I caught sight of Jack and Eddie and Mac sitting in the Arcade as I passed this morning on my way down town. They had evidently got up too late for breakfast and were "hitting a coke" before they subjected themselves to the strain of a ten o'clock. The last bell had rung, but they were taking their time and giving Eddie opportunity to finish the risqué tale of his last conquest. Mac had already been out of classes this semester for five weeks because of a slight illness, but that seemed to him an asset rather than a liability, for the instructor knowing he had been ill, could not reasonably expect him to get into the work vigorously all at once or to come to classes regularly or on time. Jack had been out to a dance the night before, and not being prepared had cut his nine o'clock, and Eddie was taking the cuts which as a senior he thought himself entitled to. They were good illustrations, these three happy-golucky souls, of the college loafer—irregular, irresponsible, unambitious—the type of men who are the real menace to-day of undergraduate life in college.
It takes a man of some energy to be a real devil, so that the loafer at first seldom gets into anything that is difficult, or dangerous, or not nice; he doesn't initiate things; some one else makes the plan, though he may trail along behind in an escapade and seem to be a real part of the procession. He is a passive,
