The new comer, taking Archag by the arm, said to him:
“Come now, Garabed has been telling you all about the masters; let me draw the portrait of some of your classmates. First, the wise Garabed himself, who is the choicest specimen of my acquaintance (this is between ourselves). Over there you may see two embryo pastors,” and he pointed to two stout, stocky boys chatting in a corner, “Soghomon (Solomon) and Boghos (Paul), the president’s favorites; you may judge for yourself of his good taste. That tall boy, star-gazing, with his hands in his pockets, is a Junior by the name of Ghevont. The boy in European dress, going up to him, is Nejib Rossinian, the son of a doctor in Aleppo; he’s in our class, and so is his cousin Dikran; they are an artful pair of dogs, who are bound to make their way, though they don’t always consider the means. To-morrow you will have to make the acquaintance of Samouīl and Sumpad, whose brain isn’t quite right, and the five Urfali (natives of Urfa) who always stick together like burrs. Finally, to complete the list of boarders, my humble self, Aram Nahabedian of Diarbekir, filling the position of clown and joker. There are a dozen day-scholars in our class, besides, but we only see them at recitations.”
Archag was laughing heartily; he was delighted with his two companions, and already felt himself among friends. At nine o’clock the bell called them in, and they said “Goodnight” to Badvili Melikian, who had a pleasant word for each, as they went upstairs to their dormitories. Archag was in the room with Aram, Garabed, Soghomon, Nejib and Sumpad. Aram and Nejib immediately began a pillow-fight, making a fearful commotion. Soghomon, the fat boy, half-buried beneath a mountain of pillows and coverlets, lay groaning and beseeching:
“Oh, I say! I’m smothered! ‘Vaī! Vaī! I shall die!’ who will take pity on me!”
Aram and Archag executed a wild dance about their victim, and the end of it was that Badvili Melikian was obliged to come and restore order. He lighted a night-lamp for the boys, for Armenians hate the dark. Once in bed, the boys went to sleep immediately, and before long came the sound of their regular breathing, together with Soghomon’s snores.
Archag was dreaming that the bells of the Cathedral of Van were calling him to Mass, when a shake roused him from his sleep. Aram was pulling him by the arm.
“Haīde, are you never going to wake up, you young mole? Do you think you’re going to be allowed to sleep like that? You’re as bad as Soghomon; he can’t get out of bed.”
Archag jumped up and dressed quickly; then the whole troop went down to breakfast. At half-past seven, professors and students all gathered in the chapel where Dr. Mills conducted morning prayers. He spoke to the boys of the child Samuel, urging them to imitate his love for the Lord.
“You come here,” said he, “not only to receive your bachelor’s degree, which you could get just as well at Constantinople or Damascus or Smyrna, but in order to become good and upright Christian men. We desire that these years of study may be blessed for you, and that later, when you are struggling with the difficulties of life, you may always remember gladly the days you have spent with us here.”
He spoke well, and Archag’s heart was touched by his words. How many good resolutions he made then, together with his comrades! The course of our story will show whether or not he kept them.