The morning journal-courier., 1908-03-21
YALE GRAD TO SON Letter Written Shortly After Freshman Entrance to College. TELLS HIM NEVER TO QUIT Fight to the End, Although it May be
 Losing Struggle, He
 Declares.

The Yale Alumni Weekly which ap- pears this morning contains an inter- esting letter supposed to be written by father who is a graSuate to his son upon entering college. The letter fol- low:
 My Dear Son:--I am writing a few things I meant to say to you when we took our last walk together, the day before you left for Yale. I intended to say them then and l will even con fess that I shamelessly inveigled you into taking a stroll on the quiet street that l might rehearse a carefully pre- pared bit of Chesterfield up-to-date; but somehow l could not seem to be- gin-and. after all, perhaps can write what was in my mind more freely and plainly than l could have spoken it.
 l think I had never realized before that was getting old.
 Of course l have known that my hair is causing your mother much solicitude and that l am hopelessly welded to my pince-nez while reading my daily PoPNtpa oiih db lllC bptid, Iut III SOiiiI incomprehensible way I had forgotten to associate these trife with the en- croachment of time. It was the sud den realization that you were about to befome a Freshman in the college from which, as it seems to me, I but yester- day graduated, that ''froze the genial current of my soul" and spared you my parental lecture.
 Why, I can shut my eyes and still hear the Ivy Song, as we sang it that beautiful June morning; and yet but a few nights more and you will be lock ed in the deadly Rush on the same field where I triumphantly received two blackened eyes. and, I trust, gave many more.
 Another thing, triling in itself, open ed my eyes to the fact of my advancing years.
 My son, my loyal and affectionate boy, some day it may be yours to know the pain, the unreasonable pain that comes over a man to know that between him and his boy and his boys friend, an unseen but unassailable bar rier. has arisen, erected by no human agency; and to feel that while they may experience vague respect and even curiosity to know what exists on your side of the barrier, you on your part would give all-wealth, position, influence, honor, to get back to theirs All the world. clumsily or gracefully, is crawling over this barrier; but not one ever crawls back again! You have ever seemed happy to be with me; you have worked with me, read and smoked with me, even play ed golf with me; but the subtle change in your attitude, the kindlng of your eye when we met young men of your age, is the keenest pain I have ever known; yet one which, God knows would not reproach you with It explains what I used to see on my fathers face and did not understand.
 For the tyranny of youth. my son. is the one tyranny which never has been, never can be overthrown. Nothing can displace it. nothing shake its power I usually beat you at golf, and oc- casionally at tennis; I suppose that if we were to spar together I might still make a respectable showing, and at least ''save my face" It avails mo- thing I am on my side of the barrier, you on yours.
 It seems but a year ana day since I tucked the ball under my arm and sped down the gridiron, sustained by the yells of my partisans: and if our game lacked the machine-like preci- sion of the mass formations you are | already somewhat familiar with, it was good game, and we were good men, and all on the right side of the bar Tier!
 So bear with me If pause a moment and gaze back across this inevitable gulf into the pleasant land that lies be- hind me-a picture evoked by your dawning college career.
 I would not have you think me re- | gretful. or melancholy. Life has been good to me-and every age has it's gifts for the man who Is willing to work for them and use them temperately. And nothing Is more ungraceful, more ludicrous, than the spectacle of one who attempts to finger over the pleas-