The afternoon was far spent, but Father still insisted on walking down through the town of Moscow while the Saturday crowd was on the streets. He found a busy little city, with good buildings, wide and well-paved streets, and cordial, public-spirited citizens. He learned of the excellent schools, the many churches and the high moral tone of the entire community. He was particularly impressed with the interest of the church people in the social and spiritual life of the students, and commended them highly for their zeal in employing a non-denominational student pastor to give his entire time to student welfare. [Illustration: _In the Same Old Gymnasium_] It ended all too soon—that wonderful week-end visit at the University of Idaho. Saturday night the Boy had the time of his life at the annual Military Ball, in the same old over-worked Gymnasium, transformed now into a bower of beauty and bright with colored lights and dainty evening dresses. Father looked on from the gallery and wished that Mother could be there to see. Next day came church services in town, conversation and more music in the fraternity living room, and a Vesper Recital in the Auditorium at twilight. There was a mad rush for the railway station, a chorus of good-bye shouts, and the holiday was over. As they settled back in the Pullman, the Boy’s eyes glistened with excitement. “Dad,” he said, “I can hardly wait for next fall to come. I want so much to be a part of this splendid University life.” [Illustration: _We Love Every Inch of Her Campus Green_] Father was silent for a minute. Then he spoke out. “We’ll go a long way before we find a better place for you or the girls either. It’s liberal and democratic, and it’s building mighty fine citizens for the state of Idaho. What was the song we heard so often about the campus and the crested hill? I can’t quite get it straightened out, but it certainly touches the spot.” And the boy, still aglow with enthusiasm, sat back and sang softly, over and over again: “We love every inch of her campus green, Each view of her crested hill; We love every man that reveres her name, Our glasses to her we fill. She’s the hope of our proud young mountain state, Allegiance we freely owe. Our Varsity’s the best, she’s the queen of the West. Our own, our Idaho.” [Illustration: _Freshman Bonfire_] Press Publishing Company, Coeur d’Alene, Idaho Transcriber’s Notes —Silently corrected a few typos. —Retained publication information from the printed edition: this eBook is public-domain in the country of publication. —In the text versions only, text in italics is delimited by _underscores_. End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Father and the Boy Visit the University of Idaho, by Anonymous