Two years ago I had another experience with a young fellow caught in a really serious college escapade, which strengthened materially my faith in human nature. It was a situation in which the boy knew that if he told the truth he would be permanently dismissed from college. I knew all the details of the case, but this fact he was not aware of. In spite of the penalty which he knew would be inflicted, and ignorant of what I already knew he told our committee as frank and straightforward a story as I have ever heard, and though his father is a man of wide influence in the community in which he lives, the boy accepted his punishment in a thoroughly manly fashion and left me with the most friendly feeling. It gave me the greatest satisfaction a few months ago to be able to write him that because of his truthfulness and because of the manly way in which he had received his punishment, our Council had reconsidered its action in the case and would allow him to return to the University next fall—an action which had been taken in reference to no other similar offender in ten years.
I was walking across the campus one bright spring morning not many years ago when I came upon a young sophomore sitting on the senior bench. "I thought you'd be along soon," he said, "and so I was waiting for you." "What can I do for you, Ralph?" I asked. "Well," he answered, "I was drunk last night, and I had to tell some one; so I thought I'd tell you." The sequel doesn't matter so much, I suppose. I am glad to be convinced daily that there are still honest men in college—men who have courage to tell the truth even when the truth brings public
