To MISS GRACE IREDELL,
Summerfield,
North Carolina.
Baltimore, Oct. 4, 1906.
Dear Little Sis:
I wrote Father the other day and told how I had got started at the
College. I suppose you read the letter or heard all the news in it. I
really haven't buckled down to hard work, because there has been such a
lot of "hazing" that we "freshies" are being captured all the time.
Last Friday the older fellows actually made a line of us walk up and
down some of the principal streets with our trousers and coats turned
inside out, our stockings down over our shoes, our bare legs tattooed
and crazy signs on our backs. Just fancy what a guy your big brother
looked on Lexington street, where all the ladies here go shopping! I
should have died if I had seen anybody from home. There wasn't any
breaking away, because they were too many for us. One "freshy" tried it,
and he's going around with a bum eye and his hand in a sling.
After the parade they took us in a back yard and made us do "stunts."
One prisoner had to deliver a solemn oration from a beer keg on "Whether
Cuba ought to be annexed to the United States." When it came my turn I
thought I'd get off easy by giving some of those imitations of dogs and
cats and roosters that I used to get off with the crowd at home. But
they made such a hit that now they have me doing them all the time.
Every time I come out of class a gang of yelling Indians grab me and
carry me off to do imitations. I'm tired of it, but I can't help it.
Two of the fellows at my boarding-house got me to go to a theatre on
Baltimore street last night. It was a variety show, a mixed programme of
acrobatic feats, singing and girls dancing. I thought it all fine, but
the crowd didn't like every bit of it, for at places they began to yell
"Get the hook!" whatever that means.
I intended to hunt up a Methodist church last Sunday, but one of the
associate professors at the college was a classmate of Uncle Will's, and
he invited me to evening service at a Congregational church, a beautiful
edifice on Maryland avenue, looking more like a costly college building
than a church. I enjoyed myself, for there was some fine singing, and we
sat right behind one of the prettiest girls I have ever seen. At the end
I was introduced to some of the people and they invited me to a social
at the church one evening next week.
Maybe you had better not let Father read this. He might get the idea I
wasn't taking my studies seriously enough.
Yours,
HUGH.