The Diary of a Freshman

was a little disappointed at the informal way such an important act of one's life is done. In the first place, as you can drop in any time between nine A.m. and one P.m., you don't see the whole class together. Then the room we registered in might have been in the High School at home. I don't know what I expected exactly, but it certainly was n't a bare, square room, a desk on a low platform, some plaster casts, and a lot of plain wooden chairs arranged in rows on an inclined plane. However, when I think the matter over, I don't see what else they could have. A dissatisfied-looking little man with a red necktie sat reading a newspaper at the desk when I went in, and near him ? reading abook ? was a younger fellow who looked as if he might be a student. There were piles of registration cards on the desk, and after I had stood there a moment, not knowing what to do, the little man looked up absently from his paper, handed me some cards with a feeble sort of gesture, and murmured in a melancholy, slightly trembling, and very sarcastic voice, ? "... This gentleman is come to me With commendation from great potentates, And here he means to spend his time awhile." Then he yawned, and took up the paper again. The young man, without apparently thinking this remark in the least odd, closed his book on his thumb so as not to lose the place, and gave me another card, saying in a perfectly businesslike voice, ? " Please fill this one out, too." I sat down at a ben...