1889
Here are some of the things "Jabe" Ellis wrote about in his first letter home after entering College. His family's acquaintance with President Bartlett helped out his first time away from home. From Miss Margaret Tamerine Ellis of Evanston, Ill. your secretary has received a copy of the first letter her father wrote home after entering Dartmouth. The original—written Sept. 6, 1885—was in a package of letters our classmate wrote while in College, which his sister, Miss Louise W. Ellis of Concord, N.H., recently sent to her niece in the original state in which his mother (then living in Peoria, Ill.) had preserved them. The letter in part reads as follows:
"My Dear Family: I rolled into Norwich, Vt., at 8:30 Wednesday morning. After looking for my freight, I took the stage—a regular old fashioned Peg and Whistle—and rode up to the President's house. I had expected to find a delegation of Sophs at the depot to meet us, but, with the exception of three rather complacent chaps and three Frosh (freshmen), who rode up with me, there was no one to molest me. We crossed a wooden bridge into N.H., and up a steep hill some 250 feet high into Hanover, which lies about half a mile back from the river. It is a small town with one main street and just inhabitants enough to make a living from the students. There is no society, except the families of the faculty, and these are rather exclusive. Sam Bartlett, the Prex's son, was not invited Friday night to Prof. Frost's party because he was not a senior.
"When I got to the President's house the day I arrived, I knocked at the door and there was no response, so I had time to look around me. It is a frame house, two stories, about the size of ours, standing 20 feet back in the large grounds which are enclosed with a 10 foot hedge nicely trimmed. It has a well-cut lawn shaded in front by spruce and pine trees with occasional birches. A gravelled driveway leads back through fruit trees and shrubbery to a barn, I suppose, though I did not see it. No one answering, I went down to the little twostory hotel and left my luggage, and then over to the library building where Prex's office is. Here I found about 15 applicants—none very dangerous looking. Each in turn gave his name to Prof. Wright, a pleasant, bushy-whiskered professor or Greek, together with other statistics, and then received a printed slip of instructions from Prex, and orders to go to the Treasurer and pay the term bill. When my turn came, Prex gave me his hand quite cordially and excused the absence of his family from town.
"Prex, as all here call him, looks very much like A.P., though younger looking. He wears a Prince Albert and a high hat, speaks quickly, and is not seen much except at Chapel. He secured me the best rooms in town, I think, very kind, as I told him. They are in Gates House where the college carpenter lives. Two rooms, 14 x 18 and t) x 18, for S2O a year, have a nice view, west frontage, giving me sun after 12 o'clock, and, being one of the smaller Halls, I will not be so much troubled by visitors. When I came to pay my term bill of S4O, S3O was taken off for scholarship—better than I expected. Went to the furniture store intending to buy, got prices and waited. Went up to the Halls and found to my surprise that there were still lots of furniture for sale. Written bills to call attention were posted up at the doors, so I went around and got a bedstead, mattress (double), table (6x2) with 3 drawers and green oilcloth top, and bookcase, 6 ft. long by 1 deep, with 4 drawers and 3 shelves to set on table—all this for $7. Another table for study, 4 x 2, 2 drawers, for $2.50—could have jewed him, I think now. Looked at carpet for SB, but concluded to go it bare with mats. Man saw me two days later and offered it for $5.50, took it, 15 x 15, not worn much, no holes, not handsome. I could have gotten along with less, but when it will make a difference between two pretty and comfortable rooms and two shabby and uncomfortable ones for four years, I think I can afford it.
"I board at the Conant Club, $3 per week, good provender and all I want. Shall try to get position as waiter—maybe commissary, after a while. Food is well-cooked and plain. Meat and potatoes, or baked beans, with bread and sauce for breakfast, and meat, bread and sauce, with milk to drink adlib for supper. While I was fixing up the night I arrived, Sam Bartleit came—the one that was in Peoria, 20, slight, sandy, pleasant, with a predilection to laugh. Took me to his home to sleep, did the same next night, then my bedclothes came.
(He explains what the chinning season is and describes what takes place in the football rush between the freshmen and sophomore classes.) "We won our third rush last night and such wild whooping yelling you never heard—even in campaign time. I wish you could hear the college class cheer. There is nothing like it. It would infuse spirit into a worm-eaten log. Now don't imagine this is a bull fight or at all dangerous. It is not. There are some coats torn to be sure, but it is open manly sport, and, I think, is something of an education in a way. I think we all respect each other and ourselves on account of it. There are a number of old men in '89, some—2s to 27—with beards, many with mustaches. I think I am about average age and ability, and my clothes are much better than the raiment some are wearing.
"This winter I think I am on the way to get a school. A man named Currier has provided me a place and has written a letter about it. Will get 5 or 6 dollars a week and board. This is a rambling sort of letter—not what I intended, and I'm ashamed of it. Your affectionate son, Ben F. Ellis."
"Slugger" Currier some time ago, in a reminiscent mood, referred in a letter to his rooming freshman year in the Gates House where also was "Jabe" Ellis, who, like himself, had a scholarship which necessitated their agreeing not to use tobacco. He wrote that "Jabe" brought to college with him an old pipe strong enough to walk alone and that when he went into serious studying he would puff on it all the time, but with no tobacco in it. The boys, "Slugger" wrote, used to fill the pipe with tobacco and smoke it in "Jabe's" absence to keep it smelling good.
Secretary and Treasurer, 108 Mt. Vernon St., Boston 8, Mass. Class Agent, 12 Clinton Ave., Dobbs Ferry, N.. Y.
