"SPEAK! speak! thou horrid fright!

Who, with thy legs of white

In knickerbockers tight,

Comest to scare me.

Get along! go away!

You really mustn't stay,

I've got to grind to-day,

Will you not spare me?"

Then from that ghastly mouth

Issued a dreadful oath,

Which to repeat I'm loath,

Think it was "darn," though.

And with a smothered yell

Out spake that ancient swell,

"I 've something strange to tell, -

Hark to my yarn, though.

"I was a Freshman young!

My deeds these halls among

No College poet has sung,

No tutor 1 told thee.

Now tell my tale in verse,

Else dread a Freshman's curse,

Or, what is somewhat worse

Find that I 've sold thee.

"When I was very small

I lived in Hollis Hall,

Blacked boots for Seniors tall.

Often a rover,

Roamed I through Harvard Square,

Waking the midnight air

With my wild war-whoop there,

Rah! nine times over.

"Oft to the 'Port I'd stroll,

Many the signs I stole,

Sometimes a barber's pole,

And with my rapper

Oft broke a peeler's head,

More oft my own instead,

After I joined the dread

Phi Beta Kappa. 2

"But when I older grew

I pulled upon the Crew,

Trained every day or two, -

Also played poker, 3

And - please to draw it mild -

I became very wild,

Really a dreadful child, -

I was a smoker!!

"Many a winter's night

We sat till morning light

(I fear it was not right),

Grinding, out-worn then.

To keep ourselves in cheer

We always had our beer,

Brought from the corner near

(Karl 4 was not born then).

"Once as I rambled through

Lovely North Avenue,

Decked with a necktie blue, -

I was a masher, - 5

Met I a maiden rare,

None could with her compare,

Blue eyes and yellow hair, -

She was a crasher.

"We had a little spree;

Oh, it was rich to see

How she was gone on me, -

Smashed on me, rather.

Swore she'd be mine next day,

Just then a voice said 'Nay!'

Oh, such a give-a-way!

It was her father!

"She was the Prex's child,

I but a Freshman wild,

Prex said he should have smiled

To see her marry

Such a young cub as I.

Then she began to cry,

Swore that she'd rather die

Than not have Harry.

"I smiled within my sleeve,

And on that very eve

She and I took French leave;

But we were geese, man,

For right on Brattle Street

Whom should we chance to meet

But the old man discreet,

With a policeman.

"This was a bitter pill;

Said I, 'Scoot, Abigail!'

Said she, 'You bet I will,

Faster and faster.'

But 'twas too dark to see,

I tripped upon a tree,

And she fell over me,

Quite a disaster!

"That spoiled our tete-a-tete.

Ah me! must I relate

Abigail's hapless fate?

They made me leave her.

And for her prison bower,

Prex built that festive tower,

Standing this very hour,

Just back of Sever.

"Then the maid pined away.

Sorrow soon made her gray,

Until she died one day, -

That set her free, sir.

I became very blue,

Didn't know what to do,

Went into English 2,

That ended me, sir."

Such was his tale of woe.

His deeds, I'd have you know,

I disapprove of, though

At his injunction

I have here stated them;

But I have hated them,

And have related them

With much compunction.

1 Tutor, French - tooter, one who goes on toots.

2 This was a College club composed of criminals from all classes.

3 A game much in vogue a hundred years ago.

4 The College apothecary.

5 An obsolete word, meaning a fascinating fellow.