Chapter VI: Preface (6)

"Now, Jack," he said, "you know the important points and main definitions in that course pretty well. Just remember that all that is good is Greek, and all that is Greek is good, and no modern work from the Brooklyn Bridge to a beer mug is worthy of aught save the abhorrence of cultivated men. If the exam is in Sever, you might throw in an allusion to the draughts and foul air in that modern pile of bricks. Now how about Pol. Econ. 23? Let's see, does Jowler give that still? Well, you are morally certain to have a question on the Tariff of '46--that is his pet. Be certain that the country has never been more prosperous than under that tariff. Of course, there was the discovery of gold and other causes of prosperity at the same time, but unless you know all about them, and can explain them away, don't touch on them at all. Jowler is a free trader, bear that in mind. I will do him the justice to say that he would be delighted if you knew enough about the course and were clever enough to make any strong points for protection; but you are not, so don't try it. Stick to plain, first principles, and show that the country is going to the devil."

"Gad, Ned," said Rattleton, shaking his head in mournful admiration, "it is a great thing to have learned so much. I have wasted my advantages awfully."

"Constant application, my son," quoth Burleigh, (who for three years had been on the ragged edge of probation, and had been saved only by his high marks), "strict attendance on lectures, and careful attention to the great men under whom it is our privilege to sit. Even if you never go near the library, you can learn much in the lecture-room. Now I must leave you; I am going to a seminar over in College House."

"All right, I have got to leave, too," said Jack, looking at his watch. "There is a grinding bee in entrance Greek, in Jim de Laye's room--lot of foolish virgins like myself, who have put off the job until Senior year, and are doing their school work now. By the way, I promised to collar a mucker to drive the horse."

"Get my friend, Mr. James Casey; very intelligent young man; understands the job thoroughly. You will undoubtedly find him playing duck-on-a-rock in a vacant lot back of Holyoke, or badgering the Dago fruit-man on the corner. If you don't find him, drop a package of cigarettes somewhere, and watch it; you will catch a mucker right away."

"A better way than that," said Jack, "is to chain Blathers to the iron railing of the Pudding, and stand behind the door. In five minutes all the best talent in muckerdom will be there with tin-cans and stones."

Jack had no need, however, to expose his faithful hound. He found a covey of muckers, in the vacant lot before mentioned, and on demanding whether any of them could read, was at once besieged with volunteers to "drive the pony." "Chimmie" Casey was among them, and Jack secured his services. "Chimmie" had been at school to some advantage, for he could read Bohn's translations with great fluency (which is the English of "driving the pony"), and made many a half dollar by his learning.

Jack took him round to De Laye's room, where eight or ten men were already assembled, with books, pipes, and siphons of seltzer, ready for the services. The mucker was put in the middle of the room with the "trot"; the students sat around him and followed the translation in their Greek texts. The following is a short specimen of Prof. Casey's flowing delivery of the _Iliad_:

"Den puttin' on deir shinin' mail, dey moved apart from de great crowd of admirin' Trojans and well-greased Greeks. Den Jones spake----"

"What!"

"I can't say dese hard names. Mr. Burleigh told me to call 'em all Jones when I got stuck."

"All right, go ahead."

"Jones spake wid words of hate. 'Dog-eyed son of--son of--' Gosh! dat's a hard name to call a feller."

"Let it go at Jones."

"'Dog-eyed son of Jones [I must learn dat], now shalt dou meet dy doom. To him Jones, de god-like son o' Jones--' say, how did dese fellers all have different names from der faders?"

"Never mind; go on with the trot."

"'T'ink not to turn my heart to water wid your vauntin' words' [always jawin' before dey fight].

"He spake and t'rew his mighty spear and struck full in de midst of Jones' buckler round. It pierced eight folds of tough bull-hide and t'rough de brazen breastplate and cut de linen vest beneat' [dat Jones was a daisy]. Den Jones, poisin' his mighty spear, prayed to Jove: 'Oh, fader Jove, wreak now meet punishment on dis offender; send him to de shades by my arm,'--say, what's he always stoppin' to talk to dat feller for in de middle of a scrap?"

"Shut up and go on!"

"He trew his spear in turn, but de point fell harmless. Den again he cried aloud: 'Oh, fader Jove, dou art de most unkind'--was Jove de referee?"

"Look here, Jamesey, if you don't stop talking we'll dock your pay."

"Den sure de light had sped from Jones' eyes, but mudder Venus, when she saw her son hard-pressed, flew to his side. From de field she bore him far from Jones' wrat', wrapped in a hollow cloud [de h---- she did! Dat's de silliest fight ever I hear on.]"

At the end of the "grinding bee" young Mr. Casey was dismissed with coins, a cigarette, and advice to restrict his annotations in future lectures.

Rattleton struggled along in his new mode of life for a week or two longer, until his last examination a few days before Class Day. Ned had sent him to bed early on the night before. At breakfast, and on the way over to University, Nestor gave his final advice.

"Look your paper over carefully before you begin to write. Write only on those questions that you can answer, and write a lot on them, so that you apparently have no time for the others. Don't try to bluff on the questions that you don't know; some men can do it, but don't you try it. It rarely goes down with Jowler. Take the whole three hours, and don't go out early, even if you have written all you know. Now, good luck to you, old man; go in and win. I'll see you at lunch."

The paper was very easy. Dick Stoughton had the same course, and finished his answers early. While waiting a decent time for appearance sake, before going out, he executed a characteristic stroke. Brown, the proctor, was a man who prided himself on his sharpness and yearned for opportunities to show it. He was taking a post-graduate course, and had been in the University only one year. He had a custom of walking stealthily about the room, and, in the most offensive manner, peering over men's shoulders while they wrote. On one of these hunts he sat down on the corner of Stoughton's desk and looked over the shoulder of the man in front. Machiavelli Stoughton hastily wrote out, on the back of the examination paper, the gist of half the answers. This paper he pinned on the back of the proctor's coat with the legend "Read him and pass him along." Brown then continued on his tour of inspection, to the edification of all and the salvation of many.

Several other men came out early also. They gathered on the steps of University, and compared notes on the paper. The chief topic of conversation, however, was Rattleton.

"I am afraid the jig is up with poor Jack Rat," said one man. "He is stuck."

"Yes, I saw him biting his pencil and tearing his hair," corroborated another.

"He looked gloomy as a funeral," said Dick; "besides that paper was so easy that, if he knew anything about the course, he ought to have finished by this time."

"He will lose his degree surely unless he gets a squint at Brown's back," said Gray. "Can't anything more be done for him? Set your crafty brains at work, Dago Dick."

"Of course, nothing can be done," said another man. "How are we going to communicate with him from out here? We might get him in an awful scrape."

"Hold on, I've got it!" cried Stoughton, and dashed off across the Yard.

Half an hour later a man hurriedly entered the drowsy examination room in University, and went up to the proctor with a telegram. Brown looked at the address and took it over to Rattleton. Jack was now slumped down in his seat gazing blankly at a fly in his inkstand, probably wishing to change places with the fly. The proctor handed him the telegram and stood near him. Jack opened the envelope, then started and smiled a little as he read the message. He looked up suddenly and caught the proctor trying to read the telegram.

"No bad news I hope, Mr. Rattleton," said the latter, looking at him narrowly.

"Oh, no," answered Jack, "best of news." He closed his blue book with a slam and returned the proctor's gaze squarely.

"Ahem!" coughed that officer of the Court. "I presume, of course, Mr. Rattleton, that your message is in no way connected with this examination?"

"I beg your pardon, Mr. Brown," replied Jack in his deliberate drawl, "you do not presume anything of the kind. If you did, you would have better manners than to be so inquisitive about it;--at least I will give you credit for such. As a matter of fact this telegram contains no information on the paper."

"I must insist upon seeing it, sir," exclaimed the red and astounded proctor.

Jack rose to his feet. "You heard what I said," he remarked quietly. "I am not in the habit of being doubted."

He walked up to the desk at the end of the room, and put his blue book on the pile of others. "You notice, Mr. Brown, that I have not written a word since receiving this message. I do not know who sent it, nor anything about it. Here it is if you would like to read it." He threw the telegram on the desk and stalked out of the room.

The group of men on the steps outside crowded around him with eager inquiries.

"I don't know," said Jack, "but I guess I got through. I had written most of the answers half an hour ago, but, of course, I was not fool enough to go out early, and have the proctor mark the time on my blue book. That is all very well for you fellows who are sure of your answers and have good reputations, but I need to exhibit the full three hours of careful thought. I should have stayed to the end if I hadn't had a tiff with Brown, the proctor, about a telegram."

"What!" cried the others. "Dick Stoughton's telegram? What happened?"

"Nothing much; Brown has it."

"Nothing much! You are a ruined man! Didn't you see that telegram was a brilliant idea of Dago Mac's. It had all the answers in it; didn't it, Dick?"

Jack looked at Dick, and grinned.

"Oh, no," said that crafty genius, "that is only what you fellows thought. I wasn't fool enough to write anything of the kind, when that Argus Brown was proctor."

"If he is small enough to look at that telegram after I gave it to him," said Jack, "what he read was this: 'Get into a row with Brown about this telegram. He is a cad, and will probably accuse you of lying. Old Jowler hates that sort of thing, and has no love for the Brown type of proctor. If he hears of the row, he will count it up in your favor.'"

CLASS DAY.

The conflict of evidence in the case renders it difficult to decide whether Class Day is the gayest or the saddest of the college year. Certain graduates, being duly sworn, depose that it was the happiest day of their whole lives; an equal number--no, the Court will presume the better--a somewhat smaller number, refuses to testify at all, until kind Time has obliterated, or, at any rate, mitigated, important facts in the case; until, indeed, the memory of man goeth not, or goeth gently, to the harsh Contrary. Most of the Seniors bear witness as here followeth. Were too busy to notice their impressions distinctly; remember being blue at intervals, decidedly so in the evening. Think they felt jolly on the way to Saunders' Theatre behind the band; know they felt gloomy in Saunders'. Were worried at their own spreads; believe the strawberries gave out; had a very fair time at the other fellows' spreads. Got badly banged around the Tree; can swear they got more flowers off it than anybody else. Took good care of their families to the best of their knowledge and belief; took their mothers up to their rooms, when affected by the heat; did not see their sisters; saw very little of any other sisters. Enjoyed the singing of the Glee Club until it came to "College Days are Over" and "Fair Harvard"; began to feel a little out of sorts then, and grew more so after everybody had gone. Continued in same frame of mind until the wind-up at the club. How they felt after that some deponents say not, others testify to being still more depressed, and going to bed in decided gloom. On the whole, think the day was a sad one.

On the other hand, the testimony of the Juniors and under-classmen is overwhelmingly on the side of joy. So is that of the rank and file of the army of occupation. The generals, officers of the day, and provost-marshals of that army testify that it is a day of hard work and wearing responsibility. For on that day the largest stronghold of Trouserdom capitulates unconditionally, and from bastion to casemate is swept by the skirts of the invading battalions. Bright dresses everywhere dot the grass, and float over floors that for twelve months have known only the tread of the trousered boot. Some of the clubs even are surrendered, and only here and there is kept a hiding-place, to which the overpowered defenders may flee to rally on a cigar, or change their wilted armor. The garrison is enslaved almost to a man, each one being attached to the train of some conqueror. During the day the victors are content with such triumph, and show some clemency while their officers hold them in check; but when the shades of evening begin to fall, and the provost-marshals have grown tired, then the slavery is turned into a massacre. Scenes of carnage are everywhere, and the helpless captives are put to the fan without mercy. Some are merely tortured a little, others slaughtered outright, and at the end of the evening many a scalp goes forth dangling from a slender waist. On the other hand, however, it is a solace to reflect that some of the invaders are themselves captured, and paroled for life.

Dick Stoughton had declared that there was to be no tomfoolery for him. His people had gone abroad, and he would therefore incur no filial liabilities. He rarely went anywhere in society, and had no civilities to repay. He thanked Providence that "not one mother's daughter of 'em had any mortgage" on him. The only people he invited lived in the far West, and wouldn't come. It is often said that a man never enjoys his own Class Day; he would see about that. He called for volunteers in the good work. None of Ned Burleigh's relatives were coming East, so he agreed to stand on Dick's right hand and keep the strike with him. Randolph was also family-free and promised to join in the stand for liberty. These three organized as the Protective Brotherhood of Amalgamated Seniors.

The objects of the Brotherhood were declared to be lunch, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. The first rule was to assist each other in obtaining nourishment and irrigation at the crowded "spreads." They were to do commissariat duty for no one. The second principle was to stand by each other through all the perils of the day; if any brother should be captured the others were to rescue him at once,--three men could resist better than one. They also arranged a plan of co-operation and mutual relief, by which any member could talk to any one he chose without fear of bondage. The strategic moves were as follows. If one of the three saw some one to whom he wanted to talk, he was to notify the others, who would stand at his back while he opened fire. A time limit of five minutes was to be allowed him. Brother Stoughton wanted to cut this down to two minutes, and Brother Randolph desired ten. The altercation roused suspicions in Brother Stoughton's mind, and insinuations on his part against Brother Randolph's sincerity; but Brother Burleigh smoothed over the incipient breach and compromised on five minutes. At the end of five minutes the fire was to be slackened, and half of the reserves called up by saying: "May I present my friend," etc. One of the fresh supports should then wheel to the front, and while he engaged the enemy, the other two should go off and find a non-union man,--a happy, irresponsible Junior, if possible, one of those important, conceited Juniors, who wear little silver ushers' pins, and think they are running the whole thing and having a glorious time. The two brethren were to tell this Junior that a very charming girl had asked particularly to have him presented. Then they should take him up to where their companion was holding his ground, throw the Junior into the action, and under cover of this diversion the three would retreat and leave him to his fate, pleasant or otherwise, as the case might be.

Hudson thought the plan an excellent one, but was precluded from joining by family cares. Holworthy said "nonsense," and also expected to be busy all day. Gray declared it was all out of keeping with the spirit of the day, and indignantly refused to have anything to do with it; whereupon the Amalgamated Brethren called him "scab," and threatened to shadow him during the evening. Jack Rattleton did not show much interest on either side, and indeed was not sure that he would stay up for Class Day at all. There was something the matter with Jack, probably the effects of his abnormal efforts during the examinations.

It rains on Class Day every fifth year, and as this was only the third, the weather was all right on the great morning. The vanguard of the invaders was first met in Saunders' Theatre, and there held in check and severely handled for an hour and a half. That was the last resistance offered, however; after that the bright, victorious masses swarmed everywhere, and reinforcements kept pouring in over the bridge. The Protective Brotherhood formed square immediately, and bravely cut its way through the opening spread at the Hemenway Gymnasium. It moved on the other spreads with equal success. There was a little friction early in the day betwixt Brothers Stoughton and Randolph, because the latter led into action with unnecessary frequency and boldness. He wanted to talk to some one every fifteen minutes, and the supporting tactics had to be put in operation too often to suit Dick. Furthermore, Randolph frequently ran over the time limit.

In the struggle round the Tree, the "gang" organized itself with great effect. Little Gray was mounted on Burleigh's shoulders, and with the others guarding him, tore down flowers enough for all his supporters. After the Tree, the Brotherhood prudently united again, and towards evening went cautiously to the Beck Hall spread. They had hardly got on the grounds before Randolph in an undertone ejaculated the omnisignificant, "By Jove!"

"Are you going in again?" demanded Stoughton, impatiently. "You'll tire us out. We shall do this thing once too often, the first thing you know, and one of us will get stuck."

"You fellows needn't bother about relieving me this time," answered Randolph, graciously, and off he went. He was not seen again during the evening.

"That is what I call rank desertion," exclaimed Dick, in disgust. "I have been afraid all along he'd do that. The beggar uses us all day until _she_ turns up, then we can shift for ourselves."

"Treason, treason!" cried Burleigh, "let's follow him up and make it pleasant for him."

"No," growled Dick, "let these squires of dames run their heads into the yoke if they want to. Come on, old man, you and I will stand by each other, anyway, and live and die free men. Let's strike the grub; that Tree shindy has made me ravenous."

But the "grub" was hard to "strike." Pale famine threatened over the lawn of Beck Hall. There was a surging mass around the table in the tent, and as fast as a dish was brought in (which was not very fast) it was snapped up by the foragers with cries of "For a lady, for a lady." There was little hope for a free patriot guerilla among these enthralled commissaries of the conquerors.

"Look here," said Dick, "I notice the dishes are brought out of that door. The thing for us to do is to trace these waiters up to their source."

They followed this Stoughtonian idea, and worked up stream against the waiters, until they arrived at the fountain of supply in the cellar of the Hall. The springs were very nearly exhausted, but there was enough salad to load two plates. A demijohn contained one glassfull of claret punch. For this they matched, and Dick won it. Then the explorers returned up-stairs, with their brilliantly won booty. Just as they were emerging on the lawn, Dick ahead with his plate in one hand and the glass in the other, they heard an exclamation of "Why, _there's_ Mr. Stoughton!" A huge frigate was bearing right down upon them, with all sail set, and four light craft in tow!

Dick's knees shook together, and with a look of astonished horror, he groaned, "Good Lord! How did they ever get here?"

"Quick!" said Burleigh; "give me the punch. For Heaven's sake save that. You've got to take your hat off. Hang it, man, where are your manners?"

In his confusion Dick handed his glass to Ned, and bowed. The next minute the enemy was upon him.

"Oh, Mr. Stoughton, I'm so glad we've found you. You must be surprised to see us, aren't you? So good of you to ask us. I didn't expect to get here, but the girls insisted that they could not miss your Class Day. So we've come all the way from Omaha. Think of that! You are the only friend we've met. Oh! where _did_ you get all that salad?"

"Ah--er--delighted,--er--so glad you could come," murmured Dick. "Brought the whole family too--this is awfully jolly. By-the-way, let me present my friend, Mr. Burleigh."

Dick turned round for his supporter. Edward was gone; so was the punch.

Ned Burleigh fled round a corner seeking a secluded nook that he had marked down for emergencies. His intentions were perfectly loyal; he meant to return and succor his ally after he had safely disposed of the food and liquid. But he had not gone a dozen steps before he encountered Steve Hudson with a weary look in his eye. That organ lit up when it fell on the stout chum and his burden.

"Oh, Ned! where did you get it? Give it to me."

"There may be a little more where this came from," answered Ned, sweetly.

"Give it to me, Ned. I want it for my mother. My whole family is starving on my hands."

"Hum," said Burleigh, suspiciously. "I think I will take it to her myself. I know this 'for a lady' dodge. If your statement is true, I want the credit of the sacrifice."

"Good," exclaimed Hudson, the weary look passing away entirely. "Come along. My sister has been disappointed at not seeing you all day."

The sister's alleged disappointment was not relieved, for she was not with the family at all. Two or three aunts and a pig-tailed cousin were. While Burleigh was yielding up his hard-earned spoils with a hollow, a very hollow grace, and receiving thanks, Steve Hudson disappeared, saying he would be back in a moment.

The pale, beseeching face of Dick, languishing among five women, rose before Ned's vision, but this was no time to think of his comrade;--he had to forage ice-cream for the aunts. Then he had to get some water; then he had to look for the escaped daughter, an unsuccessful quest. ("It's too bad to trouble you this way, Mr. Burleigh"); then he had to round up two small boys. ("The boys have no business here, I know, but they begged so hard to come"); then he had to take the pig-tail round the Yard; then more water ("Oh, if you _could_ get some Apollinaris"); Apollinaris; then he had to order the carriage ("Where _can_ Steve be? We can't go away without saying good-by to the boy, and telling him what a good time we have had"); then he had to put off the carriage; etc, etc, etc. And thus fell the last of the Amalgamated Seniors!

* * * * *

The carriages were beginning to leave. Ernest Gray got his family off among the first, and then went on a search.

He looked everywhere, as far as the outlying spread at the Agassiz; but unsuccessfully. He came to the conclusion that Class Day was about over, and began to think that it was not so merry as he had always thought it before. As he strolled back over the Delta, it occurred to him that he would not cross the old historic battle-ground often again--if at all. Memorial Hall was brightly illuminated. The light shone through the stained-glass windows, and showed the array of those who had done their duty. The window of '61 caught his eye most plainly. On the one half was a student listening to the trumpet, on the other he was going forth full armed. Over the Senior's head, the calm face of the Founder looked through the night into the West,--into the West, where spread the nation.

He did not go through the Yard, he walked slowly along behind it. He heard the sound of music, and between the buildings caught a glimpse of the enchanted quadrangle, the last bright transformation scene before the drop of the curtain. He wandered on and beneath a well-known window looked up, perhaps from force of habit. Then he stopped, for, though the open window was dark, he thought he saw a form in it. He went up-stairs and knocked at the door. "Come in," said Jack Rattleton's voice. The room was unlit, and Jack was sitting in the window-seat with his dog.

"Hello, old man," said Gray. "I haven't seen you since the Tree. Have you been up here by yourself all the evening?"

"Well, you see," drawled Jack. "Blathers was up here all alone, and I thought I'd sit with him a little while. I can amuse him better than I can a girl, you know."

Gray walked over to him, and for a long time the two men of opposite natures looked silently out of the window together. Below, they could see the Japanese lanterns, the white dresses, and all the gay throng--they _could_ see them, but they didn't. They saw, above the elms, the belfry of Harvard Hall against the clear night sky. They saw the familiar outlines of the dark roofs and spires. Over all, they saw the tower of Memorial pointing to the stars. Up from the Yard floated, distinctly, the measures of the Anthem.

"Thou then wert our Mother, the nurse of our souls
We were moulded to manhood by thee,
Till freighted with treasures, life friendships and hopes,
Thou didst launch us on Destiny's sea."

HOW RIVERS' LUCK TURNED.