had been farther from his thoughts. Now it all came back to him with a
rush, evoked by that crumpled bit of paper.

Days when the wine of life had filled his cup to the brim, when "the
world lay all before him where to choose," when the blood ran riot in
his veins, when all the future was full of promise and enchantment. Days
when laughter lay so near his lips that the merest trifle called it
forth, when fun and frolic held high carnival, when his unjaded senses
tasted to the full the mere joy of living. Days, too, of earnest effort,
of eager ambition, of brilliant achievement, of glowing hope, as he
prepared himself to play his part in the great drama of the world's
life. Glorious old days they had been, and although he had had more than
his share of prosperity and success in the years since then, he knew
that they were the happiest days of his life.

In his reverie his cigar had gone out, and he lighted it again
mechanically.

The old place hadn't changed much, he supposed. That was one of its
charms. World-weary men could go back to it and renew the dreams of
their youth in the same old surroundings. A new dormitory, perhaps,
added to the others, a larger building for the library, but, apart from
these, substantially unchanged. The old gray towers covered with ivy,
the green velvet of the campus, the long avenue of stately elms--these
were the same as ever. He thought of the initials he had carved on the
tree nearest the gate, and wondered if the bark had grown over them. And
the old fence where the boys had gathered in the soft twilight of spring
evenings and sung the songs that had been handed down through college
generations. How the melody from hundreds of voices had swelled out into
the night!

There was the old "owl wagon," where the fellows late at night, coming
back from a lark in town, had stopped for a bite before going to bed.
There never were such delicious waffles as that fellow turned out. And
there was Pietro at the chestnut stand, always good natured under the
teasing of the boys, and old John, the doughnut man----

O, what was the use? He must get back to those letters.

There was the "sugar eat" in the spring. That usually came in the latter
part of March. The soft wind would come up out of the south, the snow
would begin to vanish and the sap stir in the trees. That was the signal
for the "Hike." A scouting party would be sent out to make arrangements
at some sugar camp five or six miles away