Courteous acknowledgment is here
made to the Saturday Evening
Post, Philadelphia, in which these
papers first saw the light.

THE
DIARY of a FRESHMAN

I

Mamma left for home thisafternoon. As I want to be perfectlytruthful in my diary, I suppose Imust confess that before she actuallywent away I sometimes thought I shouldbe rather relieved when she was no longer here.Mamma has a fixed idea that I came to collegefor the express purpose of getting my feet wetby day, and sleeping in a draught by night.She began the furnishing of my rooms byinvesting in a pair of rubber boots,—the kind youtie around your waist with a string. The clerkin the shop asked her if I was fond oftrout-fishing, and she explained to him that I hadalways lived in the West where the climatewas dry, and that she did n't know how I wouldstand the dampness of the seacoast. Mammathought the clerk was so interested in my lastattack of tonsillitis I didn't have the heart totell her that all the time he was lookingsympathetic with his right eye, he was winking atme with his left.

Now that she is gone, however, I don't seehow I could have thought, even for a moment,that I should be glad, and I 've been sittinghere for an hour just looking at my room andall the nice things she advised me about andhelped me to choose—wishing she could seehow cosey it is late at night with the greenlamp lighted and a little fire going. (It is n'treally cool enough for a fire; I had to takemy coat off for a while, the room got sowarm—but I was anxious to know how the andironslooked with a blaze behind them.) I supposeshe is lying awake in the sleeping-car thinkingof me. She made me move my bed to theother side of the room, so that it would n't benear the window.

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