“We are the only men who have horses here, so I am glad you made me bring Prince Rupert, after all. When I ride him into town, everybody turns to look at him, and Batt Horsford, the stableman, says his trot is as clean as a razor. At first I wished I'd brought my hunter instead, they made such a fuss over Champe's, and I tell you he's a regular timber-topper. “A week ago I rode to the grave of Mr. Jefferson, as I promised you, but I couldn't carry the wreath for grandma because it would have looked silly--Champe said so. However, I made Big Abel get down and pull a few flowers on the way. “You know, I had always thought that only gentlemen came to the University, but whom do you think I met the first evening?--why, the son of old Rainy-day Jones. What do you think of that? He actually had the impudence to pass himself off as one of the real Joneses, and he was going with all the men. Of course, I refused to shake hands with him--so did Champe--and, when he wanted to fight me, I said I fought only gentlemen. I wish you could have seen his face. He looked as old Rainy-day did when he hit the free negro Levi, and I knocked him down. “By the way, I wish you would please send me my half-year's pocket money in a lump, if you can conveniently do so. There is a man here who is working his way through Law, and his mother has just lost all her money, so, unless some one helps him, he'll have to go out and work before he takes his degree. I've promised to lend him my half-year's allowance--I said 'lend' because it might hurt his feelings; but, of course, I don't want him to pay it back. He's a great fellow, but I can't tell you his name--I shouldn't like it in his place, you know. “The worst thing about college life is having to go to classes. If it wasn't for that I should be all right, and, anyway, I am solid on my Greek and Latin--but I can't get on with the higher mathematics. Mr. Bennett couldn't drive them into my head as he did into Champe's. “I hope grandma has entirely recovered from her lumbago. Tell her Mrs. Ball says she was cured by using red pepper plasters. “Do you know, by the way, that I left my half-dozen best waistcoats--the embroidered ones--in the bottom drawer of my bureau, at least Big Abel swears that's where he put them. I should be very much obliged if grandma would have them fixed up and sent to me--I can't do without them. A great many gentlemen here are wearing coloured cravats, and Charlie Morson's brother, who came up from Richmond for a week, has a pair of side whiskers. He says they are fashionable down there, but I don't like them. “With affectionate greeting to grandma and yourself, “Your dutiful grandson, “DANDRIDGE MONTJOY.” “P.S. I am using my full name now--it will look better if I am ever President. I wonder if Mr. Jefferson was ever called plain Tom. “DAN.” “N.B. Give my love to the little girls at Uplands. “D.”