even the army or the church, unless they were forced to do so. One of these I recall at this moment quite vividly. He was a quiet, studious fellow, an only child who at home had had his own room and followed his own methods of work. He had never been interfered with; neither his books nor his bureau drawers had ever before been overturned. When he wanted to study or to meditate he sought the quietest isolation. When he came to college he was at once caught in the maelstrom of rushing, and before he came to himself he found that some one had decorated his lapel with a particolored pledge button. But this fact brought no joy to him: he was restless, discontented, melancholy, revolutionary, and the outcome of it all was that he gave back the button, found a room by himself, and settled down to a quiet, hermit life such as pleased him. There are many like him, and if they want to be happy, rather than to form friendships, they do not join.
There are those, too, who do not like to be mixed up in things. If something exciting is being perpetrated they would rather go in the other direction. They never run to a fire; they pursue a doctor's degree or a hobby; they enjoy the outskirts rather than John Street. Such a man the fraternity would undoubtedly help to educate far more than many another agency, but he usually
