“That these dear friends I leave behind
May keep kind hearts’ remembrance of the love we had.”

Solon

In affectionate gratitude to a group of men, my intimate friends during College days (brought under one roof by a “Fraternity”), whom I still love not less but more,

• Will Prather, Hammett Hardy, Penn Hargrove and Harry Steger, of precious and joyous memory;

• Norman Crozier, not yet quite emerged from Presbyterianism;

• Eugene Barker, cynical, solid, unafraid;

• “Cap’en” Duval, a gentleman of Virginia, sah;

• Ed Miller, redheaded and royal-hearted;

• Bates MacFarland, calm and competent without camouflage;

• Jimmie Haven, who has put ’em over every good day since;

• Charley Johnson, “the Swede”⁠—the fattest, richest and dearest of the bunch;

• Edgar Witt, whose loyal devotion and pertinacious energy built the “Frat” house;

• Roy Bedichek, too big for any job he has yet tackled;

• “Curley” Duncan, who possesses all the virtues of the old time cattleman and none of the vices of the new;

• Rom Rhome, the quiet and canny counter of coin;

• Gavin Hunt, student and lover of all things beautiful;

• Dick Kimball, the soldier; every inch of him a handsome man;

• Alex and Bruce and Dave and George and “Freshman” Mathis and Clarence, the six Freshmen we “took in”; while Ike MacFarland, Alfred Pierce Ward, and Guy and Charlie Witt were still in the process of assimilation⁠—

To this group of God’s good fellows, I dedicate this little book.