first dose of homesickness. The
prospect of new surroundings made me yearn for St. John's.

The "blue hour" of boyhood, however, is a brief one. I was soon engaged
in conversation with a little fellow who was sitting beside me and who
began discussing the ever-popular subject of football. He was very
inquisitive and wanted to know if I had ever played the game, and if I
was going to try for the team.

He told me about the great game Lawrenceville played with the Princeton
Varsity the year before, when Lawrenceville scored six points before
Princeton realized what they were really up against. He fascinated me by
his graphic description. There was a glowing account of the playing of
Garry Cochran, the great captain of the Lawrenceville team, who had just
graduated and gone to Princeton, together with Sport Armstrong, the
giant tackle.

These men were sure to live in Lawrenceville's history if for nothing
else than the part they had played in that notable game, although
Princeton rallied and won 8 to 6. It was not long before I learned that
my newly-made friend was Billy McGibbon, a member of the Lawrenceville
baseball team.

"Just wait until you see Charlie de Saulles and Billy Dibble play behind
the line," he went on; and from that moment I began to be a part of the
new life, the threshold of which I was crossing. Strangely enough the
memory of getting settled in my new quarters faded with the eventful
moment when the call for candidates came, and I went out with the rest
of the boys to try for the team.

Competition was keen and many candidates offered themselves. I was
placed on the scrub team. One of my first attempts for supremacy was in
the early part of the season when I was placed as right guard of the
scrub against Perry Wentz, an old star player of the school and
absolutely sure of his position. I recall how on several occasions the
first team could not gain as much distance through the second as the men
desired, and Wentz, who later on distinguished himself on the Varsity at
Princeton and still later as a crack player on Pennsylvania, seemed to
have trouble in opening up my position.

Max Rutter, the Lawrenceville captain, with the directness that usually
characterizes such officers, called this fact to Wentz's attention.
Wentz, who probably felt naturally his pride of football fame, became
quite angry at Rutter's remark that he was being outplayed. He took off
his nose-guard, threw it on the ground and