# A Princetonian/Chapter 3

CHAPTER III.
AB INITIO.
On the way up from Princeton Junction as the engine coughed and choked along the marvellous grade, and slid with a grasp about the next-to-impossible curves, Simeon Tolker Congreve, aged eighteen, gazed up and down the car and heartily wished that his mother had not insisted upon accompanying him.
"It makes one feel so awful young," Simeon was thinking. "It's more like going to boarding school than college."
But he took heart when he saw a sweet-faced matron sitting just in front of him carefully rearrange the neck-tie of a tall young man with a tendency to growing whiskers.
"I'll bet a bean," said Mr. Congreve to himself, resting his eye on the occupants of the corner seat, "that those two fellows [they had smiled at the neck-tie affair] are sophomores."
​It was no credit to Simeon's discernment to make this statement. One of the youths he looked at so enviously had the sophomoric earmarks, and the other had a new hat-box with his initials plainly marked on the top, which would have pronounced him a junior to the initiated. Each, however, carried a silver-headed stick.
"There's my old room," spoke up one of these two as Witherspoon Hall came into sight. He made this remark with the air of returning as an old man to the haunts of his youth.
"I wired Hiram to meet me at the station and take my bags," said the other. "What do you think of the freshmen?"
They glanced boldly into the faces that lined both sides of the car.
"Fruit," said one of them. "Did you notice the big fellow down the aisle? He looks as if he might play football, don't you think?"
"Pretty good build for it," was the rejoinder. Mr. Congreve, who had overheard the conversation, turned about. Directly behind him sat a broad-shouldered figure. The little black satin tie caught under the bone collar button ​and the cheap straw hat could not detract from the resolute look on the sun-browned face of the young man who gazed thoughtfully out of the window.
"Hoosier," remarked the sophomore, who had said "fruit" before.
"Yeppy," was the answer. "Here we are in a minute at the station, old chap."
After a final struggle to catch its breath, the engine slid along the wooden platform and came to a stop.
Simeon helped his mother down the steps and noticed as he did so that the young man with the black tie was directly behind him. Firmly grasped in his big-knuckled right hand was a brand new imitation leather bag—the kind peddlers carry,—and a worn paper bundle was under his arm.
"We had better call on the President first," said Mrs. Congreve, brushing the dust from her sleeves, and giving her son's shoulder a tap. "I want to meet him. You must have a dry, airy room, Simeon, dear."
There were a number of youths in orange- and-black caps waiting at the station. When they saw the two young men, who carried ​walking sticks, they came up and slapped them on the back.
"Hullo, Jack—Hullo, old boy—Hullo, Clark—Hullo, fellows! Hullo, Hollingsworth!" There was a studied carelessness in the dress of the welcomers and a pronounced partiality for pipe-smoking and corduroy trousers.
The freshmen stepped about them quite conscious of being contemptuously gazed upon, and the noisy hackmen gobbled up bags and boxes. Two short Jehus with fat, bull-dog faces called the sophomores by name and were scorned in return for it. Some colored room-servants were waiting also to take up anything thrown at them. "Hiram" was conspicuous.
As the train backed out like a ferry-boat from a slip, the broad-shouldered stranger with the paper bundle was left standing alone.
The group of young men in orange-and-black caps had given a cheer for something or other, and now gathered about the tall figure.
"Glad to see ye in taeown," said one of the corduroy-clad young gentlemen with a good imitation of a "Shore Acre" accent.
"Thank you, sir," said the "Hoosier," ​looking up at the campus. "Can you tell me where I would find the college officers?"
"Yes, indeed," was the answer, "we are all going over that way. Have you come to pay our honored college a visit, or do you intend to enroll your name as an applicant for the degree of A.S.S.?"
"I don't know," replied the broad-shouldered young man, who towered above the crowd around him, "I've come to try for the examinations."
A fox terrier with a roguish black eye had been sniffing around his trousers. He bent down and patted the dog as he picked up his bag.
"You had a very narrow escape with your life," said another young man, who had drawn back with an assumption of horror, "that dog likes fresh meat."
"Pooh! He looks good-natured," said the "Hoosier," tweaking the dog's ear. He did not seem to be at all overcome by his surroundings.
The party crossed a desert of cinders and loose gravel and climbed some worn stone steps up to the campus.
​"What building is that, sir?" asked the freshman, looking at the great mass of Witherspoon, in whose windows could be seen seated a number of flannel-clad figures who shouted down to the group on the path.
"That's Gee-Whiz Hall. You had better apply for a room there. Don't let 'em bluff you. Insist on getting one. What State are you from?"
"Thank you, sir; I'm from Nebraska. Western part—Oakland. Guess you never heard of it."
Baiting a freshman who was so oblivious to his terrible position afforded little pleasure to his inquisitors, and, besides, he was so big that there was not much fun in it any way. Some one pointed out the college offices, and the group left him.
"That fellow's no fool, I can tell you," said one.
"Did you ever see such a neck and shoulders in your life, and he's got a hand like a ham," said another.
"Perhaps he can fill Greene's place at guard," observed a third. "Greene's not coming back, ​you know. Going to get married or something—just our luck, isn't it?"
In the meantime the object of their conversation had entered the little building where the Registrar held court. Here he found that a cheap room in Edwards Hall had already been engaged for Newton Wilberforce Hart, and that Franklin was evidently looking out for him.