After the chart was finished I put it in a conspicuous place on the mantel, went back to my letters, and finally wrote Mrs. Fairfax as follows: "I shall be pleased to give your son the attention you ask. Although it is impossible to guarantee any degree of success, he has the advantage of an unusually good development, and may make something of himself if he is willing to work faithfully and follow orders. It rests more with him than myself. There will be no extra charge."
It may seem rather a curt letter, but compared with what I usually write in answer to like requests it was remarkably "Chesterfieldian." Not that I am ever likely to so far forget myself as to neglect the common courtesies, but it is often necessary to be very positive in order to protect against further annoyance. I received an acknowledgment from "The Oaks" a few days after, which was not quite as dictatorial as the first, and in which the "I" was not nearly so much in evidence. It also asked me to report occasionally, and hinted that maternal authority might be invoked in case of difficulty, and that Richard Spotswood Fairfax had been taught to respect it thoroughly.
Dick appeared on the cinder-path the second day after his call on me, clad in irreproachable track costume, and I gave him a little trial with some of the other freshmen who had been out several weeks. He had never worn a running-shoe before that day, nor entered a contest, and yet he ran the "hundred" in eleven and three-fifths, and the "quarter" a little under the minute, coming in as fresh as paint, and without turning a hair. It was odd to see him standing with a half-dozen other fellows, who were drenched with perspiration, and wheezing like blacksmiths' bellows, while he was not even tired.
The next day he cleared four feet eleven in the "running high," and nearly seventeen in the "running broad." Now, these were wonderful performances for a novice, particularly as Dick seemed not to exert himself in the least.
That night, as I sat in my room smoking a comforting pipe, I thought the matter over very thoroughly. I am a shy bird for "wonders," and doubtful concerning "phenoms," but I made up my mind in cold blood that almost anything was possible for Richard Spotswood Fairfax, of "The Oaks." With the advantages of my handling, he ought to be a world beater, and no mistake. As Tom Furness expresses a good thing, "There was frosting on top, and jelly between the layers."
Of course I said nothing of this to Dick, but ordered him regular all-round work in the gymnasium for the winter, and told him if he took good care of himself, we might make something of him in the spring. In those days we had no big indoor meets, and the men were allowed to do very much as they pleased until near the end of the winter. I am of the opinion that such rest is better in the end than a continuous course of training, particularly for men under twenty-one.
I saw considerable of Dick, and was well satisfied to have him keep to easy exercise. He filled out a bit, and the muscles on his shapely body grew large and firm as the days went by. I was a bit troubled by the boy's extreme popularity, for it brought continual temptation to shirk work. Some one or another was perpetually asking him away, when if he had possessed fewer friends, he would have been less troubled. He was a mighty fine-looking fellow, and with an unlimited fund of good nature and good cash (two most essential passports to college popularity), spring found him the best known and best liked man of his class, a favorite with man, woman, and beast. He had stuck to his work most faithfully, and barring a little fling or so, such as all boys of his age are likely to take, I had little fault to find with him. I remember I expressed one day my surprise that he had not missed his hour in the gymnasium more than once or twice since he started in, and was told, as if the answer was conclusive, that he had given his promise. He also added later that a Fairfax never broke his word, even in the least degree.
One common difficulty I escaped with Dick, that of keeping him from the football field, the grave for the hopes of so many a promising athlete. Dick pronounced the game altogether too much like work to suit him, and no entreaty would move him in the least; not even the plea that he was "needed," or the threat that he would be considered disloyal to his class, had any effect whatever on him.
Now, it must not be thought for a moment that I object to football in its proper place. It is the king of sports, and stands by itself, unrivalled in its attractions for all of Anglo-Saxon blood. It is the best successor to the knightly tourney that this prosaic century has left us. Neither an occasional accident, nor the foolishness of some of its supporters, with excuses for defeat, nor demands for apologies, will ever succeed in killing it.
The game is made, however, only for strong, stocky men. To see one with a turn of speed, long, shapely legs, and slender body mixed up in a scrimmage, and sure to end in the hospital at last, is more than I can stand. It should not take those unfitted for its fierce struggles, but qualified by nature for other forms of sport.