a glimpse of princeton

the days that followed were not pleasant ones for tommy, and more than once he went to bed with sore heart, after a particularly trying day. it was not that he was persecuted or interfered with, or that anything was done to him that would call for the head-master’s interference; none of the boys descended to that, though he might have even welcomed a little persecution, for it was the other extreme that irked him. he was left to himself. he was taboo. at table, the talk excluded him. on the campus, no one saw him. in the class-room, no one seemed interested in whether he recited well or badly, or whether he recited at all. no one dropped in to chat with him in the evening, nor was he invited to any of the little gatherings the fellows were always having. often, as he bent over his books in the evening, he would catch the tinkle of a banjo or a strain of college song, and his eyes blurred so with tears sometimes that he could not see the page before him. but it was only in the solitude of his room he permitted himself this weakness. to the world he showed a defiant face, and no one suspected how deeply he was hurt. after all, they were only boys, and it is not to be wondered at that, for the moment, victory on the football field appeared to them of more consequence than proficiency in class.

two things comforted him somewhat. one was that he no longer went to his classes unprepared. indeed, he worked at his books so savagely that he was soon in the first group of the class, and more than once the tutors went out of their way to commend him—though it was not for their commendation his heart was aching, but for that of his classmates. his other comfort was in a letter he had received from mr. bayliss in reply to the one he had written him telling of his quitting his football practice. the letter ran:

i need hardly tell you how i have rejoiced in your strength in making this decision and in sticking to it. nothing would compensate for failure in your classes—not even the applause of the football field. but i can readily understand how much the decision must have cost you, and i think i can foresee how it will affect the bearing of your classmates toward you, for school-boys sometimes have a very exaggerated and false notion of school honor. concerning this last, let me give you a word of advice. next to success in study, there is no more precious thing in college life than class friendship. one can well afford to sacrifice much to gain it. so i would not have you antagonize your classmates unnecessarily. be prepared to make some sacrifice for them—sacrifice of pride and convenience and time. perhaps later in the year you may be so well up in your studies that you can afford again to take an active part in the school athletics. do not hesitate to do so when you can.

tommy read this letter over and over again, and drew much consolation from it. gradually, too, some of the fellows began to unbend a little. little reeves, who had tackled him so gamely at that first day’s practice, was the first to show his friendship. it was one evening, while tommy was wandering disconsolately about the campus, that he first became aware of reeves’s feeling toward him.

“i say, remington,” somebody called after him.

tommy started at the unaccustomed sound of his name.

“hullo, reeves,” he said, as he turned and recognized him.

“how are you, old man?” and reeves held out his hand and gave tommy’s a hearty clasp that brought his heart into his throat. “come up to my room awhile, can’t you, and let’s have a talk.”

“of course i can,” said tommy, and in a moment was stumbling after reeves up the stairs of hamill house with a queer mist before his eyes.

“this is my sanctum,” reeves remarked, turning up the light. “sit down here”; and he threw himself on the window-seat opposite. “now tell me about it, old fellow. i’ve heard the fellows jawing, of course, but i want to know the straight of it.”

and tommy opened the flood-gates of his heart and poured the story forth. reeves listened to the end without interrupting by word or sign.

“but how does it come,” he asked at last, “that you can’t keep up and play football too? the other fellows do, and they don’t drive us so hard here. hasn’t your prep been good?”

“good?” echoed tommy. “why, man, three years ago i couldn’t read nor write.”

“whew!” whistled reeves, and sat up and looked at him. “say, tell me about that. i should like to hear about that.”

so tommy, who felt as though he were lifting a great load from his heart, told him the story, beginning, just as this story began, at the moment he entered the little wentworth school-house with the circus poster in his hand. how far away it seemed to him now! he could scarcely believe that it had happened so recently. some parts of the story he did not tell in detail; he did not dwell upon the grime and misery of the mines, nor upon the hard conditions of life in new river valley. somehow they seemed strangely out of place in this airy, pleasant room, with this boy, who had been reared in luxury, for listener. so he hurried on to the time when he first looked into “lorna doone,” and then to the patient work of the two who had taught him and fitted him for lawrenceville. let us do him the justice to say that he paid them full tribute.

“don’t you see,” he concluded, “i can’t disappoint those two people. i’ve just got to succeed. besides, i can’t go back to the mines now. i’ve seen something of the world outside. it’d kill me to go back.”

reeves came over and gave him his hand again.

“right,” he said heartily. “you’re dead right. say,” he added awkwardly, “let me help you, won’t you? i’d like to. come up here in the evenings and we’ll tackle the books together. i don’t know very much, but maybe i can help a little. the master will consent, i know.”

“will you?” cried tommy. “oh, will you? that’s just what i want; that’s just what i need! but maybe you’ve other things to do—i don’t want to spoil your evenings.”

“nonsense!” growled reeves. “i need the study as bad as you do—worse, i suspect. i’ve been loafing too much anyway, and going over the rudiments again will help me. it’s as much for my own sake as for yours.”

so it was settled, the master did consent, and every night found the two together. how great a help reeves was to him need hardly be said. yet i think the other profited as much—perhaps more. he profited in self-denial and in earnestness, and, in his eagerness to help tommy on, himself devoted much more thought to the work than he would otherwise have done. word got about that reeves had taken tommy’s side of the controversy, and for a time the others wondered. some of them dropped in of an evening to see for themselves this remarkable sight of reeves coaching remington in the first-form work. the example proved a good one, and as time passed some of the other boys forgot their anger toward him, and admitted him again into their friendship. but it was to reeves he clung closest of all.

“say, remington,” said the latter, one saturday, “i’m going to walk over to princeton to-morrow after morning service. i’ve got a big brother there in the sophomore class, and maybe he’ll show us around if he’s feeling good. how’d you like to go along?”

“i’d like it,” said tommy, with conviction, for he had never yet had a glimpse of the great college whose achievements were being constantly dinned into his ears. “but can i get leave?”

“i’ll fix it for you,” answered reeves, and he did.

it was a pleasant three-mile walk, that cool october morning, along the level road, shaded on either side by stately elms. the old post-road it used to be, a century and a half before, running from new york to philadelphia, a gay place echoing to the coachman’s horn, and later, during the revolution, to the tramp of armies. only the memory of its former glory now remains, but its beauty is unchanged. they passed a row of old colonial residences, well back from the road, half hidden amid groves of trees and rows of formal hedge. then into nassau street they turned, and so to the college campus.

“that’s nassau hall—‘old north,’ they call it here,” said reeves, pointing to a long three-storied gray stone building, half covered with ivy, stretching across the front campus. “it is so old that it was the largest building in america when it was built. during the revolution, after washington won the battle of princeton, just below here, some of the british took refuge in the building; but washington’s cannon soon brought them out. there was a picture of george iii. inside in the big hall, and they say that washington’s first cannon-ball went through the picture and cut off the head. they put a picture of washington in the frame afterward.”

tommy looked with respect at the old building, as solid and substantial now as it was the day it was erected. back of it he caught a glimpse of many other buildings, but reeves turned in at the first one.

“these are all dormitories,” he said. “this is reunion hall. ralph’s room is up there on the second floor.”

they stumbled up the stairs, which were very dark, and presently reeves knocked at a door. there was no response, and he tried the knob. the door opened.

“come on,” said reeves. “it’s not locked. come in and have a look at his den.”

and for the first time tommy caught a glimpse of a college room. orange and black, the college colors, were everywhere. the walls were covered by signs, secured in divers places, and by means that would not bear too close scrutiny—all sorts of signs: “for rent,” “keep off the grass,” “danger,” “beware the dog,” “this way to the menagerie,” “monkey house,” and so on. a banjo and guitar stood in one corner. above the fireplace were two crossed lacrosse-sticks, a set of boxing-gloves, and a pair of foils with masks. everywhere there were embroidered sofa-cushions—the work of devoted and ill-rewarded feminine fingers—and photographs and books and a great miscellany of trash such as only a college boy knows how to gather together.

“well, he’s not here,” said reeves, after a glance around. “it’s no use to wait for him. maybe we’ll meet him out on the campus. we’ll take a walk around, anyway.”

and take a walk around they did—past beautiful, many-arched alexander hall, where the commencement exercises are held; past the old gymnasium, with its bronze gladiator before it; past the observatory, with its great movable dome; past blair hall, with its lofty towers frowning down upon the little railway station; past witherspoon hall, the most luxurious of all the dormitories; past the two white marble buildings of the literary societies, whig and clio, with their high, many-columned, classic porticos. reeves showed tommy the cannon captured from the british, and planted, muzzle downward, in the center of the quadrangle, forming the hub about which the whole college world revolved, and where the class-day exercises were held at commencement. then on they went to mccosh walk, with its rows of stately elms; to prospect, where the president lives; and back again past marquand chapel and the new library to the front campus, where they sat down under the elms in front of old north to rest.

“it’s a great old building, isn’t it?” said reeves. “see how covered with ivy it is. every graduating class plants a piece at commencement; it’s one of the big exercises, with an oration and all that. the fellows here have great times, i tell you. we must come over some evening next spring and hear the senior singing; the whole class sits on the steps there, and sometimes the banjo and mandolin clubs come out too. can you sing?”

“no,” said tommy, “i can’t sing.”

“it’s a great thing to get on the glee club. but no matter; you’re certain to make the football team, and that’s better yet. nothing’s too good for you if you’re on the team. wait till you see the yale game!”

tommy drew a deep breath of joy and longing. would it ever come true? was it not all a dream, that would presently fade and vanish? he looked about again at the great buildings, the long, winding walks, the level, close-clipped campus.

the extent and complexity of the college world dazzled him. he began to understand what a great college really is, and his heart leaped to a faster measure at the thought that he would one day be a part of it. he watched the students sauntering along the walks, smoking and chatting, and wondered if any of them had come from such a place as new river valley. he was quite sure that none had—he did not know that these boys were gathered together from every quarter of the world, and that some of them had worked their way up from even lower depths than the coal-mines.

“let’s have another try at locating ralph,” said reeves, after a time, and they again clambered up to his room in reunion. they found a boy lolling lazily on the window-seat, gazing out across the campus. he looked around as they entered.

“isn’t this ralph reeves’s room?” asked reeves, hesitating on the threshold.

“yep,” said the stranger. “at least, part of it is. the other part’s mine. i’m his room-mate. what do you want with him?”

“i want to see him. he’s my brother.”

“oh, is he?” and the owner of the room looked at them with considerably more interest. “well, i’m afraid you won’t see him. he went up to new york last night to see mansfield. he can’t get back till this evening, and i don’t much expect him before to-morrow morning.”

reeves concealed as well as he could the disappointment which this announcement caused him.

“oh, all right,” he said carelessly. “come on, remington; we’d better start back to lawrenceville.”

“here, wait a minute,” called the other, as they turned away. “you kids can’t walk ’way back to lawrenceville without something to eat. i was just thinking about going to lunch. come along with me. i’m holland, ’02,” he added, by way of introduction.

perhaps at another time reeves might have resented being called a “kid,” but just now his stomach was clamoring for refreshment and was not to be denied.

“all right; thank you, mr. holland,” said reeves. “this is remington,” he added, pulling tommy forward. “he’s my chum down at lawrenceville.”

tommy turned scarlet with pleasure at this open avowal of friendship. holland nodded to him, threw on a cap that was lying on the floor, and led the way down the stairs, across the campus, and to a boarding-house on university place. half a dozen other fellows were sitting about the table eating and talking, and holland gave the two boys a general introduction. tommy listened to the talk as he ate, but there was little of it he could understand, for such strange words as “poller,” “grind,” “trig,” “math,” “cuts,” and dozens of others equally incomprehensible, were constantly recurring. the meal over, they bade their host good-by, and started back to lawrenceville, which they reached in time for supper.

the routine of the place went on day after day without incident; only more than once tommy found himself fighting the same battle over again. reeves scrupulously refrained from talking football to him, but he knew, nevertheless, that sexton’s prophecy had been fulfilled, and that banker was making a poor showing for left guard. that position was by far the weakest on the team, and more than once, as the season progressed, the opposing team made gains through it which defeated lawrenceville. it seemed more and more certain, as the days went by, that they could not hope to win the great game of the season, that with the princeton freshmen. blake labored savagely with his men, but they seemed to have lost spirit. a deep gloom settled over the place, and the ill feeling against tommy, which had bid fair to be forgotten, sprang into life again.

the crisis came one afternoon about a week before the day of the game. tommy was plugging away at his books, as usual, when he heard the door open, and looking around, saw reeves and sexton enter. one glance at their faces told him that something more than usually serious had happened.

“what is it?” he asked quickly.

“it’s mighty hard luck, that’s what it is,” said sexton, sitting down despondently. “banker sprained a tendon in his ankle at practice this afternoon, and won’t be able to play any more this season. he wasn’t such a great player, but he was the best left guard we had, and there’s nobody to take his place.”

tommy sat for a moment, silent, looking from one to the other. the last sentences of mr. bayliss’s letter were ringing in his ears.

“is practice over yet?” he asked.

“no,” said reeves. “it had just begun when banker was hurt. blake is hunting around for somebody to take his place.”

tommy closed his book with a slam, pushed back his chair, and from one corner of the room pulled out his old football suit.

“what are you going to do?” cried reeves, a great light in his eyes.

“i’m going to play left guard,” said tommy, as calmly as he could, and trying to steady his hands, which were trembling strangely. “wait till i get these togs on, will you?”

but reeves and sexton had him by the hands and were shaking them wildly.

“i knew it!” cried reeves. “i knew it! i knew he wouldn’t fail us! i knew the stuff he was made of! we’ll beat those freshmen yet.”

“beat them!” echoed sexton, dancing wildly around tommy; “we’ll beat the life out of them! hurry up, remington. let go his hand, can’t you, reeves, so he can get into his togs. let the other fellows get a look at him! it’ll do them good!”