“You ask how I spend my time.  Dear little mother, you don’t know what life in a big boarding school like Hillton is.  Why, I haven’t an idle moment from one day’s end to the next.  Here’s a sample.  This morning I got up just in time for chapel—­I’m getting to be a terrible chap for sleeping late—­and then had breakfast.  By that time it was quarter to nine.  At nine I went to my mathematics.  Then came Latin, then English.  At twelve I reported on the green and practiced signals with the second squad until half past.  Then came lunch.  After lunch I scurried up to my room and dug up on chemistry, which was at one-thirty.  Then came Greek at half past two.  Then I had an hour of loafing—­that is, I should have had it, but I was afraid of my to-morrow’s history, so put in part of the time studying that.  At a little before four I hurried over to the gymnasium, got into football togs, and reached the campus ’just in time to be in time.’  We had a stiff hour’s practice with the ball and learned two new formations.  When I got back to the ‘gym’ it was a quarter past five.  I had my bath, rubbed down, did two miles on the track, exercised with the weights, and got to supper ten minutes late.  West came over to the room with me and stayed until I put him out, which was hard work because he’s heavier than I am, and I got my books out and studied until half an hour ago.  It is now just ten o’clock, and as soon as I finish this I shall tumble into bed and sleep like a top.

“I can’t answer your question about Mr. Remsen, because I do not know him well enough to ask about his home or relatives.  But his first name is Stephen.  Perhaps he is a relative of the Remsens you mention.  Some day I’ll find out.  Anyhow, he’s the grandest kind of a fellow.  I suppose he’s about thirty.  He has plenty of money, West says, and is a lawyer by profession.  He has coached Hillton for three years, and the school has won two out of three of its big games during those years.  The big game, as they call it, is the game on Thanksgiving Day with St. Eustace Academy, of Marshall.  This fall it is played here....

“Please tell father that I am getting on well with my studies, but not to hope too much for the Goodwin Scholarship.  There are so many, many smart fellows here!  Sometimes I think I haven’t a ghost of a show.  But—­well, I’m doing my best, and, after all, there are some other scholarships that are worth getting, though I don’t believe I shall be satisfied with any other.  West says I’m cheeky to even expect a show at the Goodwin....  All the professors are very nice; even ‘Turkey.’  His real name is Durkee, and he is professor of English.  He is not popular among the fellows, but is an awfully good instructor.  The principal, Professor Wheeler, is called ‘Wheels,’ but it sounds worse than it is.  Every one likes him.  He is not at all old, and talks to the fellows about football and golf; and West says he can play a fine game of the latter when he tries.