MY DEAR COUSIN SAM, - It is some time since I have written you, having been occupied with Freshman conditions, and with the divine Saidie. The former have taken up nearly all my days, the latter, the best part of my evenings. But I do not intend to criticize her, as you have probably seen enough notices of her. I mean in this letter to give you some hints as to your conduct when you come to Harvard next year. I think I can do so more impartially than any one else now, for I have so nearly reached the end of college life that I can look upon its failures and successes with discrimination.

Of course the first thing that you must keep constantly before you is popularity. Without it a fellow of your lineage and social aspirations would be lost at Harvard. Coming as you will from Exeter next autumn, you will find it wisest to stick close by the Exeter men until they have successfully elected officers at the Freshman meeting. Then, if you find they are not likely to be influential any longer, leave them and go over to the Boston set. You may find them exclusive, but never mind. The north pole can never be reached without passing icebergs. Don't talk too much about societies, but let it be generally known that you have had some very prominent friends in them, and even relatives. Let me caution you, however, not to mention my name, for I have never been in any of them, and the mere fact that I am your cousin might injure your prospects for life. Beware of men who shine at the Freshman punch and theatre party - they may seem to lead, but are in reality only guide-posts to cul-de-sacs. The quiet, well-dressed men, who are among the first to join the Athletic Association, are sure to be desirable acquaintances. Be sure, too, to know the captains of your nine and crew, and that so intimately that you call them "old fellow!" That has been an open sesame to popularity for generations past. Indulge sparingly in study, but be sure and stand well. Never ask questions or hold up your hand in recitations, as any such actions savor too strongly of primary schools to meet with favor here.

In this way your first winter will be spent, and when it comes time for election into societies in the spring, one of two things will happen, - you will either be in the "first ten," or you will not. If you are a member of the "first ten" you can strut about as much as you please, leave off calling your athletic friends "old fellow," and bow graciously to Seniors; if not, another path is open to you. Those of your friends who are in must be greater friends than ever. Add "old boy" where you formerly said "old fellow." If they have a passion for driving, order Pike's drag, and stick to them like a mustard plaster. Of course you may have to pay for the team, but do not mind, it will be money well invested, - and above all things never haggle over expense if you want to be popular.

When summer comes some of them will go yachting, and you will naturally see that you are one of the party; or better, - as I know you have a cat-boat of your own, - it would be a delicate compliment to invite some of them to go with you. In this case see that there is plenty of ginger-ale and soda on board, as these are capital remedies for sea-sickness, and will come in very well, no doubt. If two of your friends happen to get together and talk in an undertone about college matters, though you hear all they say, you must be apparently only minding the helm. A week's sailing in this wise, with no stint in the beverages named above, will infallibly bring you into the "second ten," and as then you will be a made man, and I only intended to give you advice for Freshman year, I will close for the present.

Yours, VIF.P. S. - I have forgotten one important point, - English clothes. As it will take some time for you to get your measure over to Poole, send up to Montreal by the football team for a suit or two to last till the London garments arrive. Even Montreal things are more stylish than those in the States.