that each lock was securely spiked before
the barricade was placed. Just for va-
riety the job was ornamented, when
complete, with slabs of cord-wood,
planks, broken benches, and a few stray
bits of scrap iron; and the conspirators
slunk to their rooms as the first light was
breaking, to toast their soaked and aching
shins and speculate on what would hap-
pen next. The air had chilled perceptibly
toward morning and the stars had come
blinking out; and now the sun rose radi-
ant on a crisp and dazzling winter day.
The campus was a labyrinth of tracks in
the frozen slush, and old Miami stood in
the midst of it, a castle sealed and barred
against intruders.
189
HISTORIC PRANKS
Not much happened that first day.
Professor Stoddard took one good look
at things, and went sniffing away to his
little laboratory, which nobody had
thought to barricade. Young Bobby
Bishop walked squarely into the snow-
drift at his class-room door, before he
noticed anything wrong. Doctor Mac-
Master was in bed with a heavy cold.
Toward noon one or two servants ap-
peared with picks and shovels, and went
to pecking away at the mass in the halls,
but hardly made a visible impression on
it. It took the boys less than fifteen min-
utes to repair their defenses that night,
so they had most of their time for decora-
tive effects. Free-will offerings of dis-
carded furniture poured in prodigally,
crates and boxes found their way from
up-town, an old stove was located some-
where about the premises. Really it was
no trick at all to produce a deckle-edge
190
HISTORIC PRANKS
finish to those snow-heaps that was ar-
tistic in the extreme. Then somebody
mounted the roof and carried off the big
bell, and the job was pronounced com-
plete.
A large part of the second night was
consumed in caucus, for something
seemed to tell these midnight prowlers
that there was trouble ahead. They took
a principle from MacMaster's favorite
text-book, Wayland's Ethics, and warped
it somehow so as to read out of it an ap-
parent justification of their proposed
line of conduct. Their plan was to con-
fess their guilt openly and even submit
a complete list of those concerned, but
in no case to express regret for what had
passed or give promise of good conduct
in the future. Under-classmen were
drilled thoroughly in the parts they were
to play, and then the weary company
crawled into bed. There was no neces-
191
HISTORIC PRANKS
sity for early rising. Indeed, it was the
morning of Saturday, the 15th, before
Doctor MacMaster was on his feet again
and things began to take their old shape
around the campus. All that day the
faculty was in session on the case, as well
as the afternoons of Monday, Tuesday,
Wednesday and Thursday in the week
following. Indeed there were frequent
echoes of the thing during the whole term.
Strictly according to program the pro-
ceedings dragged out, always with a re-
markable similarity. Outside there was
always a group of excited boys, giving a
rousing send-off to each fresh witness,
and tearing the released one almost limb
from limb in their eagerness for new in-
formation. But it was all the same.
Milt. Sayler, Will Cumback, John Noble,
Dav}^ McDill, one after the other they
took the stand, cheerfully confessed par-
ticipation in the ceremonies, and just as
192
HISTORIC PRANKS
cheerfully refused to express the desired
contrition and promise of a better life.
A less regenerate bunch of heathen never
assembled before a horrified college fac-
ulty. One after the other they were
solemnly admonished regarding their
duties to society, and given a period of
respite to reflect upon their scandalous
behavior. Many returned later to ex-
press repentance and be reinstated. A
clique of the most stubborn ones stamped
the slush of Oxford from their feet and
made tracks for Centre College in Ken-
tucky, where somehow they got admitted.
A third group, dissatisfied with condi-
tions generally, stayed the year out to
re-establish a reputation for good be-
havior, and then wandered elsewhere to
complete their courses. Among other ef-
fects of the escapade, the two Greek
fraternities hung their harps on a willow,
and the scholarly president gave up all
193
HISTORIC PRANKS
hope of winning the affections of the "uni-
versity community.
Some of you may have heard of the
Hopkins mytli. It grew up in the early
50 's, created by some vivid student im-
aginations, assisted by a consuming and
unholy thirst. Some of the boys in one
of the dormitories — no matter which —
had run across the recipe for a particu-
larly fancy milk-punch; and when they
could muster the price of the ingredients,
indulged themselves in orgies that meant
thick heads and parched palates on the
morrow. At the edge of tow^n lived a
kindly and gullible old farmer who kept
a sort of dairy and had quantities of good
rich milk. One dsiy when funds were low
the boys approached him with the har-
rowing story of a supposed youth named
Hopkins, sick unto death in the college
building. He could take no solid food,
they said, Init his very life depended on
194
HISTORIC PRANKS
his getting plenty of nice fresli milk
every day. It was told so well that they
almost believed it themselves, and the old
gentleman was moved to tears of pity.
He offered to snpply all the milk needed
day by day, and not charge them a red
cent.
Thus encouraged, the fame of those
milk-punches spread far and wide, and
Hopkins was fast becoming the most
popular man in college. Then President
Anderson heard of it, and immediately
prepared one of his characteristic flank
movements. Next morning in chapel, he
spoke at some length on prevailing here-
sies in the church, leading up carefully
to the particular opinions of the Rev.
Hopkins, a leader in these controversies
not long before. At the end of a burst
of real eloquence he paused, with a
twinkle in his eye, and looking straight
at the bibulous culprits, said quietly:
195
HISTORIC PRANKS
"But, young gentlemen, I want you all
to understand that Hopkins is now dead
and has no further need of fresh milk."
There was but one more public reference
to the case, and that vumecessary. At the
first roll-call next year, the students were
listening intently to the new names.
"Hopkins!" pronounced the president,
and a roar went up from the old-timers.
The doctor twinkled again and remarked,
"This, gentlemen, is a veritable Hopkins;
this is no myth."
In many colleges there used to be the
custom of paying in public the last sad re-
spects to some particularly gruelling
text-book. At Miami this practice be-
came a solemn tradition, the book se-
lected being that time-honored enemy of
self-righteous Juniors, the Logic. Year
after year, when the syllogisms were all
built and the fallacies detected, a group
of free-hearted veterans kindled a mid-
196
HISTORIC PRANKS
night fire, and chncked therein, with a
few brief but sulphurous words, the vol-
umes they had thumbed so long and
learnedly. Of all these annual mortuary
rites, the ceremony conducted by the
class of '56 has always been pronounced
the most impressive. Perhaps because,
as the country papers say, "the very
heavens poured a flood of tears on the
bier of the dear departed." People al-
ways expected things worth while of '56,
anyway. When Al. Berry and Curran
and Joe Fullerton and Reid put their
heads together and got their shoulders to
the same wheel, there had better be a
clear track ahead.
According to accounts this "Crema-
tion of the Logic" was fully up to all ex-
pectations. Several of the old black-
letter programs are still floating about,
containing even the words of the funeral
hymns, and the arrangement of the sad
197
HISTORIC PRANKS
procession. If you just inquire, there are
ever so many people who still remember
the occasion with some emotion.
Promptly at midnight the procession sal-
lied forth, with the Oxford brass band
executing something that the tune-book
called a dirge. Next came the strutting
figure of the marshal of the night, the
giant young Kentucky Colonel, closely at-
tended b}^ four sheeted spectres, labeled
'* Ghosts of Aristotle and Others," to
satisfy the curiosit.y of the common herd.
Following the corpse walked our old
friend Barbara Celarent, weeping as be-
came a chief mourner, and attended in
her grief by the Rev. Die Tum. Then
came in order two familiar connections of
the deceased: the Dilemma, waving great
paper horns some four feet long; and the
Undistributed Middle, stuffed out with
pillows till he could scarcely waddle.
A group of grotesque witches ca-
198
HISTORIC PRANKS
vorted in sunbonnet and wrapper at the
rear of the cortege, and last of all limped
the poor old "Beggar of the Question, "
grinning behind woolen whiskers and ex-
tending a battered hat to one side and
the other. Eain came down in torrents
before the parade was half over; and
mourners, pall-bearers and all broke into
a grand scramble for the village market
house. Half-drowned spectators flocked
in from all sides, despite the hour, and
the services proceeded. All the Logic
family was represented in the program.
A. M. B. Guity read an appropriate poem,
and N. Thymeme had written this touch-
ing song, which they all chanted in
chorus, as the destroying flames got in
their work.
"His greasy corpus we will burn,
And gather up his ashes vile;
No sepulcher or storied urn
Their baseness shall defile.
199
HISTORIC PRANKS
"But in Death's dismal palace he
Shall not remain, for, sad to tell.
His death is but a Fallacy,
As Sophs will know too well.
"Then join the song, forget his tricks,
No longer he shall cram us:
Joy to the class of '56,
Vale et Gaudeamus."
There was an affecting sermon by
Eev. Die Turn and an incantation by the
witches; then the formal exercises con-
cluded with a malediction, and the
Juniors suddenly realized that they were
tired and wet and hungry and morning
prayers were distressingly near.
After an affair like that, old Logic
never could hope to be incinerated with
doings that were anything but vile imi-
tation, the very scum of the earth.
Naturally the tradition soon died out.
But not so the love of masquerading in
burlesque procession; that la}^ too close
to the hearts of men, a reminder perhaps
of their childhood joy in make-believe.
Perhaps too, as the war-clouds gathered,
200
HISTORIC PRANKS
it was a pleasant thing to lose sight at
times of the realities and merge one's
self in the dancing, empty-pated harle-
quin. At any rate these big Miami boys
never lost a chance to play the clown and
go parading. One fall Salmon P. Chase
was elected governor of Ohio: everybody
turned out for a triumphal procession.
Had he been defeated, they would prob-
ably all have been on hand, just as cheer-
ful, and have called it a consolation jubi-
lee.
Finally, about war-time, they cen-
tered their energies on Washington's
Birthday — George Day, as they called it
— and the screaming of the eagle echoed
from high heaven. There was of course
a program, late in the evening; but no-
body gave much thought to that, except
the speakers, who had to save their
voices. The real simon-pure unbottled
patriotism found expression in another
201
HISTORIC PRANKS
of those fantastic parades, which went
straggling about through skish or storm,
brandishing smok}^ torches and howling
itself hoarse for the sheer joy of living.
These were usually anxious periods for
the faculty however. Drink flowed all
too freely on such nights of revelry, and
blood coursed hot. Somebody was al-
ways 3^earning for a fight, and there were
those who would do anj^thing to relieve
a friend. The 23rd of February was
marked with red in every professor's al-
manac as police-court day, and the official
firing squad did practice in the rifle range
for weeks ahead. The dove of peace
bluntly refused to flutter about George
Day till a firm quietus was put forever
upon the jolly old masked procession.
Nowada3^s we sometimes have polite little
robe de nuit soirees, culminating in fudge
parties.
202
HISTORIC PRANKS
Goodness knows, it was hard enough
to keep peace in the family, when every
mail brought fresh news of deadly car-
nage, and the big brothers were all
clutching smoky rifles down south of the
line. Somebody just had to break loose
occasionally or strangle on his own emo-
tions. Think of calmly demonstrating
that all A's are B's, or dreaming lan-
guidly amid the fumes of Horace's rich
old Falernian, when the red wine of
youth was staining the rank meadows of
Virginia. And Greek! — Ye temples of
Olympian Zeus, who wouldn't have re-
belled against that ancient atrocity, when
the reek of precious human hecatombs
was saluting the nostrils of the God of
Battles! So, in the absence of anything
else to quarrel over, in November, '64,
the Seniors mutinied against Greek.
They had no grudge against the profes-
sor. Neither did they lack ability in the
203
HISTORIC PRANKS
subject. They had discovered somehow
that previous classes had not carried the
study beyond this point in their college
career. This must mean a faculty con-
spiracy to trample on their precious toot-
sies; and the spirit of the hour, especi-
ally among college Seniors, was simple
and emphatic: "Don't tread on me!"
So one day, when the bell struck, the
Senior Greek class did not appear; but
the professor found on his desk an ex-
tremely courteous note of farewell, in-
forming him that they had passed the
limit traditionally established for the
subject, they did not see that further
study in it would profit them for the time
required, and they had the honor to wish
him much happiness, etc. Then the fac-
ulty went all askew again. First the cul-
prits were admonished in the usual
solemn and affectionate manner. One
trembling lamb came bleating into the
204
HISTORIC PRANKS
fold. Then an ultimatum was published
and three men dismissed. Then the fac-
ulty divided on the whole question, and
the students were quick to take advan-
tage of the cleavage. Threats of a whole-
sale boycott floated about the campus till
the faculty went on its mettle again, put
the loudest talkers on probation, and in-
formed them that the}^ might promptly
depart in peace, if they cared to travel
under such a cloud. Then the reaction
came, everybody felt a little sorry and a
bit ashamed, and the Greek Rebellion
ended in a bloodless compromise.
So much for the pranks and disturb-
ances of early days. Every college in
every era has its share of these little tea-
pot tempests, all-absorbing till their one
brief hour is struck, and then tame
enough forever in the ears of disinter-
ested listeners. The next generation,
wrapped in its own concerns, passes these
205
HISTORIC PRANKS
shabby old relics sometimes in scorn.
Younger graduates, conscious of later es-
capades, strut about beneath the trees at
commencement time, rub their alder-
manic fronts, and retail reminiscences
unmellowed by the touch of time. But
listen ! Do you hear the quavering cackle
from that comfortable bench among the
maples ? There are '49 and '53, pounding
their canes upon the sod, and laughing
like school-boys at one of Doctor Ander-
son's retorts, or the story of Professor
Elliott's absent-minded apologies to the
cow. You needn't talk to them about
the pranks of these degenerate days, with
their luxuries and flubdubs. For them
the real golden age is far behind us, never
to be enjoyed again.
206
w^m.\\\
THE musty old record-book of the
Miami faculty is tame enough read-
ing for the opening of 1861. A few ex-
aminations passed, about as many fatally
attempted, an occasional "drawback" or
a reprimand : — all transcribed in the awk-
ward, wabbly handwriting of Professor
David Swing, at that time secretary of
the learned circle. Then all at once God's
lightning flashes in the clear sky. The
young teacher has been rudely awakened
from his academic dreams; and in the
margin of his journal he has scrawled,
in great bold characters, with three
bristling exclamation-points, the one por-
tentous word "War!!!" Opposite, un-
der date of May 25, 1861, appears the re-
207
WAR
cord: "In view of tlie fact that the fol-
lowing members of the Senior Class were
now enlisted in the service of their Coun-
try, and were of good standing as schol-
ars, the}^ were excused from the final ex-
amination, but are included among those
recommended for graduation." There
follows a list of fifteen names, out of a
total Senior enrollment of thirty-five.
Only the day before this record, the
last strenuous tests of scholarship had
been applied. The final social rites had
been performed, in a perfect orgy of tight
boots, ornate cravats and puckery lemon-
ade. But only a fraction of the class had
been on hand, to revel in the conscious-
ness of duties done, and share the cakes
and ale of jubilation. In the muddy
camp at Zanesville, or somewhere along
the muddier highway across the West
Virginia line, their comrades, shorn of
scholastic glories, were negotiating moist
208
WAR
ground with thin blankets, and practicing
the everlasting "hep, hep, hep!" that
promised some day to lead them to heroic
carnage. Even amid the buzz of conver-
sation and the rustle of silken petticoats
that night at the Senior party, there was
heard at times the clank of metal and
hoarse words of sharp command, as a raw
troop of reserves went drilling by.
Doctor Scott and his girls, as they jour-
neyed home beneath the stars, were twice
halted by the nervous young sentries of a
city of white tents along their way. Vast
changes had come upon serene little Ox-
ford on her academic hill. Whether she
would or not, echoes of the mad turmoil
in the big world below forced themselves
upon her senses, and the great God of
Battles was calling for her best young
blood to mingle in his sacrifice.
These changes had come abruptly, but
to only the utterly thoughtless or the
209
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fondly optimistic had tliey been unex-
pected. Slavery and state's riglits had
been agitated for generations, and far-
seeing public men had looked into the
future and shuddered. Old Miami, so
near the border-line and gathering stu-
dents freely from north and south alike,
had been able to remain delightfully neu-
tral, but not ignorant. The abolition
movement, we have seen, had deposed
one college president and brought in
another. The abolition question, we have
likewise seen, gave Gid. McNutt one
spectacular chance to swell his chest be-
fore his erstwhile brothers in the bond.
In the class-room and literary hall, how-
ever, such topics were rather zealously
suppressed. One day in the 30 's, even,
when a bright youth of apocalyptic vision
relieved himself of an essay predicting
that out of these contentions would grow
a civil war terrij^le in its possibilities for
suffering, old Doctor Bishop had mildly
210
WAR
reprimanded the author and taken
prompt possession of his Sibylline manu-
script to destroy it.
In 1847, when the abolition tide was
rolling high, there had almost been one
open outbreak. Oxford preachers knew
better than to say much on the subject
or to invite reputed fire-eaters to speak
in their stead. At length a certain rather
famous adherent of the cause got his
chance, under promise to make no refer-
ence whatever to slavery. All the stu-
dents attended, from north and south, to
have a look at the celebrity. The visitor
arose and announced that he was un-
decided in his conscience whether to obey
God or man. He told quickly of
his promise and then began to pray.
Evidently conscience soon decided for
him, for the prayer deflected into
a series of terrible imprecations
called down upon the heads of southern-
211
W A R
ers in general and slave-holders in partic-
nlar. There was much uneasiness and
shuffling throughout; and promptly at
the Amen every southern student in the
congregation arose and marched haught-
ily for the door. The minister, brandish-
ing his Bible, shrilly reminded them that
the wicked have a habit of fleeing when
no man pursueth. At this the end of the
procession paused in the doorway, and
responded eloquently in lurid words that
made fond mothers stop their children's
ears. The meeting, of course, broke up
in wild confusion.
As the real crisis came nearer, the
dangerous topic was still more studiously
avoided. That decade before the con-
flict embraced some splendid years of ex-
perience and achievement. Long before
their close, however, the spirit of dissen-
sion stalked frequently abroad. Quarrels
and disturbance were the order of the day
212
WAR
— and night, and nearly always they con-
cluded in a fracas, sometimes with mur-
derous weapons. One student was killed
in a tavern brawl of this kind. Others
merely had their feelings or their fea-
tures disarranged, and furnished occupa-
tion for the faculty. Incidentally the
*' Female Institutions" got their share of
attention in these escapades.
Apparently the most frequent victim
of this spirit of unrest, and certainly the
most hopeless, helpless of them all, was
an inoffensive little product of some
Rheinische Turnverein, Roemler by
name, who had been brought in to direct
the destinies of the new gymnasium so
pompously instituted by the trustees.
The "gym" wasn't much to look at. It
was somebody's cast-off barn, with a few
dumb-bells hung on the harness-pegs and
a trapeze or two suspended from the hay-
mow. Roemler wasn't much to look at,
213
WAR
either. He had very little English at his
eorximand and still less of knowledge re-
garding that almost hnman animal, the
American boy. True, he could turn all
sorts of handsprings and whirligigs, and
led the perspiring line through strange
evolutions with his "Forwartz martz!" —
"Laags steef !" But who cares for such
mimic marching when any breeze from
the southland may bring you real mili-
tary strains ? So they teased poor Roem-
ler unmercifully, drove him into nasty
spurts of temper, and brought his sanc-
tum into such disapproval that "Physi-
cal Education" was quietl^y but firmly
discontinued. Almost as the exercises
and evolutions of peace went out, those
of grim and serious strife came in.
"The South has fired upon the flag!"
"Fort Sumter has been taken!" "The
President has called for seventy-five
thousand troops!" So fast did these an-
214
WAR
nouncements pour into the village that
students and townspeople paled and
trembled under the shock, and groped
vainly for a moment in their attempt to
realize. When the blood surged back to
the surface, they understood and were
ready. Lads of the North, to whom this
agitation had always seemed a mere dem-
agogue 's extravagance, burned now to
avenge the insult to their country and
her colors. The imaginary patriotism of
a thousand Exhibition speeches welled
into actual being in an instant. Stalwart
sons of the South, who loved the whole
broad land of freedom and had learned
the spirit of the northland, gathered in
groups apart — not shunned, but re-
spected — and there, in hushed tones, dis-
cussed their one possible method of pro-
cedure.
Only the colleges of the borderland
witnessed such a scene as followed on
215
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the morrow. The whole student commu-
nity assembled at the station, as the time
approached for the train to Cincinnati.
All the usual signs of abundant life and
high spirits were wanting. Every man
stood tense and silent, and a few white
cheeks gave signs of tears. The parting
and the heart-ache of war were very new
just then. Down the street came the
Southern fellows, with heads erect and
the gleam of consecrated purpose in their
eyes. Some of them, within two months
past, had poured out their very souls in
public homage to the dear old striped
flag, the banner of a united country.
Some of those hearts were full to break-
ing now with the anguish of this separa-
tion. But home and kindred had decided
for them and they never wavered. There
was no demonstration to the scene. Some
choking words were spoken: hands
clasped in a last pressure across this
216
WAR
strange new gulf of war. Here and there
an arm sought some broad manly shoul-
der, and lingered there m silent farewell.
Then the train came puffing in, and com-
rades from the North and South severed
their acquaintance forever. No, not in
every case forever. They met sometimes,
all shrouded in the smoke of battle, sworn