Produced by Annie McGuire. This book was produced from
scanned images of public domain material from the Google
Print archive.
The ADVENTURES
OF A FRESHMAN
By
JESSE LYNCH WILLIAMS
Author of "Princeton Stories" and "The
Stolen Story and other Newspaper Stories"
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
153-157 Fifth Avenue :: New York
Copyright, 1899, by
Charles Scribner's Sons
To
HENRY MEADE WILLIAMS
A SUB-FRESHMAN
[Illustration: THE FIRST ENCOUNTER WITH THE SOPHOMORES
"You big, green Freshman from Squeedunk.... Well give you just five
seconds to take off that ugly hat, and if you don't----"]
CONTENTS
Chapter Page
I. The First Day at College 1
II. The "Big, Green Freshman from Squeedunk" 9
III. The Great Sophomore-Freshman Rush 19
IV. Welcome and Unwelcome Visitors 42
V. Hazing 56
VI. Work--Play--"Procs" 66
VII. The Last Hazing of "The Meek Butt of all Classes" 88
VIII. How it Feels to be a Hero 110
IX. A Question of Money 125
X. How he Stayed in College 137
XI. The Trouble with being a Hero 153
XII. Serving Two Masters 159
XIII. The Last Chance 176
XIV. "Home from College" 186
XV. The End of it 198
ILLUSTRATIONS
_From drawings by Fletcher Ransom_
The First Encounter with the Sophomores _Frontispiece_
"You big, green Freshman from Squeedunk.... We'll give you
just five seconds to take off that ugly hat, and if you
don't----"
Facing
page
After the Rush 40
In walked ... the little Sophomore, and behind him a very
big Sophomore. Young recognised him as the one....
Hazing 58
"Now both sit up on your haunches and chatter awhile."
The Hero of the Bell-Clapper 70
Lee was one of the most prominent and popular men in the
class.
"Meek Butt of all Classes!" 108
Before curfew rang in Old North at the close of that day,
the whole college was talking about it.
"The Invincibles" 118
They had a dignified negro waiter, and they dined in the
evening and it all seemed very fine and luxurious.
2 A.M. 158
However, after saying good night ... he would sneak off to
his room, tie a wet towel around his head, and pole....
The Meeting 186
"I don't know, mother," he said slowly, "I don't know...."
CHAPTER I
THE FIRST DAY AT COLLEGE
"Hi, there! you big Freshman, take off your hat--yes, we're talking to
_you_--take off your hat to the class above you--stop, don't try to get
by, my sober-faced young friend. That would not be nice of you."
At first the Freshman did not understand that he was the one addressed,
and, when he did, his first startled impulse was to hurry by and pretend
not to notice them.
But he could not now; the walk was blocked by this group of four fellows
who were now calmly smiling at him in an amused way, as if he were a
curious child, though really he was as old as any of them. The only way
he could avoid them was by turning back toward the street, and this he
would not do. So he stood his ground and looked straight back at them.
"Well, you seem to enjoy looking; how do you like us, Freshman?" asked
one of the Sophomores, taking his pipe out of his mouth. Three of them
were smoking pipes and all four wore those queer striped-flannel coats
of broad orange and black that had attracted his attention when he first
got off the train. Afterward he learned that they were called blazers.
They were close beside him now and they were looking him up and down.
One of them remarked to the others, "O, ye shades of Aaron Burr, but
this is a green one. What's your name, Freshman?"
Then one of the others interrupted in a loud tone, "Take off your hat,
Freshman."
It was the same high voice that had broken in upon him at the first. Its
owner was the shortest of the lot, but he smoked the longest pipe.
"Take off your hat," he commanded, "and don't look so sober. We aren't
going to hurt you."
They were all looking at him. The Freshman felt himself blushing; he
smiled and tried to look good-natured.
"I wouldn't smile if I were you," put in one of the others; "your teeth
aren't even."
The others laughed at this, but the small Sophomore said, "Come, wipe
away that smile and take off your hat, I tell you."
The Freshman stopped smiling and looked up across the campus instead.
Two men were entering an old brown building, busily talking, their arms
about each other's shoulders; they seemed very happy. He shifted from
one foot to the other.
"See here, Freshman," cried the little Sophomore, in an amazed tone,
"didn't you hear me tell you to take off your hat?" He had a large,
sneering mouth, and he constantly tried to say sarcastic things. He held
his chin elevated, as if to make himself a little taller, and the big
Freshman, looking down at him, thought how he would like to pick him up
and spank him. The Freshman had no intention of taking off his hat.
Perhaps the Sophomore knew what he was thinking; at any rate, he stepped
up close to him, and shaking a finger under his face, he snarled out,
"You big, green Freshman from Squeedunk, you're the freshest one I've
seen yet. We'll give you just five seconds to take off that ugly hat,
and if you don't----"
"Look out--look out! there comes Matt," in a quick, scared voice, one of
the others interrupted.
Matthew Goldie, the famous old proctor, was sauntering down the walk
wriggling his fingers, as was his habit, and looking apparently in the
other direction. This was also his habit.
Even in those days, before hazing was abolished by the undergraduate
vote, when it was thought, even by the Faculty, that hazing had its
redeeming features, it was a rather reckless proceeding for a crowd of
Sophomores to take a Freshman in hand on the front campus in broad
daylight and in plain sight of the Dean's house.
The small Sophomore's pipe was not two inches from the Freshman's face
when the warning was sounded and Matt Goldie was coming straight down
the walk toward him, and yet, to the surprise of all, he went on in the
same earnest manner, only now he was saying:
"I tell you, my dear sir, you will thank me all your life if you join
Whig Hall. Why, there is no comparing the two literary societies. Now,
just look at the records of the past years: In the first place, Whig
Hall was founded by President James Madison when he was a student
here"----and then the small Sophomore went glibly on with the arguments
the Whig men usually employ when claiming superiority to their rival
society, Clio Hall.
Matthew Goldie had approached, come even with the group and passed by,
oblivious of its existence, apparently. But the Sophomores knew he was
not so oblivious as he looked, so they began to move off.
"Good-by, Freshman," they said, laughingly, "sorry we have to leave you
so soon. Come on, Channing."
But Channing lingered a moment. "What's your name?" he demanded
The Freshman thought it was none of this fellow's business, but he
wanted to show he was not afraid. "Young," he said.
"Your initials?"
"My name is William Young, if you want to know," answered the Freshman,
decisively.
"Willie, eh?"
Those of the others who were near enough to hear laughed at this.
"Well, you are rather old to be called Young--Willie Young, especially.
Hereafter you shall be known as 'Deacon Young.'"
"Aw, come on, Chan," called the others.
"All right," said Channing, but he turned to the Freshman as he started
off and remarked, threateningly, "We'll meet again, you big, green
Freshman."
"I hope so," promptly returned Young, "you little, mouthy Sophomore."
And this was the very worst thing he could have said, as he was
afterward taught, if he had wanted to avoid hazing. He did not know that
the best way to get along with the Sophomores was to take their
initiating--not humbly, which was almost worse than getting mad about
it--but laughingly and good-naturedly, for as soon as he acknowledged
the fact that he was only a Freshman and recognized that he belonged to
the lowest of four grades of college importance, they would let him
alone.
But Young was not of a sort readily to acknowledge subordination to
anybody, and he had never been hazed and he knew very little about
college custom and all that, because he had been a college man less than
twenty-four hours and the tray of his trunk was still unpacked.
It was Wednesday afternoon, the first day of the term, and he was on his
way to chapel to attend the opening exercises of the college year, the
first real college duty of his life, and he had almost reached the
quadrangle when he was interrupted by the Sophomores and the
disagreeable voice which called, "Hi, there, Freshman," at him, and
which he thought he would never forget.
And now he went on up the stone walk under the tall elms, wiping his
brow and telling himself that he was not homesick, but that he did not
propose to let anybody talk to him that way, even if he was green and
from the country, and he would show them.
He was from the country, to be sure, but that had nothing to do with it.
He was guyed because he was a Freshman.
* * * * *
He was from the country, and he had come here to get a college
education, and he had worked hard to come. He meant to make the best of
his opportunities, and you could see that by the energetic way he strode
through the quadrangle and up the broad path to chapel and took his
place with two hundred others, who also were Freshmen and as green, many
of them, as he was, and trying just as hard not to show it, though he
did not know that. He thought they were upper-classmen and knew ever so
much, and were looking at him.