MY DEAR GUARDIAN, - You asked me in your last letter to tell you frankly what I had gained during my three years in College; so here goes, and, if the confession somewhat startles you, remember you drew it upon yourself.

When I entered, my mind well primed with the stock books on Harvard, I had exalted ideas of accomplishing great deeds on land and water. I first essayed football. One afternoon sufficed to convince me that I was not a second Herbert Leeds, and that frequent collisions with mother earth were not becoming to my style of beauty. To this day my neck has not recovered from the twist it received that afternoon when I rolled on Holmes Field beneath Harrington.

Naturally I turned from football to base ball; a few days' practice with the University, and then a gentle hint that I had better try for my class nine, sufficed to sicken me of that noble pastime.

After an equally successful attempt at rowing, I gave up athletic sports, and decided not to be a much greater man than the rest of my class. But I hear you say, my dear guardian, "All this is very fine, but why don't the young scamp tell me what he has learned?" Ah, well, I will; I have had a sort of delicacy about breaking the ice, but if you must know, why, je ne care pas at all at all.

First, I can tell you the names of all the men who have been on the Team, Nine, or Crew, for the last three years, with a running commentary on each one; very valuable information, I assure you, sir, as you would find, if you took a girl out to see a base ball or football match.

Then I am quite familiar with the names of prominent athletic men in other colleges. Such a knowledge produces a great effect on Freshmen, as it argues long familiarity with College matters.

I can distinguish between Caporal and Vanity Fair cigarettes by smelling the smoke; I call all the College officials by their first names; I am a good judge of a meerschaum pipe; have a large bill at Pike's; know all the actresses in Boston by sight, and am rumored to be personally acquainted with a leading star; I can distinguish between claret, burgundy, cider, and champagne; I can criticise a woman's dress, and can retail all the latest Boston scandal, and am considered to be one of the best card-players in the College. There, sir, read that list through, and see if I am not on the road to become what every decent student wants to be, - a thorough man of the world?

But hold on, a thought has just struck me, that what you wanted to know was what I had learned from my books. Oh well, if I were writing to any College fellow I would laugh at him for asking such an absurd question, and tell him that he ought to know that I never studied; that to study was bad form; and as for going to recitations, why, I never go. But as this letter is to you, and is withal a frank confession, I will acknowledge studying a little now and then when I think no one will see me; for to be found grinding is to be held up for ridicule to all the "best men" of the College. No one objects to your standing up high in your class if you can do it without seeming to grind; in fact, great natural ability and "to know it all before you came" is very advantageous to one's reputation.

But, my dear sir, I suppose things were very different when you were in College (I never knew a graduate who didn't say so). I close now, hoping in reply you will give me a confession on your side of how Harvard was thirty years ago.