That is how I
happened to get this Bum Lamp. Just as he gave me the knee, I butted
him in the Solar Plexus. He's had two Doctors working on him ever
since. And now the Freshies are going to give me a Supper at the Dutch
Restaurant to-morrow Night and there is some Talk of electing me Class
Poet. So you see, I am getting along fine."
[Illustration: _Souvenirs._]
"You are doing Great Work for a Mere Child," said the Parent. "If you
keep on, you may be U.S. Senator some day. But tell me, where did you
get all of these Sign-Boards, Placards, Head-stones and other Articles
of Vertu?"
"I swiped those," replied the Collegian. "In order to be a real
Varsity Devil, one must bring home a few Souvenirs every Night he goes
out. If the Missionaries did it, it would be called Looting. If the
Common People did it, it would be called Petit Larceny. But with us,
it is merely a Student Prank."
"I understand," said Father. "Nothing can be more playful than to nail
a Tombstone and use it for a Paper-Weight."
"Would you like to look around the Institution?" asked Buchanan.
"Indeed, I should," was the Reply. "Although I have been denied
the blessed Privileges of Higher Education, I love to get into an
Atmosphere of four-ply Intellectuality and meet those Souls who are
above the sordid Considerations of workaday Commercialism."
"You talk like a Bucket of Ashes," said the Undergraduate. "I'm not
going to put you up against any Profs.
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