with that graceful motion peculiar to a terrier on urgent business; his
hind-quarters shoved his head all the way down-stairs, and tripped over
it at the bottom. He shot out of the door as if after a cat, whisked
round the corner, and made straight for the Chapel. On the steps,
however, he paused, for, at that moment, coming up the path from
Memorial, he saw a sight that made his blood boil. Hudson and Dixey were
strolling back from the Agassiz, and trotting ahead of them were Topsy
and that abominable Mike Dixey. As has been mentioned before, Mike was a
dog of very loose character. He would get intoxicated on beer whenever
he could find any one to "set it up." He belonged nominally to Dixey,
but was really a sort of dog-about-college. He would attach himself to
any one whom he could work for crackers and beer. He did not mind
spending the night on a door-step, and associated with all the street
curs. He would hang around the public billiard-rooms and Foster's, and
do tricks for sandwiches. Sometimes he would disappear on a spree for
days, get caught by the muckers, and come home with a tin can in tow.
Altogether he was no fit company for a lady, and when Blathers saw this
low-lived animal walking with his Topsy, reverence for the spot could
not restrain his indignation. Right in front of the Chapel door he
insulted the Irish terrier, and before the men behind could come up,
then and there the fight began. Rattleton, within, heard the sounds of
conflict rise above the anthem, and, by some vague intuition, his blood
ran cold. Another moment and Mike came flying up the aisle with yelps of
pain, evidently seeking sanctuary. Blathers may have had a deep
reverence for Appleton Chapel (barring the architecture), but his blood
was up, and he did not stop to think. He pursued the flying foe,
overtook and grabbed him again, just beyond Rattleton's pew, and
alongside of that of a couple of magnates. Jack thought it would be
better to remove those two dogs himself, and did so, one in each hand.
But there was no use in pretending that he did not know to whom that
scientific bull-terrier belonged. The men outside had some difficulty in
persuading him that they were in no way responsible for the episode.
Mr. Blathers lived long and went to many places, but that was the only
time he ever attended services in church.
A HOWARD AND HARVARD EVENING.
That evening at dinner Burleigh and Rattleton entertained the table with
a glowing description of a new play they had seen on the previous night,
at the Howard Athenaeum. They were most enthusiastic about it.
"I can't understand," declared Burleigh, "how such a piece and such a
troupe happened to drop into the old Howard. Such scenery! Why, the
stage setting was the best I ever saw. One act was laid in the pine
woods; you could look way through them, apparently, live birds flew
about among the branches, and they must have burned some sort of balsam
in the wings, for you could actually smell the pines."
"That's a new smell for the Howard," remarked Hudson.
"Yes, and those two girls!" added Jack Rattleton. "By Jove, wasn't that
blonde a beauty!"
"The brunette was better," averred Burleigh. "How she did sing! They
have splendid songs all through the play."
"Never saw such acting," said Jack, "even--certainly never at the
Howard."
"The hero was a magnificent young man," Burleigh went on. "You ought to
see him throw down the villain in the last act. I'm going again as soon
as I can."
"Why haven't we heard of it before?" queried Stoughton, suspiciously.
"It was a first night," explained Burleigh, promptly. "Jack and I were
pioneers. You fellows ought to go see it. You'll hear enough of it
before it is over; but go in now while it is fresh."
"I have nothing to do to-night," said Hudson. "I believe I'll go. Who is
with me?"
Stoughton and Gray both agreed to join him. Holworthy and Randolph were
going to drive over to a ball in Brookline.
"I'd give anything to go with you chaps," said Burleigh, "but I have got
to work into the wee sma' hours on my forensic. It is due to-morrow
morning, and I haven't done a thing on it."
"I'd like to see that show again, too," said Jack, "but I don't feel
very well to-night. I'm going to turn in early."
The three theatre-goers started for town immediately after dinner. They
stopped at one of the clubs first, and picked up three or four other men
on the strength of Burleigh's eulogy of the play.
Whoever has been through Harvard College and never been to the Howard
Athenaeum has neglected his advantages; fortunately such deplorable
instances are rare. Who, that has improved his opportunities, does not
remember the old stamping-ground, where the commingled perfumes of
orange-peel, humanity, and peanuts would smell to high heaven, were they
not stopped in a concentrated mass by the grimy roof. There things are
real, things are earnest, unweakened by affectation and refinement. The
villains are real bad villians, and carry knives, not cigarettes. They
know how to gloat. The heroes have red undershirts and true nobility,
and don't mind showing either. The heroines are not ashamed of
sentimentality. Neither is the audience. There, too, is music that you
can remember and whistle, that you can sing afterwards on the way back
to Cambridge; not music that you must contemplate with rapt gaze on the
ceiling. There you will find humor of the broad, plain, unmistakable
variety, humor at which you can laugh for its own sake, not for the
maker's wit or your own in detecting it. Nor, in that shrine of the
Muses, does pleasure always end with the fall of the curtain. Frequently
you may see two or three excellent fights on the way out, and perhaps be
granted a share in one yourself. Oh, you get your money's worth at the
classic Athenaeum, for it is all for fifty cents (thirty-five in the
gallery).
"I have a suspicion," said Stoughton, on the way in town, "that those
fellows were lying to us. I'll bet this show is something awful, they
were probably bored to death, and conceived the happy thought of getting
us sold in the same way."
"Never mind," said Hudson, philosophically; "we'll have a good time
anyway."
Before the curtain had been up ten minutes, Dick's suspicion gained
ground; it's truth was fully confirmed long before the end of the play.
The scenery, the birds, and the pine balsam effects were wholly
creatures of Burleigh's capable brain; as for Jack Rattleton's houris,
Stoughton declared that "Noah was a fool to have saved them; he ought to
have shut them out in the rain long enough to get a wash any way."
Even the Athenaeum audience was dissatisfied and inclined to jeer. Gray
wanted to leave at the end of the first act.
"Hold on," insisted Hudson, "let's stay here and make this a success.
There's lots of good sentiment all through it, just your style Gray. All
it needs is a little enthusiasm in the house to warm up the actors.
Let's lead the applause on the strong points."
So they stayed, and their efforts were attended with such success, that
they might have had a free pass for future performances. Every time the
hero said, "I am the just man and you are the villain," or the heroine
declared she would never leave him while life lasted, or showed other
symptoms of heroism, the knot of students would stamp, and applaud, and
rouse the finer feelings of the whole house. The grateful actors
certainly did warm up, and delivered with more and more vim their honest
expressions of lofty sentiment and occasional touches of patriotism, the
latter utterly uncalled for, but always welcome. The audience became
worked up as well, but in the last act suddenly began to hiss.
"Hullo! what's up now?" asked Gray, who had not taken the Athenaeum
course faithfully, and was not learned in it; "what are they hissing
at?"
"Good gracious, man," answered Hudson, "don't you see? Don't display
your ignorance. They are hissing the villain. It's the greatest
compliment you can pay him. Go ahead, hiss like a good one."
On the whole, the performance was a grand success, and Hudson insisted
that Gray had made an undoubted conquest of the second lady. After it
was over some one mentioned "broiled lob. and musty," at Parks, but it
was voted to return to Cambridge and make a rarebit there.
"We'll go pull out Ned Burleigh, and have it in his room," suggested
Dick.
"No you don't!" exclaimed Hudson. "You forget I'm his chum. I'll have no
Welsh rarebit made in that room unless we draw lots and I get stuck. The
room would smell of cheese and stale beer for twenty-four hours."
"Let's land on Rattleton then. We'll teach him to lie."
Feeling in a luxurious mood they scorned the cars, and chartered a
herdic, four men getting inside and three on the roof. For those readers
who know not the herdic, I will explain that it is a sort of tiny
omnibus in which four thin people can sit uncomfortably. It usually has
two wheels and never more than one horse--sometimes not quite as much.
"I may as well tell you before we start," said Stoughton, who sat on the
top, to the driver, "that we are not Freshmen, so don't break a spring
on the bridge and tell us that it will cost you ten dollars to get it
mended."
"I know you're old hands," answered Jehu, with a grin, "I know youse
fellers. I remember your face pertickler. Mebbe you disrecollect comin'
out with me one night from Parker's. Let's see, guess it was two years
ago, after the Institoot dinner."
"All right, my friend, say no more," acknowledged Dick, as the other two
men shouted. "The drink is on me. Here is the price of it."
The door at the back of the herdic is held shut with a strap that leads
through the roof to the driver's seat. This was secured firmly, so as to
keep the inside passengers safe, for it is an established courtesy for
those inside to slip out when near the college, leaving the others to
pay the driver and joining them later. By means of the strap, however,
and the lack of a knife among the insiders, all arrived well together at
the building where Rattleton roomed.
"I'll go to the Fly and get the cheese and beer," said Gray. "You get
your chafing-dish, Dick."
Stoughton roomed in the same building with Rattleton, as did Hudson and
Burleigh. While he went after his chafing-dish the others reconnoitered
Rattleton's quarters. The door was locked and all was dark. The glass
ventilator over the door, however, was unfastened, and large enough to
admit a man. Jack Rattleton always left his ventilator unfastened, for
he often depended on it for his own ingress. The reason of this was very
simple,--the door had a spring bolt, and it was characteristic of Mr.
Rattleton's nature to frequently leave his keys inside and shut the door
when he went out. It was a very simple matter for Hudson to climb over
the door through this ventilator, drop down, and open the door from the
inside.
"Look out for Blathers," said one man. "If that pretty pup is in there
he'll take a piece out of your leg."
"He knows my voice," answered Hudson, as he "shinned" over. He let the
rest in and lit the gas. Rattleton was not in his bedroom.
"Humph," grunted Hudson. "Said he wasn't well and was going to turn in
early. The abominable liar."
They poked up the fire and had it roaring when Stoughton returned,
bearing the chafing-dish and a long pipe, his dear Mary Jane.
"That's a good idea," said Hudson, as his eye fell on the latter
article. "You've brought that disgusting black pipe. We can stand it for
a while, and it will permeate Jack's room and teach him the beauty of
truth. Puff away on Mary; serve Jack right."
Rattleton's plates and other necessities were foraged out by the time
Gray appeared with the cheese and beer. Not seeing Rattleton, he asked
how the others had got in. Hudson explained. "This open ventilator habit
of Jack's" he added, "is worse than rooming on the ground floor. Ned
Burleigh and I had enough of that in Freshman year, before we moved up
here. Our room was a regular darned club. Everybody would drop in there
between lectures, chin when we wanted to study, and smoke our tobacco,
just because it was too much trouble to go up-stairs. We couldn't leave
our window open at night without having some fools crawl in, at any time
after midnight, and raise the deuce."
"Yes, I remember. It was very pleasant," remarked Stoughton.
The creation of the rarebit was well under way with the usual
accompaniment of advice and altercation over the ingredients, when
shouts were heard from under the window, of "Jack, Jack Rat, Oh, Jack!"
Hudson threw up the window and saw Holworthy and Randolph below in a
buggy. "Mr. Rattleton is not in, gentlemen," he said, "but come right up
and make yourselves at home."
"All right; be with you in a moment, as soon as we have taken this trap
round to Blake's."
"It is the two society fritterlings," announced Hudson, as he drew in
his head. A few minutes later Randolph and Holworthy appeared in their
big coats.
"Seems to me you're back from your ball pretty early," observed Gray.
"Hol didn't find the person there he wanted to see, so he soured on the
whole thing and dragged me away early," Jack Randolph explained.
"What a whopper," said Holworthy, as he took off his ulster. "It was
very stupid, and Jack himself suggested that we should be happier in
Cambridge."
"Aha," cried Stoughton, who was stirring the "bunny" with a master hand.
"Very nice. Two gentlemen in faultless evening attire. They'll do for
the waiters. Here, quick, hand up your plates before this thing gets
cold."
While they were eating the rarebit, a step was heard in the entry,
accompanied by the trotting feet of a dog, and the locked door was
tried. Then a familiar voice drawled "What the devil is going on in
here?"
"Hullo, Jack," cried Stoughton, "come right in. Don't be bashful."
"Open the door, you arrant burglars," demanded Rattleton. "My keys are
on my bureau, or somewhere inside."
"Climb over the transom as I did," Hudson called. "You'll have to turn
your back to the company in the performance, but don't mind the
awkwardness of the position."
"We'll excuse your back. We have your hair-brushes and the fire shovel
already," added Randolph, cheerily.
"Don't be such babies," said Jack, (whenever any of the gang was at a
disadvantage, he was apt to age suddenly) "come, let me in."
"Are you sorry you told a naughty fib to-night?" asked Hudson, with his
hand on the knob.
"Yes."
"Will you set up the ingredients for a punch?"
"Yes."
"All right then, you may come in," said Hudson, graciously, opening the
door.
"How was the play?" inquired Jack, pleasantly, as he went into his
bedroom after the wash-basin, the regular understudy for a punch-bowl.
"Enjoyed it immensely, in spite of your wishes for our entertainment,"
Hudson declared. "We know now your ideal of talent and beauty."
"Don't blame me. That was all Burleigh's rot," protested Jack,
apologetically, but with a chuckle. "Why don't you pull him out?"
"That is a good plan," assented Hudson. "Two of you come up and help me
capture the elephant. He may resist." A committee of three went up to
wait upon Burleigh.
"What is the sense of this meeting as to the temperature of the grog?"
asked Rattleton.
"Hot!" promptly moved the two who had driven over from Brookline. The
motion was carried, so Jack put the kettle on the fire.
"Speaking of the drama and brother Burleigh," said Holworthy, "do you
remember the time, Dick, that we saw the old man suping in that
spectacular play in Sophomore year?"
"I'm not likely to forget it," answered Dick. "You fellows remember that
show called 'Albrachia,' or some such name, full of red fire and
fairies? Hol. and I went in to see it one night, and whom should we
discover as leading demon in the grand climax, but the stout Edward. We
nearly stood up and cheered,--but we'll make him tell about it
to-night."
"Hullo, here is the sylph now!" exclaimed some one, as the committee
returned in triumph with Ned in tow.
"The perjured loafer told us he was going to work on his forensic,"
cried Hudson. "Look at this," pointing to Burleigh, whose generous
proportions were swathed in gaudy pajamas.
"I hear you enjoyed the play exceedingly," remarked Burleigh, as he made
for the fireplace, and spread his huge form all over the front of it.
"So we did, no thanks to you," answered Gray.
"Any men who are such Athenaeum Lotharios as to be decoyed in town by the
mere mention of two pretty actresses, deserve to get sold," declared
Ned, severely.
"Here, take your toddy and stop your mouth," said Stoughton. "As a
penance for your lies, you can give us some reminiscences of your
disreputable career on the stage."
After some demurring, Burleigh was persuaded to begin his yarn. The
"tea" was made by this time, and enthroned on the student's desk in the
centre of the room. With "tod and tobac." the party disposed itself
about the room, every one with a view more to ease than grace. Blathers,
as usual, chose his master's outstretched legs. Ned Burleigh, with a
cigar, stood in front of the fire in his airy raiment, his feet apart,
warming his exterior with the genial blaze, and his interior with the
genial toddy. Would that we could have those evenings again!
THE HARVARD LEGION AT PHILIPPI.
"What do you want me to relate?" asked Burleigh. "The great battle of
Philippi?"
"Yes, we would like to hear about that," answered Stoughton, "and also
your experience with the Hosts of Darkness."
"That was a very short and painful affair," Ned explained. "I'll tell
you that first. You must know, my children, that I was once a godless
Sophomore even as other Sophs. You may scarcely believe it now, but I
was. Among other follies, I took to 'suping' occasionally. Of course my
intentions were purely noble; I wanted to elevate the stage. On one
occasion this man Hudson, here, led me to the Boston Theatre, where an
elaborate show was being given and 'supes' were in demand. You fellows
must remember the play, it was called 'Alboraka, the Wizard.' They
wanted only one man for that night, and as I was the handsomer, they
chose me. I comforted Steve by promising to share with him the quarter
that I expected to earn; I believe on the strength of my promise he
bought a seat in the peanut gallery."
"Oh, no, I didn't," interrupted Hudson, "I had a seat right under a box
where there was a theatre-party of Mrs. Mayflor Tremont's, with a lot of
girls I knew. I was thundering glad I wasn't on the stage, and had more
than half a mind to point you out to them."
"You wouldn't have troubled me at all," answered Ned. "That is where we
unknown woolly Westerners get the drop on the Boston men, and you dudes
who go in for Boston society. However, to go on with this confession, I
was appointed leader of the Hosts of Darkness. I don't know why I was
singled out for this distinction, unless it was on account of my superb
figure."
"That was it," corroborated Stoughton. "You did look stunning in those
red tights, even more fetching than you are now in those pajamas."
"The part was not a difficult one, but very important," Burleigh
continued. "I had to look fierce, and bear aloft a huge red and gold
affair. This was referred to once or twice as 'yon gonfalon of
Diabolus,' so I suppose that's what it was. I only had to go on the
stage twice. In the last scene, where the Wizard got thrown down, there
was a high bridge at the back of the stage. It was steep on the sides,
shaped a good deal like the Chinese bridge in a blue willow-ware plate;
don't you remember? I had to hold this bridge for the Wizard at the head
of my minions, and was doing it with dignity and grace. My instructions
were to stay there until the Queen of the Fairies should point at me and
say 'Avaunt, vile blood-fiends, to the shades below'; then to retire
with signs of rage and terror, while the Hosts of Light came up the
other side of the bridge. Now I was watching and listening to the Queen
carefully, and I am sure she never pointed at me, or opened her head
about 'avaunting.' I think myself that my fatal beauty in the red tights
had made an impression on her, and she didn't want me to leave. She
probably couldn't find it in her heart to call me a blood-fiend; at any
rate there was some hitch, for the Hosts of Light began coming up the
bridge ahead of time. Of course, I wasn't going to avaunt without
orders, so I stood there waiting for my cue. The leading angel called me
a most vile name, in an anxious undertone, and poked his spear violently
in the pit of my stomach. He hurt me like the devil, so I promptly
smashed him on the head with the Gonfalon of Diabolus, and bowled him
down among the advancing Hosts of Light, to their utter confusion. The
next minute something lit on the back of my neck, and that is all I
know. I believe it was a sandbag hove from the wings, and that I was
dragged out by the heels."
"You were, you were," Holworthy shouted at the recollection, "but it was
done so quickly that half of the audience didn't see it."
"When I came to," Ned went on, "I was on my face behind the scenes, with
four or five able-bodied Irishmen sitting on my back. The 'super'
captain was going to turn me over to the cop; but I begged pardon all
round, paid for the leading angel's broken head, and finally managed to
smooth things over."
"They are pretty careful how they take amateur supes at any of the
theatres now. Nothing like the battle of Philippi can ever occur again,"
said Rattleton, regretfully.
"Give us that, Ned," said Stoughton; "I guess some of these fellows have
never heard an accurate account by one of the heroes."
"That was truly the grandest suping event in history," said Burleigh,
refilling his glass, and returning to his position by the fire. "It was
just after that new theatre was opened, way down there on Washington
Street. It was a cheap shrine, but I tell you, now, Melpomene was right
in it. The owners had no idea of making it a low-down variety hall, not
much. They were going to give high-class performances and educate the
masses. One of the first things they had there was a Shakespearean
revival, run by a peripatetic star named Riley. The fellows used to go
in and supe all the time. They rather liked to have Harvard men for two
reasons: first, because it was cheap, and, in the second place, I think
Riley's manager rather expected us to bring all our friends and
relatives there to see us act, and give the place a boom.
"The first night of _Julius Caesar_ came on Jim de Laye's twenty-first
birthday, and he was going to give a dinner, after which we intended to
fill a box at the show and give Caesar a good send-off. I went in town to
get the box, and at the office I heard the manager, or some official,
complaining about lack of supes. I made inquiries, and it ended in my
contracting to furnish him with ten good men and true for that evening
at reasonable rates. He gave me as a bonus a few tickets for any of my
family or 'lady friends.' It showed how green he was to take ten of 'de
Ha'vards' at once. They never would have done that anywhere else in
town.
"The other chaps all fell in with the arrangement, and we had the dinner
at Parker's early. A man does not get to be twenty-one years old every
day in the year, so we took pains to see that Jim did it properly.
"That lazy goat on the sofa there (pointing to Rattleton) had not been
seen in Cambridge that afternoon, and knew nothing about the suping
arrangement. Of course, he was late to dinner, as usual, and of course,
as usual, he turned up with that d----d dog of his. After dinner, when
we adjourned to the theatre, we wanted him to leave Blathers behind at
Parker's, but he insisted on taking the pup along, wrapped in his
overcoat. He assured us that Blathers would keep perfectly quiet, and no
one would ever know he was there. We might have known better, but I
suppose we were in a yielding mood. De Laye and two or three others
brought bottles of fizz in their overcoats. They said it was always well
to propitiate the natives, and thought such provisions might be popular
with the Thespians. Jim swore he'd make noble Romans of every man of
'em. We got there early, and Blathers was tied up and hidden away under
Jack's coat in a corner of the dressing-room. In the performance we all
did our parts like little men. Rome was proud of her citizens that day.
As for our mob-work, that showed positive genius."
"How Marc Antony's speech over the body did go!" chuckled Rattleton from
the sofa.
"The stage-manager was delighted and complimented us, and so did Riley
himself. Jack Rat had made friends with Riley very early in the game. He
had invited him out to lunch in Cambridge, and had hinted at getting him
to coach the Pudding show. Moreover, Jack and I had steered several
large parties in to Riley's performances, and Riley knew it. It was a
lucky thing for us, as it turned out, that he and Jack had got so
chummy.