Harry Lawrence started up "The Orange and the Black." They sang all the stanzas. Then they sang more songs, old songs which are still popular and new songs which were then popular and are now quite forgotten, probably. Everyone sang, whether he knew how or not. Symington sang too. The one he liked the best was a funny song beginning, "Oh, to-day is the day that he comes from the city." They sang that one over and over again. Then they sang it once more. They were all having a good time. After a while the room became quiet and someone turned down the lights and they told ghost stories, which frightened the prep. They wound up the evening by trooping downstairs in the dark, for the lights were turned out long ago, and marching up to the front campus, singing as they went. And there they danced about the cannon and sang and whooped and yelled until Bill Leggett came over with his lantern and said, in his gruff voice and good-natured manner, "Boys, it's nearly Sunday morning." "All right, Bill," they answered. Then all said good-night and went to bed. Tucker had a roommate some place, but Symington had his bedroom that night. "If you want anything, just yell for me, Charlie. My room is right next, you know. Goodnight." Tucker was half undressed. "I sha'n't want anything. Wait a minute, Tucker, please. I'm not sure about something, and it bothers me." "Well?" "Princeton won the football championship in '78, didn't we?" "Say that again." "Didn't we win in '78?" "Yes, Charlie, we did." Symington thought his friend Tucker was smiling at his ignorance. But that wasn't it. THE MAN THAT LED THE CLASS The Latin salutatory was finished. Dougal Davis bowed and took his seat and the applause began. He had done well and he knew it, but he did not stop to dwell upon that now. There would be plenty of time to feel pleased with himself later on. At present his chief sensation was of jubilant relief at telling himself that the thing was over with at last. Not many of his audience had understood much of what he had been saying, but that did not matter. The fellows smiled at the right time when he said something about _puellas pulchras_, and they nodded their heads knowingly when he made the reference to athletics, as he had told them beforehand to do. And he had gotten through without forgetting the paragraph beginning with "Postquam," as he feared he would.