TALKS WITH A KID BROTHER
plump boy seems to you at this moment. Oh, well, there are worse ideals.
Here we are on the campus. Makes you feel all sorts of queer things just to walk along under these elms, doesn't it? Does me every time I come back. At some colleges they call it yard, but it's a goodly place whether there's enough of it to call it a campus or not. Look at 'em all scurrying along with their fathers and mothers.
They do look alike somehow, even if you can't see it. That is because they are all alike in being Freshmen. There are the people we saw while getting your lamp-shade. The father is giving the boys some advice. I saw him this morning while they were up in Examination Hall. I don't know how the boys were making out, but the old man's hand shook so he couldn't light his cigar; I had to help him; that's how we got acquainted. He says he's a 'sixty-one man, a Southerner; left college to fight for the Confederacy like lots of others; hasn't been back since; and now he can't get away—meant to go home Monday, been putting it
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