  and  as  luck  would  have  it,  one  of 
them,  who  seemed  to  be  looking  for  trouble  and  could  hardly  sit  on 
his  horse,  on  account  of  the  quantity  of  cheap  "spirits  fenncnti"  he  had 
taken  on  board,  took  a  notion  that  I  could  dance.  Before  I  could 
collect  my  senses,  he  had  me  a-dancing  the  "Hoochee  Coochee"  to  the 
•delightful  music  of  a  "44"  Colts.  The  engagement  only  lasted  a  couple 
of  minutes,  but  every  second  seemed  not  only  hours,  but  my  last 
on  earth.  To  this  day  I  cannot  understand  how  I  managed  to  escape 
being  hit  by  that  drunken  fool.  Well,  it  was  some  time  before  my 
:nerves   thoroughly   recovered   from   that   experience. 

Last  June  I  had  to  quit  the  road  on  account  of  contracting  rheu- 
matism, and  have  gone  into  business  for  myself  here  at  home,  where 
I  am  getting  along  nicely. 

Regarding  the  various  questions  in  your  circular — am  still  living 
the  life  of  single  blessedness,  and  have  not  as  yet  any  desire  to  mix 
up  in  politics  or  public  life,  but  am  trying  to  live  and  let  live  without 
seeking  any  of  those  delusive  honors. 

Wishing  you  the  best  of  success  and  good  health,  I  remain  ever  for 
glorious  '97,  Your  old  classmate  and  friend, 

Ed.  S.  Warner,  Jr. 

St.  Louis,  Mo.,  May  12,  '01. 

GEORGE  SHADFORD  WATERHOUSE. 

Waterhouse  says  he  hopes  to  be  married  soon,  and  he  evidently 
takes  this  as  a  sufficient  reason  for  refraining  from  epistolary  ex- 
ertion. We  have  reliable  information  that  his  fiancee  is  not  queen 
Liliuokalani.  He  is  in  the  banking  business  in  Honolulu,  where  it  is 
said  the  natives  trust  him  implicitly.  He  is  expected  at  the  Quin- 
quennial with  a  retinue  of  dusky  Kanakas. 

ROBERT  WEBER. 

Dear  Pop: — Your  many  postals,  urgent,  sarcastic  and  bullying,  have 
been   duly  received  and  carefully  filed    (not  thrown)    away.     I   have 

228 


purposely,  but  with  difficulty,  refrained  from  answering  them — for 
two  reasons.  First,  to  give  my  wrath  at  being  made  the  object  of 
such  bitter  attacks  a  chance  to  become  somewhat  cooled;  and,  secondly, 
in  hope  that  some  fortunate  or  entertaining  adventure  might  occur 
which  would  relieve  the  tedium  of  my  very  dull  and  commonplace 
narrative. 

Now  that  the  eleventh  hour  has  arrived,  and  no  such  happy  event 
has  come  to  my  rescue,  I  can  only  say  that  since  leaving  Princeton 
I  have  been  associated  with  my  father  in  the  building  and  contract- 
ing business  in  this  city,  at  the  address  where  your  persistent  and 
caustic  communications  found  me. 

In  conclusion,  with  best  wishes  for  yourself  and  all  aur  classmates, 
I  can  positively  assure  you  and  them  that  I  am  still  the  same  loyal  son 
of  Princeton  I  always  was,  and  never  expect  to  see  the  time  when  I 
shall  be  otherwise.  Sincerely  yours, 

Bob.  Weber. 

New  York  City,  N.  Y.,  April  lo,  'oi. 

WALTER  MONROE  WEISS. 

My  Dear  Classmates: — In  response  to  the  repeated  urgings  of  our 
long-suffering  secretary,  I  take  up  my  pen  to  chronicle  the  few  un- 
important events  that  have  taken  place  in  my  life  the  past  few  years, 
although  I  have  little  or  nothing  of  interest  to  record. 

As  many  of  you  know,  I  was  compelled  to  leave  college  at  the  end 
of  our  sophomore  year,  on  account  of  poor  health;  nevertheless,  I 
have  always  felt  as  much  a  part  of  '97  as  if  I  had  worn  the  cap  and 
gown  and  taken  my  degree  with  you  on  Commencement  Day.  Above 
all,  the  love  of  Princeton  will  remain  a  dominating  influence  in  my 
life. 

After  leaving  college  I  spent  a  year  in  loafing  about,  trying  to  make 
up  my  mind  whether  to  go  into  business  or  grace  the  law,  and,  after 
due  deliberation,  decided  that  the  woods  were  full  of  'em.  I  took  a 
position  with  Sterns  &  Co.,  Mfgrs.  of  underwear,  at  24  University 
Place,  beginning  at  the  very  bottom  of  the  ladder,  and,  although 
I  have  neither  made  a  million,  nor  married  one,  I  have  had  a  fair 
measure  of  success,  becoming  the  firm's  representative  for  both  N.  Y. 
City  and  Philadelphia.  After  four  years'  hard  work,  I  left  New  York 
early  last  fall  to  take  my  first  long  vacation  since  my  college  days, 
going  into  the  heart  of  the  Maine  woods  with  an  old  friend  and  a 
guide  to  camp.  Well,  boys,  doubtless  many  of  you  have  camped  out 
in  the  Adirondacks  and  elsewhere,  as  I  have,  but  for  fine  shooting, 
the  real  thing  in  trout  fishing,  plenty  of  deer,  and  magnificent  air  and 
scenery,  give  me  the  woods  of  Maine  in  the  early  month  of  fall.  To 
such  of  you,  dear  classmates,  as  have  become  a  little  battered  and  worn 
by  rubbing  up  against  the  hard  world,  and  to  such  of  you  as  want  to 
get  back  to  your  boyhood  days,  and  forget  everything,  except  how  to 
be  happy,  I  would  recommend  this  life  of  primitive  man.  I,  for  one, 
never  expect  to  have  a  better  time,  nor  a  better  appetite  this  side  of 

229 


heaven.  Am  a  member  of  the  Princeton  Club  of  New  York,  and  'tis 
truly,  a  happy  hour  when  a  stray  sheep  from  our  fold  happens  in. 

Hoping  to  see  you,  one  and  all,  at  our  next  reunion,  I  am,  as  ever, 

W.  Monroe  Weiss. 

New  York  City,  N.  Y.,  March  i,  'oi. 

JULIUS    PIERSON   WHEELER. 

Dear  Classmates: — Very  little  to  say — "Ergo  haec  cpistula  brevis 
erit."    You   see   I   have  my  Latin   down  pat,  yet. 

Age,  twenty-eight  summers ;  hair  getting  a  little  frayed  in  front ; 
moustache,  yes,  until  a  few  days  ago,  a  good  one — sacrificed  it  to  Zeus, 
or  some  other  Greek  divinity. 

Size  and  general  appearance — about  the  same  as  when  the  "cares  of 
life  o'ertook  me,"  and  the  cold  world  began  the  process  of  mastica- 
tion. 

Have  writ  none,  spoke  none,  acted  none,  nor  made  a  celebrity  of 
myself  in  any  line  whatsoever. 

Work !  All  kinds  of  work  in  and  about  a  paper  mill,  from  cutter 
boy  to  my  present  position.  Good  deal  of  experience  and  hard  knocks, 
with  correspondingly  inverse  homeopathic  doses  of  the  "always  need- 
ful" ;  find  that  I  have  several  wisdom  teeth  to  cut  yet. 

Have  been  afiflicted  with  malaria  and  mosquitoes.  Can  knock  out 
any  one  in  the  class  telling  lies  about  the  latter  and  the  way  they  have 
used  me.  Lived  in  them  and  they  in  me  for  the  greater  part  of  my 
post-graduate   career. 

Have  stuck  to  baseball,  playing  with  the  Montclair  A.  C.  Getting 
poorer  at  the  game  every  year,  but  am  going  to  keep  at  it  until  I  get 
kicked  out  as  a  "has-been." 

Have  traveled  considerably  since  leaving  college,  mostly  on  the 
trolley  between  Montclair  and  Waverly. 

See  some  of  the  boys  once  in  a  while,  all  getting  married  but  myself, 
and  I  haven't  struck  luck  yet.     Guess  that's  about  all. 

God  bless  you,  every  one. 

Yours  for  Princeton  and  the  dear  old  class. 

J.  Pierson  Wheeler. 

Montclair,  N.  J.,  April  26,  '01. 

ROBERT  CREW  WILKINS. 

Dear  Secretary: — It  was  my  great  misfortune  to  be  on  the  Atlantic 
ocean  last  summer,  at  the  time  when  our  celebrated  class  held  its 
triennial  reunion.  It  give  me  great  pleasure,  therefore,  to  meet 
again  in  this  way  all  those  jovial  spirits  of  '97  whom  time  has 
scattered  over  the  world.  After  leaving  Princeton,  in  June  of  '97,  I 
went  to  Europe,  remaining  three  months  in  Germany.  On  my  return, 
following  my  previous  careful  training  on  the  Here  and  There  Column 
of  The  Daily  Princctonian,  I  embarked  on  a  career  of  newspaper  work 
on  The  Washington  Post.  My  succeeding  summers  have  all  been 
spent  in  Europe,  and  it  has  been  my  good  fortune  to  meet  Princeton 

230 


men  in  every  country  visited.  Kershow  and  myself  met  quite  by 
accident,  in  the  Hotel  Bristol,  Berlin,  summer  before  last.  We  imme- 
diately formed  a  mutual  protective  society,  and  spent  several  vi^eeks 
together  in  a  German  pension,  studying  the  manners  and  customs  of 
the  inhabitants.  For  some  unaccountable  reason  our  early  training 
in  the  German  tongue  seemed  not  to  have  made  a  very  lasting  im- 
pression. Kersh  knew  one  word  "bier,"  and  I  could  articulate  "noch 
eins  grosses  bier."  Between  us  we  could  just  order  enough  on  which 
to  live. 

Last  summer  Europe  was  full  of  Princeton  men.  Macy  Brooks, 
'96,  and  myself  went  over  on  the  same  boat,  and  spent  most  of  the 
summer  together.  Fourth  of  July  was  the  occasion  of  a  large  dinner 
and  dance,  given  at  Leipsic,  Germany,  by  Brainard  Warner,  Jr.,  '96, 
the  American  Consul  at  that  place,  and  I  enjoyed  the  sensation  of 
dining  under  the  Stars  and  Stripes  in  Saxony.  Barnum's  circus  was 
there,  and,  of  course,  everybody  went.  The  clowns  perpetrated  the 
same  old  jokes,  but  beer,  and  plenty  of  it,  took  the  place  of  red 
lemonade  and  peanuts.  On  my  homeward  journey  a  crowd  of  six 
Princeton  men  met  in  Munich,  Germany,  and  at  the  invitation  of  the 
American  consul  there,  a  small  reunion  dinner  was  held  in  honor  of 
the  occasion  at  Tutsing,  an  attractive  little  town  near  Munich.  After 
a  three  weeks'  sojourn  in  Paris,  I  sailed  for  America  on  "The  Kaiser 
Wilhelm  der  Grosse."  After  the  boat  had  been  out  two  days.  Buck 
Thompson  appeared,  a  little  worse  for  wear.  A  jolly  crowd  assembled 
every  night  in  the  smoking-room,  singing  college  songs,  Princeton  being 
represented  by  Macy  Brooks,  '96,  Buck  Thompson  and  myself,  and  one 
■could  almost  imagine  himself  back  under  the  protection  of  Old  North. 
I  am  still  engaged  in  newspaper  work,  and  as  manager  of  The  Wash- 
ington Weekly  Post,  am  quite  qualified  to  explain,  through  its  Farm 
and  Home  Dept.,  the  best  method  of  making  a  hen  coop  or  frying  a 
cake.    At  present  I  am  treasurer  of  The  Washington  Post  Co. 

Very  sincerely, 

Robert  C.  Wilkins. 
Washington,  D.  C,  Dec.  18,  '01. 

EPHRAIM  WILLIAMS,  JR. 

My  Dear  "Pop": — Your  final  appeal,  and  the  fact  that  I  am  one  oi' 
the,  I  must  say,  in  this  case,  inactive  "Fifteen,"  arouses  me  to  a  sense 
of  duty,  and  fills  me  with  shame  at  the  existing  state  of  affairs.  If 
the  glory  of  dear  old  '97  rests  upon  us,  if  we  stand  in  the  way  of  her 
reaching  the  coveted  goal  of  supremacy,  in  this  instance,  we  are  indeed 
remiss,  if  not  criminally  negligent.  I,  therefore,  make  haste  to  atone 
and  send  my  small  mite  to  help  place  us,  if  possible,  in  our  usual 
position  at  the  head  of  the  line. 

After  graduation  in  '97  I  returned  to  my  home  in  Stonington,  Con- 
necticut, a  small  country  town,  pleasantly  situated  on  the  border  line 
of  Connecticut  and  Rhode  Island,  and  just  at  the  end  of  Long  Island 
Sound,  where  I  spent  a  most  delightful,  quiet  summer,  boating,  driving, 

231 


and    generally   enjoying   myself,    taking    a   last,    final    vacation    before 
beginning  the  struggle  of  earning  the  "Almighty  Dollar,"  and,  incident- 
ally,  a  livelihood.     In  the   fall   I   entered  the  law   office  of  Dixon  & 
Sweeney,  in  the  neighboring  town  of  Westerly,  and  just  across  the 
line,  within  the  borders  of  Rhode  Island,  where  I  began  the  study  of 
the  law,  and  served  a  general  clerkship.     During  my  clerkship  in  the 
above-mentioned   office,   I   resided   at   home,   and  went  by  train   daily 
back    and    forth    between    the    two    towns.      Naturally,    having    been 
brought  up  in  Stonington,  and  now  being  there  permanently,   I  took 
a  keen  interest  in  the  afifairs  of  the  town,  and  in  the  fall  of  '98,  being 
nominated  by  the  Democratic  party,  of  that  town,  for  Representative 
to   the   State   Legislature,    I   began   a   somewhat  active   political    cam- 
paign.    The  election  resulted  in  a  Republican  victory,  and  my  political 
aspirations  were  nipped  in  the  bud.     However,  in  the  spring  of  '99, 
I  presume  out  of  commiseration,  the  Borough  of   Stonington,  which 
has  a  Democratic  majority,   although  the  town  is   Republican,  nomi- 
nated me  for  Mayor,  but  for  personal  reasons  I  declined  to  accept  the 
nomination,  and  now  devoted  my  time  to  a  final  preparation  for  the 
Bar  examinations  of  Rhode  Island.     In  August,  '99,  I  took  the  exam- 
ination  for   the    Rhode    Island    Bar,    and,    passing   the    same,    after   a 
pleasant  vacation   spent   partly  in   a   cruise  through  Vineyard   Sound 
and  down  to  Nantucket,  I  v.'as  admitted  to  practice  in  that  State.     I 
therefore,  continued  on  in  the  same  office,  with  but  little  difference, 
except  the  change  from  clerk  to  attorney,  until  December,  1900,  when 
two   of   my   cousins    in   New   York   City,   having   formed   the   firm   of 
Dixon  &  Holmes,  for  the  practice  of  law,  in  said  city,  I  left  the  office 
in  Westerly,  Rhode  Island,  and  came  to  New  York,  where  I  am  now 
residing,    and    connected    with    the    above-named    firm    of    Dixon    ^ 
Holmes.     For  various   reasons  the  change  is   a  most   agreeable  one, 
and  especially  so,  as  now  I  am  in  much  closer  connection  with  the 
dear  old   college — I   beg  your   pardon — I   mean,   university,   and   it   is 
not  now  such  an  unusual  event  to  occasionally  meet  a  classmate.     In 
New  England  the  Princeton  Alumni  are,  naturally,  not  very  numerous, 
although  I  hope,  and  from  a  letter  received  announcing  a  Princeton 
dinner    to    be    given    in    Boston,    May   29th,    1901,    by   the    Princeton 
Alumni  living  in  New  England,  am  led  to  believe,  strong  and  active. 
At  all  events,  there  is  one  thing  I  am  sure  of,  that  there  is  one  small 
spot,  in  southeastern  Connecticut  and  western  Rhode  Island  that  has 
heard  a  thing  or  two  of  a  certain  well-beloved  town  in  Jersey,  and, 
furthermore,  I  sincerely  believe  has  not  yet  heard  the  whole  story  . 

This  very  personal  account — but  as  it  was  to  be  about  myself,  I  failed 
to  see  how  I  could  eliminate  that  element — with  much  regret  for  my 
long  delay,  and  sincere  greetings  to  the  "great  and  glorious,"  our 
well-beloved  '97,  I  now  send  in  answer  to  her  call  to  duty. 

Thanking  you  for  your  several  gentle  reminders,  with  best  wishes 
and  kindest  regards.  Very  sincerely  yours. 

New  York  City,  N.  Y.,  May  6,  '01.         Ephraim  Williams,  Jr. 

232 


JOHN  ADAMS  WILLIAMS. 

Felloxv  Classmates:— \]^ox\  my  graduation  from  Princeton,  in  June, 
1897,  I  at  once  began  to  consider  for  what  calling  of  life  I  was  best 
fitted.  For  better  or  for  worse,  I  chose  the  law,  and  in  the  following 
autumn  entered  upon  that  study  at  the  New  York  Law  School.  There 
I  found  various  of  my  classmates,  who  had  made  a  like  choice,  and  in 
emulous  rivalry,  each  striving  to  outstrip  his  companions,  we  spent 
two  earnest  years,  being  graduated  in  June,  1899,  and  a  few  weeks 
later  being  admitted  to  the  Bar  of  this  State.  We  have  since  zealously 
pursued  our  profession,  and  in  all  the  select  and  numerous  body  of 
men  engaged  in  the  furtherance  of  justice  in  the  metropolis,  you  will 
find  none  more  active  and  more  aspiring  than  the  little  group  which 
represents   you   among  them. 

My  own  career  hitherto  must  depend  for  its  merits  rather  upon  its 
negative  excellencies,  but  for  such  do  I  claim  a  certain  credit.  In  a 
city  where  annually  the  majority  votes  wrong,  I  have  ever  been  of 
the  minority;  in  a  profession  which  each  year  is  subtracted  from,  that 
the  quota  in  our  jails  and  penitentiaries  may  be  added  to,  no  step, 
has  yet  been  taken  for  my  apprehension ;  in  a  class  where  but  few 
are  still  unmarried,  my  virgin  heart,  all  untouched,  pines  on  in  single 
blessedness.  The  factitious  heights  of  fame,  it  is  true,  are  not  yet 
mine,  but  I  cannot  consider  myself  obscure  when  I  recall  how  widely 
known  is  my  name  and  address  among  committees  to  build  gymnasiums 
and  other  committees  having  similar  aims  and  requests. 

Having  but  rare  opportunities  to  address  an  audience  like  this,  I 
desire  upon  this  occasion  to  make  a  few  propositions,  for  which  I 
would  ask  my  classmates'  thoughtful  consideration.  And  of  the  first — 
of  hazing  at  Princeton — I  confess  I  dislike  to  speak,  so  inadequate,  so 
puerile  in  their  incompleteness,  must  our  forms  seem  to  graduates 
of  other  institutions  where  the  practice  flourishes.  I  would  direct 
your  attention  to  West  Point,  whose  finished  system  I  respectfully 
urge  be  adopted  at  our  Alma  Mater.  Indeed,  I  fancy  a  West  Point 
man  would  have  but  a  scornful  contempt  for  us  and  our  pitiable  de- 
ficiencies, and  when  we  compare  our  relative  modes — if  comparable 
they  be — the  thoroughness,  the  refinement,  the  justification,  and  es- 
pecially the  ultimate  penalty,  upon  which  their  system  is  based  and 
which  is  its  chief  adornment  can  have  no  other  effect  than  to  make 
a  Princeton  man  hang  his  head  in  shame.  Surely  with  the  influence 
which  we  could  exert  at  the  national  capital,  we  could  readily  have 
assigned  to  duty  at  Princeton  (as  tactical  instructor,  if  you  will)  some 
young  officer  of  the  most  approved  ability  in  those  things  for  which 
we  should  desire  him,  and,  remembering  the  natural  aptitude  of  our 
sophomores,  I  shall  not  attempt  to  dissemble  my  confidence  that  in 
a  very  short  time,  under  such  guidance,  we  should  have  a  code  of  hazing 
which,  on  its  merit,  we  should  not  need  to  hesitate  to  compare  to  that 
of  West  Point  itself.  Could  we  and  our  successors  but  have  had  the 
benefit  of  such  a  method,  that,  polished  by  such  a  training,  we  might 
have    become    considerate    and    instinctive    gentlemen,    constant    com- 

^3i 


panionship  with  whom  would  be — in  an  old  writer's  description  of  the 
braying  of  asses — "a  world  of  joy  without  end." 

With  an  equal  heartiness  do  I  make  another  suggestion,  for  I  do 
not  conceive  that  this  is  too  early  a  date  for  us  to  begin  planning 
for  our  decennial  gift  to  the  university;  and  having  in  mind  the  worthy 
memorial  which  a  preceding  class  has  lately  decided  upon,  I  hasten 
to  propose  that  ours  be  of  a  similar  nature,  any  objection  that  may  be 
made  against  our  following  another's  lead  being  overthrown  by  the 
intrinsic  worth  of  the  plan  itself.  An  earlier  class  than  our  own, 
my  classmates  doubtless  knows,  intends  to  build  for  Princeton  a  golf 
club  house,  expending  the  large  sum  of  money  they  have  collected,  so 
that  the  rather  inadequate  facilities  now  obtaining  at  Princeton,  for 
golf,  may  be  replaced  by  the  most  admirable  accommodations. 

Some  time  since  in  answer  to  Mr.  Keener's  call  for  suggestions  for 
buildings.  Such  choices  are  fit  enough  in  their  way — nor  do  I  view 
with  entire  disfavor  the  plan  we  have  so  often  discussed — that  of 
building  a  dormitory  as  our  gift.  We  must  not  forget,  however,  the 
favor  with  v/hich  all  Princeton  men  now  look  upon  both  marbles  and 
tops,  the  mere  mention  of  which  species  of  athletics  will  bring  to 
mind  the  utter  absence  at  Princeton  of  a  place  for  their  proper  exer- 
cise, and  now  that  one  may  play  golf  amid  the  most  satisfactory  con- 
ditions, could  our  class  not  construct  grounds,  admirably  arranged  in 
the  most  modern  style,  with  the  most  modern  devices  and  comforts, 
where  we  at  our  reunions,  and  where  other  Princeton  men  at  other 
times  could  spin  our  little  tops  and  shoot  our  little  marbles,  amid 
surroundings  unsurpassed  elsewhere  in  the  nation?  Almost  every  other 
need  of  our  Alma  Mater  has  long  since  been  supplied;  in  this  chance 
to  obviate  her  most  marked  remaining  defect,  a  singular  opportunity 
is  afforded  us. 

It  is  very  probable  that  we  could  in  a  spirit  of  amity  arrange  a  league 
with  our  sister-class,  whereby  we  might  grant  to  its  members  special 
privileges  at  our  grounds,  receiving  in  turn  concessions  from  them. 
Our  interest  and  proficiency  in  our  respective  sports  would  thus  be 
increased;  new  and  pleasant  ties  and  associations  would  ensue;  by 
the  peculiar  acceptability  of  our  respective  gifts — some  classes  wonder- 
ing at  us,  some  envying  us,  all  admiring  us — Old  Nassau  would  con- 
stantly win  new  fame  and  honor. 

Some  time  since  in  answer  to  Mr.  Keener's  call  for  suggestions  for 
features  for  this  Triennial  Record,  I  made  a  response  and  asked  to 
be  allowed  to  contribute  biographical  sketches  of  our  President  and 
Secretary  respectively.  (My  presumption,  I  trust,  will  be  forgiven, 
because  of  my  desire  to  serve  my  class).  For  my  proposition  I  received 
kindly  thanks,  accompanied  by  Mr.  Keener's  arbitrary  veto ;  Mr. 
Garrett  affirmatively  concurring.  I,  therefore,  feel  that  in  this  indi- 
vidual letter  I  am  not  at  liberty  to  give  any  testimony  of  my  admira- 
tion and  respect  for  either  of  these  gentlemen,  but  in  closing,  I  do 
wish  to  give  a  few  words  of  praise  to  the  competent  members  of  lan 
important  committee. 

234 


In  our  preparations  for  our  Triennial,  it  was  fortunately  remem- 
bered that  it  would  take  place  during  a  heated  season  of  the  year,  to 
guard  against  the  discomforts  of  which  a  committee  on  refreshments 
was  appointed.  The  committeemen  were  chosen  with  a  wise  selec- 
tion, and  I  can  give  no  higher  tribute  to  their  efforts  than  to  recall 
the  fact  that  so  alluring  was  their  hospitality  that  many  who  came  to 
pass  an  hour  under  our  tent  stayed  the  day,  "Day  boarders,"  as  the 
pleasant  expressive  phrase  ran.  None  will  more  emphatically  assert 
than  myself  that  the  success  of  our  reunion  was  due  to  the  labors  of 
one  man,  but  we  must  remember  that  with  this  phase  of  our  celebration 
— than  which  none  was  happier  in  its  results — Mr.  Keener  consist- 
ently declined  to  have  any  connection. 

I  hope,  therefore,  at  our  next  reunion  this  committee  will  again  be 
placed  in  charge  of  its  own  department.  Its  members  have  shown 
their  merit,  and  a  grateful  class  will  welcome  their  reappointment. 
For  if,  in  1902,  Mr.  Keener,  in  whatsoever  misguided  motive — Mr. 
Garrett  affirmatively  concurring — should  decide  to  take  personal  charge 
of  the  same,  sadly  reminiscent,  would  we  have  to  say,  as  Carlyle 
said  of  the  dying  Robespierre,  "God  help  him — and  us." 

Your  classmate, 

John  A.  Williams. 

New  York  City,  N.  Y.,  Jan.  25,  '01. 

PERCY  HERBERT  WILLIAMS. 

Dear  Pop: — Please  understand,  at  the  beginning,  that  your  scur- 
rilous and  insulting  postal  cards  have  not  forced  me  to  write,  al- 
though some  of  my  immediate  family,  judging  from  their  general 
tone  of  profanity,  thought  I  must  have  at  least  robbed  the  '97  class 
treasury,  to  deserve  such  abuse.  I'm  surprised  at  your  profane  lan- 
guage !  You  know,  as  well  as  I,  Pop,  that  there's  no  use  tryincx  to  make 
an  interesting  story  out  of  four  years  of  medical  school  work.  Why, 
there's  more  excitement  in  driving  a  scavenger's  cart — and  it's  a  good 
deal  cleaner,  too !  However,  in  as  few  words  as  possible,  I'll  just 
tell  what  has  happened  to  me  since  I  gained  my  diploma  milla  cum 
lande,  at  Princeton,  four  years  ago. 

My  first  summer  was  without  any  incident  worthy  of  mention.  T^e 
only  thing  which  still  lingers  in  my  memory  is  how  Father  Spencer 
visited  me,  and  in  two  days  became  King  of  the  Fussers  by  divine 
right.  When  he  left,  all  the  girls  lost  interest  in  life,  and  some  even 
attempted  suicide.  A  man  with  Spencer's  talents  ought  to  be  careful 
to  do  as  little  damage  as  possible. 

In  the  fall  of  '97  I  started  in  at  the  College  of  Physicians  and  Sur- 
geons. Any  one  who  knows  any  thing  about  the  first  year  at  medical 
school  realizes  what  that  means;  at  first  you  worry  because  you  fear 
you've  "missed  your  calling" ;  later  you  wish  you  were  sure,  so  as  to 
have  an  excuse  to  quit  before  "disgracing  your  family."  It's  a  lovely 
game.  It  passed,  in  time,  and  the  next  summer  I  spent  trying  to  re- 
member what  I  had  learned  the  winter  before.    My  second  winter  was 

23s 


like  the  first,  but  now  I  had  lost  all  spirit  and  didn't  care  whether 
school  kept  or  not.  The  summer  of  '99  I  went  abroad  with  the  fixed 
purpose  of  becoming  engaged — I  accomplished  my  purpose,  and  things 
began  to  look  up  a  little. 

During  the  following  winter,  I  worked  like  a  vulgar,  common 
garden  ant,  and  finished  the  year  knowing  only  a  little  less  than  when 
I  began,  but  by  this  time  I  realized  that  "All  men  are  fools."  Misery 
loves  company,  and  I  was  more  content. 

Last  summer  I  spent  substituting  at  the  Presbyterian  and  St.  Luke's 
Hospitals,  in  New  York,  and  took  only  a  few  weeks'  vacation,  but 
enough  to  start  in  fresh  in  the  fall. 

All  this  winter  Runt  Haussling  and  I  have  been  alternating  between 
hope  and  fear,  for  with  spring  came  hospital  exams.  You  see  now 
why  we  haven't  written  to  you  before;  when  in  the  hopeful  state  we 
worked  too  hard  to  write,  and  hadn't  an  hour  to  spare ;  when  dull 
fear  seized  our  souls,  we  hadn't  the  nerve  to  darken  the  fair  pages  of 
the  '97  triennial  with  our  dark  forebodings. 

Well,  last  Friday  and  Saturday  I  took  my  exams,  for  Bellevue,  and 
landed  right  side  up  with  both  feet.  Now  I  feel  more  like  I  did  when 
I  graduated.  Yesterday,  thanks  to  Runt  Haussling,  Rubber  Shearer, 
Tommy  Thompson,  and  a  few  more  Princeton  heelers,  I  was  elected 
president  of  the  graduating  class  of  P.  &  S.  The  class  president  up 
here  is  more  or  less  of  a  joke,  anyway. 

And  now  I  get  my  M.  D.  in  June,  and  start  all  over  again  at  the 
bottom  of  another  ladder.  It's  slow  work.  School,  college,  profes- 
sional school,  hospital  training,  seems  like  a  long  list  for  preparation 
for  life,  but  it  has  all  passed  quickly  so  far,  and  I've  had  more  or  less 
fun  out  of  it,  too.  There's  a  great  sameness  to  it  all,  as  we  look  back. 
First,  when  we  start  at  prep,  school  it's  all  strange  and  new,  and  we 
are  "kinder  thankful  and  willin'  to  please,"  like  the  old  maid;  soon 
we  are  in  the  fourth  form,  and  own  the  school.  Freshman  year,  we 
knuckle  down  again,  and  feel  very  diminutive  as  we  take  off  our  hats 
to  the  "sophs,"  and  wonder  how  our  more  favored  classmates  dare 
to  call  seniors  by  their  first  names ;  then  we,  too,  are  seniors,  and  "do 

as  we  d please,"  as  all  good  seniors  should.     But  even  this  doesn't 

last,  and  we  start  all  over  again  and  work  up  again  until  the  last  year 
at  professional  school,  when  we  feel  pretty  fair,  but  not  nearly  so 
cocky  as  before,  for  we  know  now  what  it  all  means. 

Next  year  I  start  in  again  as  junior  in  the  largest  hospital  in  the 
city,  to  work  my  way  up  to  house  surgeon,  and  then  begin  all  over 
again  in  the  cold  world,  as  a  struggling  little  M.  D.  So  it  has  gone, 
up  and  down,  each  time  a  little  higher,  only  to  begin  again  at  the 
bottom  of  the  next  ladder. 

Now,  Pop,  you  see  how  dry  all  this  sounds,  and  understand  why 
I  hesitated  to  inflict  a  letter  upon  you;  but  you  would  have  one  or 
have  me  excommunicated  forever  from  the  "great  and  glorious."  What 
I  have  written,  I  have  written.    It's  your  own  fault.  Pop. 

By  the  bye,  it  may  interest  you  to  know  that  I  will  be  married  be- 

236 


fore  next  Commencement,  and  if  the  class  will  promise  to  be  good, 
I'll  come  down  and  let  them  pat  me  on  the  back. 

Yours,  as  ever,  for  '97, 

Percy  H.  Williams.    = 
New  York  City,  N.  Y.,  April  12,  '01. 

WILBURT  CHARLES  WILLIAMS. 

My  Dear  Pop: — The  enclosed  card  and  envelope  which  I  received 
this  A.M.  will,  in  a  way,  explain  the  reason  for  my  not  having  ac- 
knowledged your  many,  "judging  from  the  number  on  the  last,"  noti- 
fications. 

It  seems  that  there  are  other  W.  C.  W.'s  in  the  city  who,  no  doubt, 
have  been  in  the  habit  of  obtaining  mail  belonging  to  me,  which  has 
not  been  returned  to  the  postal  authorities  for  distribution  to  correct 
address.  Now  that  one  has  fallen  to  my  lot,  and  I  herein  enclose  my 
home  and  business  address,  no  doubt  you  will  feel  relieved  somewhat, 
as  in  the  future  I  shall  try  not  to  delay  in  acknowledging  communi- 
cations from  old  '97. 

Of  myself,   I   have  nothing  much  to   say,  excepting  that  I  am  in 

reality  the  same  old  Max,  who  used  to  trot  around  while  in  P , 

with  the  exception  that  I  am  getting  older.  It  has  been  my  misfortune 
to  meet  but  very  few  of  the  old  '97  crowd,  their  number  being  limited 
from  this  section,  but  if  things  come  my  way  and  nothing  turns  up  to 
prevent  it,  I  shall  be  on  the  old  battle-ground  this  coming  summer,  to 
see  our  boys  pull  another  championship  from  Yale. 

Yours  sincerely, 

W.   C.  WiLLLAMS. 

ScRANTON,  Pa.,  April  10,  '01. 

ALEXANDER  McDOWELL  WILSON. 

Friends  of  '97: — Mine  are  the  "short  and  simple  annals  of  the  poor." 
Graduation  found  me  with  an  A.  B.  as  my  only  asset,  and  as  many 
another  has  done,  I  turned  to  teaching  as  the  easiest  solution  of  my; 
difficulties.  Two  years  in  New  England  Prep.  School  were  enough 
to  demonst'-ate  that  I  was  on  the  wrong  tack,  so  I  sought  and  found 
a  position  on  the  engineer  corps  of  America's  greatest  railway.  Aftpr 
a  few  months  I  was  made  an  assistant  supervisor  of  track,  which  re- 
sounding title  I  have  carried  on  three  different  divisions,  assisting 
practical,  hard-headed  old  chaps  who  have  risen  from  the  humble 
position  of  section  foremen.  It's  the  strenuous  life  on  tenuous  pay, 
but  it's  worth  while.  With  a  lusty  good  will  I  could  join  you  in  sing- 
ing once  again  the  Levee  Song. 

The  inquisitorial  sheet  I  send  in  shows  an  aching  vacuity  where 
should  be  "honors,"  "wives,"  "children,"  and  other  interesting  things — 
these  I  have  neither  achieved,  though  I  have  labored  diligently,  nor 
liave  they  been  thrust  upon  me;  but  "time"  has  not  yet  been  called. 

Heartily  yours, 

A.  M.  Wilson. 

Batavia,  N.  Y.,  Jan.  21,  '01. 

237 


JOHN  FLEMING  WILSON. 

My  Dear  Pop: — Your  blasphemous  postal  cards  have  roused  such 
a  storm  of  protest  from  my  sisters  that  I  find  myself  compelled  to  sit 
down  and  fulfil  my  duties  as  a  '97  man.  My  communication  may  not 
be  so  vocabularic  as  yours,  but  it  is  written  in  as  hearty  a  spirit. 
It  is  a  little  strenuous  to  come  up  to  the  mark  set  in  your  examples. 
Perhaps  this  will  be  excused  when  you  understand  that  mine  are  the 
simple  annals  of  the  poor. 

I  am  now  in  the  possession  of  my  degree,  gained  by  a  year  extraor- 
dinary at  Princeton — 1899- 1900.  My  life,  previous  to  that,  and  sub- 
sequent to  my  enforced  departure  in  '97,  was  one  of  magnificent  mo- 
notony. I  worked  for  my  living  here  in  the  West,  and  I  judge  the 
process  is  the  same  everywhere.  I  spare  you  the  details.  In  Princeton 
I  renewed  my  acquaintance  with  several  subjects  of  the  curriculum, 
displayed  a  most  exemplary  devotion  to  my  religious  duties  as  set 
forth  in  chapel  «'  mornings,  made  my  final  salaam  and  withdrew  my 
insignificant  countenance  to  these  parts. 

I  am  now  teaching  Latin  to  the  beginners  in  Portland  Academy, 
and  striving  to  forget  the  habits  of  study  formed  in  Alma  Mater.  I 
regret  to  say  that,  in  spite  of  the  recognized  brilliancy  of  Nassau's 
representatives,  very  few  of  our  Western  boys  consider  it  as  a  possible 
place  to  go.  A  good  many  things  go  to  make  this  the  case,  but,  as 
Prexie  elegantly  put  it,  I  am  not  yet  free  from  the  effects  of  having 
been  under  discipline,  and,  of  course,  any  suggestions  I  might  make 
would  be  Tommy. 

I  never  see  any  of  the  old  class,  though  I  hear  of  some  wandering 
around.  I  am  of  the  opinion  that  Collette  and  Duncan  Moore  are  the 
only  newcomers,  but  there  may  be  others.  I  wish  any  who  may  hit 
the  Oregon  trail  would  call  on  405  Clay  Street,  and  receive  the  wel- 
come awaiting  them.  Not  many  of  you  fellows  know  how  we  people 
can  enjoy  a  friend,  and  I  hope  some  will  try  us. 

In  spite  of  momentary  ambitions  I  have  done  nothing  in  war, 
politics  or  journalism.  Sounds  tame,  doesn't  it?  The  class  average  is 
high,  and  some  must  be  in  the  audience.  To  tell  the  truth  I  feel  pretty 
much  identified  with  those  who  succeed,  and  it's  all  in  the  family,  you 
know. 

So  here's  to  you.  Pop,  with  a  good  will  and  a  blessing  on  your 
blasphemous  but  revered  head.  Here's  looking  at  '07  over  a  mighty 
sweet  cup  of  memory. 

Ever  yours  affectionately, 

John  Fleming  Wilson. 

Portland,  Ore.,  April  24,  '01. 

WALTER  WINFIELD  WILSON. 

My  Dear  "Pop": — Immediately  after  leaving  college  I  chose  as  my 
life  work  that  of  a  lumberman,  but  after  one  year  I  concluded  that  I 
did  not  want  to  be  the  lumberman,  so  I  began  the  study  of  law  at 
"Dear  old  Penn."   (?).     I  expect  to  graduate  this  spring,  as  modestly 

238 


cesJfuf'''''     ^^'^'  '^^''^  ^  '^^"  ^^  ^"'""'^  ^'  Pittsburgh,  Pa.,  if  sue- 

With  best  wishes  to  all. 

Very  sincerely, 

T,  W.  W.  Wilson 

Philadelphia,  Pa.,  Jan.  27,  '01.  vvilson. 

JAMES  LISTER  WOLCOTT. 

Wolcott  is  a  member  of  the  firm  of  Hughes  &  Wolcott,  attorneys- 
at-law,  Dover,  Del.  Judged  by  his  communications  with  the  Secretary 
he  IS  a  silent  partner.     Nothing  further  is  known  of  his  doings  and 

iore'L       ".  "V'r''  ^"'""'  '''''  '^  ^^  ^^^"  — -^d,  and  there- 
tore  the  master  of  his  own  destiny. 

FRANK  MONTGOMERY  WOOD,  JR. 

Dear  Pop  :-I  do  not  wonder  thai  you  get  impatient  with  your  de- 
hnquent  classmates,  but  if  you  knew  what  it  is  to  pass  through  a  siege  of 
final  exams  such  as  I  have  just  finished,  in  order  to  have  The  privflege 
o  tackmg  the  title  of  M.  D.  on  to  your  name,  and  then  of  starving  fo 
death,  I  am  certam  you  would  forgive  me.     I  am  working  night  and 

day  now    just  at  present  in  the  office  of  one  Dr.  H .     You  W  Jou 

want  a  history  of  my  life  since  I  left  college.  Well,  it  will  be  short 
and  sweet,  I  can  tell  you. 

One  day  while  sitting  in  a  large  room  over  in  the  old  seminary  there 
came  a  letter,  telling  me  to  come  to  New  York.  This  letter  was  the 
means  of  introducing  your  humble  servant  to  the  Y  M  C  A  work 
of  New  York  State.  I  remained  in  this  work  for  one  year,  as  strlt  y 
and  physical  director.  The  first  six  months  I  spent  at  White  Plains! 
N^Y.,  the  next  six  at  Waverly,  N.  Y.     In  that  work  I  think  I  learned 

cT/tuTluu'"""'''"'  ''^'^''''  disciplinarian,  baseball  coach,  football 
coach,  basketball  teacher,  gymnast,  sign  artist,  author,  copyist,  cyclist 
teacher  of  the  art  of  graceful  movements-.'...,  "Delsarte"-wresder 
boxing  teacher,  president,  secretary  and  treasurer,  leader  in  the  Glee 
Club,  organizer  of  girls'  club,  Papa  and  Mamma.  Is  it  any  wonder  that 
of  this  "V       fT'f  "^'^""^'  '°  ^°"  ^^'"'^^     Well,  tL  final  reu 

P  lied  to  tT/  ?°  '°?  ""''  °'  ^^^'■^^^'"^  --'  ^hat  I  was  com- 

pelled to  take  a  rest  in  the  autumn  of  '98.  I  went  out  along  the  old 
Susquehanna  for  a  week  or  two,  and  then  to  the  scenes  of  my  chi^d^ 
hood  m  Ohio  While  there,  thoughts  of  my  future  beset  my  soul  and 
would  not  let  me  go      So  I  thought  me  thus:  "My  aim  in  life  is    o  do 

he  mos  good  possible-where  can  I  do  the  most?"  I  had  prepared  my- 
self while  m  college  in  the  beginning  work  of  a  medical  course    so  I 

bought  to  continue  thus.  Then  the  echo  answered,  where  >  I  alwavs 
hked  the  West  Pop  will  remember  how  they  called  on  the  Freshman 
from  the  "wild  and  woolly  West"  the  night  of  my  initiationTnto 
hterary  life  at  Princeton.    So,  after  due  deliberation,  I  decided  that  the 


239 


Windy  City  was  the  place  for  me,  and  I  think  you  will  think  so,  too, 
when  I  am  through  with  this  recital  of  nothings. 

However,  to  continue,  in  the  fall  of  '98  I  came  to  Chicago  and  en- 
tered Rush  Medical  College,  as  a  sophomore.  That  fall  I  played  foot- 
ball, just  to  keep  up  my  propensities  as  an  athlete  (?).  I  went  with 
the  Rush  team  on  their  Western  trip,  on  which  trip  we  were  beaten 
every  game  but  one,  and  that  was  a  tie.  Then  I  began  to  feel  that  we 
had  gotten  far,  far  away  from  the  ways  of  our  Alma  Mater,  especially 
in  the  football  line.  No  training,  no  sleep,  only  play  ball ;  it  was  fun, 
but  fun  for  the  other  fellow.  Well,  how  we  got  back  from  that  trip 
I  do  not  know,  but  we  got  back,  and  were  treated  finely  by  the  pro- 
fessors. Why,  they  even  gave  us  extra  quiz  men  to  get  us  through 
our  exams.     When  that  trip  was  over  I  settled  down. 

I  have  been  studying  medicine  ever  since.  All  that  winter  long  I 
struggled  with  osteology,  physiology  and  the  rest  of  the  ologies,  till 
I  became  a  junior.  In  the  springtime,  when  the  flowers  were  in  bloom, 
I  decided  on  a  trip  across  Indiana  on  my  bicycle.  I  left  Chicago  on 
Monday  at  3  p.m.  Sunday  night  it  had  rained;  the  boulevards 
were  fine,  the  sun  shone,  and  I  was  feeling  grand;  all  went 
well  till  I  had  passed  One  Hundredth  Street.  Then,  all  was  a  sea  of 
mud,  with  the  bicycle  and  myself  for  an  island.  While  I  was  strug- 
gling on,  cleaning  the  mud  and  straw  from  the  wheel  at  every  rut,  along 
came  my  salvation  in  the  form  of  an  expressman,  who  gave  me  a  lift 
as  far  as  West  Pullman.  There  I  took  the  railroad  track  of  the  Penn- 
sylvania Railroad,  riding  between  the  tracks,  getting  off  now  and  then 
for  a  train  to  pass,  all  of  which  was  very  exciting. 

I  rode  that  night  till  11:30,  which  hour  found  me  at  a  pumping  sta- 
tion, where  I  stopped  and  asked  the  "old  pumper"  for  a  drink  of 
water — the  boys  know  I  couldn't  get  anything  stronger  at  that  hour. 
Being  well  treated,  I  asked  him  if  he  knew  where  I  could  get  a  bed,  so 
as  to  lay  m.y  "weary"  bones  to  rest,  and  to  this  he  also  replied  in  the 
affirmative.  So  I  chuckled  to  myself  and  followed  him.  He  pointed 
me  to  a  small  house  not  far  away.  There  I  roused  the  old  residenter, 
who  seemed  like  the  owl,  ever  vigilant,  for  he  soon  appeared  at  the 
door,  clad  in  the  little  end  of  nothing.  I  informed  him  of  my  needs  and 
he  showed  me  to  my  room,  and  at  last  I  slept.  I  didn't  get  up  next 
morning  with  the  birds,  but  slept  till  8  o'clock.  My  wheel  was  in  pretty 
bad  shape  when  I  awoke,  but  I  oiled  and  polished  it,  and  was  off  again. 
At  the  next  town,  which  was  two  miles  away,  I  got  something  to  eat. 
Eggs  I  boiled  over  a  fire  next  the  railroad  track,  and  like  the  "weary 
Willie,"  ate  my  meal  in  silence.  While  I  was  eating,  the  sky  became 
clouded  and  portended  a  shower.  I  hastened  my  eating,  and  packed 
up  my  things  and  mounted  track  and  wheel  once  more. 

The  rain  came  on  apace,  and  with  it  the  wind,  and  of  all  the  paces 
I  set  foe  the  next  mile  and  a  half — I  think  I  never  went  faster  on  an 
express  in  my  life.  The  shower  was  soon  over,  and  the  sun  came  out, 
beautifully  warm,  and  soon  I  was  again  dry.  That  day's  trip  took  me 
ninety  miles  on  my  journey  from  Chicago.     During  the  day  I  stopped 

240 


often  to  pick  the  beautiful  flowers,  and  to  think  of  their  only  com- 
panions, beautiful  women.  Do  you  know,  Pop,  the  flowers  always 
make  me  revel  in  their  beauty— things  of  beauty  are  always  associated 
in  the  mind,  and  what  is  more  beautiful  than  a  flower? — nothing  save  a 
beautiful  woman.  The  violets,  there,  were  especially  fine  and  fragrant. 
Think  of  it,  wild,  fragrant  violets,  and  all  for  nothing.  I  revelled  in 
them  for  that  day.  By  night  I  was  at  North  Judson,  and  sick,  too,  at 
that.  I  hunted  a  hotel,  and  finding  one,  proceeded  to  enter  with  my 
steed,  whereupon  the  proprietress  addressed  me  thus :  "Put  that  thing 
(my  wheel)  over  there!"  I  didn't  propose  to  have  my  companion  thus 
maligned,  so  said:  "Whew,  you  must  have  been  a  school  ma'am  once 
upon  a  time."  "Yes,"  said  she,  "I  taught  school  for  eleven  years." 
Then  she  laughed,  and  I  laughed,  and  we  were  friends.  I  soon  got  my 
room  and  was  sound  asleep.  The  next  morning  I  did  justice  to  a  good 
sirloin,  the  first  I  had  seen  since  I  left  Chicago.  That  day  I  made 
Logansport  by  6  p.m.,  sixty  miles.  There  I  had  reached  the  region  of 
good  roads,  and  was  passing  up  the  main  street  with  the  intention  of 
pressing  on  for  a  few  miles,  but  what  was  my  surprise  as  I  was  passing 
the  dooryard  of  a  manse  and  church,  to  see  my  old  friend  Biederwolf, 
'92,  in  his  shirt  sleeves,  mowing  his  lawn.  He  hailed  me,  "Hello,  there ; 
how's  Clint."  Nothing  would  do  but  I  must  come  in  and  be  intro- 
duced to  his  wife;  and  they  fed  me,  hungry  as  I  was,  on  the  very  best 
things  I  ever  ate.  They  put  me  in  their  very  best  room,  tramp  though 
I  was,  to  sleep  the  sleep  of  a  gcnteelnian.  The  next  morning  I  left  there 
late,  after  the  "gude  man"  had  shown  me  all  the  relics  of  his  Cuban 
campaign,  where  he  served  as  chaplain  of  his  regiment. 

But  I  must  hurry  on  my  journey  or  I  shall  tire  you  so  you  will  not 
read  another  word.  That  day  (Wednesday)  I  made  sixty  miles  by  5 
o'clock.  This  found  me  in  Marion,  Ind.  The  next  day  I  made  122 
miles,  by  6  p.m.  Richmond,  ninety  miles,  and  my  10:30,  Home,  Sweet 
Home.  I  found  mother  and  father  to  give  me  welcome.  I  spent  the 
summer  there. 

My  vacation  was  short,  however,  as  the  new  quarterly  system  was 
soon  to  be  inaugurated  at  Rush.  July  5  I  was  back  in  Chicago,  ready 
for  study  once  more.  From  that  time  till  October  I  put  in  the  hours  at 
study,  and  then,  by  way  of  vacation,  went  down  to  Springfield,  Ohio, 
and  coached  the  Wittenberg  College  football  team  for  a  month.  Here  I 
learned  that  athletic  managers  do  not  do  all  they  promise  to  do,  even 
in  writing,  nor  can  you  hold  any  one  liable  on  a  faculty  advisory  com- 
mittee,  all   of  which   was   valuable   experience. 

In  November  I  returned  to  study,  and  have  been  here  since.  Noth- 
ing especial  has  happened  to  me  here,  but  something  will  happen  along 
about  June  20  of  this  year,  which  you  will  have  to  consult  other  annals 
than  this  to  learn.  My  last  exam,  was  passed  to-day.  I  shall  soon  be  in 
the  active  practice  of  medicine.  I  shall  endeavor  to  attend  the  Re- 
union of  '97  next  June,  if  possible.  So~,  if  any  of  the  boys  are  sick  at 
the  "round  up,"  they  will  know  whom  to  consult  that  they  may  be 
safely  and  quickly,  and  easily  transported  acros  the  River  Styx.     Tell 


241 


them  I'll  promise  to  leave  my  pills  at  home  if  they  will  let  me  join  them 
in  the  good  old  times  when  we  beat  Yale. 

Your  friend  and  classmate, 
Woody. 
Chicago,  III.,  Feb.  20,  1901. 

HERBERT  ROLAND  WOODWARD. 

Dear  Fellows: — My  life  since  leaving  college  has  been  quite  an  ordi- 
nary one  and  I  haven't  passed  through  any  exciting  events. 

The  summer  following  our  commencement,  I  spent  in  Colorado — most 
of  the  time  in  Estes  Park,  where  I  did  nothing  but  enjoy  myself.  Re- 
turning from  there  late  in  August,  I  started  as  assistant  engineer  on  the 
P.  D.  &  E.  Railway,  with  headquarters  at  Mattoon,  111.  Most  of  my 
time  for  the  next  three  years  was  spent  in  pumping  hand-cars  and 
taking  long  walks  over  ties  and  loose,  gravel-ballasted  track,  carrying 
chains,  levels  and  transits.  One  Christmas  I  spent  in  New  York  and 
saw  some  few  of  '97's  glorious  class. 

My  next  trip  was  to  our  Triennial,  where  I  helped  swell  the  number 
and  make  it  the  greatest  event  of  its  kind  that  Old  Nassau  has  ever 
seen. 

July  I,  1900,  I  resigned  my  position  on  the  railroad,  and  went  to 
Joplin,  Mo.,  to  look  into  the  zinc  and  lead  fields  for  a  company.  Two 
weeks  I  spent  in  riding  horseback  through  the  mountain  of  Arkansas, 
being  sometimes  as  much  as  ninety  miles  from  a  railroad.  I  stayed  in 
Joplin  and  vicinity  until  September  i,  and  then  returned  to  civilization 
with  my  head  full  of  lead  and  zinc  and  all  sorts  of  exaggerated  ideas 
of  their  values.  The  first  three  weeks  in  September  I  spent  in  Canada, 
trying  to  regain  some  of  the  flesh  I  had  lost  in  the  Southwest.  Being 
very  successful  in  this,  I  came  back  to  my  home  in  Peoria,  where  I  ex- 
pect to  remain  until  spring,  and  then  start  in  mining  in  Joplin. 

Here's  to  '97, 

H.  R.  Woodward. 

Peoria,  III.,  Jan.  3,   1901. 

ALLAN  STEWART  WRENN. 

My  Dear  Pop: — There  is  a  devil  of  a  distinction  between  veracity 
and  a  class  letter,  recognizing  which  I  dare  to  respectfully  submit  the 
following   lie : 

Scarcely  had  we  recovered  our  sobriety,  after  the  week  of  laughter  oc- 
casioned by  the  delivery  of  the  Latin  Salutatory,  when  your  present 
scribe  found  himself  plunged  into  the  very  midst  of  his  illustrious 
career. 

It  is  a  "doocidly"  impressive  thing  to  awake  some  morning  about  9 :30, 
rub  your  eyes  and  find  yourself  famous  before  you  have  had  time  to 
put  on  your  noble  breeches.    Therefore,  imagine  with  what  grandeur  I,  a 

leading    citizen    of ,    executed    a    profound   bow    to    myself    in    the 

glass,  upon  that  eventful  morning — for  had  I  not  just  read  in  the  local 
"Bladder"    (sandwiched  between  an  ad.  of  Perkin's  Pills  and  one  of 

242 


Rough  on  Rats)  the  most  important  news  that  /  had  arrived  and  how  / 
would  do  all  kinds  of  things  to  a  certain  great  industry  in  said  town — 
all  of  which  may  have  come  to  pass  or  may  not,  for  all  any  one,  includ- 
ing the  leading  citizen,  ever  knew  to  the  contrary.  Anyway,  after  oper- 
ating upon  the  said  industry  for  the  space  of  one  year,  having  gracefully 
retired,  I  found  myself  once  again  in  N.  Y.,  somewhat  limited  as  to 
rocks,  but  full  of  many  ideas  as  to  the  relative  importance  of  things — 
including  myself. 

Chapter  II.  begins  with  a  problem.  Q.  Define  a  "young  attorney." 
Ans.  A  "young  attorney"  is  a  technical  term  signifying  what  is  left  after 
the  supply  has  exceeded  the  demand.  Also  the  term  is  definable  as  "A 
horrible  example  in  Bankruptcy." 

The  way  to  become  one  of  these  things  is  to  get  a  certificate  of  good 
moral  character,  pay  somebody  else  $200  or  so,  and  then  work  like 
Billy-be-dee'd  for  two  years,  if  your  moral  character  is  good — for  three 
if  it  isn't.  Then  you  pay  fifteen  bones  to  a  body  of  men  especially  pro- 
vided by  a  thoughtful  government  to  receive  the  same,  and  stand  in 
awe  of  said  body  for  a  week  or  so  (lest  they  make  a  mistake  and  give 
you  some  change).  At  the  end  of  that  time  you  will  be  informed  by 
the  head  devil  of  something  or  other  up  the  state,  that  upon  a  certain 
hot  day  in  June  you  may  approach  the  Appellate  Division  (using  your 
heart  as  chewing  gum  to  quiet  your  nerves)  go  down  cellar  and  sweat 
for  eight  hours.  On  that  day  it  all  comes  to  pass  as  above  stated.  Then, 
for  three  weeks,  it  is  your  duty  to  be  very  confident  that  you  flunked,  at 
the  end  of  which  period  you  again  appear  at  the  Appellate  Division  and 
take  oath — ordinary  oaths  being  ineffective — after  vvhich  you  are  a 
"young  attorney,"  but  can't  say  say  you  feel  any  worse. 

But  why  is  a  "young  attorney"  ?  That  is  a  more  difficult  question. 
The  Appellate  Division,  which  made  him,  doesn't  know,  because  they 
are  only  concerned  with  legal  matters ;  the  fellow  doesn't  know,  him- 
self, because,  if  he  did,  he  wouldn't  be  one;  and  the  Lord  doesn't  know 
because  the  attorney  belongs  to  the  other  side.  The  best  answer  I  have 
been  able  to  find  is  that  the  "young  attorney"  is  for  the  purpose  of  being 
joked  about,  and  doing  legal  chores  at  ( —  $3)  per  week,  including  ex- 
penses, which  he  pays.  Maybe  some  day  he'll  be  on  the  bench,  maybe 
he'll  go  bust,  or  maybe  anything — mostly  maybe.  So — there  you  have 
it.  Now  go  out  and  have  a  beer  on  me  at  your  expense,  and  see  how 
you  would  like  to  be  a  barrister  de  bonis  non.  When  I  have  a  real  live 
case  with  hair  on  it  and  teeth  and  claws  and  other  proofs  of  its  mate- 
riality, I'll  set  you  up — after  I  have  recovered  from  the  fit  which  I  ex- 
pect to  throw  upon  the  happenings  of  that  event.     Interim,  I  remain. 

Yours  truly, 

A.  S.  Wrenn. 

Cranford,  N.  J.,  April  17,  '01. 

SAMUEL  STEWART  YANTIS. 

Dear  Keener: — From  my  long  continued  silence  in  this  matter,  you 
doubtless  understand  that  I  feel  myself  quite  incapable  of  success  in  the 

243 


capacity  in  which  I  am  now  acting.  I  can  assure  you  that  this  apparent 
indifference  has  been  wholly  a  matter  of  my  thinking  that  anything  that 
I  may  have  done,  little  concerns  the  members  as  a  whole,  of  the  class ; 
and  also  is  due  to  my  conscious  inability  to  interest  those  who  read  my 
poorly  written  letter. 

Since  leaving  Princeton  in  the  summer  of  1897,  I  have  been  engaged 
in  trying  to  make  a  lawyer  out  of  myself.  This  has  consisted  of  two 
years  spent  in  the  Harvard  Law  School  at  Cambridge.  If  the  experi- 
ences, results  and  impressions  of  those  two  years  could  be  vended,  to 
me  the  price  would  have  to  be  very  high,  if  indeed  they  have  a  market- 
able value.  We  at  Princeton  had  many  smiles  and  some  contempt  for 
the  boys  at  Cambridge,  but  I  learned  that  we  could  profit  much  by  zvork- 
ing  as  they  work.  But  perhaps  I  make  an  unfair  comparison,  since  I 
was  associated  with  college  boys  at  Princeton,  and  professional  men  at 
Cambridge.  At  any  rate,  my  two  years  there  were  were  taken  up  in 
hard  work  in  the  law  school,  and  were  in  every  way  very  satisfactory. 
Certainly  one  is  not  a  complete  lawyer  when  he  leaves  any  law  school ; 
he  has  to  go  against  the  hard  reality  of  the  business  world,  but  I  never 
dreamed  that  one  could  be  put  so  far  along  the  road  in  two  years  at  any 
law  school. 

Since  leaving  school  I  have  been  practicing  my  profession  in  the 
"Queen  city  of  the  Blue  Grass  country,"  my  native  state,  Kentucky. 
Lexington  is  an  historic  city,  but  not  therefore  a  dead  place.  It  is,  on  the 
contrary,  a  lively  city,  a  good  place  for  business  and  professional  men, 
and  (I  think)  the  best  place  on  earth  to  live.  There  are,  I  realize, 
very  few  to  agree  with  me  on  the  last  statement.  My  success  since 
coming  here  has  not  been  phenomenal,  but  it  has  been  fair.  I  have  been 
associated  with  an  eminently  successful  and  able  firm,  that  of  Breck- 
cnridge  &  Shelby,  to  which  I  owe  much.  Mr.  J.  W.  Shelby  is  of  the 
class  of  1870.  To  those  who  care  to  read  and  feel  a  concern,  I  am  glad 
to  say  that  the  "Fates"  have  been  reasonably  kind  to  me,  and  I  have 
promise  of  a  fairly  successful  career. 

I  just  had  a  talk  with  C.  H.  Martin,  '99,  who  lives  close  to  Lexington. 
and  who  has  just  returned  from  the  Princeton  Seminary,  so  old  mem- 
ories are  fresh  in  my  mind. 

Kirkwood,  '97,  has  been  called  to  preach  at  the  Second  Presbyterian 
Church  in  our  city.    We  welcome  him  among  us. 

Good  fortune  and  good  cheer  to  all  Princeton  men  of  whatever  class ! 
Especial  blessings  be  upon  the  class  of  '97. 
I  have  the  honor  to  be  your  classmate  and  friend, 

S.  S.  Yantis, 
Lexington,  Ky.,  May  4,  '01. 

WALTER  SCOTT  YEATTS. 

Dear  "Pop": — Having  passed  the  stage  of  "17th  Request"  and  "This 
is  a  final  appeal  to  your  class  loyalty,"  I  feel  that  the  time  has  come  to 
prove  to  3'ou  that  all  you  said  has  not  fallen  up  barren  ground. 

There  is  absolutely  nothing  of  interest  to  say  about  myself,  my  life, 

244 


so  far,  being  like  thousands  of  others — lots  of  work,  a  little  play,  and 
some  good  friends,  with  whom  to  talk  over  our  troubles.  I  have  the 
good  fortune,  however,  of  living  in  the  country,  with  plenty  of  outdoor 
life,  walking,  riding,  cricket,  tennis,  and  the  ancient  and  honorable  golf, 
all  contributing  to  a  healthy  state  of  mind  and  body. 

As  you  know  from  your  records,  I  went  with  "The  ^Etna  Insurance 
Co.,"  the  fall  after  our  graduation,  and  remained  with  that  company  un- 
til the  following  July,  when  I  entered  the  Traffic  Department  of  the 
Penna.  R.  R.  I  am  still  with  the  railroad,  and  am  fortunate  enough  to 
be  in  love  with  my  work,  which  seems  to  grow  more  fascinating  as  the 
knowledge  of  it  increases. 

The  '97  men  of  Phila.  have  been  very  much  scattered  during  the 
last  year,  and  the  "crowd"  is  almost  broken  up.  Palmer  in  Wilmington, 
Ingham  at  York,  De  Coursey  in  the  Hospital,  and  Burt  Miller — well,  no 
one  ever  knows  where  he  is.  Jimmie  Clark,  Baldy  Wilson,  Davis  and 
"Gillie,"  I  see  on  the  street  occasionally,  but  few  of  us  ever  "get  to- 
gether." Nevertheless,  "Pop,"  the  spirit  is  all  right,  although  we  do  not 
answer  your  appeals  for  letters.  The  whole  trouble  is,  "The  cares  of 
life  have  overtaken  us.'  Yours  truly, 

Walter  S.  Yeatts. 

St.  Davids,  Pa.,  May  5,  '01. 


24s 


SUMMARY. 

Manufacturing  and  Connucrcial  (56). — Abbott,  Alexander,  E.  S.,  Ar- 
mitage,  Baird,  Balken,  Barkley,  Beattie,  Bissell,  Bodman,  Bogue,  Bowne, 
Brokaw,  Church,  Clarke,  Clement,  Cox,  E.,  Curtis,  G.  S.,  Crozer,  De 
Montalvo,  Derr,  R.,  Evans,  F.,  Fairbanks,  Forbes,  Furbay,  Gill,  Green, 
Hamburger,  Hamilton,  Harrold,  Harvey,  Holmes,  Jamison,  H.  B.,  Jeffer- 
son, Kent,  E.  G.,  Kent,  R.  B.,  Leggett,  Leonard,  H.  T.,  Mitchell, 
Moore,  E.,  Macleay,  Pardee,  Pitcairn,  Quinlan,  Riggs,  Robb,  W.  M., 
Rodgers,  Silvey,  Small,  Taylor,  S.  W.,  Terry,  Townley,  Trainer,  War- 
ner, Weber,  Weiss,   Wheeler. 

Financial  (Including  Banking,  Brokerage  and  Insurance)  (34). — 
Babcock,  Bonnell,  Bradley,  J.,  Bradley,  N.,  Cox,  R.  G.,  Curtis,  F.  G., 
Derr,  C.  B.  Dickinson,  Geer,  Hagemeyer,  Harris,  W.  S.,  Hopper, 
Hubbard,  Johnson,  Kehler,  Kennedy,  Lowe,  Masson,  Mills,  Moore,  R., 
McClure,  Olcott,  Parker,  Patterson,  G.  L.,  Pilling,  Reynolds,  T.  F., 
Rhodes,  Roe,  Rusling,  Speer,  Starin,  Sturges,  Waterhouse,  G.,  Wil- 
liams, W.   C. 

Railroads  (5).— Robb,  H.  C,  Studdiford,  Van  Cleaf,  Wilson,  A.  M., 
Yeatts. 

Law  (52). — Angleman,  Bedford,  Boice,  Brown,  Buckingham,  Davis, 
W.  P.,  Davis,  E.  P.,  Dunlap,  Dwight,  Frame,  Gallagher,  Gilmore, 
Graham,  H.  J.,  Graham,  J.  W.,  Graver,  Gregory,  Gulick,  Hill,  W.  C, 
Hollister,  Jayne,  Jessup,  W.  P.,  Kelly,  Mattison,  Moore,  D.  M.,  Moore, 
J.  T.,  Mravlag,  McCartney,  McNish,  Neill,  Poe,  Ramsey,  Reeves,  Rey- 
nolds, W.  A.,  Riegel,  Shaw,  Shortz,  Smitham,  Smyser,  Smyth,  Stanton, 
Stewart,  Stockwell,  Taylor,  C.  L,  Thompson,  B.  H.,  Thompson,  S.  H., 
Upshur,  Williams,  E.,  Williams,  J.  A.,  Wilson,  W.  W.,  Wolcott, 
Wrenn,  Yantis. 

Medicine  (28). — Alexander,  A.  J.  A.,  Altman,  Andrus,  Downing, 
Drake,  Elliott,  J.  D.,  Erdman,  Frazer,  Harkness,  Haussling,  Hitzrot, 
Keese,  Keller,  King,  Lane,  Mittendorf,  Macdonald,  McGibbon,  Mc- 
Graw,  Post,  Roys,  Shearer,  Spencer,  Thompson,  E.  C,  Waldo,  Wallace 
(vet.),  Williams,  P.  H.,  Wood. 

Ministry  (23). — Brenneman,  Cooley,  Cowan,  F.  B.,  Cowan,  J.  H., 
Guss,  Hallett,  Harris,  H.  S.,  Hoole,  Jessup,  F.  N.,  Kirkwood,  Liggett, 
Miller,  J.  W.,  Minker,  McAlpin,  McCague,  Newton,  Peck,  Richards, 
Robinson,  Schoonmaker,  Sterling,  Stopp,  Ward. 


Teaching  (21). — Beam,  H.  M.,  Colwell,  Comin,  Evans,  W.  F.,  Hall, 
Keener,  Leonard,  A.  W.,  Magie,  Miller,  B.  R.,  Miller,  L.  H.,  Murray, 
McLaughlin,  Norris,  Padget,  Patterson,  A.  M.,  Scott,  Stahl,  Teeter, 
Tyler,  Van  Nest,  Wilson,  J.   F. 

246 


Civil  Engineering  (12). — Allison,  Bailey,  Campbell,  Craig,  De  Gray, 
Ely,  Harris,  H.  A.,  Hutchinson,  Ingham,  Leigh,  Lewis,  Woodward. 

Electrical  Engineering   (2). — Beam,  V.   S.,  Reilly. 

Mining   (2). — Beatty,  Sawyer. 

Journalism  (7). — Andersson,  Baldwin,  Dear,  Gillespie,  Hill,  G.  T., 
Nevin,  Wilkins. 

United  States  Government  (4). — Cassels  (Army),  Emmons  (War 
Dept),  Hurst  (Army),  Turney  (P.  O.  Dept.). 

Drafting    (2). — Knapp,   Leipold. 

Farming  and  Stock  Raising  (5). — Clay,  Jamison,  A.  VV.,  Leland, 
Rosengarten,  Taggart. 

Studying  (6). — Elliott,  E.  G.  (Heidelberg),  Garrett  (Johns  Hop- 
kins), Henry  (Princeton),  Howe  (Halle),  Kershow  (Univ.  of  Pa.), 
Nichols   (Paris). 

Publishing   (2). — Dunn,   Sankey. 

Librarian   (2). — George,  Torrence. 

Politics   (2). — Clark,  Havens. 

Chemistry    (2). — Axson,   Day. 

Inventor    ( i ) . — Kyle. 

Illustrator  (i). — Palmer. 

Interpreter    (i).— Katibah. 

General  Secretary  of  Y.  M.  C.  A.  (i). — Evans,  T.  S. 

Unknown   (4). — Bliss,  Seymour,  C.  M.,  Smith,  J.   M.,  Vorhis. 

Traveling  (5). — Browne,  De  Coursey,  Perkins,  Russell,  Seymour, 
W.  A. 

Mission  Work   (i). — Pierson. 

'Athletic  Coach   (i). — Smith,  F.  L. 


247 


GEOGRAPHICAL  DISTRIBUTION. 


An  asterisk    (*)    following   a   name   indicates  present   residence   as 
distinguished  from  permanent  or  home  address. 


ARIZONA. 

MORENCI. 

Evans,  F.* 

COLORADO. 

Denver. 

Beatty, 

Graham,  J.  W., 

Thompson,  S.  H. 
Salida. 

Keller.* 

DELAWARE. 
Dover. 
Wolcott. 

MiLFORD. 

Hallett. 
Wilmington. 
Norris, 
Palmer.* 

dist.  of  col. 

Washington. 
Pilling, 
Wilkins. 

FLORIDA. 

Jacksonville. 
Hubbard. 

ILLINOIS. 
Chicago. 

Brown,* 

Day,* 

Guss,* 

Jefferson,* 

Moore,  D.  M.,* 

McGibbon, 

McGraw,* 

Richards,* 

Smyser,* 

Wood. 
Morgan  Park. 

Leonard,  A.  W. 
Peoria. 

Jamison,   H.   B., 

Woodward. 

ROCKFORD. 

Forbes. 

Springfield. 

Leland. 

INDIANA. 
Anderson. 
Fairbanks. 


Indianapolis. 
Boice. 

IOWA. 

Sioux  City. 
Kent,  R.  B. 

KENTUCKY. 
Danville. 

Patterson,  A.  M.* 
Lexington. 

Yantis. 
Paris. 

Clay. 

LOUISIANA. 

Luling. 
Barkley. 

MARYLAND. 

Baltimore. 

Garrett, 

Hitzrot,* 

Hopper, 

Poe, 

Riggs,* 

Upshur. 
Glenville. 

Sterling.* 
Hagerstown. 

Neill. 

MASSACHUSETTS 
Boston. 

Bodman.* 
Hudson. 

Harrold.* 

MICHIGAN. 
Detroit. 

Bowne. 
Grand  Rapids. 

Bonnell. 

MINNESOTA. 

ASHBY. 

Liggett. 
Minneapolis. 

Harris,  W.  S. 
St.  Paul. 

Hall.* 

MISSOURL 
Kansas  City. 
Andersson, 


Robb,  W.  M.,* 
Townley. 
St.  Louis. 
Green, 
Lane,* 
Spencer, 
Warner. 

NEBRASKA. 
Ashland. 
Jamison,   A.   W.' 

NEW  JERSEY. 
Bordentown. 
Hutchinson. 
Camden. 
Derr,  R.,* 

Mitchell,* 

Malcolm, 

Macdonald, 

Stockwell, 
Cranford. 

Wrenn. 
Freehold. 

Holmes. 
Jersey  City. 

Dear, 

Teeter.* 
Lawrenceville. 

Keener,* 

Stahl, 

Tyler.* 
Little  Falls. 

Beattie. 
Long  Branch. 

Evans,  W.  F. ,♦ 

Van  Cleaf. 
Newark. 

Angleman,* 

Gallagher, 

Reeves, 

Wheeler. 
Orange. 

Kent,  E.  G.* 
Othello. 

Brenneman.* 
Paterson. 

Ryle. 
Pennington.,^ 

Bissell. 
Plainfield. 

Schoonmaker. 
Princeton. 

Colwell,* 

George, 


248 


Henry, 

Leggett, 

Magie, 

Newton, 

Reilly,* 

Van  Nest. 
Toms  River. 

Havens. 
Trenton. 

Dickinson, 

Parker, 

Ward. 
East  Orange. 

Armitage, 

West  Orange. 
Kennedy.* 
Baldwin. 

NEW  YORK. 
Auburn. 

Jessup,  F.  N.* 
Batavia. 

Wilson,  A.  M.* 
Brooklyn. 

Comin, 

Jessup,  W.  P.,* 

McCague,* 

Pierson. 
DoBBS  Ferry. 

Bradley,  J., 

Bradley,  N. 
Elmira. 

Knapp. 
Flushing. 

Beam,  H.  M.,* 

Beam,  V.  S.,* 

Seymour,  W.  A. 
Hulburton. 

Waldo. 
Morrisville. 

Cowan,  F.  B.* 
New  Rochelle. 

Dunlap. 
Newark  Valley. 

Bliss. 

New  York  City. 
Alexander,  A.,* 
Babcock, 
Bogue, 
Brokaw, 
Buckingham, 
Curtis,  F.   G., 
Curtis,  G.  S., 
Drake, 
Dunn,* 
Dwight, 
Ely, 

Erdman,* 
Frazer,* 
Gillespie,* 


Gregory,* 

Gulick,* 

Hagemeyer,* 

Harris,  H.  S., 

Haussling,* 

Hill,  G.  T., 

Hollister,* 

Johnson,* 

Leonard,  H.  T., 

Lewis, 

Lowe,* 

Masson, 

Mattison,* 

Mills, 

Mravlag,* 

McAIpin,* 

McNish,* 

Olcott, 

Pardee,* 

Post,* 

Reynolds,  T.  F.,* 

Robb,  H.  C* 

Roe, 

Roys,* 

Sankey, 

Sawyer,* 

Seymour,  C.  M., 

Shaw,* 

Shearer, 

Silvey,* 

Smith,  F.  L., 

Smith,  J.   M., 
Stewart, 
Studdiford,* 
Sturges, 
Taylor,  C.  I., 
Thompson,  E.  C.,* 
Torrence,* 
Vorhis, 
Wallace, 
Weber, 
Weiss, 

Williams,  E.,* 
Willams,  J.  A., 
Williams,  P.  H. 
Oyster  Bay. 

Russell. 
Salamanca. 

Terry. 
Saratoga  Springs. 

Clement. 
Schenectady. 

Miller,  J.  W.* 
South  Wales. 

Hoole.* 
Stony  Point. 

Allison. 

Suffern. 

Leigh.* 

Syracuse. 

Keese. 


Yonkers. 
Davis,  E.  P., 
Kirkwood. 

N.  CAROLINA. 

PiNEBLUFF. 

Campbell. 

Waynesville. 

Quinlan.* 

OHIO. 
Bedford. 
Craig.* 

Cincinnati. 

Hill,  W.  C* 
Cleveland. 

Kelly,* 

Perkins. 
Dayton. 

Clark. 
Pomeroy. 

Furbay.* 
Toledo. 

Ramsey, 

Turney. 
Zanesville. 

Abbott. 

OKLAHOMA. 
Oklahoma  City. 
Reigel. 

OREGON. 
Eckley. 

Macleay.* 
Portland. 

Wilson,  J.  F. 

PENNSYLVANIA. 
Ardmore. 

Clarke,* 

Rhodes. 
Canonsburg. 

Leipold.* 
Chambersburg. 

Gilmore. 
Churchtown. 

Minker.* 
Columbia. 

Kehler. 
Harrisburg. 

Cox,  E.  W., 

Cox,  R.  G. 
Haverford. 

Baird. 
Homestead. 

Trainer.* 
Mauch  Chunk. 

Smitham.* 
Mercersburg. 

McLaughlin.* 


249 


Mt.  Airy. 

Stopp.* 
New  Castle. 

Patterson,  G.  L. 
Parkesburg, 

Taggart. 
Philadelphia. 

Altman,* 

Andrus,* 

Browne, 

Crozer,* 

Davis,  W.  P.,* 

De  Coursey, 

De  Gray,* 

Elliott,  J.  D.,* 

Evans,  T.,* 

Gill, 

Kershaw, 

Miller,  B.  R., 

Moore,  E., 

Peck,* 

Rodgers, 

Rosengarten, 

Rusling,* 

Starin,* 

Wilson,  W.  W.,* 

Yeatts.* 
Pittsburg. 

Balken, 

Church,* 

Geer,* 

Graham,  H.  J.,* 

Graver, 

Hamburger,* 

King,* 

Moore,  J.  T.,* 

Moore,  R.,* 

Murray,* 

McClure, 

Nevin, 

Pitcairn, 

Robinson, 

Speer, 

Stanton, 

Thompson,  B.  H. 

PiTTSTON. 

Cowan,  J.  H. 


Plymouth. 
Scott* 

POTTSVILLE. 

Harkness.* 
Reading. 

Frame. 
Scranton". 

Downing, 

Williams,  W.  C. 
Towanda. 

Padget. 
Wilkes-Barre. 

Bedford, 

Derr,  C.  B., 

Jayne,* 

McCartney, 

Reynolds,  W.  A.,* 

Shortz, 
Wissahickon. 

Bailey.* 
York. 

Ingham,* 

Small. 

S.   CAROLINA. 
Charleston. 
Smyth. 

TENNESSEE. 

Mannie. 
Axson.* 

TEXAS. 
Houston. 

Taylor,    S.    W. 

VIRGINIA. 

Fort  Monroe. 

Cassels.* 
Hampton. 

Cooley.* 
Newport  News. 

Alexander,  E.   S. 

WEST  VIRGINIA. 
Elkins. 
Hamilton. 


WISCONSIN. 
Racine. 
Harvey.* 

AFRICA. 
Wadi  Halfa  (Sou- 
dan). 
Katibah.* 

CUBA. 
Havana. 
De  Montalvo,* 
Emmons.* 

FRANCE. 
Paris. 
Mittendorf,* 
Nichols       (Univ. 
of    Paris).* 

GERMANY. 
Halle. 

Howe.* 
Heidelberg. 
Elliott,       E.       G. 
(Univ.       of 
Heidelberg).* 

HAWAIIAN  ISLS. 
Honolulu. 
Waterhouse,  G. 

PHILIPPINE  ISLS. 

Manila. 
Hurst* 

PORTO  RICO. 

J  UNCOS. 

Harris,  H.  A.* 

SYRIA. 
Beyrout. 
Miller,  L.  H.* 


250 


IN  MEMORIAM. 

Oliver  Harriman  Lowv, 

Died  February  6,  1896. 

William  Headley  Smith, 

Died  October  2,  1896. 

Harry  Von  Krug, 

Died  December  16,  1896. 

James  Hanna  Kurtz, 

Died  November  5,  1898. 

Phillips  Jones, 

Died  November  21,   1899. 

Henry  Waterhouse,  Jr., 

Died  February  22,  1900. 

John  Simmons  Collette, 

Died  June  29,  1900. 


251 


THE  GUARDIAN  ANGEL. 


The  sun  was  down,  the  night  was  cold 

And  dreary  was  the  way, 
But  my  good  angel  walked  with  me, 
Oh!  my  good  angel  talked  with  me 

Until  the  break  of  day. 


My  friend  and  I  once  put  to  sea — 

My  friend  came  back  no  more 
But  my  good  angel  sighed  for  me, 
Oh !  my  good  angel  cried  for  me 
When  I  put  in  to  shore. 


I  thought  I  found  a  sorrow  new — 

A  grief  for  me  alone, 
But  my  good  angel  chaffed  at  me, 
Oh !  my  good  angel  laughed  at  me 

And  all  my  grief  was  gone. 


But  once  there  was  a  foolish  doubt, 

I  know  not  how,  came  hither 
And  my  good  angel  drew  away, 
Oh !  my  good  angel  flew  away 

Would  that  I  knew  whither. 

Wilfred  M.  Post. 


252 


FLORENCE   BELL  LIGGETT 
}.   DIANTHA   BELLE    HARVEY 
S. 


EDWARD   AKIN   LELAND 


1.  JOHN   ALEXANDER    FORBES 
4.   PERCY   BERTINE   COWAN 

6.  SALMON  BOSTWICK   ROWLEY   KENNEDY 


MARRIAGES. 

Allison — to  Edith  Elizabeth  Snedeker,  September  12,  1900,  at  Haver- 
straw,  N.  Y. 

Andersson — to  Dorothy  Winifred  Smart,  July  19,  1900,  at  Chicago, 
111. 

Angleman — to  Emma  H.  Carpenter,  June  11,  1899,  at  Peekskill,  N.  Y. 

AxsoN — to  Florence  Choate  Leach,  April  9,  1901,  at  Cambridge, 
Mass. 

Barkley — to  Isabella  Hardie,  March  8,  1900,  at  New  Orleans,  La. 

Beatty — to  Grace  Madeleine  Rickard,  April  18,  1900,  at  Denver,  Col. 

Bliss — to  May  Belcher,  March  11,   1896,  at  Newark  Valley,  N.  Y. 

Bogue — to  Lilian  Bell,  May  9,  1900,  at  Chicago,  111. 

Brenneman — to  Bessie  Powell  Brown,  June  20,  1900,  at  Prince- 
ton, N.  J. 

Clark — to  Margaret  Marion  Sutherland,  October  12,  1897,  at 
Spokane,  Wash. 

Clarke — to  Esther  Pratt  Bartlett,  April  26,  1899,  at  Washington, 
D.  C. 

Collette — to  Mary  Parker,  February  22,  1899,  at  Denver,  Col. 

Cowan  (F.  B.) — to  Alice  Marie  Mayham,  September  14,  1898,  at 
Hobart,  N.  Y. 

Cox  (R-  G.) — to  Thamzine  Marshall  Letford,  November  28,  1900, 
at  Harrisburg,  Pa. 

Curtis  (F.  G.) — to  Martha  Herrick,  December  28,  1898,  at  Milton, 
Mass. 

Curtis  (G.  S.) — to  Lila  C.  Morse,  April  22,  1897,  at  Brooklyn,  N.  Y. 

Dickinson — to  Roxalene  Orne  Howell,  October  25,  1899,  at  Phila- 
delphia, Pa. 

DwiGHT — to  Gertrude  Annie  Grace,  September  27,  1899,  at  James- 
town, N.  Y. 

Emmons — to  Clara  Gerard  y  De  Cluet,  December  22,  1899,  at  Havana. 
Cuba. 

Evans  (T.  S.) — to  Edith  Muir  Pierson,  July  12,  1900,  at  East  North- 
field,  Mass. 

Fairbanks — to  Franceska  Groverman  Strong,  April  11,  1901,  at  Terra 
Haute,  Ind. 

Forbes — to  Elizabeth  Barnes,  April  12,  1899,  at  Rockford,  111. 
Gallagher — to  Emma  Leggett,  October  31,  1900,  at  New  York  City. 
N.  Y. 

George — to  Mary  Leslie  Guion,  August  9,  1900,  at  Stapleton,  New 
York  City. 

Green — to  Teedy  Sloan,  June  6,  1898,  at  Buffalo,  N.  Y. 

253 


Guss — to  Mabel  Collison,  April  i8,  1901,  at  Rantoul,  111. 

Harris  (W.  S.) — to  Jeannette  Jenkins  Brewer,  December  6,  1899, 
at  Minneapolis,  Minn. 

Harvey — to  Mary  Dwight,  December  31,  1896,  at  Lake  Forest,  111. 

Havens — to    Florence    Zenobia    Wallace,   November     11,     1897,   at 

Toms   River,   N.   J. 
Hopper— to  Jessie  Miller,  May  18,  1898,  at  Indianapolis,  Ind. 
Jefferson — to    Ellen    Louise    Dwight    Coburn,    March   8,    1899,    at 

St.   Paul,  Minn. 

Keese — to  Lena  Viola  Lovell,  December  31,  1896,  at  Syracuse,  N.  Y. 
Kennedy — to   Sarah   Elizabeth   Cramer,   August  31,   1899,  at  New 
Hampton,  N.  J. 

Knapp— to  Julia  Anna  Prime,  April   18,  1900,  at  Yonkers,  N.  Y. 

Leland— to  Gertrude  McRoberts  Akin,  May  17,  1899,  at  Springfield, 
111. 

Liggett — to  Sue  Thomas  Bell,  June  10,  1897,  at  Brandvwine  Manor, 
Pa. 

Mitchell — to  Mary  Spencer  Van  Hart,  October  11,  1899,  at  Cam- 
den, N.  J. 

McGibbon — to  Gertrude  Louise  Crary,  November  28,  1900,  at  La- 
fayette, Ind. 

Norris — to  Elizabeth  Lippincott  Fogg,  December  28,  1899,  at 
Salem,   N.  J. 

Padget — to  Lucy  Maria  Adams,  December  28,  1898,  at  Towanda,  Pa. 
Patterson   (G.  L.) — to  Williamina  K.  Crawford,  January  17,  1899, 
at  New   Castle,   Pa. 

Peck — to  Mary  Maxwell  Meeker,  October  18,  1900,  at  Roselle,  N.  J. 
Reeves — to  Alta  Marie  Collins,  October  4,  1900,  at  Bloomfield,  N.  J. 
RiGGS — to  Laura  Theresa  Lanman,  June  23,  1897,  at  Hartford,  Conn. 
Rodgers — to  Miss  Thompson,  June  8,  1896,  at  New  York  City. 
Sankey — to  Frances  Wann,  October  18,  1899,  at  New  York  City. 
Seymour    (W.  A.) — to  Mary  Menzies,  June  4,   1S98,  at  New   York 

City. 
Starin — to  Laura  Corse  Pitfield,  June  2,  1900,  at  Germantown,  Pa. 
Stewart — to  Frances  Emily  De  Forest,  May  i,  1900,  at  New  York 

City. 
Teeter — to  Emily  Josephine  Pearce,  April  28,  1900,  at  Minsi,  Pa. 
Terry — to  Nellie  Colgrove,  February  27,  1901,  at  Salamanca,  N.  Y. 
Van  Cleaf — to  Ina  C.  Ray,  January  20,  1901,  at  Long  Branch,  N.  J. 
Van  Nest — to  Caroline  Cox  Butler,  June  20,  1900,  at  Wilkes-Barre. 

Pa. 
Waterhouse   (H.) — to  Grace  Graydon  Dickey,  November  21,   1898, 

at  Honolulu,  Hawaiian  Islands. 

254 


7.    EDWARD   SUTHERLAND    CLARK 
9.   RAYMOND   MORSE   CURTIS 

II.    WILLIAM    WALLACE    HAVENS 


S.   ROXALENE   HOWELL   DICKINSON 
10.   GERTRUDE   MINSHALL   HOPPER 
12.   THOMAS   ADAMS   PADGET 


OUR  JEWELS. 

Kenneth  Angleman,  born  May  31,  1900,  at  Rahway,  N.  J. 

John  Hardie  Barkley,  born  January  9,  1901,  at  New  Orleans,  La. 

*Faith  Sutherland  Clark,  born  October  20,  1898,  at  Arlington,  Wash. 

Edward  Sutherland  Clark,  born  November  15,  1900,  at  Dayton,  Ohio. 

Percy  Bertine  Cowan,  born  March  18,  1900,  at  Walton,  N.  Y. 

Raymond  Morse  Curtis,  born  December  11,  1900,  at  Brooklyn,  N.  Y. 

Roxalene  Howell  Dickinson,  born  January  24,  1901. 

John  Alexander  Forbes,  born  February  19,  1900,  at  Rockford,  111. 

Diantha  Belle  Harvey,  born  August  29,  1896,  at  Marietta,  Ohio. 

William  Wallace  Havens,  born  February  7,  1899,  at  Toms  River, 
N.  J. 

Gertrude  Minshall  Hopper,  born  November  8,  1900,  at  Baltimore,  Md. 

Louise  Dwight  Jefferson,  born  December  18,  1899,  at  St.  Paul,  Minn. 

Salmon  Bostwick  Rowley  Kennedy,  born  March  11,  1901,  at  East 
Orange,  N.  J. 

Edward  Akin  Leland,  born  December  3,  1900,  at  Springfield,  111. 

Florence  Bell  Liggett,  born  February  28,  1900,  at  Brandywine  Manor 
Pa. 

Thomas  Adams  Padget,  born  October  29,   1899,  at  Towanda,   Pa. 

Mary  Patterson,  born  February  6,  1901,  at  New  Castle,  Pa. 

Thomas  Dudley  Riggs,  Jr.,  born  April  28,  1898,  at  Hartford,  Conn. 

Edward  Rodgers,  born  March  27,  1897,  at  Philadelphia,  Pa. 

Frances  Hope  Sankey,  born  October  26,  1900,  at  Brooklyn,  N.  Y. 

Frances  Dorothy  Stewart,  born  April   i,   1901,  at  New  York  City. 

*  Deceased. 


255 


TRIENNIAL  REUNION, 
1897 — 1900. 


257 


TRIENNIAL  ODE. 
"THE  MOUNTAINEERS." 

WILFRED    M.    POST. 

Oh,  the  path  that  we  are  taking 

Through  the  mountains  to  the  sea 
Is  the  finest  of  God's  making, 

And  we  tread  it  merrily : 
But,  for  all  the  beauty  in  it, 

It  would  be  a  sorry  way 
If  we  could  not,  for  the  minute, 

Tarry  for  a  little  play. 

Rest  we,  then,  among  this  heather — 

Near  us  the  rock-roses  glide — 
Boylike,  rolling  stones  together 

Down  the  riven  mountain  side; 
While  in  yonder  shining  valley, 

Where  we  roamed  in  sunny  years, 
Youths,  amid  their  romp  and  rally, 

Pause  and  hail  the  mountaineers. 

Who  will  boast  that  we  have  journeyed 

Full  three  years  from  yonder  vale, 
Where  we  challenged,  jousted,  tourneyed. 

Learned  the  sword-craft,  donned  the  mail  ? 
Four  years  battled  with  the  foeman. 

Errant  knights  were  all,  and  peers ; 
Now,  who  is  there  more  than  yeoman? 

Sooth,  we  are  but  mountaineers ! 

Yeomen,  then,  tanned  all  and  tattered, 
Quarterstaff  and  dirk  in  hand; 

Better  staff  begrimed  and  battered 
Than  unsoiled,  sheathed  brand. 

Better  dirk  on  briers  blunted. 
Cutting  path  for  you  and  me. 

Than  the  bravest  warstuff  shunted 
Into  some  fine  armory. 


258 


Rest  and  laugh  with  one  another, 

All  good  yeomen,  brown  and  hale; 
Greetings  to  each  younger  brother, 

Romping  still  within  the  vale. 
Theirs  it  is  to  thrust  and  parry. 

Theirs  the  field  of  cloth  of  gold, 
Who  best  learns  the  sword  to  carry 

Thicks  his  arm  the  staff  to  hold. 

Yeomen,  then,  tried  all  and  trusted, 

Quarterstaff  and  dirk  in  hand. 
Hail  the  name  for  which  we  jousted. 

Hail  the  good  name  of  our  band; 
And,  amid  the  song  and  gladness, 

Oh,  forget  them  not  to-day 
Who,  among  gray  rocks  of  sadness. 

Walked  alone,  another  way. 

Ended  is  the  song  and  story — 

Hand  to  hand,  men,  eye  to  eye ! 
Mountains  round  us,  fierce  and  hoary — 

Through  the  clouds  a  cloudless  sky. 
Pluck  here  each  a  sprig  of  heather. 

Faded  never  may  it  be. 
As  we  toil  along  together 

Through  the  mountains  to  the  sea. 


259 


^. 


Triennial  Reunion  Son^T 

(TctifSj/OLir  C/?oJc<z.) 


W.M.pQsl. 

rr\     ~R.mpo.  di  Ma/*cia 


L.H.Mil!er. 


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s 


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-t 


t2± 


Oh  fhQ  bcthfhai  uyea^efa^'/na  thn^)en70unTa'7f7s1z>ihefS-ecf 


1 — rtr-t 


-^!*- 


P 


J=^^^^=#^^5S^ 


JSI 


^^ 


Jsff)e  finest-  of  Gods  trtohincj/^hd  \A^fi'ead  rhm  @fri  I  lj  : 


a: 


n 


H^^ 


irz:^^==E 


n-^^r 


/ 


1  Butfof  all  fh'S  hsaufu  in    )T,  If  ivoiHld h^  cs     ^^^''Jj    ^^^^'^ 


^sj  J  .l^^^^^a 


ii^  iv'e  could  hoi  forrhnz  trnniif^,  ilirru   fara^l'i'. 


/.  M.  Post 


-A 


r — aizpss: 


J.  H.  Nichols 


Oh  t^  l^^fh  fhfft  we  orei^rn<ffh>:^ih 


.the  mWnfQ^  ix)1he  sea 


^^^ 


m^ 


z-U^:=k=A 


ai 


^^1^ 


Is  fhe  finest  of      Gods  maffin^,  Andi^trecid ifmcn'i'uj  : 


r^ 


-t^3 — *«ir 


^  i       I 


kjm-t; 


~w 


=5 


J^S 


*^^3fa^ 


'p^^r^^-H^ 


r  'alP'fhe  maUiu  in       if^      If  ivould  be  a  ^drru  n^au 


W- 


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■p  ,  ^n 


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IBigl-   i — h??" 


^H — ^ 


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t±^zis 


?)^  n'<?  could  nd-foh-f  he  mi  nufej  'Tarru  for  a  J'iitj&  p[olJ- 


4i 


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i 


4^ 


TRIENNIAL  REUNION,  JUNE  9-13,  1900. 

That  was  truly  a  Reunion  long  to  be  remembered,  not  alone  by  those 
who  participated  in  it  or  by  the  class  at  large,  but  by  the  great  body 
of  graduates  who  partook  of  our  hospitality.  Let  it  be  told  unto  the 
children  unto  the  third  and  fourth  generations  how  '97  celebrated 
her  Triennial  Reunion!  How  nothing  like  it  had  ever  been  seen 
before  at  a  Triennial !  How  it  was  more  like  a  Quinquennial  or 
Decennial  than  a  Triennial !  How  we  surpassed  all  records  in  the 
matter  of  attendence !  How  in  the  continuous  performance  under 
our  tent  we  were  unrivaled !  Long  weeks,  yes,  months,  in  advance  the 
"old  man"  had  begun  to  be  heard  from.  We  were  told  that  the  Re- 
union was  coming  and  that  we  must  prepare  ourselves  and  our  busi- 
ness as  for  a  journey  into  a  far  country,  so  that  nothing  could  keep 
us  away.  Then  came  later  information  which  was  an  assurance  of 
a  glorious  time  if  we  could  only  be  there  to  enjoy  it:  "The  house  at 
No.  15  University  place  has  been  secured  as  headquarters,  back  yard 
included,  from  June  9th  to  13th ;  a  tent  will  be  on  hand  to  hide  from 
prying  eyes  the  secrets  of  our  band,  which  is  to  come  down  from 
New  Brunswick  on  Saturday  morning  and  lead  us  on  to  victory. 
The  class  supper  will  be  held  in  Odd  Fellows'  Hall  on  the  night  of 
the  9th,  as  soon  after  the  game  as  possible.  Every  kind  of  a  stunt 
will  be  in  progress  during  the  five  days  of  the  Reunion.  Come  one, 
come  all!  and  rejoice  the  'Old  Man's'  heart." 

It  was  impossible  to  resist  such  a  summons,  and  we  came — in 
Pullmans,  in  day  coaches,  in  freight  cars,  on  the  bunkers,  walking — 
any  old  way  to  get  there,  till  our  sum  total  reached  the  remarkable 
number  of  142.  We  didn't  wait  for  the  9th,  but  the  class  began  to 
gather  two  days  earlier,  and  by  Friday  the  tent  was  up,  and  we  had 
taken  possession  of  the  house. 

By  Saturday  noon  the  place  was  doing  a  thriving  busness — as 
busy  as  a  beehive  and  as  happy  as  in  the  "old  days."  Many  were  the 
renewals  of  ties  broken  three  years  before.  Many  were  the  meet- 
ings for  the  first  time  since  graduation,  and  our  joy  was  almost 
great  enough  for  tears  as  we  clasped  the  hand  of  a  dear  old  chap 
not  seen  for  so  long  a  time. 

Promptly  at  one  o'clock  on  that  day  we  assembled  at  Head- 
quarters and  proceeded  to  the  steps  of  Old  North,  where  we  had 
the  honor  and  pleasure  of  renewing  our  acquaintance  with  Mr.  "Patch," 
our  friend  of  Freshman  year — the  picture  as  a  whole  was  a  great  suc- 
cess but  the  married  men  appeared  at  a  slight  disadvantage,  character- 
ized, as  they  were,  by  their  banner.  It  has  never  been  definitely  de- 
cided, but  it  is  strongly  suspected  that  our  "Star"  played  one  of  his 
jokes  on  this  particular  group  and  caused  them  thus  to  stultify  them- 
selves. Then  again,  one  might  think  Net  Poe  was  father  of  the  "Class 
Boy,"  if  it  were  not  that  Thomas  Dudley,  Jr.,  is  almost  as  large  as  Net. 

Under  the  leadership  of  this  magnificent  reproduction  of  T.  D.  Sr. 
we  resumed  our  march  to  the  'Varsity  Field,  there  to  witness  once 

262 


o 

< 


more  the  downfall  of  Old  Eli — once  more  to  yell  and  shout  till  we 
were  voiceless  and  then  at  last  to  take  possession  of  the  Field  in  a 
mad  rush  for  the  victorious  players;  and  after  their  retirement, 
borne  aloft  in  the  arms  of  many,  to  shout  and  sing  for  joy,  while 
countless  bands  played  countless  airs  and  all  were  happy.  It  was  a 
great  victory  and  cast  a  rosy  hue  over  all  things.  One  hundred  and 
thirty-seven  men  sat  down  at  the  class  supper  that  night  in  Odd 
Fellows'  Hall  and  not  one  of  those  present  can  ever  forget  the  noble 
little  fellow  to  whom  was  presented  the  class  cup.  Thomas  Dudley 
Riggs,  Jr.,  was  a  Class  Boy  whom  we  loved  to  claim  as  such,  and  of 
whom  we  were  proud. 

Nor  can  we  forget,  either,  the  very  touching  scene  when  "Pop" 
was  presented  with  a  slight  token  of  the  love  and  affection  in  which 
he  is  held  by  each  and  every  member  of  the  class — that  of  itself  would 
have  made  the  supper  a  great  success. 

Sunday  was  indeed  a  "day  of  rest  and  gladness"  for  many;  a  day 
when  we  could  take  things  easy — lie  on  our  backs,  under  the  trees, 
and  smoke  our  pipes  as  we  used  to  do;  or  walk  out  to  some  pleasant 
spot  by  the  Brook,  long  since  learned  in  our  college  rambles;  or, 
for  those  so  inclined  there  was  always  the  Headquarters  standing 
open  to  receive  them. 

Sunday  night,  in  Murray  Hall,  was  held  once  more  the  class 
Prayer  Meeting.  That  was  an  im-pressive  meeting.  United  after  three 
years,  the  same  spirit  of  devoted  Christian  manliness  was  as  appar- 
ent as  of  yore,  and  all  were  strengthened  and  encouraged  by  the  faith 
of  the  others. 

The  succeeding  days  of  the  Reunion,  while  not  filled  with  the 
rush  and  stir  of  Saturday,  were  yet  replete  with  pleasures  of  their 
own,  which,  though  different  in  character,  were  not  less  enjoyable; 
time  did  not  hang  heavy  on  our  heads. 

Monday  night  we  kept  "open  house,"  and  though  the  weather  was  a 
bit  inclement,  such  was  the  fame  of  our  hospitality  that  we  needed  a 
house  twice  as  large  in  order  to  entertain  all  who  visited  us — and 
Tuesday  we  recuperated. 

Wednesday  morning  witnessed  the  presentation  of  the  degree  of 
Ph.  D.,  to  Henry  Russell  and  that  of  M.  A.  to  several  members  of  the 
class — also  that  of  M.  S.  to  one. 

In  the  afternoon  came  the  second  Harvard  game,  which  was  a  rep- 
etition of  the  Yale  game  of  Saturday — a  joy  bringer  to  the  heart 
of  Old  Nassau — and  with  the  close  of  the  day  came  also  the  close  of 
the  Reunion — a  most  successful  and  delightful  Triennial. 

To  those  who  were  not  there,  this  meagre  description  can  convey 
but  small  idea  of  what  it  was  really  like — to  those  who  were  there, 
may  it  serve  as  a  framework  upon  which,  as  they  read,  they  may 
weave  the  pleasant  memories  of  those  five  days  into  a  cloth  of  gold; 
to  each  may  it  be  an  incentive  to  do  his  share  in  the  future  as  in 
the  past  for  the  glory  of  Princeton  and  the  praise  of  '97. 

E.  G.  Elliott. 

263 


TRIENNIAL  REUNION  DINNER. 

MENU. 

PUREE  OF  JACK  GREEN  PEAS 

TOASTED  CRACKERS  A  LA  GAS  JET 

PATES  OF  DEAR  SWEETBREADS 

GRASPED  ROLLS  A  LA  HUNK  INGHAM 

CROQUETTES  A  LA  PORKY  REEVES 

DRESSED  CUCUMBERS  A  LA  SANKEY 

BEEF   CUTLETS   DUNN   A   LA   HAMBURGER,   MUSHROOM 

SAUCE 

SALTED  ALMONDS 

MOORE  COMIN 

LEGGETT  OF  CHICKEN  SALAD,  MAYONNAISE 

CREAMED  CHEESE  LETTUCE 

STUFFED  OLIVES,  HOWE 

FANCY  CREAMS  A  LA  COOLEY 

VAN  NESTELRODE  PUDDING  ASSORTED  CAKE 

PIE  KELLY,  WITH  WAFERS  A  LA  GHOSTLY  GILMORE 

PRESERVED  GINGER  FROM  THE  ATHLETIC  TEAMS 

FRUITS  BERRIES  COFFEE 

STOPP ! 

TOASTS  AND  SPEECHES. 

Toastmaster,  Dr.  Patton  Miller. 

264 


ADDRESS   OF  WELCOME. 

PRESENTATION  OF  CLASS  CUP  TO  DUD  RIGGS..Ed,  Shortz 

PRINCETON  Bob  Garrett 

"Hail  to  thee,  Princeton" 

NINETY-SEVEN Baldy    Wilson 

"The  deeds  we  have  done" 

THE  FACULTY Eddie  Elliott 

"Proud  is  thy  youth  and  age" 
(babe  hill) 

NINETY-SEVEN  IN  WAR Count  De  Montalvo 

"Noble  thy  heritage 
Written  on  history's  page" 

NINETY-SEVEN  IN  PEACE Bill  Ramsey 

"Shines  forth  thy  gracious  name, 
Bright'ning  our  day  of  fame" 

NINETY-SEVEN  EVERYWHERE  UNDER  THE  SUN. 

Dr.  Russell 
"Tho'  shadows  may  deepen,  the  light  lives  forever" 

NINETY-SEVEN  CONFERRING  HONORS Net  Poe 

"Spirit  of  nobleness,  courage  and  duty" 
Irrepressible  Harangues  ad  lib. 


265 


CUP  PRESENTATION. 
By  Ed.  Shortz,  Jr. 

I've  got  to  begin  with  an  apology.  Everybody  knows  it's  the  only  way 
of  starting  a  speech  in  any  way  connected  with  a  dinner.  All  the  au- 
thorities agree  on  that  point.  You've  simply  got  to  do  it — can't  get 
out  of  it.  You  might  just  as  well  try  to  run  Princeton  University 
without  the  class  of  ninety-seven;  or  try  to  run  the  class  of  ninety- 
seven  without  Pop  Keener. 

But  mine  is  not  the  conventional  apology,  because  I  am  not  for 
conventions — not  the  i6  to  i  kind  at  any  rate.  The  ordinary  after- 
dinner  speaker  always  excuses  himself  for  not  making  a  speech, 
while  it  is  my  duty  to  apologize  for  making  one  because  you  all  know 
I  am  nothing  but  a  base  imitation,  and  not  the  real  thing  at  all.  You 
■know  that  Lady  Jayne  was  billed  and  extensively  advertised  to  appear 
in  this  act,  and  now  at  the  last  minute  the  management  comes  out 
"before  the  curtain  and  announces  that  owing  to  an  unlooked-for  acci- 
dent Mr.  Jayne  cannot  be  with  us  this  evening,  and  that  his  place  will 
be  taken  by  an  understudy.  I  know  how  you  feel.  It's  just  like  going 
over  to  New  York  to  hear  Calve  sing  Carmen,  and  then  have  her 
manager  bob  up  and  say  that  Madame  Calve  has  lost  her  voice  during 
the  afternoon  and  despite  the  efforts  of  a  large  searching  party  has 
been  unable  to  recover  it,  but  that  Anna  Held  has  kindly  consented  to 
take  her  place.  Of  course  you'd  bear  no  special  animosity  toward 
Miss  Held,  but  you'd  feel  that  you  were  being  imposed  upon,  and  want 
your  money  back.  In  that  connection  I  have  been  authorized  to  an- 
nounce that  each  member  of  the  class  may  receive  a  rebate  of  $i6 
by  applying  to  Mr.   Osborn  at  the  college  offices  in  the  morning. 

But  to  get  on  the  subject  of  babies  in  general  and  Thomas  Dudley 
Riggs,  Jr.,  in  particular,  I  may  as  well  say  right  here  (and  I  do  so 
without  the  slightest  degree  of  egotism)  that  there  is  probably  no 
other  member  of  the  class  so  well  qualified  to  talk  on  this  matter  as 
I  am.  You  may  well  ask  the  reason,  knowing  as  you  do  that  I  am 
neither  a  father  nor  a  mother.  Why,  fellows,  the  secret  of  it  is 
simply  this — I  was  once  a  baby  myself.  Little  Dud  there  is  now  about 
twenty-five  months  old,  I  believe,  but  I  swear  to  j'^ou  in  all  sincerity 
that  I've  seen  the  day  when  /  was  only  six  months  old.  It's  true, 
every  word  of  it. 

Now  when  people  want  to  know  about  art,  they  get  an  artist,  or  a 
man  that's   been   an   artist  to   lecture   to   them.     When  they   want  to 

266 


know  about  farming  they  send  for  a  pharmacentist.  So  when  you 
hear  a  talk  on  babies  by  an  individual  that's  been  a  baby,  you  may 
rest  assured  that  he  knows  what  he's  talking  about,  and  that  the 
syllables  which  fall  from  his  lips  are  pearls  of  wisdom.  And  while 
speaking  of  wisdom  I  can't  refrain  from  dwelling  for  a  brief  moment 
upon  the  exceedingly  eccentric  manner  in  which  Providence  sports 
with  the  human  race  in  this  same  matter  of  babies.  In  some  respects 
he  seems  to  be  all  wise  and  far-seeing,  while  in  others  his  business 
propensities  would  not  entitle  him  to  a  position  on  the  ninety-seven 
bric-a-brac  committee.  For  instance,  it  is  certainly  an  infinitely  wise 
dispensation  of  Providence  which  ordains,  as  a  general  rule,  that  only 
married  persons  are  to  be  presented  with  babies.  Now,  just  why  this 
is  we  cannot  tell.  Why  is  the  grass  green?  Why  are  the  heavens 
blue?  Why  does  not  the  leopard  change  his  spots,  or  Hungry  Golden 
his  shirt?  All  we  know  is  that  these  things  are  as  they  are,  and  in 
this  respect  at  least  Providence  seems  to  possess  a  head  like  a  tack. 
He  provides  the  babies,  but  his  contract  ends  there.  He  isn't  run- 
ning a  commissary  department ;  the  parents  have  got  to  look  out  for 
that.  Providence  has  his  hands  full  enough  taking  care  of  Gill  and 
Willie  Church.  But  just  imagine  how  embarrassing  it  would  be  to 
an  unmarried  and  struggling  young  attorney  or  doctor  on  a  salary  of 
$2  per  month,  if  Providence,  in  a  misguided  attempt  to  cheer  him 
up  in  his  troubles,  should  unexpectedly  present  him  with  twins.  So  it 
would  seem  that  Providence  recognizes  the  fact  that  only  those  per- 
sons who  are  able  to  get  married  are  to  be  entrusted  with  the  bring- 
ing up  of  children. 

But  then  this  theory  is  not  an  entirely  satisfactory  one  because  it 
is  certainly  a  fact  that  the  poorer  a  man  and  his  wife  are,  the  more 
children  they  have.  Why  is  it  that  we  often  see  aged  capitalists  de- 
part this  life  in  the  bitter  disappointment  of  dying  childless,  and  leav- 
ing behind  them  enough  money  to  keep  a  whole  regiment  of  heirs 
busy  for  years  with  legal  fights,  while  the  expenses  of  a  poor  man's 
funeral  are  generally  divided  between  twelve  or  fifteen  dutiful  chil- 
dren? I  have  given  this  subject  much  thought,  but  as  yet  have  been 
unable  to  arrive  at  a  satisfactory  solution  of  the  problem.  The  action 
of  Providence  in  this  respect  cannot  be  reconciled  to  human  stand- 
ards of  reasoning,  it  is  beyond  our  comprehension. 

But  to  get  down  to  the  object  of  this  meeting,  to  consider  the  guest 
of  honor,  let  us  see  how  Providence  has  dealt  with  Thomas  Dudley 
Riggs,  Jr.  It  is  almost  needless  for  me  to  say  that  no  human  being 
ever  began  life's  journey  under  more  favorable  conditions.  Some  are 
born  great,  some  achieve  greatness,  and  some  have  greatness  thrust 
upon  them.  Most  of  us  who  would  be  great  must  achieve  that  great- 
ness by  our  own  efforts.  Look  at  Julius  Caesar,  Napoleon  Bonaparte, 
Jim  Jeffries,  Henry  Russell,  Joan  of  Arc,  Lady  Smith,  Morgy  Smith 
and  a  score  of  others.  All  these  won  fame  through  hard  work  and 
perseverance.  But  here  is  a  boy  who  was  born  great,  who  had  every- 
thing all  mapped  out  and  prearranged  for  him — just  think  of  it,  the 
class  boy  of  Ninety-seven. 

267 


But  the  fact  that  he  is  already  great  does  not  mean  that  he  will 
not  achieve  greatness,  for  that  he  certainly  will.  On  November  i8, 
1918,  that  young  gentleman,  in  the  thickening  gloom  of  a  New  Haven 
twilight  with  two  minutes  left  to  play  and  the  score  5-0  in  favor  of 
Yale,  will  plow  his  way  through  the  blue  eleven  and  with  four  Elis 
clinging  to  his  back  stagger  over  the  goal  line  for  a  winning  touch- 
down— and.  Net  Poe,  I  want  you  to  understand  it  is  your  duty  to  see 
that  there  is  a  Neilson  Poe,  Jr.,  there  to  kick  the  goal. 

Later  in  life  he  will  be  a  great  statesman  perhaps,  and  be  our  first 
governor  of  the  as  yet  unacquired  island  of  San  Higgins  de  El  Coney. 
Or  his  talents  may  take  a  musical  turn;  he  may  be  a  Bach  or  a 
Myerbeer,  or  he  may  be  a  Myer  or  a  Bachbeer — who  can  tell? 

But  there's  plenty  of  time  to  think  of  all  that  later  on.  New 
honors  bring  with  them  new  cares  and  responsibilities,  and  while  a 
little  care  will  not  hurt  a  bicycle,  it  isn't  always  the  best  thing  for  a 
human  being.  And  now,  Thomas  Dudley,  Jr.,  I  guess  you  think  I've 
spouted  about  long  enough.  Of  course  you  know  we're  going  to  give 
you  this  cup.  I  know  you  think  a  balloon  on  the  end  of  a  string,  or 
a  pack  of  firecrackers,  would  be  much  more  appropriate,  but  then  you 
see  a  cup  is  the  usual  thing  on  an  occasion  like  this,  and  I  know  you'll 
like  it  better  the  older  you  grow.  I  want  to  tell  you  that  we're  all 
mighty  glad  to  find  you're  such  a  splendid  specimen  of  a  boy,  and 
every  man  in  the  class  feels  it  to  be  especially  fitting  and  proper  that 
the  honor  of  being  the  protege  of  the  great  and  glorious  class  of 
Ninety-seven  should  have  fallen  on  one  who  bears  so  good  a  Prince- 
ton name.  You  and  your  mother  and  father  are  an  honor  to  the  class, 
and  we  therefore  take  great  pleasure  in  honoring  you  by  the  presenta- 
tion of  this  loving-cup — may  it  participate  in  the  celebration  of  many 
Princeton  victories. 


268 


'97  IN  WAR. 

By    E.     V.    DE    MONTALVO. 

Mr.  Chairman  and  Fellow  Classmates: — I  feel  just  exactly  as  I 
did  when  I  first  went  into  action — a  certain  weakness  about  the  knees 
(sotto  voce  from  the  corner,  "too  much  Loenbrau")  and  an  almost 
uncontrollable  desire  to  crawl  away  somewhere.  As  soon  as  I  regain 
my  usual  composure  I'll  tell  you  how  extremely  happy  I  am  to  meet 
you  all  again  on  this  auspicious  occasion,  etc.  I  can't  sincerely  say  so 
just  yet. 

Our  esteemed  and  venerable  president  {sotto  voce  from  the  corner, 
"whiskers !") has  given  as  an  excuse  for  unpreparedness,  his  hurried 
journey  from  the  far  East  to  this  scene  of  glorious  festivity.  Not 
being  able  at  this  moment  to  invent  a  better  one,  I  offer  a  similar  one 
— I   have  just  come   from   Cuba. 

I  can't  make  a  speech — they  all  say  that;  but  in  this  instance  you 
easily  see  it  is  the  sober  truth. 

Our  toastmaster  has  given  me  a  subject  that  covers  a  wide  field; 
one  that  is  full  of  stirring  adventure  and  heroic  deeds.  I  wish  that 
my  companions-in-arms,  members  of  our  class,  were  here  to  speak 
for  themselves.  A  well-known  writer  has  said  that  "difficulty  was  but 
another  name  for  opportunity."  During  this  whole  dinner  I  have  been 
trying  to  apply  this  rather  parodoxical  remark  by  turning  this  diffi- 
cult task  into  an  opportunity;  and  now  it  strikes  me  that  it  is  an  op- 
portunity to  be  able  to  tell  you  that  in  the  three  great  army  corps  that 
went  to  Porto  Rico,  Cuba  and  the  Philippines  there  were  Princeton 
men  in  every  one,  and,  what  is  more  for  us,  '97  men  in  every  branch 
of  the  service,  and  up  at  the  front. 

All  I  can  really  do  is  to  relate  some  of  my  own  experiences.  Nor 
will  I  attempt  descriptions  and  vivid  war  pictures,  for  you  have  read 
much  about  the  Spanish-American  war  in  the  newspapers.  You  know 
how  General  Shafter  leaped  lightly  on  his  steed  without  even  touching 
rhe  stirrup;  how  the  reporters  captured  Santiago,  etc.  While  our 
battery  was  waiting  for  transports  in  San  Francisco  we  were  camped 
in  a  vacant  lot  in  the  Bay  District.  Our  "mess"  call  was  the  signal 
for  all  the  good  people  of  that  city  to  crowd  around  the  fence  to  watch 
us  eat.  I  have  seen  people  act  just  in  that  way  when  Mr.  Crowley's 
(the  chimpanzee)  dining  room  was  open  to  the  public  at  meal  hours. 
Apropos  of  this  incident  I  overheard  a  conversation  between  two  little 
girls  in  a  street  car  one  day.     One  proudly  said,  "My  papa  is  going  to 

269 


take  me  to  the  circus  to-morrow."  "Oh,"  answered  the  other  with 
contempt,  "dat's  not'ing;  my  papa  is  going  to  take  me  to  see  the 
soldiers  eat." 

The  hard  lot  of  a  soldier's  life  is  not  in  the  fighting.  In  Honolulu 
I  had  the  pleasure  of  meeting  a  classmate,  Waterhouse.  Water- 
house  inspected  our  sleeping  quarters,  down  in  the  hold,  near  the 
bilge  water,  and  he  wisely  remarked  he  was  mighty  glad  not  to  be  a 
soldier.  Some  of  the  Princeton  men,  members  of  the  loth  Penn- 
sylvania infantry,  were  delightfully  entertained  by  him.  I  regretted 
that  circumstances  prevented  me  from  sharing  in  Waterhouse' s  cordial 
hospitality. 

As  I  said  before,  I  shan't  weary  you  with  campaign  facts  which 
now  are  well-known  history;  there  are  some  incidents  of  pathos  and 
humor,  however,  that  often  escape  the  historian. 

Shortly  after  the  capitulation  of  Manila,  I  was  detailed  on  especial 
duty  on  Major-Gen.  E.  S.  Otis'  staff  in  the  capacity  of  interpreter. 
One  afternoon  when  the  general  was  very  busy,  and  unable  to  see 
any  one,  a  Spanish  lady,  the  recent  widow  of  a  colonel  of  infantry, 
presented  herself  at  headquarters.  She  was  pale,  hysterical,  and  re- 
cited a  sad  story.  Without  their  natural  support  she  and  her  para- 
lytic son  were  left  destitute.  The  Spanish  government  would  do 
nothing  for  them.  Her  condition  was  indeed  desperate  when  she 
humbled  her  Spanish  pride  to  the  extent  of  asking  aid  from  the 
American  authorities.  I  wrote  out  the  facts  of  the  case  promising  her 
to  place  the  whole  matter  before  General  Otis  in  the  best  light  possi- 
ble. She  left,  thanking  me  in  her  profuse  Spanish  way.  At  the  top 
of  the  "Ayuntamiento"  steps,  she  fainted  of  hunger  and  exhaustion, 
and  rolled  down  to  the  bottom,  as  we  thought — dead.  The  soldiers 
on  guard  at  the  door  carried  her  up  to  the  surgeon's  room,  where 
she  was  restored  with  much  difficulty.  I  told  her  story  to  the  sergeant 
of  the  guard,  he  repeated  it  to  the  men,  and  in  a  jiffy  a  hat  was  passed 
around  which  resulted  in  the  collection  of  a  neat  little  sum.  When 
I  gave  it  to  her,  telling  whence  it  came,  she  was  much  affected. 

"We  used  to  call  you  Americans  pigs,"  she  said,  "I  wish  we  had 
more  pigs  of  your  sort  in   Spain." 

I  accompanied  her  home  and  verified  her  story.  Later  she  was 
provided  for  by  the  military  government  of  occupation  from  the  "civil" 
fund. 

Spanish  ceremony,  on  official  occasions,  is  well  known.  When  a 
lot  of  business  had  to  be  transacted  in  a  short  while  it  was  very 
annoying.  I  used  to  translate  their  bombastic  addresses  as  fully  as 
I  could,  and,  as  a  rule,  the  general  waited  patiently  for  the  "point" 
to  appear ;  but  one  day  a  particularly  verbose,  old  fellow  of  the  Span- 
ish army  made  me  change  my  methods.  He  began  bowing  as  soon  as 
he  entered  the  room,  and  kept  it  up  until  he  reached  the  desk.  After 
the  general  had  shaken  hands  with  him  I  expected  a  descent  from 
Castilian  attitudes.  But  he  didn't  come  down  a  "bit.  He  began: 
"Your  gracious  Excellency,  it  is  a  great  honor  and  exquisite  pleasure 

270 


to  present  to  you  my  most  sincere  compliments,  and  to  humbly  re- 
quest a  favor  which  I  am  sure  your  Excellency,  who  is  so  resplendent 
in  superior  judgment  and  keen  discrimination  of  equity,  will  not 
deny  me,  especially  as  you  are  here,  the  representative  of  a  great 
republic  which  was  founded  upon  the  principle  that  all  men " 

When  this  had  gone  on  for  about  five  minutes,  the  general  looked 
uncomfortable,  and,  I  began  to  fear   running  out  of  breath  and  words. 

"Cut  him  short  and  ask  him  what  he  wants,"  said  the  general.  I 
did  so,  to  learn  that  he  simply  wanted  permission  to  remove  a  couch 
from  the  yard  of  his  former  quarters.     He  got  it. 

Just  about  three  years  ago  we  had  our  class  dinner  in  this  very 
hall.  At  the  end  of  that  dinner — I  don't  think  very  many  of  you 
know  what  did  happen  at  the  end  of  that  dinner — "Jamy"  Clark, 
who  was  a  strong  Cuban  sympathizer,  amid  wild  excitement  and 
much  confusion,  presented  me  with  a  Cuban  flag.  That  flag  went 
through  the  whole  campaign,  and  I  still  keep  it  among  my  most 
cherished  relics. 

Fellows,  this  war  was  waged  in  the  name  of  humanity,  and  for 
the  purpose  of  liberating  enslaved  peoples.  As  a  Cuban,  I  am  proud 
to  have  taken  part  in  it.  As  a  graduate  of  Princeton  and  of  the 
class  of  '97,  I  am  proud  to  say  that  wherever  "Old  Glory"  went  it 
was  accompanied  by  another  flag  almost  as  dear  to  us — the  orange 
and  the  black  of  "Old  Nassau,"  and  that,  in  many  cases,  that  orange 
and  black  flag  had  a  big  '97  on  it. 


271 


'<^y  IN   PEACE. 
By  W.  B.  Ramsey. 

Mr.  Toastmaster  and  Fellow  Classmates  : — At  the  very  beginning 
of  my  response  to  the  sentiment,  "Ninety-Seven  in  Peace,"  I  cannot 
withhold  a  word  about  our  men  of  arms.  To  them  belong  the  highest 
praise.  We  love  most  of  those  who  dare  to  do  deeds  of  valor,  those 
who  have  the  courage  and  patriotism  to  offer  their  lives,  if  need  be, 
at  the  call  of  their  country  and  in  the  defense  of  their  flag.  Upon 
your  brows,  worthy  sons  of  old  Princeton,  do  we  place  the  chaplet 
of  highest  honors. 

But  there  are  other  fields,  also,  wherein  our  prowess  has  been 
felt.  As  Elliott  has  told  us,  some  of  our  members  have  had  the 
courage  to  fight  their  way  into  the  faculty.  Then,  too,  in  the  field 
of  science,  is  found  our  one  bright  star.  To  most  of  us,  I  am  sure, 
when  we  go  out  at  night — which  is  not  often! — and  gaze  up  at  the 
myriad  stars,  it  is  rather  immaterial  whether  any  particular  star  is 
one  or  more  millions  of  miles  distant.  A  mere  matter  of  a  million 
miles  or  so  doesn't  concern  a  ninety-seven  man,  unless  it  be  when  he 
cons  his  railroad  map  and  figures  on  rates  to  the  next  reunion.  But, 
fellows,  to  become  serious,  we  have  among  us  a  man  who  has  added 
something  original  to  the  sum  total  of  human  knowledge  in  the  field 
of  astronomy.  Now,  I  am  no  prophet,  neither  am  I  the  son  of  a 
prophet,  and  there  are  no  prophets  in  our  family, — but  I  am  going  to 
venture  one  prophetic  assertion.  It  is  this, — that  Dr.  Henry  Russell 
is  one,  who,  as  the  years  roll  by,  will  bring  added  honor  and  fame 
to  the  class  of  Ninety-seven  and  to   Princeton  University. 

Our  all-too-modest  president  brings  us  good  news  from  the  Orient. 
While  Russell  has  been  searching  the  stars  for  their  secrets,  Garrett 
has  been  delving  among  the  ruins  of  ancient  civilizations  in  quest  of 
the  real  truth  as  to  the  beginnings  of  language  and  art.  Then  there's 
dear  old  "Pop"  Keener,  fellows,  who  is  a  typical  modern  Atlas,  and 
who  is  never  quite  so  happy  as  when  he  is  helping  some  one  else  over 
a  rough  place.  But  really,  this  is  no  time  to  talk,  and  besides.  I  could 
not,  as  Dr.  Patton  would  say,  "give  a  complete  and  comprehensive, 
and,  at  the  same  time,  systematic  disquisition  on  this  very  interesting 
subject  in  the  allotted  time." 

Fellow  classmates,  when  I  was  informed  yesterday  that  this  toast 

272 


had  been   assigned   to  me,    I   immediately   sat   down   and  made   some 
notes.     Those    notes    consist    of    two    words,- — the    first    is    Princeton, 
and  the  second  is  Spirit.     I'll  tell  you,  fellows,  it's  the  spirit  we  learned 
to  love  here  in  Princeton  that  brings  success  in  the  world.     It  matters 
not   in   what   field   of   action   our   work   may   lie.     It   was   that   spirit 
which   in   our   college   days   caused   Riggs   and   Rhodes,    Brokaw   and 
Smith,  Tyler  and  Poe  and  Billy  Church  to  play  until  the  last  second 
of  the  second  half  had  expired.     That  same  spirit  was  shown  to-day 
when  we  beat   Yale   in   the  ninth   inning.     That  same   spirit   is   what 
kept  Montalvo  at  his  post  of  duty,  serving  the  guns  of  Battery  B  at 
Manila,  and  caused  Shaw,  himself  already  wounded,  to  seize  a  Krag 
Jorgenssen  rifle  from  the  arms  of  a  dead  regular  and  advance  stolidly 
up  San  Juan  Hill.     This  Princeton  spirit  has  taught  us  to  be  honest, 
to  be  square,  but  to  fight  and  to  fight  hard,  and  never  to  know  when 
we're  licked !     Just  about  in  proportion  to  the  manner  in  which  we 
live   out   this   spirit  in   our  own   lives,   will   we  have   success.     For   I 
believe  the  poet  was  about  right  when  he  said  that  it  is 
"Not  in  the  clamor  of  the  croweded  street, 
Not  in  the  shouts  and  plaudits  of  the  throng, 
But  in  ourselves,  are  triumph  and  defeat." 
Triennial  Reunion   Banquet, 
Princeton,  June  9,   1900. 


273 


PRESENTATION    TO    SECRETARY. 

Neilson  Poe,  Jr. 

Will  the  most  popular  man  in  '97  stand  up?  Pop,  I 
mean  you,  so  please  rise.  Don't  be  scared,  Pop,  this  is  not  class 
day  and  I  am  not  the  Presentation  Orator.  I  am  not  going  to  tell 
of  the  gay  life  you  have  been  living  the  last  three  years;  so,  cheer 
up !  Pop,  for  three  years  you  have  worked  for  and  kept  this  class 
together  as  no  other  secretary  has  done,  and  we  appreciate  it.  I 
know  how  eagerly  your  circulars  are  looked  for  because  we  know 
there  is  something  worth  reading  in  them.  Some  fellows  don't  an- 
swer at  once  because  they  want  to  receive  another.  This  winter  the 
class  decided  to  show  their  appreciation  by  something  substantial, 
and  a  committee,  composed  of  the  "Faculty  Members,"  was  appointed. 
They  were  unable  to  decide  on  the  present  and  thought  it  best  to 
leave  it  to  you,  with  the  suggestion  that  books  would  be  the  most 
suitable  thing.  And  now,  Pop,  I  take  pleasure  in  handing  to  you  a 
check  for  $211   from  the  best  fellows  that  ever  lived. 

To  this  the  Secretary  expressed  his  gratitude  in  few  words,  but  out 
of  a  full  heart. 

The  other  toasts  were  responded  to  with  equal  fervor  and  fluency, 
but  the  effervescent  quality  of  the  remarks  baffled  the  skill  of  our 
stenographer. 


274 


COMMITTEES 

EXECUTIVE   COMMITTEE   OF   THE   CLASS. 

R.  Garrett,  W.  W.  Wilson,  J.  H.  Keener. 

REUNION  COMMITTEE. 

H.  C.   Brokaw,  Chairman, 
A.  H.  Hagemeyer,  Chairman  of  Committee  on  Finance, 
T.  F.  Reynolds,  Chairman  of  Committee  on  Headquarters, 

A.  Pardee,  Chairman  of  Committee  on  Invitations  and  Receptions, 

E.  A.  McAlpin,  Chairman  of  Committee  on  Banquets, 
H.  W.  Lowe,  Chairman  of  Committee  on  Badges, 

F.  Sturges,  Jr.,  Chairman  of  Committee  on  Class  Pictures, 
W.  W.  Wilson,  Chairman  of  Committee  on  Refreshments, 
Nelson  Poe,  Jr.,  Chairman  of  Committee  on  Class  Cup, 
Paul  Bedford,   Chairman  of  Committee  on  Brass  Bands, 
W.   M.  Dickinson,  Chairman  of  Committee  on  Tent, 

J.  M.  HiTZROT,  Chairman  of  Committee  on  "Peerade," 

T.  D.  RiGGS,  Chairman  of  Committee  on  Athletic  Contests, 

J.  D.  Elliott,  Chairman  of  Committee  on  Sleeping  Accommodations, 

R.  Derr,  Chairman  of  Committee  on  Decorations, 

E.  G.  Elliott,  Chairman  of  Committee  on  Local  Arrangements, 

S.   M.   Palmer,   Chairman   of   Committee  on   Souvenir   Programme, 

B.  R.  Miller,  Chairman  of  Committee  on  Stunts  and  Vaudeville, 
T.  S.  Evans,  Chairman  of  Committee  on  Religious  Meetings, 

P.   R.   CoLWELL,  Chairman  of  Committee  on  Music, 
W.  M.  Post,  Chairman  of  Committee  on  Class  Ode, 
W.  P.  Davis,  Jr.,  Chairman  of  Committee  on  Banners  and  Transpar- 
encies, 
J.  M.  Townley,  Chairman  of  Committee  on  Horse  Costumes, 
W.  M.  Dear,  Chairman  of  Committee  on  Printing, 
J.  A.  Williams,  Chairman  of  Committee  on  Umbrellas. 

FINANCE  COMMMITTEE. 

A.  H.  Hagemeyer,  Chairman. 

H.  C.  Brokaw,  A.  Pardee,  T.  F.  Reynolds,  R.  Garrett,  F.  Sturges, 
Jr.,  H.  W.  Lowe,  E.  A.  McAlpin,  Neilson  Poe,  C.  B.  Derr,  J.  H.' 
Masson,  Jr.,  T.  D.  Riggs,  J.  K.  Clarke,  J.  M.  Rhodes,  Jr.,'  C.  K 
Speer,  A.  J.  A.  Alexander,  E.  D.  Balken,  Selden  Spencer,  True  Perkins 
T.   E.   Baird,  Jr. 


275 


REUNION  MUSTER. 


Alexander,  A.  J.  A. 

Allison. 

Andrus. 

Babcock. 

Beam,  H.  M. 

Bedford. 

Bogue. 

Bradley,  J. 

Bradley,  N. 

Bowne. 

Brokaw. 

Browne,  T.   B. 

Bnckinghain. 

Campbell. 

Church. 

Clarke.  J.  K. 

Colwell. 

Cooley. 

Cox,  E.  W. 

Cox,  R.  G. 

Craig. 

Curtis,  F.  G. 

Curtis,  G.  S. 

Crozer. 

Davis,  W.  P. 

Davis,  E.  P. 

Dear. 

De  Coursey. 

De  Gray. 

De  Montalvo. 

Derr,  C.  B. 

Derr,  R. 

Dickinson. 

Dunlap. 

Dunn. 

Dwight. 

Elliott,  E.  G. 

Elliott,  J.  D. 

Ely. 

Evans,  F. 

Evans,  T.  S. 

Evans,  W.   F. 

Frazer. 

Garrett. 

Gallagher. 

Gear. 

George. 

Gill. 


Gillespie. 

Graham,  H.  J. 

Graham,  J.  W. 

Gregory. 

Gulick. 

Hagemeyer. 

Hall. 

Harkness. 

Harris,  H.  A. 

Haussling. 

Henry. 

Hill,  W.  C. 

Hitzrot. 

HoUister. 

Holmes. 

Hopper. 

Howe. 

Hutchinson. 

Ingham. 

Jessup,   W.    P. 

Keener. 

Kehlcr. 

Kennedy. 

Kent.  E.  G. 

Kent,  R.  B. 

Leggctt. 

Leigh. 

Leipold.  • 

Lewis. 

Liggett. 

Lowe. 

Magie. 

Masson. 

Mattison. 

Miller,  B.  R. 

Mills. 

Mittendorf. 

Moore,  D.  M. 

Moore,  E. 

Murray. 

McAlp'in. 

McCagne. 

McCIurc. 

Nevin. 

Nichols. 

Norris. 

Olcott. 

Palmer. 


Pardee. 

Parker. 

Perkins. 

Pitcairn. 

Poe. 

Post. 

Ramsey. 

Reeves. 

Reynolds,  T.  F. 

Reynolds,  W.   A. 

Rhodes. 

Riggs. 

Robinson. 

Roe. 

Roys. 

Rusling. 

Russell. 

Sankey. 

Schoonmaher. 

Shearer. 

Shortz. 

Spencer. 

Stahl. 

Stanton. 

Sterling. 

Stockwell. 

Stopp. 

Studdeford. 

Sturges. 

Taylor,  C.  I. 

Taylor,  S.  W. 

Thompson,  B.  H. 

Townley. 

Trainer. 

Tyler,  A.  C. 

Upshur. 

Van  Nest. 

Weber. 

Weiss. 

Williams,  J.  A. 

Williams,  P.  H. 

Wilson,  A.  M. 

Wilson,  W.  M. 

Wilson,  W.  W. 

Woodwarti- 

Wrenn. 

Yeatts. 


THE  DECENNIAL  MEMORIAL  FUND. 

Fellow   Classmates  : — Your  Memorial   Committee  begs   to  present 
the  following  statement  of  receipts  and  expenditures  for  the  3^2  years, 
after  graduation,  ending  December  31,   igoo: 
Receipts : 

1898,  by  Class  Fund   $20.00 

1898,  by   91    contributors 560.31 

1899,  by   75   contributors 515-63 

1900,  by  67  contributors 53170 

By  interest  on   Deposits 3170 


$1,659-34 


Expenditures : 

1898,  To   Printing,   Postage,   Stationery,  etc $29.01 

1899,  To  Printing  (2  general  notices  and  i  special)  40.74 

1900,  To  Printing    23.06 

To  I  U.  S.  3  per  cent.  Bond,  issue  of  1898,  pur- 
chased  Oct.    28,   '98,   and    deposited   with 

Robert  Garrett  &   Sons,   Baltimore $500.00 

To  I  Electric  and  People's  Traction  4  per  cent. 

Gold    Stock    Trust    Certificate,    purchased 

Jan.   2,    1900,   and   deposited   with    B.    R. 

Miller,    Philadelphia 492.50 

To  Deposited    with    Western    Savings    Inst., 

Philadelphia    464.03 

To  Deposited  with  Irving  Savings  Inst.,  New 

York    1 10.00  1,566.53 


$1,659-34 
April  I,  1901,  there  was  to  the  credit  of  the  Fund  $1,938.58. 

It  may  be  interesting  to  note  in  this  connection  that  '95  reported, 
at  her  Triennial  Reunion,  an  amount  more  than  $500  in  excess  of 
our  figures,  and  that,  too,  for  a  period  of  not  quite  3  years. 

Surely  this  matter  of  our  gift  to  Princeton,  by  which  we  hope  to 
be  remembered  in  the  coming  years,  is  a  subject  worthy  of  our  serious 

277 


consideration.  A  memorial  of  the  class  of  '97,  to  be  fitting,  should 
be  something  unusually  fine.  Every  '97  man  knows  this  to  be  so, 
not  because  it  pleases  his  fancy  to  think  so,  but  because  of  our  glorious 
record  of  brilliant  deeds  in  every  sphere  of  college  effort;  and  because 
of  our  memories  of  the  life-long  friends  who  made  those  records ; 
and  because  of  our  life-long  love  for  Princeton.  Such  a  memorial 
cannot  be  had  without  money;  money  sufficient  cannot  be  had  without 
the  cooperation  of  every  man  who  honors  the  memory  of  his  class, 
and  has  the  ability  to  give  a  dollar. 

From  the  west  comes  the  following  suggestion :  that  upon  or  near 
our  memorial,  whatever  it  be,  there  be  placed  a  tablet  upon  which 
our  names  may  be  recorded  as  we  pass  away,  together  with  the 
names  of  those  already  gone.  Thus  each  man,  by  contributing  to  the 
Fund,  will  help  to  raise  a  monument  to  himself  (as  it  were)  in  old 
Princeton,  where  all  of  us  will  always  wish  to  be  remembered.  More- 
over, an  opportunity  will  thus  be  afforded  to  contribute  toward  the 
memorial  of  many  a  classmate  dead, — an  opportunity  in  which  others 
than  ourselves  may  often  wish  to  join.  And  at  the  last  the  whole 
class  will  stand  together  with  our  gift  to  Alma  Mater. 

While  the  nature  of  our  gift  may  make  a  tablet  impracticable,  we 
feel  that  this  suggestion  embodies  the  right  idea  in  that  it  presupposes 
a  personal  interest  in  the  Fund  on  the  part  of  every  one.  It  will 
be  a  good  topic  for  discussion  at  our  next  Reunion.  Would  that 
more  suggestions  of  this  character  might  be  forthcoming. 

Apropos  of  the  thought  of  others  joining  in  a  tribute  to  our  dead, 
we  desire  to  quote  from  a  recent  letter  to  a  near  relative  of  one  of 
our  classmates  who  but  yesterday  passed  away.  We  do  so  because 
it  would  seem  not  improbable  that  the  information,  concerning  the 
Fund,  contained  therein,  will  come  as  news  to  many  men  to  whom 
countless  appeals  for  support  have  been  sent :  "This  Fund  is  called 
the  Decennial  Fund  because  at  our  loth  Reunion  (June,  1907)  its 
proceeds  are  to  be  used  for  the  establishment  at  Princeton  of  some 
memorial  to  the  class.  The  form  of  this  memorial  is  determined 
by  the  vote  of  the  class  at  that  time,  and  depends  very  largely,  of 
course,  upon  the  size  of  the  Fund.  Contributions  are  received  once 
a  year  from  each  member  until  the  completion  of  the  loth  year. 
They  are  due  about  February  ist,  at  which  time  the  majority  are 
paid;  but  they  may  be  paid  at  any  time,  and  made  to  cover  any 
number  of  years,  at  the  option  of  the  donor.  There  are,  however, 
few  exceptions  to  the  general  rule.  The  amount  of  the  contribution 
depends  entirely  upon  individual  willingness  and  ability.  Before  we 
were  graduated  most  of  the  men  signed  pledges  to  pay  certain  sums 
yearly;  but  the  "wide,  wide  world"  not  proving  so  gracious  a  place 
as  it  sometimes  seemed  from  our  college-town,  these  pledges  have 
not  always  been  lived  up  to ;  and  the  Committee  has  never  made  any 
effort  to  exact  the  amount  promised  at  that  time,  well  knowing  that 
the  voluntary  gifts  of  the  fellows  were  always  what  they  thought 
they  could  spare  from  many  unforeseen  expenses,  and  were,  there- 
fore, to  be  accepted  very  gratefully,  whatever  they  were  in  amount.     .     . 

278 


These  gifts  to  Princeton  by  classes  ten  (lo)  years  out  of  college 
have  made  the  campus  very  attractive,  have  stimulated  many  dif- 
ferent kinds  of  effort,  and  have  been  of  real  benefit  to  the  University. 
The  memory  of  the  givers  is  always  kept  green  in  Princeton,  whether 
the  gift  be  a  fountain,  a  scholarship,  or  a  dormitory;  and  that  sort 

of  men  of  whom  your was  one  have  always  bee  nproud  both  to  do 

for  this  college  and  to  be  remembered  by  her.  It  seems  to  us  that 
your  wish  to  keep  his  memory  alive  among  those  friends  and  scenes 
where  he  spent  such  happy  years  is  a  very  beautiful  one,  and  that 
the  way  you  have  chosen  is  the  best.  For  whatever  the  form  of  our 
gift,  he  will,  then,  always  have  a  share  in  it,  and  with  it  his  name 
will  always  be  associated.  In  common  with  the  names  of  friends  and 
classmates." 

We  are  confident  that  when  the  world  comes  to  realize  the  talents 
of  our  class,  and  riches  increase,  the  Fund  will  assume  more  promis- 
ing proportions.  Yours  for  '97, 

E.   W.   AxsoN. 

H.  W.  Leigh, 

R.  B.  Kent, 

R.   Moore, 

B.   R.   Miller, 

A.    M.    Kennedy,  Chairman, 
P.  O.  Box  555, 
New  York. 


279 


TREASURER'S    REPORT. 
J.    H.    Keener,   in   account   with   the   Class   of   '<}T. 

Dr. 

To  Cash,  Balance   Last   Report $196.56 

"        "      Collections    for    Badges,    Second    Reunion 12.25 

"        "      Additional    Contributions   for   First   Record 2.50 

"        "      Contributions    for    Triennial    Reunion 1,662.90 


$1,874.21 
Cr. 

By  Cash,  Badges   for    Second   Reunion $1425 

Umbrellas  for  Second  Reunion 8.10 

Tranparencies    for    Second    Reunion 1.75 

Expenses   in   connection   with   funeral   of    P.   Jones.         9.25 

Stationery,    Postage,    etc.,    to    Jan.    9,    1900 12.52 

Triennial   Reunion  Expenses. 
(a)   Preliminary : 

Printing    7.00 

Postage     15.00 

Stationery    11.00       3304 


(ft)  Actual   (see  Auditor's  Report  for  Details).       1,667.90 
Expenses  of  Getting  out  Triennial  Record : 

Printing    27.25 

Postage    30.00 

Stationery    12.00       69.25 


Balance    on    hand 58.15 

$1,874.21 


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