“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.  Follow me and I’ll fix it so that you can shake Hands with the Guy that eats ’em alive.  I’ll take you over to the Corral and show you the Wild-Cats.  They’ve been drinking Blood all Morning and are feeling good and Cagey.  About 3 o’clock we turn them out into the Arena and let them plow up the Turf.”

“Is this a College or a Zoo?” asked the Parent.

“I refer to the Squad,” said Buchanan.  “We keep about 40 at the Training Table all of the time, so that no matter how many are killed off, we will always have 11 left.  We have a Centre Rush who weighs 238, and you wouldn’t dent him with a Hatchet.  We caught him in the Woods north of Town and brought him down here.  He is taking a Special Course in Piano Music two hours a Week and the rest of the Time he is throwing Substitutes down and biting them on the Arm.”

Buchanan and his trembling Parent sat at the edge of the Gridiron and watched the Carnage for a while.  Buchanan explained that it was merely Friendly Practice.

That Evening the Son said:  “Father, you can stay only a Little While and I want to give you a Good Time while you are here.  Come with us.  We are going down to the Opera House to put a Show on the Bum.  One of the first things we learn at College is to kid the Troupers.  It is considered Great Sport in these Parts.  Then, if any one gets Pinched, we tear down the Jail, thereby preserving the Traditions of dear old Alma Mater.”

“Does the Faculty permit you to be guilty of Disorderly Conduct?” asked the Parent.

[Illustration:  Friendly Practice.]

“Any one who goes against the Faculty single-handed is a Fink,” replied Buchanan.  “We travel 800 in a Bunch, so that when the Inquest is held, there is no way of finding out just who it was that landed the Punch.  Anything that happens in a College Town is an Act of Providence.  Now come along and see the American Youth at Play.”