There is one Freshman who gathers in himself all the little peculiar Freshmanic idiosyncracies to a surprising extent.

The lady of his heart was his partner in the dance, and smiling graciously in reply to all his amorous oglings […]

The scene was not without a mixture of awe such as must always invest the spectacle of the guilt and shame in a fellow-creature, before society shall have grown corrupt enough to smile, instead of shuddering, at it.

But he just couldn't get the ball through the goal posts (poor Harry . . . he didn't eat his Wheaties, or else his shoe was on backwards).