In those proud and happy hours we reaped a golden reward for our services to our _alma mater_. Our doubts and disappointments were all forgotten in that glad season of triumph, when, surrounded by countless friends, we felt the warm clasp of the many hands extended to congratulate us, and heard our names on many lips, coupled with words of warmest commendation. And now when I think of the long hours of training we went through, the anxious days of expectation, and the exciting moments of contest, I sometimes catch myself wondering whether I would go through it all again; and then, as I think of those dear old days and that supremely happy night of triumph, every vein in my body tingles with the answer: “Yes, a thousand times again, if Belmont needed me!” * * * * * The town hall was crowded almost to suffocation the next day; and by the time the exercises began it seemed impossible to admit another person. I had practical reasons for knowing this, for I was one of the ushers, and was at my wits’ end to dispose of the masses of people that packed the building. The hall was gayly decorated with flags and flowers, and at the upper end, behind the stage, hung a glorious banner of crimson, with inscriptions upon it in letters of gold. The banner ordinarily would not have come to us for some little time after the game; but Tony Larcom determined that it should grace Ray Wendell’s valedictory speech, and, partly by strategy, partly by bluff, succeeded in obtaining it from Berkeley in time for the exercises. Even cold Dr. Drayton could not resist a smile as he saw it hanging there; and, in his words of introduction, he alluded in a dignified but graceful manner to the victory of the previous day. From what he said I had a sneaking notion that he even went to see the game himself――a remarkable concession on the doctor’s part. There all the dear boys sat in a row, robed in their black gowns, and awaiting their turn to speak. Among the first were Clinton Edwards and Elton, both of whom delivered fine orations. Then, near the last, came Len Howard, whose oration had evidently been prepared with scrupulous care, and whose delivery was marked for its manly and vigorous tone. And as he spoke, I saw his eyes wander frequently to the third row of seats, where sat an old man with snow white hair, who was leaning forward intently, his hand to his ear, that not a syllable should be lost, a tender smile upon his lips, and his kind eyes dimmed with tears. And last of all came the valedictory; and as Ray Wendell, pale and handsome, stepped quietly forward and stood before the audience, a roar of applause that shook the building went up from the crowd, and gently fluttered the Crimson Banner that hung behind the speaker and gracefully framed him in.