Part 5

Probably the happiest moment of Blathers college life occurred one day on Holmes' Field. There was a class ball-game going on; the Sophomores were ranged on one side of the field, the Juniors opposite. The white bull-dog had been barking in time with the cheering, yelping at the players of the opposing team, trying to "rattle" the pitcher, and making himself generally conspicuous and obnoxious. Finally, in the excitement over some good play, he slipped his collar and ran into the outfield to congratulate the centre-fielder. Somehow or other (Ned Burleigh probably knew), Blathers happened to get loose at the same moment. With a heralding bark he flew into the listed field and made straight for the white champion. All interest in the ball-game ceased at once. With a great shout the two opposing crowds rose from the seats _en masse_, and swept across the diamond, "blocking off" the owners of the two dogs, who rushed to separate them. In the rush, five or six more terriers got adrift, and reached the front well ahead of their masters. In just about ten seconds there was a ball of at least seven dogs of various fighting breeds, rolling about in a halo of hair, howls, and pure delight. After a few minutes, their masters succeeded in pushing through the surrounding crowd, and each man laid hold of a dog's tail or hind leg. By dint of heaving and kicking, the happy party was at last broken up, and at the bottom of the pile were found Blathers and the white bull-dog. They were locked in a fond embrace, and it took hot water from the gymnasium to get them apart. Ever after that Blathers bore a scar on the side of his head; but he was proud of that mark, for there was a larger and more distinct one on the Sophomore dog.

Blathers got into a scrape in his Senior year that nearly caused his expulsion from the University, and compromised his master seriously. An aunt of Rattleton's came out to Cambridge one afternoon, for the purpose of attending the Thursday Vespers in Appleton Chapel. She notified Jack that she expected him to escort her. Jack got his room in order, with some difficulty, expurgated the ornaments and pictures, put his aunt's photograph on the mantel-piece and a Greek lexicon on the table, and sent Blathers to spend the afternoon with a friend. Aunt could not abide a dog, especially one of Blathers' type of beauty. So Mr. B. went off with Jack Randolph.

Randolph's room was in the back of Thayer, and his window commanded the approaches to Appleton Chapel. Blathers was squatted in the window-seat with his head on one side, idly watching the birds, and wondering where his master could have gone. Suddenly his eye fell on that very person, and with him one of that kind of humans whose legs are all in one piece. Blathers had seen lots of that kind, and knew well enough what they were; but what could one of them possibly be doing with his master, right here in Cambridge, at this time of year? He had never seen such a thing as that before, except once on Class Day. It was for this, then, that he had been dismissed for the afternoon! Well, well, well, pretty goings on! He betrayed his astonishment and irritation by a low "wuff!" jumped down from the window-seat, and scratched at the door.

"No," said Randolph, looking at him, "you can't get out. Did you see a cat?"

Blathers came over to the arm-chair, stood up, putting both hands on Randolph's knees, and looked at him appealingly.

"Yes, I know," said Randolph, "your master has deserted you for the afternoon, hasn't he? Mean trick, isn't it? And where do you suppose he has gone? To Vespers, think of that! Don't shake your head, Blathers, it's true----" "Wuff!" "Yes, rather remarkable, I know; no wonder you say so. But don't blame him; he couldn't help it, and it will do him good."

A few minutes afterwards Randolph threw away his book, and took his cap.

"Come, Blathers," said he, "we'll go over to the Pud for awhile. You may find your friend Topsy there."

No sooner had he opened the door than Blathers scrambled down-stairs with that graceful motion peculiar to a terrier on urgent business; his hind-quarters shoved his head all the way down-stairs, and tripped over it at the bottom. He shot out of the door as if after a cat, whisked round the corner, and made straight for the Chapel. On the steps, however, he paused, for, at that moment, coming up the path from Memorial, he saw a sight that made his blood boil. Hudson and Dixey were strolling back from the Agassiz, and trotting ahead of them were Topsy and that abominable Mike Dixey. As has been mentioned before, Mike was a dog of very loose character. He would get intoxicated on beer whenever he could find any one to "set it up." He belonged nominally to Dixey, but was really a sort of dog-about-college. He would attach himself to any one whom he could work for crackers and beer. He did not mind spending the night on a door-step, and associated with all the street curs. He would hang around the public billiard-rooms and Foster's, and do tricks for sandwiches. Sometimes he would disappear on a spree for days, get caught by the muckers, and come home with a tin can in tow. Altogether he was no fit company for a lady, and when Blathers saw this low-lived animal walking with his Topsy, reverence for the spot could not restrain his indignation. Right in front of the Chapel door he insulted the Irish terrier, and before the men behind could come up, then and there the fight began. Rattleton, within, heard the sounds of conflict rise above the anthem, and, by some vague intuition, his blood ran cold. Another moment and Mike came flying up the aisle with yelps of pain, evidently seeking sanctuary. Blathers may have had a deep reverence for Appleton Chapel (barring the architecture), but his blood was up, and he did not stop to think. He pursued the flying foe, overtook and grabbed him again, just beyond Rattleton's pew, and alongside of that of a couple of magnates. Jack thought it would be better to remove those two dogs himself, and did so, one in each hand. But there was no use in pretending that he did not know to whom that scientific bull-terrier belonged. The men outside had some difficulty in persuading him that they were in no way responsible for the episode.

Mr. Blathers lived long and went to many places, but that was the only time he ever attended services in church.

A HOWARD AND HARVARD EVENING.

That evening at dinner Burleigh and Rattleton entertained the table with a glowing description of a new play they had seen on the previous night, at the Howard Athenaeum. They were most enthusiastic about it.

"I can't understand," declared Burleigh, "how such a piece and such a troupe happened to drop into the old Howard. Such scenery! Why, the stage setting was the best I ever saw. One act was laid in the pine woods; you could look way through them, apparently, live birds flew about among the branches, and they must have burned some sort of balsam in the wings, for you could actually smell the pines."

"That's a new smell for the Howard," remarked Hudson.

"Yes, and those two girls!" added Jack Rattleton. "By Jove, wasn't that blonde a beauty!"

"The brunette was better," averred Burleigh. "How she did sing! They have splendid songs all through the play."

"Never saw such acting," said Jack, "even--certainly never at the Howard."

"The hero was a magnificent young man," Burleigh went on. "You ought to see him throw down the villain in the last act. I'm going again as soon as I can."

"Why haven't we heard of it before?" queried Stoughton, suspiciously.

"It was a first night," explained Burleigh, promptly. "Jack and I were pioneers. You fellows ought to go see it. You'll hear enough of it before it is over; but go in now while it is fresh."

"I have nothing to do to-night," said Hudson. "I believe I'll go. Who is with me?"

Stoughton and Gray both agreed to join him. Holworthy and Randolph were going to drive over to a ball in Brookline.

"I'd give anything to go with you chaps," said Burleigh, "but I have got to work into the wee sma' hours on my forensic. It is due to-morrow morning, and I haven't done a thing on it."

"I'd like to see that show again, too," said Jack, "but I don't feel very well to-night. I'm going to turn in early."

The three theatre-goers started for town immediately after dinner. They stopped at one of the clubs first, and picked up three or four other men on the strength of Burleigh's eulogy of the play.

Whoever has been through Harvard College and never been to the Howard Athenaeum has neglected his advantages; fortunately such deplorable instances are rare. Who, that has improved his opportunities, does not remember the old stamping-ground, where the commingled perfumes of orange-peel, humanity, and peanuts would smell to high heaven, were they not stopped in a concentrated mass by the grimy roof. There things are real, things are earnest, unweakened by affectation and refinement. The villains are real bad villians, and carry knives, not cigarettes. They know how to gloat. The heroes have red undershirts and true nobility, and don't mind showing either. The heroines are not ashamed of sentimentality. Neither is the audience. There, too, is music that you can remember and whistle, that you can sing afterwards on the way back to Cambridge; not music that you must contemplate with rapt gaze on the ceiling. There you will find humor of the broad, plain, unmistakable variety, humor at which you can laugh for its own sake, not for the maker's wit or your own in detecting it. Nor, in that shrine of the Muses, does pleasure always end with the fall of the curtain. Frequently you may see two or three excellent fights on the way out, and perhaps be granted a share in one yourself. Oh, you get your money's worth at the classic Athenaeum, for it is all for fifty cents (thirty-five in the gallery).

"I have a suspicion," said Stoughton, on the way in town, "that those fellows were lying to us. I'll bet this show is something awful, they were probably bored to death, and conceived the happy thought of getting us sold in the same way."

"Never mind," said Hudson, philosophically; "we'll have a good time anyway."

Before the curtain had been up ten minutes, Dick's suspicion gained ground; it's truth was fully confirmed long before the end of the play. The scenery, the birds, and the pine balsam effects were wholly creatures of Burleigh's capable brain; as for Jack Rattleton's houris, Stoughton declared that "Noah was a fool to have saved them; he ought to have shut them out in the rain long enough to get a wash any way."

Even the Athenaeum audience was dissatisfied and inclined to jeer. Gray wanted to leave at the end of the first act.

"Hold on," insisted Hudson, "let's stay here and make this a success. There's lots of good sentiment all through it, just your style Gray. All it needs is a little enthusiasm in the house to warm up the actors. Let's lead the applause on the strong points."

So they stayed, and their efforts were attended with such success, that they might have had a free pass for future performances. Every time the hero said, "I am the just man and you are the villain," or the heroine declared she would never leave him while life lasted, or showed other symptoms of heroism, the knot of students would stamp, and applaud, and rouse the finer feelings of the whole house. The grateful actors certainly did warm up, and delivered with more and more vim their honest expressions of lofty sentiment and occasional touches of patriotism, the latter utterly uncalled for, but always welcome. The audience became worked up as well, but in the last act suddenly began to hiss.

"Hullo! what's up now?" asked Gray, who had not taken the Athenaeum course faithfully, and was not learned in it; "what are they hissing at?"

"Good gracious, man," answered Hudson, "don't you see? Don't display your ignorance. They are hissing the villain. It's the greatest compliment you can pay him. Go ahead, hiss like a good one."

On the whole, the performance was a grand success, and Hudson insisted that Gray had made an undoubted conquest of the second lady. After it was over some one mentioned "broiled lob. and musty," at Parks, but it was voted to return to Cambridge and make a rarebit there.

"We'll go pull out Ned Burleigh, and have it in his room," suggested Dick.

"No you don't!" exclaimed Hudson. "You forget I'm his chum. I'll have no Welsh rarebit made in that room unless we draw lots and I get stuck. The room would smell of cheese and stale beer for twenty-four hours."

"Let's land on Rattleton then. We'll teach him to lie."

Feeling in a luxurious mood they scorned the cars, and chartered a herdic, four men getting inside and three on the roof. For those readers who know not the herdic, I will explain that it is a sort of tiny omnibus in which four thin people can sit uncomfortably. It usually has two wheels and never more than one horse--sometimes not quite as much.

"I may as well tell you before we start," said Stoughton, who sat on the top, to the driver, "that we are not Freshmen, so don't break a spring on the bridge and tell us that it will cost you ten dollars to get it mended."

"I know you're old hands," answered Jehu, with a grin, "I know youse fellers. I remember your face pertickler. Mebbe you disrecollect comin' out with me one night from Parker's. Let's see, guess it was two years ago, after the Institoot dinner."

"All right, my friend, say no more," acknowledged Dick, as the other two men shouted. "The drink is on me. Here is the price of it."

The door at the back of the herdic is held shut with a strap that leads through the roof to the driver's seat. This was secured firmly, so as to keep the inside passengers safe, for it is an established courtesy for those inside to slip out when near the college, leaving the others to pay the driver and joining them later. By means of the strap, however, and the lack of a knife among the insiders, all arrived well together at the building where Rattleton roomed.

"I'll go to the Fly and get the cheese and beer," said Gray. "You get your chafing-dish, Dick."

Stoughton roomed in the same building with Rattleton, as did Hudson and Burleigh. While he went after his chafing-dish the others reconnoitered Rattleton's quarters. The door was locked and all was dark. The glass ventilator over the door, however, was unfastened, and large enough to admit a man. Jack Rattleton always left his ventilator unfastened, for he often depended on it for his own ingress. The reason of this was very simple,--the door had a spring bolt, and it was characteristic of Mr. Rattleton's nature to frequently leave his keys inside and shut the door when he went out. It was a very simple matter for Hudson to climb over the door through this ventilator, drop down, and open the door from the inside.

"Look out for Blathers," said one man. "If that pretty pup is in there he'll take a piece out of your leg."

"He knows my voice," answered Hudson, as he "shinned" over. He let the rest in and lit the gas. Rattleton was not in his bedroom.

"Humph," grunted Hudson. "Said he wasn't well and was going to turn in early. The abominable liar."

They poked up the fire and had it roaring when Stoughton returned, bearing the chafing-dish and a long pipe, his dear Mary Jane.

"That's a good idea," said Hudson, as his eye fell on the latter article. "You've brought that disgusting black pipe. We can stand it for a while, and it will permeate Jack's room and teach him the beauty of truth. Puff away on Mary; serve Jack right."

Rattleton's plates and other necessities were foraged out by the time Gray appeared with the cheese and beer. Not seeing Rattleton, he asked how the others had got in. Hudson explained. "This open ventilator habit of Jack's" he added, "is worse than rooming on the ground floor. Ned Burleigh and I had enough of that in Freshman year, before we moved up here. Our room was a regular darned club. Everybody would drop in there between lectures, chin when we wanted to study, and smoke our tobacco, just because it was too much trouble to go up-stairs. We couldn't leave our window open at night without having some fools crawl in, at any time after midnight, and raise the deuce."

"Yes, I remember. It was very pleasant," remarked Stoughton.

The creation of the rarebit was well under way with the usual accompaniment of advice and altercation over the ingredients, when shouts were heard from under the window, of "Jack, Jack Rat, Oh, Jack!"

Hudson threw up the window and saw Holworthy and Randolph below in a buggy. "Mr. Rattleton is not in, gentlemen," he said, "but come right up and make yourselves at home."

"All right; be with you in a moment, as soon as we have taken this trap round to Blake's."

"It is the two society fritterlings," announced Hudson, as he drew in his head. A few minutes later Randolph and Holworthy appeared in their big coats.

"Seems to me you're back from your ball pretty early," observed Gray.

"Hol didn't find the person there he wanted to see, so he soured on the whole thing and dragged me away early," Jack Randolph explained.

"What a whopper," said Holworthy, as he took off his ulster. "It was very stupid, and Jack himself suggested that we should be happier in Cambridge."

"Aha," cried Stoughton, who was stirring the "bunny" with a master hand. "Very nice. Two gentlemen in faultless evening attire. They'll do for the waiters. Here, quick, hand up your plates before this thing gets cold."

While they were eating the rarebit, a step was heard in the entry, accompanied by the trotting feet of a dog, and the locked door was tried. Then a familiar voice drawled "What the devil is going on in here?"

"Hullo, Jack," cried Stoughton, "come right in. Don't be bashful."

"Open the door, you arrant burglars," demanded Rattleton. "My keys are on my bureau, or somewhere inside."

"Climb over the transom as I did," Hudson called. "You'll have to turn your back to the company in the performance, but don't mind the awkwardness of the position."

"We'll excuse your back. We have your hair-brushes and the fire shovel already," added Randolph, cheerily.

"Don't be such babies," said Jack, (whenever any of the gang was at a disadvantage, he was apt to age suddenly) "come, let me in."

"Are you sorry you told a naughty fib to-night?" asked Hudson, with his hand on the knob.

"Yes."

"Will you set up the ingredients for a punch?"

"Yes."

"All right then, you may come in," said Hudson, graciously, opening the door.

"How was the play?" inquired Jack, pleasantly, as he went into his bedroom after the wash-basin, the regular understudy for a punch-bowl.

"Enjoyed it immensely, in spite of your wishes for our entertainment," Hudson declared. "We know now your ideal of talent and beauty."

"Don't blame me. That was all Burleigh's rot," protested Jack, apologetically, but with a chuckle. "Why don't you pull him out?"

"That is a good plan," assented Hudson. "Two of you come up and help me capture the elephant. He may resist." A committee of three went up to wait upon Burleigh.

"What is the sense of this meeting as to the temperature of the grog?" asked Rattleton.

"Hot!" promptly moved the two who had driven over from Brookline. The motion was carried, so Jack put the kettle on the fire.

"Speaking of the drama and brother Burleigh," said Holworthy, "do you remember the time, Dick, that we saw the old man suping in that spectacular play in Sophomore year?"

"I'm not likely to forget it," answered Dick. "You fellows remember that show called 'Albrachia,' or some such name, full of red fire and fairies? Hol. and I went in to see it one night, and whom should we discover as leading demon in the grand climax, but the stout Edward. We nearly stood up and cheered,--but we'll make him tell about it to-night."

"Hullo, here is the sylph now!" exclaimed some one, as the committee returned in triumph with Ned in tow.

"The perjured loafer told us he was going to work on his forensic," cried Hudson. "Look at this," pointing to Burleigh, whose generous proportions were swathed in gaudy pajamas.

"I hear you enjoyed the play exceedingly," remarked Burleigh, as he made for the fireplace, and spread his huge form all over the front of it.

"So we did, no thanks to you," answered Gray.

"Any men who are such Athenaeum Lotharios as to be decoyed in town by the mere mention of two pretty actresses, deserve to get sold," declared Ned, severely.

"Here, take your toddy and stop your mouth," said Stoughton. "As a penance for your lies, you can give us some reminiscences of your disreputable career on the stage."

After some demurring, Burleigh was persuaded to begin his yarn. The "tea" was made by this time, and enthroned on the student's desk in the centre of the room. With "tod and tobac." the party disposed itself about the room, every one with a view more to ease than grace. Blathers, as usual, chose his master's outstretched legs. Ned Burleigh, with a cigar, stood in front of the fire in his airy raiment, his feet apart, warming his exterior with the genial blaze, and his interior with the genial toddy. Would that we could have those evenings again!

THE HARVARD LEGION AT PHILIPPI.

"What do you want me to relate?" asked Burleigh. "The great battle of Philippi?"

"Yes, we would like to hear about that," answered Stoughton, "and also your experience with the Hosts of Darkness."

"That was a very short and painful affair," Ned explained. "I'll tell you that first. You must know, my children, that I was once a godless Sophomore even as other Sophs. You may scarcely believe it now, but I was. Among other follies, I took to 'suping' occasionally. Of course my intentions were purely noble; I wanted to elevate the stage. On one occasion this man Hudson, here, led me to the Boston Theatre, where an elaborate show was being given and 'supes' were in demand. You fellows must remember the play, it was called 'Alboraka, the Wizard.' They wanted only one man for that night, and as I was the handsomer, they chose me. I comforted Steve by promising to share with him the quarter that I expected to earn; I believe on the strength of my promise he bought a seat in the peanut gallery."

"Oh, no, I didn't," interrupted Hudson, "I had a seat right under a box where there was a theatre-party of Mrs. Mayflor Tremont's, with a lot of girls I knew. I was thundering glad I wasn't on the stage, and had more than half a mind to point you out to them."

"You wouldn't have troubled me at all," answered Ned. "That is where we unknown woolly Westerners get the drop on the Boston men, and you dudes who go in for Boston society. However, to go on with this confession, I was appointed leader of the Hosts of Darkness. I don't know why I was singled out for this distinction, unless it was on account of my superb figure."

"That was it," corroborated Stoughton. "You did look stunning in those red tights, even more fetching than you are now in those pajamas."