Page 49 - The Adventures of a Freshman

meaning of that?" No one could answer.

A snow-storm washed it off during the afternoon.

A fresh one was put up the next morning.

"Here's that queer poster again," said the passers-by. "What's it for, anyway?"

"Nobody seems to know."

The next morning the same letters on larger-sized paper were found not only on the bulletin-board, but tacked
up on all the available trees of the campus, and in the town on all the billboards, old barrels, tumble-down
sheds, and stalled wagons. On the way to recitation, or lectures, every one saw C. C. half a dozen times. They
saw it on the tree-boxes along the street. When they took walks they saw it on old barns down toward
Kingston.

Now at Princeton, what there is of a town is little more than a setting for the University. There are no outside
distractions, such as theatres and the like, as at most large institutions of learning. The campus life is the only
life, and the college students are dependent upon the college world for all their amusements and between-hour
interests. Everyone keeps in touch with everything that is going on.

So when this poster with its brief legend continued to appear and reappear every day, and no one deciphered
its meaning, the college began to get interested--all the more so because it was midwinter, and therefore
neither football nor baseball was absorbing the undergraduate interest.

"What's going to happen?" everyone asked. "What's the meaning of this mystery?" And no one could answer.

The thing had now kept up for over a week. The Daily Princetonian commented upon it. Even the faculty
began to inquire, in a dignified way, as to "the meaning of those cabalistic symbols." The undergraduates had
begun to make up words to fit, and rumors floated about the campus. "C. C.--college clowns," said someone;
"it's to be a horse minstrel troupe."

"No, that's not it," said another, "it's Curious Customs:--a new book by a member of the faculty."

"What nonsense!" sneered a wise Senior, "it's only a hoax perpetrated by some under-classmen who think
themselves funny; it isn't worth talking about," and he went on down to the club and talked half through
dinner about it himself.

Those who considered themselves humorous began to make jokes about it. "Look, here," one would say, and
the other would reply, "I C. C."

And now suddenly the posters disappeared. None could be found in any part of the town; Bronson, a Junior,
paid half a dollar for one to put in his scrap-book. "What's become of it!" they asked.

"C. C.--can't come," answered a funny man.

They were still talking about its disappearance when, a few days later, the posters again appeared, more of
them than ever, and this time it was a poster to make the undergraduate world excited. It was in the college
colors, for one thing, the paper being orange and the letters black. That alone was enough to lend fresh
interest, but that was not the most important change. Under the letters C. C. were the words:

"TO-MORROW, THE 12TH, AT NOON, BY THE CANNON."