...
* * * * *
The fall term ... the opening of the regular school year. The regular
students began to pour in, dumping off the frequent trains at the
little school station ... absurd youths dressed in the exaggerated
style of college and preparatory school ... peg-top trousers ...
jaunty, postage-stamp caps ... and there was cheering and hat-waving
and singing in the parlours of the dormitories on each floor.
* * * * *
There were three dormitory groups on the "hill." The "villas" were the
most aristocratic. There the "gentlemen" among the students, and the
teachers' favourites, dwelt--with the teachers. Then there was Crosston
Hall, and Oberly. Crosston was the least desirable of the halls. It was
there that I lived.
We were hardly settled in our rooms when the usual fall revival
began....
One of the founders of the school, a well-known New England
manufacturer, came on his yearly pilgrimage ... a fanatic disciple of
the great Moreton, he considered it his duty to see to the immediate
conversion, by every form of persuasion and subtle compulsion, of every
newly arrived student.
Rask was a tall, lean, ashen-faced man. He had yellow, prominent teeth
and an irregular, ascetic face. In his eyes shone an undying lightning
and fire of sincere fanaticism and spiritual ruthlessness that, in
mediaeval times, would not have stopped short of the stake and fagot to
convince sinners of the error of their ways.
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